The Prize

“I despise you,” she said thickly.

Oddly, he flinched, not outwardly, but somewhere deep inside his body. Outwardly, he felt his lips twist into a mirthless smile. “That is the best that you can do?”

She looked as if she might strike him.

“Do not,” he warned softly.

She clenched her fists. “I am sorry I missed,” she said suddenly. “I’m a fine shot, and if only I had waited, you would now be dead.”

“But I’m not dead, alas,” he mocked. Her words had an edge he refused to feel, cutting deep. “Patience, Miss Hughes, is a virtue. And you, my harridan, lack it entirely.” He strode away.

“Why are you doing this? O’Neill!” she cried after him. “Harvey says you are rich!”

He pretended not to hear.

“Bastard,” she said.

CHAPTER SIX

JACK HARVEY CLIMBED THE three steps to the quarterdeck. Although his semblance remained cheerful, as was characteristic for him, he was still stunned that Devlin had abused his hostage—stunned and disturbed. But he’d given up trying to understand his captain. He’d served under O’Neill long enough to know that he would never understand him.

Devlin was at the helm and he turned at the familiar sound of the surgeon’s short, surprisingly light footsteps. “How is she?” he asked.

“The gash could have used a stitch or two last night, but it’s healing nicely now. She hasn’t had a headache since she received the blow, which, according to Miss Hughes, was during the storm last night.”

Devlin nodded at his first mate. “Take the helm,” he said. He stepped away and he and Harvey moved to the deck’s larboard side. “You are eyeing me oddly,” he remarked coolly.

Harvey no longer smiled. “Damn it, Devlin, I hope she got that blow as she claimed, by falling, and not from some other means.”

He stared, instantly comprehending Harvey’s meaning. “By God, you think I hit her?” He was genuinely surprised. He had never hit a woman in his life.

“I don’t know what to think,” Harvey grimaced. “Not now.”

Oh, ho, he had a very dark inkling, indeed. “Really?” He gripped Harvey’s arm and they stepped down to the main deck, away from prying eyes and listening ears. “You are a fool, Jack, to allow a clever vixen like Miss Hughes to so sweetly tie you up and wrap you with a pretty bow.”

Harvey appeared flustered. “What does that mean?”

“That means,” Devlin said tightly, “that she has enticed you into disobeying me, has she not?”

Harvey blinked, paling. “Devlin…” he faltered.

“What do the two of you intend? And tell me, how can you justify thwarting me, defying me, when I am your captain?”

Harvey stiffened. “Damn it, you seduced her.”

For one moment, he felt as if Harvey had spoken a foreign language, one he had never before heard. “I what?”

Harvey blinked another time, now looking worried and uncomfortable. “You seduced her,” he said less certainly.

He stared as red-hot fury swept over him. Damn that woman with her clever machinations, her foul lies! “So that is what she told you?” he asked, as if completely calm.

“Er.” Harvey hesitated. “Yes.”

“You know, it is good luck for you that we are, for the most part, on good terms. Otherwise you would not be wearing such a straight nose. I don’t seduce virgins. Innocence does not tempt me.” And as he spoke, he was aware of that having changed.

Harvey paled. “Oh, dear,” he said.

“You have always been taken in by a pretty face,” Devlin said.

Harvey grimaced. “Devlin, I beg your pardon, I am so sorry!”

Devlin didn’t know whom he felt the most umbrage at—Jack Harvey or Virginia Hughes. He certainly felt like throttling the latter. “What did the two of you plan?”

Harvey remained white. He shook his head. “I was to bring her a sailor’s clothes from one of the boys below decks. Then, when we made port, I was to distract and preoccupy you and she would simply walk off the boat with the others.”

“Very clever,” Devlin said, and he meant it. The plan would have undoubtedly worked if he had not sensed the conspiracy between his ship’s surgeon and his little captive.

“Devlin, I am sorry, terribly sorry. I knew it was not in character for you! But then, this entire affair makes no sense—you’ve never ransomed a woman before. Please forgive me. She was so convincing! She wept, for God’s sake,” Harvey cried, his gaze filled with anxiety.

There would be no forgiveness for anyone. Devlin said, “When we reach Limerick, you will have to find another ship. As of this moment, you are relieved of your duties.”

Harvey’s mouth opened, as if to protest.

Devlin stared, silently daring him to utter a single sound.

Harvey decided the better of it—then amended that decision. “I am sorry,” he said.

Devlin walked away. He no longer cared what Harvey said, thought or did, because their relationship was over.

VIRGINIA SMILED AS SHE STROLLED the deck, uncaring that she had no parasol. In fact, she relished the strong, bright sun. It felt wonderful on her face—it felt wonderful to be alive—and in that moment, she had a sense of why the siren call of the sea was so enchanting. The ship tacked lazily across the wind, the seas were as unhurried, but the breeze was fresh and clean, the skies scintillating, infinity somewhere beyond. She smiled happily, reaching the railing and gripping it. Late tomorrow they would make port in Limerick—and Jack Harvey was going to help her escape.

She laughed out loud, throwing her head back, thinking of how she wished she could see the expression on Devlin O’Neill’s face when he found her gone. She had been wrong to think that she would never be able to win any battle between them. Oh, no. There would be a battle tomorrow and her plan was foolproof. Tomorrow she would be the victor, oh yes.

She knew she was gloating—savoring a triumph she didn’t quite have—and she could almost hear the headmistress at the Marmott School admonishing her. “Ladies do not gloat. In fact, Miss Hughes, ladies do not have battles with avaricious, unscrupulous sea captains, either—a lady does not battle anyone, ever, at all.”

Virginia had to chuckle again. “Well, this lady does do battle, Mrs. Towne,” she said aloud, to the wind and the sea. “In fact, she is rather enjoying herself!”

She realized she had meant her every word and she became reflective. How had she come to this place and time, where she so wanted to outwit Devlin O’Neill? Where the idea of doing so brought her such a thrill? Was it because she still recalled that terrible aching moment when she had desperately wanted his mouth to cover hers? She refused to feel any more desire—and she did not—but she could not escape the singular memory. It had somehow become engraved upon her mind.

Virginia turned to lean her back against the railing, thoughtful still. She glanced toward the quarterdeck and was surprised not to see him there. Why hadn’t he kissed her?

She started, wishing she had never asked herself the question. But she knew why! She was a skinny little thing, with tiny, shapeless breasts, a sharp, angular face and hair that resembled a rat’s nest. Suddenly Virginia felt despair.

It dawned upon her that she wanted her handsome captor to find her beautiful. How foolish could she be?

She drew herself up straighter as the ship rocked over a swell, reminding herself that soon she would be free again, and eventually she would be back at Sweet Briar. Then she would no longer even recall Devlin O’Neill, not by face and not by name. He would not be even the most distant memory.

Somehow she was not reassured.