The Prize. Brenda Joyce

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      “We are not allies,” he said harshly.

      This was not the reply she had expected and she did not like the look on his face or in his eyes.

      “And I am not releasing you in Portsmouth.”

      “What?” She was shocked. “But—”

      “In fact, I am taking you to Askeaton. Have you ever been to Ireland, Miss Hughes?”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      VIRGINIA WAS DISBELIEVING. “Ireland? You think to take me to Ireland?”

      “I hardly think it,” he murmured, “I plan it. Now, do sit down, as I also intend to eat.” He held out her chair.

      Confusion overcame her. “I am not sure that I understand.”

      “Good God!” he shot. “What is there to understand? I am taking you to Ireland, Miss Hughes, as my guest.”

      She was truly trying to comprehend him. “So I am your prisoner,” she managed to say hoarsely.

      “I prefer to think of you as a guest.” He became serious. “I will not harm you—not even if you are eighteen.”

      “Why?”

      “It doesn’t matter. Now, sit.”

      Virginia had believed her terrible predicament over. She shook her head, refusing to take the offered chair. “I have no appetite. Is it a ransom that you seek?”

      “How clever.” His smile was cold.

      “I have no funds. My inheritance is being sold in bits and pieces as soon as possible, and the proceeds go to the repayment of my father’s debts.”

      He shrugged as if he did not care.

      Virginia became very alarmed, but managed to breathe slowly, evenly. “You let Mrs. Davis go. She was rather wealthy.”

      “If you think to starve, so be it.” He sat down and began serving himself from the platter, where a hearty mutton stew was revealed.

      Unfortunately, the sight and smell of the stew caused her stomach to growl loudly, but he did not seem to hear. He began to eat, and quickly, as if eating were a mission and he were in a rush to accomplish it.

      Finally he took a sip of wine and saluted her with his glass. “Fine contraband, indeed.”

      Virginia did not reply. A terrible inkling was dawning upon her. He intended to ransom her and he couldn’t care less about her inheritance.

      He had known her name from the moment they had met.

      He must know of her uncle, the earl.

      She sat down hard on the chair he had left pulled out from the table. That action caused him to glance up, although he never ceased eating.

      But now she was safe enough, was she not? The man was in the navy, even if about to be discharged, or worse—and she hoped he hanged from the nearest gallows. He was no common outlaw. He wanted a ransom, one that would surely be paid, and considering all circumstances, she doubted he would return her to her uncle blemished in any way.

      Virginia wondered what the ransom would be and if her uncle was wealthy enough to pay her ransom and her father’s debts. Her dismay was infinite.

      “You seem distraught,” he remarked, leaning back in his chair, apparently having finished his meal.

      “You have no morals, sir,” she said tightly. “That much is clear.”

      “I have never said I did.” He eyed her. “Morals are for fools, Miss Hughes.”

      She stared. Impulsively, she leaned forward. “How can I make you change your mind?” She could hardly believe herself now. “There cannot be a ransom from my uncle, Captain O’Neill. I am eighteen, not fourteen.” His face never changed expression. “I will do whatever I must to be freed.”

      He stared for an interminable moment. “Is that the offer that I think it is?”

      She felt ill…breathless…ashamed…resigned. “Yes, it is,” she croaked.

      He stood. “The storm is upon us. I am afraid I must go. Do not leave this cabin. A chit such as yourself would be blown overboard instantly.” He tossed his napkin aside and strode across the now-rolling floor of the cabin as if it were still and flat.

      That was his reply? She was incredulous.

      At the door, he paused. “And my answer is no.” He walked out.

      She collapsed on the table in tears, all of which now flowed purely from desperation. She already knew her uncle didn’t give a damn about her. He would never pay both a ransom and her father’s debts.

      Because of the damned Irishman, she would lose Sweet Briar.

      Anger exploded and she leapt up, racing across the cabin. As soon as she had swung the door open, a huge gale wind sent her forward helplessly across the entire deck. She had never felt such a force in her life; Virginia saw the raging, frothing sea beyond the railing and it seemed to be racing toward her. She couldn’t even cry out and then she was slammed hard, midsection first, into wood and rope.

      Pain blinded her. The sea sprayed her, while the wind wanted to push her overboard. Panic consumed her—she did not want to die!

      “You damnable stubborn woman,” O’Neill hissed, his strong arms wrapping around her. And she was cocooned against his entire hard, powerful body, the sea and the wind now relentlessly battering them both.

      She inhaled, unable to look up, her face pressed against his chest. His grip tightened, and then he was dragging her with him as he confronted the wind, walking fiercely, determinedly into it, a single man against the elements.

      He shoved her into the cabin, and for one moment stood braced in the doorway, pounded by the wind. “Stay inside!” he shouted to make himself heard.

      “You have to let me go!” she shouted back. Oddly, she wanted to thank him for saving her life.

      He shook his head, lashed her with a furious look and began running across the deck, finally leaping up to the quarterdeck. It had begun to rain, pounding and fierce.

      Virginia stayed safely within the cabin, out of the reach of the storm, but she made no move to close the door, which had become nailed open by the wind. Now she realized how serious the storm was. The ship was riding huge tidal waves the way the tiny dinghy had earlier, cresting to each huge tip, only to plummet sickeningly down again. She glanced around and saw sailors everywhere, straining against ropes, crawling in the masts. They were hanging there, too.

      Then she looked back up and cried out in horror, because a man was hanging from a middle yardarm, and she knew he had fallen and was about to careen to his death.

      She had to do something, yet there seemed to be nothing that she could do.

      She glanced СКАЧАТЬ