Part 28 (1/2)
She began to smile. ”You don't mind my company.”
”As long as you are quiet.”
Her smile widened-how quickly he could make her heart sing and dance! ”You want my company,” she teased.
She thought she saw him hold back a smile. ”I hardly said that. But I do not mind it, if you are quiet.” He stressed the last word.
”I promise.” She grinned, and she leaned on the siding, gazing up at the stars. Tendrils of stray hair whipped her face; she loosened her pelisse. ”If I were a boy, I could have been a sailor,” she mused.
”No, you couldn't.”
She turned, leaning her back on the s.h.i.+p, facing him. ”You dispute me?” she bantered, praying their conversation would remain light and thrilled with it this far.
”You love the land.” He added thoughtfully, ”One might think you are like the sea, a flighty mistress, ebbing one way, then another, forever free, but you are really like the dark, deep earth, solid and immovable.”
She stared. ”How wrong you are, Devlin. You are like the earth, not I.”
He started.
”Did you always want to be a sailor?” she asked, aware of the depth of the tension between them. The light conversation, as brief as it was, had not done anything to dispel it.
”No.”
She tilted her head. ”No? Do you care to elaborate?”
He seemed to caress the helm, steering the s.h.i.+p.
”Devlin? Has it ever occurred to you that it is easier to converse than to be in a speechless war?”
He sighed. ”Askeaton has been in my family for centuries. I thought to do what Sean is doing.”
She became still. Suddenly she realized that she was touching his wrist. Desire crashed over her but she ignored it. ”And then your father died and it all changed.”
”My brother has a big mouth. What else did he say?”
”He said you used the navy to become rich, so you could destroy your father's murderer-my uncle.”
He looked directly at her. ”And he is right.”
She stared boldly back. ”If you expect me to swoon with hysteria and fear, then you do not know me at all.”
He seemed to smile in the darkness. ”I would never expect you to swoon, Virginia,” he murmured.
She went still. She had not misheard the s.e.xually 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 G.o.d!”
”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 the Americana, 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 vanis.h.i.+ng. 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 embarra.s.sment. ”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.