The Stolen Bride (16 page)

“Sean? Why didn’t you leave last night?”

He did not want to think about last night, not ever again—and he especially did not want to discuss it with her. “I did leave.”

“But you came back.”

He chose not to answer now.

She seized his arm, dragging him to a halt in the water. Somehow he was facing her. He knew the water lapped her thighs and her skin was visible through the cotton drawers, so he refused to look—except from the corner of his eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He pulled away. “I told you…goodbye.”

“But it wasn’t goodbye. This is a new beginning,” she said softly.

“Damn it! When did you become…foolish?” The words exploded from him. “You could be married…to an Englishman…Sinclair! Instead… freezing water…hunted by Englishmen!”

“I don’t love Peter,” she said, her tone stubborn.

His mind was treacherous, choosing that moment to recall all of last night. He almost told her she had proved that. “It doesn’t matter.” He turned away, continuing on downstream. “No one marries…for love.”

“I beg to differ with you!” She slogged through the water, chasing him. “Father loves the countess and he chose to marry her for love! Tyrell married for love—but you wouldn’t know that, because you weren’t here! He was engaged to an heiress, and he carried on openly with Lizzie, living with her at Wicklow. He was prepared to give up the earldom for
her. And what about Devlin?” she cried to his back. “You know as well as I do that he married for love!”

He whirled. “We have…an odd family…do we not? But Rex hasn’t married for love…. Cliff will never marry! And I…” He stopped. He was breathing hard. He hadn’t married for love. He had married because he had gotten Peg with child and she had needed him desperately, as had little Michael, who had begged him to be his father. He had married her because he had been too shocked by the massacre to even think about doing anything other than protect her and her child from more harm. And what had his efforts gotten him? In the end, he had done the very thing he had been determined not to do. His attempts to protect them had gotten them murdered.

“You what?” she asked in bewilderment, reaching for him.

He shook her hand off and led the stallion on. She made no move to follow. Although he was furious with himself for dragging her into his escape, he strained to hear her slogging through the water behind him. It was another moment before he heard her starting through the river after him.

Elle had always known when to engage and when to withdraw, when to push and when to let go. “We’re making good time, I think,” she said, as if their previous
argument had not existed. “We haven’t stopped. But we’ll have to rest at some point, especially for Saphyr.”

He doubted it had been even two hours since their escape from Adare. But she was right—they had been moving swiftly the entire time. They needed rest—and so did the horse. The sun was high but weakening, and in an hour or two it would start to descend in the west. “We’ll leave the river in half an hour…turn inland then.”

“Sean!” Eleanor suddenly grasped his arm. “Do you hear that?”

He didn’t wait to discern if she had heard their pursuit or not. “Come.” He ran with the stallion to the opposite bank, Eleanor at his side. He handed her the reins and she ran with the horse into the woods. He had kept a piece of her wedding train wrapped around his arm and now he tied it to a branch. He quickly swept the sandy area clean, covering his own foot-prints as he went back to the woods.

He found Elle and paused, breathing hard. Their eyes met.

Hers were searching. But the question in them had nothing to do with their pursuers, and everything to do with last night. He glanced away. Why did she keep insisting that he give her something he did not even have left to give?

And then he heard voices, faint but not far enough away. They were English. One voice was giving orders, very distinctly.

Elle turned to speak.

He clapped his hand over her mouth and in doing so, pulled her close. She went still.

He whispered into her ear, “Upriver. Close.”

She nodded, her eyes huge.

He slowly removed his hand, willing himself not to think about her body, more undressed than dressed, pressed against his. With his other hand, he caressed the stallion’s neck. The stud could easily give them away.

Four of them were in the river, riding in single file, their gazes going from bank to bank. And the fifth horseman was Devlin O’Neill.

At the sight of him, Sean felt his heart lurch. He knew what his brother was doing. Devlin had convinced the officer in charge to let him join the search. Devlin’s reputation was notorious—he had been a ruthless commander during the war. Most of the naval command had been in fear of him, as well as in awe. It probably hadn’t been difficult to persuade the officer to allow him to join the search party.

He was there to help Sean escape.

Devlin’s gaze veered toward them, as if he had
somehow been able to pinpoint their location in the woods.

Sean put his arm around Eleanor and felt her tension. He wanted to reassure her, even though the soldiers were within shouting distance and he was afraid. He tried to calm her with his eyes. Sweat trickled, interfering with his vision.

Elle tried to smile at him. Her face was white with fear.

In response, Sean hugged her closer to his side. She looked up at him, her pupils dilated, her face starkly white. She trembled and turned her face to his chest and buried it there.

His heart constricted, but he held her even more tightly. He realized that, somehow, he’d put both arms around her.

“Sir,” a soldier shouted, sounding dangerously close. “They must have gone to land farther down. There’s no sign of any horse, any man, not here.”

“And you, Sir Captain? What do you think?” The officer spoke tersely.

“I think it was clever to send half of your men north toward Limerick. There hasn’t been a single sign that they have passed this way,” Devlin said. “That wedding dress should have left a few tatters.”

Sean met Elle’s eyes. Devlin must have found the
pieces of her train and hidden them or directed the soldiers’ attention elsewhere.

“I think you are right, Captain O’Neill. I think they have gone north to Limerick and we are on a false trail. If they had come this way, there should have been some sign. There hasn’t been one broken branch, one hoofprint, one piece of your stepsister’s dress. And, you remain remarkably calm, sir.”

“I told you once—and I do not like repeating myself—my brother is no danger to anyone and the charges against him are erroneous.” O’Neill flashed a cool smile. “I have seen my share of false testimony while serving Great Britain, Captain.”

“If you are right, then the sooner we apprehend your brother, the sooner we can clear his name. Move out!”

The soldiers and Devlin rode their horses to the far bank, turning back the way they had come. As they disappeared into the woods, Devlin did not look back, not even once.

“He saw us,” Elle whispered.

Sean became impossibly aware of the woman he held in his arms. Unbelievably, every inch of him that was male came to life, urgent and insistent, clamoring for attention, for relief. He released her, stepping away. To compose himself, he went to the black stallion and stroked him. “Yes. He led them
away…from us.” And Devlin would now know that he was heading for the port at Cobh, as it was a major harbor.

The younger brother in him almost wanted to chase after Devlin and ask for his help. But he was a man now, not a boy, and his brother had too much to lose.

The raging need had settled. Sean looked at Elle, who had sat down in the dirt. “They’re gone…. They won’t return today.”

She nodded, clearly not able to speak. She did not look as relieved as she should be. She removed her white kidskin shoes, which were terribly dirty and torn.

“It was close…but we made it.” He wished he could remember how to smile because he wanted to comfort her now. “Elle… They want me, not you.” He could not think about Peg and Michael now. He did not dare.

She shed her stockings, as well. “That’s just it! That was Brawley, Sean. I spoke with him—he’s the captain—earlier today. His orders are to apprehend you, and he has full discretion as to how to proceed.”

Sean quickly lowered his gaze. He understood. Brawley had permission to bring him back dead or alive.

Elle looked at her bare feet. “Devlin was trying to convince him that you are innocent—so was I. But I
know the man just a bit. He is every inch a soldier. Devlin can attempt to persuade him until he can no longer speak, and it will not matter. We may have bought an extra day. But Brawley is going to do everything he has to in order to apprehend you.”

He was disbelieving. “You tried to plead… bargain…with a British officer?”

She nodded. “I had no choice.”

He knelt and took her by the shoulders. “I don’t want you
ever…near
a redcoat…do you hear?” He almost shook her, fear and fury blinding him.

“I was trying to find out what he knew. I was trying to help!” she cried. “You’re so afraid—I can see it in your eyes. It’s the only thing I can see,” she added in distress. “I’ve never seen you afraid this way.”

“I’m afraid…for you!” he cried before he could stop himself.

She started, turning pale. “What?”

He closed his eyes, trembling. “We need to move…. We’ll go east. There’s more forest…that will be to our advantage.” He met her wide gaze. “It will take longer…to get to Cork.”

Elle hugged herself. “I don’t want you to worry about me,” she said slowly. “Sean, it’s your life that is in jeopardy, not mine.”

Her words pained him sharply. Later, when they
were in a safer place, in the flat in Cork, he would tell her that he planned to send her home. He did not want to engender an argument now. “We had better go,” he said.

She hesitated, then slowly, painfully, stood.

He saw immediately. “What happened to your feet?” But he knew. His own feet, unused to walking, hurt terribly, but he had willed himself to ignore it days ago. He was a man, however; she was not.

“You try walking in brand-new shoes—through a river, I might add,” she said, biting her lower lip.

He took her arm. “Sit down.”

She obeyed, her gaze moving to his face.

He felt his cheeks warm but he ignored the way she was regarding him—with absolute faith and trust. He wished he had never known her as a young child, that he had never been the recipient of that look so many times before. He knelt and looked at one foot, becoming grim when he saw the blisters.
She was hurt, and it was up to him to manage it
. He looked up.

“I can walk,” she said stubbornly.

He became aware of cradling her foot in his hand and he placed it on the ground. “You are riding… until we stop for the night,” he said. “I’ll use the train for bandages.”

I
T WAS ALMOST TWILIGHT
when Devlin strode into the front hall of Adare. Captain Brawley accompanied him, his men outside. Instantly Cliff and Tyrell appeared, followed by Rex, the earl, the countess and Peter Sinclair. The latter was ashen and wide-eyed.

Devlin met Cliff’s eyes. Cliff smiled slightly at him.

He knew that Cliff had ridden like hell through the woods for Limerick, and not to prepare his ship to sail at dawn, as apparently he’d taken care of that last night. He had left a false trail for the soldiers, and from the satisfied look in his eyes, the bait had been taken.

“Have you found them?” the earl asked Brawley, carefully avoiding looking at Devlin.

“I’m afraid not. It looks as if they have ridden for Limerick. I will await word from the men I sent north earlier,” Brawley said.

The earl nodded. “I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, Thomas,” he said. “I am desperate to find my son.”

Brawley hesitated. “I know you are, my lord. Let us all hope that there is a satisfactory conclusion to this crisis.” He bowed and walked out.

The earl turned to young Sinclair. “Peter, would you care to join me and your father for another drink? There is nothing more to be gleaned from this night.”

Sinclair turned a bewildered gaze on Devlin. “The rogue is your brother, Sir Captain! Is this truly what you think, that he has gone to Limerick? And what of Eleanor? Everyone swears she is in no danger from him, but I am not convinced!”

“My brother is innocent of the charges against him,” Devlin said, clasping the younger man’s shoulder.

“He is charged with murder, sir, murder and treason!” Sinclair cried.

“Sean is a gentleman, not a cutthroat. And he is a patriot.”

“An Irish Patriot, perhaps?”

“We are a part of the Union,” Devlin said in his most commanding manner. “He is as much a patriot as you. Eleanor is his stepsister—he would never hurt her. To the contrary, he would give his life for her.”

Sinclair finally nodded, remaining distraught. “I will never understand why she went with him.”

The earl went over to Sinclair. “Eleanor has always been impetuous and rash, I’m afraid. Let us try not to worry. Sean will keep her safe and by the morrow, I am certain they will both be found. Your worries shall be laid to rest when you are able to speak with her, and we, of course, will begin to proceed to clear Sean’s name and record of these terrible charges.”

Sinclair stared, then shook his head and muttered, “Excuse me. I think I am going outside. I need to think.”

When he was gone, Rex said tersely, “One of us needs to be with him. He could and should be a useful ally, if Sean is apprehended.”

“You are right,” the earl said. “Tyrell, go appease young Sinclair. Convince him Sean has been falsely tried, falsely convicted and falsely imprisoned. And when you have done that, try to convince him that Eleanor acted out of folly and love for a dear
brother
.” He was grim.

Tyrell nodded tersely and strode after Sinclair.

“What happened?” the earl asked Devlin.

“They’ve gone south, to Cork. They were but four miles from here, on the other side of the river. However, I made sure they left no trail and Brawley believes they have gone north to Limerick.”