She went still. She had not misheard the sexually seductive tone of his voice, oh no. And she trembled, reminding herself that she must never allow herself to wind up in bed with him again. He truly thought to hand her off to his brother and a few moments of pleasure would not change anything.
He cleared his throat. “And what will you do after the ransom, Virginia?” he asked, surprising her with the question.
But she knew what he was doing—he was changing the subject to distract her from the attraction she could not ignore. She met his careful regard, wetting her lips. “I will go home, of course.”
He turned and stared at her. She stared back. It lay there unspoken between them—his desire to wed her to Sean. She said, low and careful, “I will not return to Askeaton, no matter how I have come to love it, and even view it as my home.”
He looked ahead, into the slightly frothing waves beyond the frigate’s prow. “And if Sweet Briar has been sold?” he asked after a long moment.
They were actually having a serious and sincere conversation. She hesitated. “It can’t be sold. It simply can’t, Devlin. It has been my entire life—it belonged to my parents—it belongs to me. It is my birthright,” she added firmly.
“You must face the fact if it has been sold,” he said, glancing at her. “I made some inquiries in London. As of last month, it was still available for purchase.”
She smiled, thrilled. “Thank God!”
“If you have no home to return to, you may have to stay in England with your uncle.”
“No!” She stared at his hard profile. “Never,” she added fiercely. She hesitated and said, “I would return home, anyway.”
“To what possible life?”
She tensed. “I really don’t know.” She looked up and found him watching her now, closely. “It’s been five months, Devlin, since I first came to Ireland. A child set sail on theAmericana,a cosseted, stubborn child, filled with naive hope, and a woman will return, a grown woman who has experienced something of the world. If Sweet Briar has been sold, I will go home anyway and find some kind of livelihood.”
It was a moment before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was calm. “You are still a child, Virginia, and hardly experienced. You are not suitable to take employment as a schoolteacher or a governess,” he said, “and I cannot see you as a seamstress, either. Your best recourse would be marriage.”
She inhaled harshly. “To Sean?”
He seemed rigid. But his gaze locked with hers. “To Sean—or to some fellow American.”
“If I ever marry, it will be for love.”
He made a harsh sound. “As I said, you are still a child, and a naive one at that.”
She tensed, anger flaring. “Of course I appear a child in your worldly, jaded eyes. But then, you did not think me much of a child when you had me in your bed.”
His hands tightened on the helm, his knuckles turning white.
She hesitated, torn, the anger instantly vanishing. The evening had turned into a pleasant one. Her only complaint was that she still felt a raw and terrible attraction for this man. She did not want to argue, to fight. She wanted to continue a light but sincere and pleasant conversation. She wanted to be friends.
His face seemed flushed. For one moment—until he spoke—she did not know if it was with anger or embarrassment. “Will we forever dredge up the past?”
She knew she had made a terrible mistake. But she could no more stop herself from speaking what was in her heart than she could from seizing his arm. “Please tell me one thing, Devlin,” she heard herself say quietly, with dignity and pride. “It is very important to me.How could you leave me like that afterward?”
There was no mistaking the flash of silver in his eyes. “I had business in London,” he said smoothly, and they both knew it was an utter lie.
“Coward,” she cried.
He straightened as if shot. Slowly he turned wide, incredulous eyes on her. “What did you just call me?”
Her heart raced with some real alarm. “You heard me,” she managed.
“A man would die for such an utterance,” he said very softly, as if he hadn’t heard her plea.
“I suppose I am lucky I am not a man,” she said as lightly as possible.
He did not smile at her lame jest. “I have faced entire fleets alone, Virginia, choosing to engage, not run. I may be a ruthless bastard, but I am not a coward.”
She wet her lips. Her heart pounded with destructive force. Her ears rang. “You are a coward when it comes to personal matters,” she said firmly. “And you sail this sea merely to run.”
