The Prize by Brenda Joyce

Author:Brenda Joyce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2004-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I DON’T SEE WHY WE COULD not have stopped at your estate before calling on my uncle,” Virginia said, her tone purposefully low. It had taken two and a half days to reach Southampton and it was late in the evening. Since she had dared to bait Devlin upon his quarterdeck two nights ago, she had not been given the chance to do more than greet him before he would walk away. Unlike her first voyage on the Defiance, he had not dined in his cabin, slept there or used it for any purpose whatsoever. Every time Virginia had gone out on deck, hoping to attempt another civil conversation, he had been at the helm of the ship. Apparently he had given orders that she was not allowed on the quarterdeck anymore, as her way had been quickly barred.

He was, she thought, either very afraid of her or absolutely disinterested in her company.

Now Devlin didn’t answer her. They stood in the front hall of the Eastleigh mansion, Virginia aware of how miserably unkempt she was and how desperately she needed any help that her uncle could offer. She could not help but wring her hands, and she so wanted to make a good impression.

What if the entire matter of her ransom was instantly resolved? She dared to look at Devlin, oddly disturbed. If that were the case, she would be spending the night at Eastleigh and she doubted she would ever see Devlin O’Neill again.

Her heart lurched, leaving her in no doubt as to the state of her true feelings.

I am asking you to save my brother.

Virginia felt like telling Sean that she could not save his brother if he would not even have a decent conversation with her. “Devlin? I really need to freshen up,” she said.

“Virginia, your appearance is fine,” Devlin said, his attention clearly elsewhere. He had not glanced at her even once, he was so hugely preoccupied.

She trembled. “I so want to make a good impression,” she whispered. “Not that you care.”

He finally faced her and his eyes held hers. “Why? Eastleigh is nothing but a murderer and you know it for a fact.”

She swallowed, queasy now with the impending affair, and said, “I need his help, which you know, or Sweet Briar will be lost. And Devlin, I don’t know all the details of your father’s death, but I doubt it was deliberate. I’m sure it was an accident, one that, with the passage of so many years, you have re-created to be a deliberate act.”

Devlin’s eyes blazed. “When a man uses his sword to decapitate his victim, that is deliberate, Virginia,” he said coldly.

She was so stunned that she was paralyzed. Images of a grotesque beheading assailed her. “Your father—he was beheaded?”

His face was flushed. But his tone continued to drip venom. “Yes, that is correct. I did not re-create the act with my imagination. I witnessed it firsthand, as did my poor mother.”

“Oh, God,” she gasped, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly.

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