Part 13 (1/2)

The man suddenly shoved his face closer, peering at her. ”Hey, you look familiar, boy. You been on the Defiance, sailin' with us?”

Virginia turned and ran without answering, aware of how fortunate she was that the two sailors were so drunk. The Mystere was a sloop, half the size of the Defiance and berthed close by. Virginia hurried up the gangplank. Instantly the watch called out to her.

”Name's Robbie,” she growled. ”I'm looking to set sail tomorrow with ye boys if the cap'n will allow it.”

A lanky sailor came forward, shoving a torch toward her. ”Cap is dinin',” he said. ”But we're real short of men. C'mon, Rob. I'm sure he'll speak with you.”

Virginia followed the other youth, her heart continuing to race, relieved he carried the torch while walking ahead of her.

”How old ye be?” the watchman asked.

She hesitated. ”Fifteen.”

”Ye look twelve, maybe,” the lad laughed. ”Don't worry, Captain Rodrigo won't care if yer eight. We got a few boys just out of nappies on board.”

Virginia grunted as they paused before the small cabin that was just beneath the quarterdeck. The watch knocked, was told to enter, and Virginia followed him in.

”Got a boy here, Cap, lookin' to sail with us.”

A barrel-chested man with a gray beard and dark piercing eyes sat at a small table, apparently finis.h.i.+ng a supper of bread, cheese, mutton and ale. He eyed Virginia, who stood as close to the door as possible. ”Step forward, boy,” he said roughly. ”Ye ever sailed a s.h.i.+p before?”

Virginia came forward, avoiding looking him in the eye. She needed to get to London, and decided there was no choice but to lie. ”Aye, sir. Been at sea since I was, er, eight.”

”Really?” The s.h.i.+p's captain wiped his hands on his thighs, then belched. ”Which s.h.i.+ps?”

Virginia felt herself pale. Then a brilliant idea came to her and she said, ”The Americana, Cap.”

”Never heard of it.”

”We were seized by the Defiance, sir. Just a few days ago. The Americana is probably at the bottom of the sea right now-she'd never have had the sail to outrun the gale that hit us. I was lucky enough to be taken aboard the Defiance,” she said, and she smiled at him.

”An' why jump s.h.i.+p?” Rodrigo stared far too closely at her. ”Most of my men would give an arm to sail with O'Neill.”

Virginia hesitated. ”Not me, sir. He likes boys, if you know what I mean, Cap.”

The captain's broad face never changed expression. ”O'Neill's reputation for fine women is well-known. Seize her, Carlos.”

Seize her, Carlos.

Seize her.

Virginia whirled as the lanky youth, Carlos, reached for her. She ducked under his arm easily enough and bolted out the door.

”Get the girl,” Rodrigo shouted. ”She's O'Neill's fiancee, G.o.dd.a.m.n it, and there's a pretty reward for her return!”

It all clicked then, as she raced across the deck. O'Neill had not bothered to search for her, knowing she would try to find a s.h.i.+p to London. She hated him then as she ran toward the gangplank.

How could she fail now? When freedom was so close?

A group of men were stepping onto the gangplank from the docks below. Behind her, Carlos cried, ”Seize that woman! That's not a boy, it's a woman! O'Neill's woman!”

Virginia faltered as the men below hesitated, and then the four of them bolted up the plank toward her.

She looked back.

Carlos stood a few feet behind her, grinning at her, his arms dangling at his side, fingers twitching as if eager to grab her.

Virginia looked to her right as the four sailors ran toward her.

The water was black and iridescent in the starlight.

It looked so calm. She was a strong swimmer, too.

Virginia darted toward the rail. And then she leapt up onto it.

Carlos shouted, ”Grab her before she jumps!”

Virginia paused on the top rail, took her dagger from her belt, and held both arms high up overhead. Then she dove.

DEVLIN STRODE TOWARD THE docks, leaving the waterfront bars and inns behind. His mood was dire, indeed. Somehow his dead father had haunted him all day, as if he did not have enough on his mind with Virginia's witty escape. Everywhere he had turned since setting foot on Irish soil, he had almost expected to see Gerald O'Neill standing there, having something to say. But that was only his imagination, of course. Gerald was dead and unlike most people, Devlin did not believe in ghosts.

Besides, what could his father wish to say to him, anyway? Eastleigh was nearly ruined. Long ago, Devlin had decided a miserable impoverished existence would be far better punishment than death, and wasn't that revenge good enough?

Sightless eyes stared up at him from the b.l.o.o.d.y stump of his father's severed head.

The memory made him angry. He hadn't been tormented with it since he had set sail from London-no, since he had seized the Americana, and the absence had been a huge and welcome relief. But hadn't he known that returning home would undo him? The boy had returned, frightened and uneasy, weak and without confidence.

Devlin hated the boy-he always had-and he softly cursed.

He needed no haunting, no memories of his past, not when his prisoner was missing. And he could not rest easy until he had his captive back. He reminded himself that if she managed to escape, it really did not matter; she was only salt that he would mercilessly rub in Eastleigh's gaping wounds. But that rationalization did not quell his annoyance. Virginia Hughes was far more than a brat, daring to defy him. This was a challenge, one he could not let pa.s.s.

Huge violet eyes gazed pleadingly at him. I cannot survive without Sweet Briar. Please let me go! Please. I beg you....

He refused to feel sorry for her, not even in the most dispa.s.sionate and clinical way. He did not wish Virginia ill, certainly, but her last name was Hughes, and she would serve him and his purpose well. But oddly, he could not help but recognize that she was a terribly innocent victim of his plans.

Devlin's steps slowed as he realized he did pity her after all. He had no feelings for Elizabeth, but he pitied his captive, perhaps because of her youth and innocence, or maybe because she did not know that Eastleigh hadn't the funds to save her beloved plantation.

Her violet eyes seared him again, this time soft with love. I was born at Sweet Briar. It is near Norfolk, Virginia, and it is heaven on earth....

The anger erupted, stunning him with its force. Pity was a weakness. And if she continued to defy his authority, he could easily enough turn her eyes soft and smoky with the plunging hardness of his own body. In fact, he was beyond tempted now. Should he discipline her in his bed, there'd be no more defiance, no more escape attempts. Then, escape would not be on her mind.

Cries echoed on the docks ahead.

Devlin started, all thoughts of s.e.x vanis.h.i.+ng, and saw a commotion aboard the Mystere. A group of men were boarding her. Someone on the deck held a torch, shouting, and Devlin thought he heard his name. Then his gaze slammed to the railing in utter disbelief and instant recognition. Virginia stood atop the rail, arms outstretched, poised to dive into the icy river.

What in h.e.l.l was she doing?

Devlin's heart slammed to a hard stop.

And as she sailed off of the rail, he ran for the dock. He saw her break the water, and just before he dove in after her, his heart racing with alarm, he wondered if she could even swim.