Part 40 (1/2)

Summoning up all of her courage, she lifted her skirts and ran. ”My lord de Warenne!”

Tyrell was stepping back into line, facing his partner, and he stiffened.

She shouted again. ”Tyrell! My lord! Help!”

He turned, saw her, and his eyes widened. Then he ran to her, the dancers ceasing at once. ”What happened? Are you hurt?”

”Devlin is killing Tom Hughes in the hall behind the gallery,” she cried.

He took off like a shot. Virginia ran after him, aware now of a terrible silence overcoming the ballroom, of the furor of gasps and murmurs. It was too late to care. And as she chased Tyrell through the gallery and into the hall, she did not stop to discover how many guests were on her heels.

In the hall she found the two men parrying, with Hughes a tattered, b.l.o.o.d.y mess. Devlin was pristine in his uniform, pristine and untouched; his adversary could barely keep to his feet. The two men exchanged blows, and Hughes's sword clattered across the floor and out of reach. Devlin's sword thrust against his chest, where it lay, unmoving. And Devlin smiled with ruthless, lethal intent.

”Enough,” Tyrell said, moving to stand behind Devlin.

Hughes stood, his back to the wall, swaying as if about to become unconscious. The crowd behind Virginia gasped and began murmuring in disbelief and amazement.

Devlin's entire face was a taut, tight, controlled mask, one Virginia had never before seen. She knew he wished to kill. His smile was more than chilling; it was terrifying. ”I think not. I think it is time for Tom Hughes to die.”

”And all for your wh.o.r.e?” Hughes managed.

As Devlin moved to deliver a fatal blow, a thrust meant to pierce Hughes's heart, the crowd cried out and Tyrell gripped his wrist, forestalling him. ”Do not.”

Devlin's smile was savage. ”Get out of my way.”

”You will not kill him,” Tyrell returned, and as he held Devlin's wrist, his knuckles were white.

Virginia closed her eyes and prayed.

”He is not worth it. He did not kill Gerald, Devlin. He is not the one you seek,” Tyrell said softly.

Virginia opened her eyes and saw Devlin standing there, poised to kill, wanting to kill, a truly savage man.

”Virginia is not hurt,” Tyrell added even more softly.

Devlin's entire face tensed. He glanced at her briefly then back at Hughes, and suddenly his posture relaxed and he stepped back.

A number of sighs escaped from the watching guests. Virginia felt her knees buckle in the same terrible relief that one and all were feeling.

And then a dozen officers were rus.h.i.+ng to Hughes to administer to him. Devlin suddenly sheathed his sword, turning, and his gaze found hers again. Instantly he strode to her. ”Are you all right?” he demanded, staring, not touching her, his eyes moving over her face and hair, finally to linger on her lips, which she thought were bloodied but could not be sure. His glance then took in the torn bodice of her gown. His eyes turned chilling again.

The ability to speak escaped her. She could only nod, incapable of tearing her gaze from his. In that instant, he was the safest harbor she had ever known.

His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened, and he put his arm around her. ”We are going home,” he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

VIRGINIA COULD NOT STOP trembling. She knew it was foolish-she was bruised, but other than that, she was hardly the worse for wear-and she did not want Devlin to see how cowardly she was. Still, the tremors did not cease. She could not forget Thomas Hughes's brutal a.s.sault. She could not forget his hand cruelly twisting her breast, or worse, his tongue invading her mouth. Her stomach heaved as Devlin's coach swerved wildly and then bounced over a rut. Virginia closed her eyes and hung on.

”Virginia?” he asked softly.

She did not want to speak to him now. She doubted she could-she remained far too close to hysteria. She hugged herself, huddling in the coach's far corner, other images afflicting her now. Devlin had wanted to kill Thomas Hughes. She had seen it in his eyes.

”We will be home shortly,” Devlin said, his tone odd, as if uncertain. ”Within minutes,” he added.

She nodded, refusing to open her eyes because his tone sounded suspiciously concerned and she was afraid she might cry. Of course he had wanted to kill Tom Hughes. He had spent most of his life burning with the need for revenge against Eastleigh and all that was his.

”Virginia, are you in pain?”

She simply could not speak, so she shook her head, and it was not really a lie. Her wrist and breast throbbed, but it was so much more than that. Devlin seemed to want to know what was wrong. But she could not tell him.

Tom Hughes had treated her like the wh.o.r.e the world thought she was. She could never play this game again, and if it meant losing any chance to win his love, so be it. It had become crystal clear, anyway, that he did not have any soul left with which to love any woman, much less herself.

How easily he had been triggered to murderous intent.

”We're here,” Devlin said, sounding grim.

The coach had slowed and was now stopping; Virginia opened her eyes and saw the terribly welcome sight of Waverly Hall. A footman leapt off the back of the coach to open her door. Devlin adjusted her satin wrapper, concealing her torn dress.

Virginia's heart tightened. Why did he bother? She knew she had a split lip, a telltale sign of her disaster. She wanted to thank him, but she still didn't trust herself to speak.

She stood and allowed the footman to help her down to the sidewalk before the mansion's front steps.

Devlin jumped down behind her, as agile as a jungle cat, and she was swept back in time to another place-to the deck of the Americana, as she had gripped the railing and gazed at the fierce ocean, wondering what her fate might be at the hands of the pirate captain. If you think to leap to a watery death, think again. I will not let you die.

Oddly, his refrain pierced the night as if she were back on the Americana, newly seized, as if Devlin stood there behind her, as if he had just uttered those words again.

Devlin carefully took her arm, and Virginia leaned heavily against him. Once in the hall, he circ.u.mvented Benson from a.s.sisting her with her wrap. ”Send Hannah to the master suite instantly with hot water, towels and brandy. Miss Hughes has had a fall.”

Benson nodded and hurried away.

He would guard her reputation now? Virginia choked, wanting to weep.

Devlin suddenly lifted her into his arms and began striding through the hall.

”What are you doing?” she managed. ”I can walk.”

”I am doing what I have wanted to do ever since I allowed Tom Hughes to live,” he said grimly.

She finally looked up at him as he bounded up the stairs. His face was taut with anger and regret and, she thought, with anguish. He hit the second level and their eyes met and held. He did not speak and neither did she. Stunned, she realized how distraught he was.

Devlin opened their door with the toe of his shoe, followed by his broad shoulder. He carried her through their sitting room, where a fire blazed in the hearth, and into the master bedroom. There, another fire crackled happily and their bed was turned down. He set her down on it, removing her wrap and breaking eye contact to do so. ”I'll help you out of that gown before Hannah arrives,” he said. It was not a suggestion.

Virginia realized she was hugging herself, that she still trembled, though she was not cold. Why did he go to such lengths? All of society would know the truth by the next morning.

”Turn around, please,” he said softly.