The Stolen Bride (17 page)

The earl nodded and turned to Cliff. “Can you sail at dawn?”

“I can have
The Fair Lady
in Cobh in two days at the worst,” Cliff said, his eyes hard. “But what about Eleanor?”

A brief silence fell and glances were exchanged. The countess stepped into their midst, but she looked only at the earl. “She is a grown woman now, and she has never stopped loving Sean.”

“And what if we cannot overturn his convictions? What if there is no amnesty? He is an outlaw, Mary, and he will have to leave the country. What if he is caught and she is with him? What if she is charged with conspiracy to commit treason?”

Mary was pale. “If he wants her with him, we will never convince her to abandon him,” she said. “Darling, I know you are angry with Sean. But I know my son. He has fallen in love with her, Edward. There is no other explanation for his behavior.”

“Right now, I am not sure I care how he feels about Eleanor,” the earl said abruptly. “Sinclair is a suitable match—he is titled and wealthy and he is not an outlaw, placing her very life in danger.”

Mary had stiffened. “So even knowing how Eleanor has loved my son her entire life, you would be set against them?”

He was as rigid. “Before Sean bore arms against the British, I would have allowed the match! I have raised him as a son—he is my son! But surely you do not expect me to allow Eleanor to marry an outlaw?”

“If that is what she wants and what he wants, then I do expect exactly that.”

A terrible tension settled there in the room.

Devlin stepped between them. He gave his mother a reassuring smile, one that softened the
hard angles and planes of his face. Then he faced the earl. “Edward, the point is currently moot. Marriage between my brother and your daughter is not on the table. We do not know what they intend. I do know this. Sean would never deliberately place Eleanor in danger, for, if only as a sister, he loves her too much.”

“He has done just that,” Edward cried. “And I am afraid for them both.”

“I know you are. However, he will not be caught.” Devlin spoke firmly and with confidence. “And I prefer to be the one to sail him to foreign shores.”

Cliff seized his arm. “You have a wife and two children now—I have no one. I will take care of Sean. And if Eleanor is with him, I will take care of her, as well. I hate to say this, my dear brother, but I can outsail, outrun and outfight anyone—and that includes any British ship that might be sent in pursuit of us.”

Devlin faced him. “If you sincerely believe you are invincible, then you are in for a letdown, my boy. There is a naval base in Cobh—or have you forgotten?”

Cliff smiled coolly. “I have never lost a battle at sea and I do not intend to start now. As for the navy there, half the sailors are impressed felons who will jump ship at the first sign of danger.”

Rex limped between them. “The two of you are
going to start measuring up against each other now? I think not! Anyone who sails Sean away from Ireland with or without Eleanor, may never be able to return. Therefore I have a plan.”

Mary had taken a seat, her face strained and her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Please, Rex,” she said.

“Cliff can sail to Cobh, but he will be our decoy. Devlin, you must privately and secretly purchase a fast, armed ship. That ship must also be sent to Cobh, if the purchase is not made there. When we locate Sean, Cliff can set sail and lead the British astray. Devlin can then sail him to safety, without pursuit. Meanwhile I am going overland to Cork,” Rex said. “If I leave now, I should arrive within mere hours of them, so their trail there will remain fresh.”

A cough sounded, and heads turned. Rory McBane stood on the threshold. “I have decided to come forward,” he said, “because you are going to need my help.”

T
HE SUN HAD FINALLY SET
. Eleanor had never been as pleased to welcome the night as she was just then. While Sean hobbled the horse, exhaustion suddenly overcame her. She limped over to a grassy area in the clearing and laid out the train of her dress, folding it several times over. Her arms were bare, for she had
no wrap, and it was already cold. She sat down, shivering, aware of her body being sore, aware of being ravenously hungry—but she had never been happier.

Sean had come back for her
. It was a dream come true, a miracle. Last night had changed
everything
. Obviously he returned her feelings, or was beginning to do so. And since they had eluded the soldiers, the worst was undoubtedly over. Soon they would arrive in Cork, and shortly they would be sailing together to America.

For nothing else could make any sense. If Sean had returned for her, if he cared about her as a woman, he must want her to go with him.

She hugged her knees to her chest, watching him. Her feet hurt, but she felt as if she were walking in the clouds above their heads. From the short distance separating them in the small glade, Sean must have felt her stare, because he glanced her way. Then his gaze skittered aside. “How are you?”

Her smile faded. On the other hand, he had been acting oddly all day. She thought she knew why—he was embarrassed about his behavior last night. Did she dare tell him that it didn’t matter? What mattered was every moment from this day on.

“I am exhausted and cold and I am starving! But
I am fine, Sean.” And she heard how silken her tone had become.

He stiffened. Then, very deliberately, he finished with the stallion, which began to graze. He retrieved the oilskin which had been tied to the saddle and moved closer to her. “I don’t want to light a fire,” he said slowly.

She understood. The British troops led by Brawley might have turned back, but anyone could stumble across them, and of course, there were other troops stationed throughout Ireland. “I think I can survive the night without a fire,” she said with a soft smile.

His eyes slid up, briefly meeting hers. “You’re cold. It’s going to get colder…. We have nothing except that train…it won’t be warm.”

Instantly she thought of the most obvious way to stay warm and she smiled. In his arms, she would never be cold. And this time, there would be love between them, not just explosive passion. Her chest grew tight. “I’m not worried about the cold,” she murmured.

He jerked. “What does that…mean?” he demanded.

She stood and seized his hand. “You’re so afraid to even look at me!” she exclaimed. “Sean, if anyone should be embarrassed about last night, it is me.”

He pulled free of her grasp. “There’s bread and
cheese,” he said fiercely, kneeling and ripping open the oilskin.

She hesitated, biting her lip. She recalled how it had felt to have him deeply inside of her. “Sean, my behavior was reprehensible, truly, but—”

He looked up, eyes wide. “I do not want…to discuss…last night!”

She flinched. “I know the topic is not seemly, but at least your reluctance proves you are still a gentleman.”

He stood, incredulous. “My behavior was a gentleman’s? Are you mad?”

She flushed, terribly uneasy now. “I encouraged you—”

“I said…do not discuss last night. As far as I am concerned…it never happened!” he cried.

She recoiled, disbelieving.

He knelt, violently slicing the hunk of cheese in four pieces and one loaf in half.

She dropped to her knees besides him. “I don’t understand. Why are you angry? Are you angry with me?”

He paused, knife in hand, staring at their meal. “I am angry,” he said curtly, clearly fighting to choose his words, “with myself.” He looked up, his gaze hard. “I am angry…that you are involved. I am angry for using you last night.” He turned crimson. “I am angry…I cannot stand myself!” He stabbed the ground.

She watched him as he stood and paced, refusing to believe that he had used her. “But you came back for me.”

He whirled. “I came back…damn it…to say goodbye. You should eat!” he ordered. Then, dangerously, he added, “I mean it, Elle.”

“But you didn’t leave. You returned—for
me
.” She stared up at him. “Didn’t you?”

He stared down at her. “I wish…” A long pause ensued. “I…had not!”

She gasped, shocked, covering her racing heart with both hands. “You wish you hadn’t come back for me?”

He fought for composure, or perhaps for words. “I have spent my life…my entire life…protecting you. Rescuing you…saving you. You should not be with me.”

“I disagree!” she cried. “And I cannot believe we are arguing over this, when I am here with you now, and when last night, you took my innocence.”

His eyes blazed. “What does that mean?”

“I thought that was why you returned for me. Because of what happened, in my rooms.”

“What are you thinking?” he asked, low and harsh.

She wet her lips, frightened now. “I’m not a virgin anymore. You have a duty to marry me—and take me with you.”

He just looked at her.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, hugging herself. “You are not thinking about marriage, are you?”

He shook his head. “I am thinking,” he said stiffly, “about sending you home…to Adare…where you belong…where the earl can protect you.”

She cried out, cutting off the sound with her own hand.

“And I am sorry,” he said fiercely. “Very sorry! I never meant to take you…at all! I already told you…how sorry I am! I told you…to marry Sinclair! But I am not a gentleman—don’t cry now—Sean O’Neill is gone…. I have told you…you won’t listen. You can’t run off with a fugitive…. Why won’t you be reasonable?” he cried, gasping for breath.

She turned away, beyond shock. Last night she had offered him her bed without any strings, but when he had come back for her, she had assumed his intention was marriage. She had been wrong. Maybe it was time to listen to what he was trying to tell her. He kept insisting that Sean O’Neill was dead. She had refused to believe it. But the man she had loved her entire life would have walked away from her last night, instead of taking her innocence, if he didn’t love her in return. The man she had loved her entire
life would not be standing in front of her now, like this, after last night, telling her to marry Sinclair.

She faced him furiously. “Then why in hell did you take me with you? Why? If not to make an honest woman of me, why? Because I don’t understand!”

“I don’t know!” he cried. “I simply do not know! Damn it! You were calling my name…screaming, like Elle always did. I went back to you…like a hundred times before!”

She slapped him across the face with all of her might. The sound of her palm on his skin was as loud as the crack of a whip. “I am not that little girl you were always coddling and rescuing! I am the woman whose virginity you took. But now I am what? Your leftovers, to be tossed aside, like so much trash?”

He shook his head, his gaze oddly moist. “Sinclair loves you.”

“I am not going back to him—not that he would have me! How dare you try to foist me off on him, after you slept with me!” She intended to strike him again—she wanted to strike him until he was senseless —but he seized her wrist.

“Elle!” He spoke urgently now while she struggled to free her arm so she could punch him even harder than before. “I must protect you…please understand.
Sinclair is
English
. If you marry him…no one will chase you…hurt you. He can keep you safe!”

She jerked furiously away. “Now
you’re
mad. He would never take me back after what we just did, leaving him at the altar. No one is hurting me except for you!”

A terrible moment ensued. Then, slowly and calmly, he said, “You say that you love me…like a brother…as a sister, you had to help me escape. Sinclair will believe you. There are ways…to make him believe.”

She was shaking uncontrollably. “I have been a fool. I gave my body to you, and I would have given my life for you, but for what? To be treated this way? Did you ever love me at all, even when we were children?” She felt as if her heart was bleeding profusely and she started to walk into the woods.

“Damn it!” He ran after her, seizing her from behind and dragging her back into the clearing. “Where are you going? There are wolves!”

“Just now, I do not care! I want to be as far from you as possible!” she cried, twisting wildly until she had shaken him off. She swatted at the tears on her face. She was not going to shed a single tear because of him, not in front of him; but the tears fell, anyway. “I have learned my lesson. You don’t love me, you
never have, and I am going to stop loving you. You don’t deserve my love!”

He was still, staring at her. She stared back. “Good,” he said.

That was not the response she had hoped for. “Last night you used me—I believe those are your exact words. Last night, I was your
whore
.”

He inhaled, eyes widening. “No! That’s not… true.”

She hugged herself. “I wanted you to make love to me, Sean—how foolish was that? But that isn’t what happened, now, is it?”

He did not speak for a long moment. “No,” he said slowly and carefully. “That’s not what happened.”

She hit him again and he let her.

H
E WATCHED HER.

Elle lay with her back to him. She had wrapped herself in the train of her wedding dress, but whether to ward off a chill or for comfort, he did not know. The night had settled around them, heavy and dark but starlit. He was grateful it hadn’t become as cold as he had thought it might. He knew she had finally fallen asleep because her breathing had deepened and slowed.

He sat with his back to a tree, taking the first turn to watch for troops or anyone or thing that might pose a threat. But the night was soft and quiet. An owl was hooting, the sound deep and peaceful, crickets sang their night song, and occasionally, he heard the black stallion shifting as he grazed. Had the day been different, had their situation been different, the night would have been an occasion to relish and enjoy.

But there was nothing to relish or enjoy now.

Sean had his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms looped lightly around them. Elle had fought her tears, but she hadn’t truly cried, not even once. He had hurt her yet again, even more terribly than he had the night before, and he could not seem to get past the fact. How had this happened to them, when he had spent a lifetime taking care of her and protecting her from everything and everyone? Now, it seemed, she needed protection from him.

And it didn’t matter that she wasn’t a child anymore. It would always be his duty to watch over her. Only he had realized that too late.

His gaze shifted from her long, slim back to the woods. The troops were far north by now, he had no doubt. He had Devlin to thank for their successful escape.

But what about Elle?

I am going to stop loving you
.

He did not want to remember her words. It would be for the best; he had never asked for or wanted such love, such loyalty, such trust. But her declaration did not relieve him. Instead, his body felt racked, as if it were being pulled apart. His mind remained tortured. And oddly, those words frightened him.

Taking one brief, cautious glance at the perimeter of the clearing, he laid his face on his hands.
She had
changed so much; she hadn’t changed at all
. He did not know what to do. Of course she had to stop loving him; she had to marry and love Sinclair. But could they ever return to being friends? He had never felt more confused. Memories washed over him. Elle as a child, tagging along with him and his brothers; Elle growing up, spying on him, even when he was in a tryst; Elle at his side, her hands blistered, her face sunburned, helping him rebuild Askeaton.

He closed his eyes tightly. Returning her to Adare and having her marry Sinclair was his priority. If he could still escape somehow, he would; if not, he would die knowing she was well-protected and well-loved. But even he was not mad enough to think she would ever forgive him for using her as he had, or for failing to return her love. They were not going to be friends again, even if he was capable of such a friendship, which he wasn’t. Besides, it was highly unlikely that he would remain alive to be her friend.

What he really wanted to know was if she hated him.

He would understand if she did. She had every reason to despise him now. But he could not come to terms with the concept. Sean couldn’t fathom how their relationship, developed over an entire lifetime, had come to such a conclusion, with his hurting her at every turn and her hating him for it.

It remained cool out but sweat trickled from his temple. If hating him would keep her at a distance, than he should embrace her anger and hatred. He
needed
to keep Elle angry, he realized, in order to push her away—in order to push her into the arms of another man.

The owl hooted; the sound should have been soothing, but it wasn’t. His temples throbbed. Or maybe it was his chest that was aching. Elle’s image remained in his mind, tearful, furious and stricken.

The night softened impossibly, a silken caress on his flesh, becoming the cocoon of sleep. Elle’s expression also softened, and she was smiling at him. No, it was Peg smiling at him, so oddly faded. As he realized he was dreaming, panic began.

He did not want to go back to those nights of horror and death!

Why don’t you love me, Sean?

He tensed, confused. In the dream, Peg never
asked the question she hadn’t been able to verbalize
when alive, but her confusion had always been there
in her colorless eyes.

Why won’t you love me, Sean?

His heart went wild and he was shocked when she
spoke again. Except this time, it wasn’t Peg speaking.
He stared at the woman in his arms and it was Elle,
beautiful and whole and very much alive. Elle, with
shining amber eyes, her love reflected there, her love
and her trust. He became terribly confused and
afraid. Elle should not be there, not in his dream and
not on that bloody night when Peg had been raped
and murdered!

He wanted to tell her to hurry and leave before the
troops came; he wanted to hold her and beg her forgiveness,
and then he wanted to soothe her and tell
her that he did love her.

He didn’t like the way the dream was going, but
it was too late—the mob of angry villagers appeared
and he knew he had to stop them from marching up
the road to Lord
Darby’s
estate. He knew what would
happen if they appeared at those iron front gates. He
tried to tell them that no good could come of this but
his voice wasn’t working—he could not get the words
out! His panic escalated—he tried to seize the arm
of Boyle, Peg’s father, but the man didn’t seem to
notice. He tried to seize Flynn, but he vanished before
his very eyes and the estate was burning, the soldiers
were there, and he was there, his dagger in the gut
of a redcoat, a boy really, and then the boy looked at
him, meeting his eyes, the question there unspoken.
And when Sean laid him down, he was looking up
into the blazing blue eyes of a British officer, and
Lieutenant Colonel Reed was staring at him with
sheer hatred.

Sean understood what Reed intended. Because
Elle stood there now, having no idea that she was
about to suffer, unspeakably and brutally, at Reed’s
hands. He could not let Reed murder her, the way
he’d allowed his men to murder Peg and Michael.
And just as he knew that, the officer vanished.

Elle was in his arms, smiling at him, her eyes
filled with love.

He held her, his heart pumping madly, barely able
to believe that she had escaped rape and death. He
held her tightly, filled with relief, but the relief instantly
changed. She was so warm in his arms, so soft,
so real, and he stiffened, blinded with desire. He found
her mouth and they kissed, a gentle caress of lips, and
then his hunger raged beyond any control. He had
never needed anyone the way he needed her. And she
knew. She smiled at him, understanding, then she
beckoned him. He cried out, somehow restraining
himself, moving deep and slow, so ready to explode….

Sean awoke in the throes of lust, barely able to comprehend that he had been dreaming. He shot to his feet, trying to control an insatiable need. Wildly, he glanced at Elle, but she remained deeply asleep, in a state of exhaustion. The dream had been painfully real.

Even now, he was aroused. He stroked sweat from his brow, having unwittingly walked to stand over her. He was supposed to be on guard duty but he had fallen asleep. He was supposed to be protecting her from their enemies, but instead, he’d been making love to her in his dreams. He was furious with himself. He quickly turned and walked the perimeter of the glade, but all seemed as it should be. The stallion remained widely awake, the only sentry they needed.

Sean paused, inhaling harshly, trying to shake the physical urgency afflicting his hard, hot body. Was Elle now going to haunt his nightmare? He’d had the exact same dream for two years, but suddenly it had changed and she had taken Peg’s place. He shuddered with fear. What did that mean? Why was his mind playing such tricks on him? She had never been in the small village of Kilvore and she never would be. She would never come face-to-face with his nemesis, Reed. And he was never going to take her in his arms that way, because it was best that she stopped loving him and returned to Sinclair. He could offer her nothing, nothing except a life on the run and the empty shell of a soul.

There was a small trickling stream just beyond the edge of the glade, and he needed to douse himself with cold water. Abruptly, he changed his mind. He
could not leave her alone in the glade, not even for a moment. So instead, he crossed back to where he had been originally seated, but he did not sit. Instead he stared at Elle as she slept.

If he wasn’t mistaken, in that damnable dream, he had told Elle he loved her, and it hadn’t been a lie.

It had been a nasty trick of his mind, because it could not possibly be true. He had no heart left and therefore was incapable of loving anyone, which was as it should be.

E
LEANOR STOOD RIGIDLY
behind Sean as he unlocked a warped pine door, in a dismal, dark and very cramped hallway at the top of impossibly narrow stairs. The single room where Sean and she were about to hide was above a cobbler’s shop on a street overlooking one of the many canals that ran through Cork. It was hard to believe that this was where they would stay, even if only temporarily. A rat had scurried under the stairs when they had first gone inside and there was no lighting in the cubicle entryway downstairs or on the landing where Eleanor now stood. The building smelled suspiciously like vinegar—or was it urine? The door Sean was shoving open had a gaping hole between two of the four planks. Once, it had probably been painted green.
Now, it was an ugly shade of gray in most places and a natural hue everywhere else.

Sean stepped aside and looked at her, trying to meet her eyes. “It’s not much…but it’s a good place to hide,” he said slowly.

Eleanor refused to look at him. She walked past him, careful not to let her petticoat brush him, and paused in the center of the sparsely furnished room. Sean followed her in and shut the door, bolting it twice.

They had been traveling since the very early morning. Although Eleanor had not believed she would ever rest, she had fallen asleep almost from the very moment she had lain down and wrapped what was left of her wedding dress around her. She had slept deeply and dreamlessly, in exhaustion. The arrangement had been for Sean to stand guard for two hours and then to take his turn sleeping while she stayed awake, taking the next watch, but he had not awakened her until it was time to leave.

If he wanted gratitude, he was not going to get it. He wasn’t a gentleman and he had proven it by not even considering marriage to her. He had used her body; he had made that very clear. She was never going to understand why he had come back to take her with him, and maybe it was better that she didn’t. She finally understood. The man she had loved her
entire life was gone. Some dark and even dangerous stranger was in his place, someone with no respect for ladies and no respect for her.

Eleanor was numb. She glanced around at the interior of the room. A tin sink was on one planked wall. There was a cast-iron stove and a basket of kindling beside it, a small cabinet above. A small rickety table and two equally spindly chairs were in the room’s center, carved from cheap, pale pine. On the opposite wall was a single bed, with a red blanket and some sheets that had once been white and were now beige. Facing the door was a dirty window with faded muslin curtains, and there was one rack of pegs, from which hung a gentleman’s suit, complete with waistcoat and ruffled shirt. Socks and shoes sat on the floor beneath it. The well-tailored ensemble was incongruous with the rest of the room.

“I know…you’ve never been…in a hovel,” Sean said tersely, “but it won’t be for long.”

Eleanor limped over to the window and saw one of the channels of the River Lee. There were a few small barges in the river and one sloop with passengers, about to disembark from a dock. A few street vendors were on the quay, and one horse and cart was passing by. She turned away from the rather charming scene, taking a chair at the table and sitting
down. As she removed her very dirty shoes, she debated ignoring him for the rest of their time together, especially as he seemed to want her attention now. But such behavior was very childish, especially when she wanted to answer him, so she finally looked at him.

He was staring at her with such intensity that she was taken aback. But the moment she met his gaze, he glanced away, his long, dark lashes fluttering over his eyes. Why had he been staring at her in such a way?

And her foolish heart turned over, hard. She inhaled. This man was a stranger, someone she did not know—someone she did not wish to know. “Yes, I cannot forget. You are sending me home, at once. And when will that be?” How bitter she sounded!

He folded his arms across his chest, which, in spite of his lean frame, remained broad and hard. Eleanor wished she hadn’t noticed. “As soon as possible… I can’t send you home…with anyone, Elle.” He flushed. “Eleanor,” he corrected himself. “I have to arrange for an escort I can trust… someone to guard you with his life.”

So it was Eleanor now, she thought grimly. “And before I go, are you going to give me precise instructions as to how to delude Peter into thinking I am a virgin?” How cool and unshaken she sounded.

He flinched, his color crimson now. “Yes.” He turned his back to her, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his cloth breeches.

“Maybe you had better instruct me now,” she snapped. “Are you an expert in the subject of taking innocence and then educating the object of your previous affections in the art of pretense and theater?”

He faced her. “I understand…you are angry with me. You have cause!”