The Prize. Brenda Joyce
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Harvey’s steps slowed and Virginia caught up to him. “Hello,” she said brightly, but he did not return her smile. “What a glorious day. Didn’t you see me wave?”
He halted, facing her. “Indeed I did, Miss Hughes.”
Something was amiss, terribly so. “But you did not wave back…or even nod,” she said slowly, with dread.
“I am extremely upset,” he said bluntly. “You see, I have been relieved of my duties, and when we arrive at Limerick, I am to be cast off this ship.”
“Oh,” she managed to say, her heart pounding.
“You lied to me, Miss Hughes. You accused Devlin of a terrible crime.”
She held her head high. “He has committed a terrible crime—I am innocent of any wrongdoing, and he has taken me prisoner against my will.”
“You claimed he seduced you!” Harvey exclaimed. “So that I would defy him and aid you in your escape!”
She had lost after all, she thought miserably. How she wanted to weep. But she did not. Keeping her chin high, she said, “He has abused me, Mr. Harvey.”
Harvey cried, “But not in the manner you claimed. You have never—and I beg your pardon—been in his bed!”
“I never said any such thing. It was a conclusion you drew yourself—those were not my words.”
He blinked. “Does it matter? You understood the conclusion I came to—you encouraged it!”
“The man is a criminal,” she said.
“He is—was—my captain. Now, because of you, I shall have to find a different ship. Miss Hughes, I wish you well. Good day.” He turned and strode away.
Virginia then trembled. Perhaps it had been wrong to let Jack Harvey think the worst, but she was desperate. She had to escape, she had to reach her uncle, she had to save Sweet Briar. Now she succumbed to guilt, but only because Harvey was a very decent sort and he seemed upset at losing his duties upon the Defiance.
It wasn’t right. If anyone were to blame, it was he.
Virginia glanced at the quarterdeck once more, but O’Neill was not standing there, commanding the sun, the sky, the sea. She raced back to his cabin.
As she barged inside, she saw him seated alone at the dining table, slathering butter on a biscuit, a plate containing more biscuits and cheese in front of him. He did not glance up as she stared accusingly at him.
She fought for her breath and her composure, then closed the door and approached.
He finally looked up but did not stand. “Would you care to join me for some dinner?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He ate, sipped from a mug, then said, “You are getting sunburned, Miss Hughes.”
She felt her temper igniting. “It was my fault. The entire plan. If you wish to punish anyone, it should be me, not Jack Harvey.”
Devlin pushed back his chair and rose to his full height, towering over her. His stance made her feel small and vulnerable. She felt certain he knew that his height affected her thusly, and that he did it deliberately. “I would love nothing more than to punish you,” he murmured. “Did you have something in mind?”
Her heart skipped wildly. He stood too close for comfort—he was too tall, too strong, his britches too tight, his shirt far too loosely drawn at the throat. Virginia couldn’t speak.
“You will remain confined in this cabin until we disembark,” he said calmly. “Those are my orders, Miss Hughes.”
“Do not dismiss Mr. Harvey! He is your friend!”
He had been about to walk away; he turned back to her. “My friend? I think not,” he said too softly.
“No, you are wrong, Mr. Harvey cares about you. He admires you greatly—he told me so. He was—and is—your friend,” Virginia cried. “And you must not treat him so callously because of what I have done!”
“I have no friends—not on board this ship, or any other.” He strode to the door.
“Then I feel sorry for you!”
He whirled. “You think to pity me!”
Virginia realized she had hit a nerve—she hadn’t realized he had possessed one. “Is there anyone in this entire world whom you would call a friend, Captain?” she dared, and it was a challenge.
His eyes glittered, turning dark, like a stormy sky. “Do you dare intrude into my private life?” he asked very softly.
“I didn’t know you had one,” she said as angrily.
He stalked back to her. “Perhaps you will think twice about involving others in your schemes and lies, Miss Hughes. Perhaps next time you will think about the ramifications of your actions.”
“Perhaps I will,” Virginia said, “but this isn’t about me, not anymore. I cannot let you dismiss a man who considers you the greatest captain upon the high seas because of my stupidity, my perfidy. He is your friend, Captain O’Neill, he is your loyal friend!”
“He was my ship’s surgeon and he betrayed me. That is neither friendship nor loyalty. He is lucky I did not shackle him and throw him in the brig.” He strode back to the door, but there he paused. “Why? Why attempt an escape? You would be lost in Ireland. Did you even think your scheme through? I haven’t hurt you. I haven’t even touched you. In a short period of time you will be reunited with your beloved uncle. Why dare to escape? Why dare to defy me?”
Virginia stared helplessly at him. “Because,” she managed, “my entire life is at stake.”
He started.
She stared for a moment longer, then turned and sat down at the table. She felt despondency settle over her like a huge and weighty cloak, and she listened to him walk back to the table, where he also sat. “Explain that statement.”
She shook her head.
He gripped her face, turning it upward so their gazes collided. “I mean it.”
His hand was large, engulfing her chin and jaw. She trembled. “What do you care?” she said awkwardly.
He released her jaw. “I don’t care. But you are in my custody and everything about you is my affair.”
She couldn’t fathom why he should be so interested in her personal matters, and while she did not think sharing her burdens would soften him toward her purpose, she could not think of a reason to remain secretive. She sighed heavily, thought of her parents, and felt a familiar wave of ancient grief. “I was born at Sweet Briar,” she said, her voice low, not looking up at him. “It is heaven on earth, a plantation near Norfolk, Virginia.” She smiled a little, for in spite of the ship’s odors and the scent of the sea, she could smell honeysuckle and lilac and freshly harvested tobacco. “My father built our home with his own two hands, planted the first crops alone.” Finally she looked up, smiling sadly at him. “I loved my father and my mother. Last fall they both died on a stormy night in a foolish carriage collision.”
He said nothing. If he was at all moved by her plight, she could not see it in his expression, as not a muscle in his face changed.
“I am the only child. Sweet Briar is mine. But my guardian, the earl, is selling it in order to pay off my father’s debts.” She laid her hands flat on the table, gripping the smooth wood until her knuckles turned white. “I won’t allow it.”
He stared and it was a moment before he spoke. “I see,” he said flatly. “You will beat the earl about the head until he agrees to pay off your father’s debts and hand you the keys to the plantation.”
This was her last remaining chance. Virginia seized both of his hands and was stunned