Was he trying to become inebriated? And if so, why? But more importantly, how many women did he mean? "How many?"

"How many what?"

"How many women have enjoyed your company?" she dared-for she simply had to know.

"I beg your pardon?" His eyes widened and he looked torn between disbelief and laughter. "Are you asking me how many women I have had in bed?" He now choked.

"Yes, I think I am," she said, clasping her hands tightly in her lap and blinking furiously. She felt her cheeks begin to burn.

He began to laugh. His laughter had that rough, raw, unused quality, but it was not unpleasant. "I think what I like most about you is your rampant curiosity," he said, "as it is so unique." His laughter died. But he smiled now with real mirth and her heart lurched wildly. She had never seen such a handsome man.

"No, strike that, I like your outspoken manner. Has it ever occurred to you not to reveal your every thought, wish and desire?"

She blinked, trembling. Not only had she made him laugh, really laugh, he was flattering her-he liked her curiosity, her manner! Did he know what he was doing? Was this another game, or was she finally glimpsing him relaxed, his guard down, the truth allowed out due to the Scotch he had imbibed? Did he like her just a little bit? "How much have you drank, Devlin?"

"A Scotch or two," he said softly. "Very well, this is the third. No, the fourth. I am not drunk, Virginia. I do not get drunk."

"I think you are," she said, and somehow their gazes met and held. His eyes had become soft, with no hint of ice, as if he was feeling warmly toward her now. She was so elated she could not breathe properly. "No one likes my outspoken manner. Even my parents despaired."

He smiled again. "You are unpredictable-I never know what you shall say or do. It is interesting."

Her heart raced. "So you like me, a little, after all?" Dear G.o.d, had that been a hopeful tone in her voice? She prayed not.

He tore his gaze from hers and slowly got to his feet, the slumbering lion preparing to feed. He gave her a seductive glance, sidelong and direct, and slowly began to pace. "So many questions," he murmured. Then he added, "I sent Tompkins to the Defiance for some wine. The cook has prepared venison and I think a hearty cabernet will do. But I know you prefer white, and I asked him to bring some, too." He paused, facing her, leaning one slim hip against the sideboard. The posture was at once indolent and suggestive.

She leapt to her feet. "Don't change the subject."

His lashes lowered. "There have been many women, Virginia, and I do not count," he murmured.

How clever he now was, avoiding the subject she so wished to discuss. "It is hardly the end of the world if the great and oh-so-cold Captain O'Neill actually likes another human being," she said.

His lashes lifted, revealing the gleam of silvery eyes, and then he looked away. "You are like a dog with a bone. What is it that you want me to say? That I find you beautiful? That I yearn for your kiss? That I cannot live without you? I'm afraid that while I do find you unpredictable and interesting, I am not the kind of man to grovel over a woman, to yearn for true love or any other such nonsense. Leave it alone."

She stared, swallowing, for he was too astute, and it was almost as if he knew her thoughts and feelings. "You started this," she began. "And we both know I am not beautiful, so I am not asking you to find me so. We also both know it takes little to arouse you, so clearly you yearn for my kiss-or something along those lines. And as for living together? Are you madder than I previously thought? Of course you can live without me-without Sean-without anyone! You are an island, Devlin, an island unto yourself and the whole world knows it." She was very pleased with her brisk tone and how firmly she had reb.u.t.ted him.

For a long moment he stared, so intensely that she backed away. "No, I'm afraid that you started this, Virginia, by wanting something from me that I cannot give." His tone was soft but firm and very sincere.

Virginia almost hugged herself, staring back at him. Was he telling her that he would never love her? Could he be that perceptive? Had the liquor allowed him to speak so honestly with her now?

"I do not know what you mean," she whispered, perspiring.

He shrugged with a small smile, the gesture meant to convey that he did not believe her, not for a single moment.

An idea struck her then, a wonderful idea that might help her attain her end. "But there is something that I want, Devlin," she said.

He studied her, half a smile on his face, waiting.

"There is something that I want from you and I know you can give it," she said firmly. How tense her expression felt.

"Oh, ho! I sense a new battle. Darling, you cannot win, so do not even think to take to the field." He smiled, but she saw the wariness in his eyes. She realized then that, drunk or not, he would always be a dangerous adversary.

"I am not your darling," she breathed.

"But you are-in the eyes of the world." His soft tone was a deadly caress.

She wet her lips, praying hard, wondering if he might actually be trying to seduce her, in spite of what he had said earlier. "I want your friendship, Devlin. Nothing more, just your friendship."

His eyes widened, then quickly narrowed. "A new twist," he murmured, inclining his head with real respect. "As I said, forever unpredictable. I think not."

"No! You must hear me out!" She finally walked over to him and took his hand.

He stared first at her face and then at her pale hand, and he made an incredulous sound. "Virginia," he warned, and it was clear that the seductive dance between them was now over.

Bravely she stood her ground. "I want your friendship, freely given, until the ransom is paid and I am free to go."

He stared at her. "I have no friends."

"That's ridiculous!" His brows lifted. "Sean is your friend."

He pulled slowly away from her and folded his arms across his broad chest. "Forever interesting," he mused softly. And his tone hardened. "I sense a negotiation. Negotiate."

She wet her lips. His gaze lingered on her mouth. She noticed, but only vaguely, as her heart slammed with undue force. "In return, I will play the part of your mistress so well that even you will believe me your shameless lover," she said.

He looked at her in absolute surprise.

She smiled, savoring a moment of triumph. "Well? This game will end much sooner if I cooperate. I am offering you more than cooperation-I am offering you full partic.i.p.ation."

He slowly smiled at her, but it did not reach his eyes, which remained dark and thoughtful. "I know how clever you are," he said. "And I know you have some scheme upon which this bargain rests. Whatever it is, whatever you think to truly accomplish, you will fail-if it is not what I want."

She shrugged, weak with the desire to win. "Just make the bargain."

"Patience, darling, is what you must learn if you are to be a real player in the game of life."

She sighed with real exasperation, while inside she was very close to elation. "Do we have a bargain or not?" she cried.

"We have a bargain," he agreed softly, with a slight smile. "Let me guess. We seal it with a handshake?" His tone remained soft, but it was mocking.

"I don't think so," Virginia said boldly, barely able to believe her courage, and she moved into his arms. "We seal it with a kiss."

His smile told her he had thought so. And he waited.

Her heart raced with such strength that she felt faint. Virginia stood on tiptoes, clutching his shoulders, too exhilarated to be annoyed that he made no effort to bend down to her. She turned up her face and closed her eyes, the last thing she saw being his silver gaze, suddenly hot, suddenly bright. He wanted this, too. And then she moved her mouth firmly over his.

He remained utterly still.

She pushed at the seam made by his lips, using her tongue, and when he gave, she felt real triumph and she invaded, her small tongue against his much larger one.

His hand closed on her nape, hard, and instantly he bent her over backward and his tongue swept deep into her mouth. In that one instant he took over the kiss, branding her and letting her know it. Virginia didn't care. She held on tightly, pressing against him, allowing him every possible liberty, should he wish to take any. And when the hot, hard kiss was over, he lifted his head and stared.

"Whatever your game, darling, it's a dangerous one."

She smiled, but fiercely, while trembling in his arms. "I merely want your friendship, Devlin," she lied.

He made a mocking sound.

THE MOMENT THE DOOR OPENED, Virginia pretended to be asleep.

She lay absolutely still, on her back, listening intently. As no footsteps sounded, she thought he stood in the doorway, staring at her.

He sighed and walked in, closing the door. "I know you are awake, Virginia, your cheeks are turning pink," he said, holding a candle aloft.

She sat up. It was midnight. She had tried to go to sleep two hours ago, but her mind had refused to cooperate. No longer confused, she remained scared, the feeling distinct, as if she were standing on a cliff high above a lake, preparing to dive into icy, unknown depths far below. All she could think of was what she was doing. Did she really think to beat him at his game? Did she really think to win his friendship? Did she have a chance of making him fall in love with her? And how in G.o.d's name were they going to share a room? She could think of little else than a far better way of spending the night in the same bedroom together-even though her resolve not to leap into his bed remained.

"I see you made my bed for me," he said, glancing at the pile of sheets and pillows on the floor. "How thoughtful."

She hugged her knees to her chest, watching him yank a sheet free and then lay it flat. When his makeshift bed was made, he sat down in the room's single chair and tugged off his boots. When the second one hit the floor with a thump, he looked up, his eyes hard and narrowed. "Do not make this difficult, Virginia."

"Why not?" she flung. "You have certainly made my life difficult."

"We are not sharing that bed." He stood, unb.u.t.toning his shirt.

She had to watch, mesmerized by the swath of golden skin slowly but surely revealed. "That's right, we're not. This is pretense and I know it better than you."

"Really?" He clearly did not believe her.

"Now you plan to undress?" she asked breathlessly as he tossed the shirt aside. She made sure not to inhale, but he was an Adonis, impossibly beautiful, his body hard and muscular, every sinew and tendon sculpted and defined.

Not looking at her, he blew out the candles. "I am sleeping in my britches, if that is any comfort to you."

"It's such a relief!" she mocked. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and with the moonlight streaming through the window, she saw him lying quietly on the white sheets, one arm flung above his head. A moment pa.s.sed and she wondered if he were already asleep, as he did not move at all. "Devlin?"

Remaining motionless, he said, "Yes, Virginia?"

"Are you thinking about what I am thinking about...at all?"

"No," he said calmly.

She stared at him suspiciously. "Yes, you are! How else would you know what I am thinking?"

"You are thinking about going home," he returned smoothly. "Good night." It was a warning.

She hugged her knees harder, her pulse racing, and finally, softly, she said, "I am not thinking about going home. I am thinking about that kiss in the library."

"Good night," he said very firmly.

She sighed with exasperation and frustration and flopped onto her back. Instantly images of his eyes, blazing with l.u.s.t, filled her mind, followed by another image of how he had just looked, shirtless, and her body responded completely. She bit her lip hard. How would she ever fall asleep when he was right there on the floor, a temptation like no other? And why did she have to be so tempted? She had a plan now, one that frightened her, but one she intended to follow. Would it really matter if she was his mistress in fact as well as in fiction?

It would matter to her, she thought. It would matter a great deal, unless he gave her his love as well as his body. She sighed. She might as well resign herself to a very long and uphill battle, including the one against herself.

"Virginia," he warned. "You are acting like a child."

She sat up and moved to the end of the bed, where she could see him quite clearly. "How am I acting like a child? I simply cannot sleep with you there on the floor!"

He remained on his back, but he was looking at her. "You don't want to sleep," he muttered. "You want to argue...among other things."

"What other things could I possibly want, Devlin?" she asked innocently, although she was smiling.

"Count sheep," he said firmly. "Or leaves of tobacco. Good night."

"I think I am a bit mad," she said reflectively. "That must be it. I mean, six months ago I was on the Americana and we had never met. No, actually, I was still at that awful and horrid ladies' school in Richmond. Since then you have abducted me, taken me to Askeaton, had your way with me, left me, handed me off to your brother, and here we are, man and mistress-almost."

"Good G.o.d," Devlin said. "Are you going to be this garrulous every night?"

"And after all of that, I still enjoyed that kiss. Of course, I refuse to ever entertain you in bed again."

He sat up. The sheet dropped to his lap, revealing the hard slabs of his chest and his lean, flat abdomen. "You have an eerie mind, Virginia, and it seems to be on a single path. And, darling, I entertained you, not vice versa."

That was it. She thought about his mouth and tongue against her s.e.x and she could not breathe, not one drop of air.

He suddenly leapt to his feet. "I am going downstairs to read for a while."

This was never going to work, she thought, staring at him. He was aroused, the rigid line impossible to miss in his snug, pale britches. "Too bad Fiona isn't here," she heard herself remark.

"Yes, it is," he said, crossing the room and not looking at her.

"Devlin, this will not work. Our sharing a room, it's simply impossible. You have to sleep somewhere else. To h.e.l.l with the servants!"

He leaned against the closed door, facing her. "Servants gossip madly, and I would bet my fortune that Mrs. Hill's telling everyone she can think of how shameless a barbarian her new Irish master is. So this will have to work, and it will, but only if you make an attempt, Virginia, an attempt not to think about your pa.s.sionate nature."

"Like you are doing?" she challenged softly.

"Like I am doing," he said with a smile that was a simple baring of his teeth. "It is called self-will, Virginia, and while I realize you have never thought to exercise it, now is a good time to start."

"This is not my fault," she reminded him.

"Lie down, close your eyes and count sheep, Virginia, sheep-or bales of tobacco, if you will-or battleships. Then I am certain you will be able to rest." He walked out.

"We do not bale tobacco," she muttered crossly.

Virginia flopped back down, arms crossed, oddly pleased. He wasn't that hard to provoke, she decided, and she did enjoy stirring him up. And he did find her attractive, of that there was no doubt.

Virginia closed her eyes and began to count tobacco leaves. But the tobacco faded, replaced with a striking image of Devlin O'Neill. Virginia suddenly smiled. Maybe her plan would work after all.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.