The Stolen Bride (25 page)

Sean spurred his mount down the hill, leaving Cork well behind. If he had realized Cliff might be nearby, had Elle, as well? He was afraid to hope, but he would give anything to find her safely aboard that ship. He was worried enough now that he would beg Cliff for his help in finding Eleanor.

He left the stallion at the closest dock, where he seized a small fishing boat. He was no sailor, but he quickly untied her moorings and began furiously rowing toward
The Fair Lady
. Halfway there, he heard the watch call out. By the time he reached the
ship’s hull, several sailors stood there, throwing down hooks and a rope ladder. At first glance, Sean mistook the trio for Moors and pirates. But the man at the railing was no Moor. Although bronzed from the sun, his tawny hair covered with a red scarf, a gold earring hugging one ear, and a short, Turkish-style velvet vest over his linen shirt, it was Cliff standing above him.

The small boat secured, Sean quickly scrambled up to the deck of his stepbrother’s ship. Cliff threw his arm around him, steering him across the deck, past numerous cannon, and to the captain’s cabin. Sean took an inventory of the stepbrother he barely recognized. He was heavily armed, a huge sword with a bejeweled hilt sheathed in its scabbard on his hip and a dagger winked out from his belt. A pistol was in a shoulder holster. Cliff clearly meant business and Sean was reassured.

“Are you mad?” Cliff said, low. Then, in a voice of command, “No one is to approach this ship and no one is to leave her.”

Cries of “Aye, cap,” sounded.

“I am pleased to see you…too,” Sean muttered. “What? No gold rings?”

Cliff laughed then, and gestured Sean inside. Sean stepped into a large cabin painted a dark, surprising
red. A red Chinese rug, laced with green, blue and gold flowers, covered most of the wood floor. A vast canopied bed was centered in the room, also furnished in red and gold, not far from a dining table with four burgundy velvet chairs. A Portuguese desk with spiral legs faced the door covered with maps and charts. Sean’s gaze swept the room and his heart sank.

Cliff booted the door closed and embraced him, hard. “Sean, damn it!”

Sean’s attention turned to his stepbrother, whom he had not seen in well over four years, as Cliff had been sailing the West Indies before his departure. Cliff was actually two years younger than he was, but because of his bold nature, in many ways he had seemed a peer while growing up. They had been especially close, perhaps because they were as different as night and day. Sean was cautious, conservative and responsible, Cliff a hellion from the day he was born. He met his brother’s blue gaze and found it curious, intent and deeply searching. “It has been a long time.”

“It most certainly has.” Cliff folded his arms across his chest. “We arrived last night, close to midnight. As soon as the British realize I am here, you can be certain I shall be watched.” His gaze slid over him again, from head to toe. His smile faded.
“You barely resemble the brother I grew up with. Are you all right, Sean?”

Sean was well aware that he resembled a villain far more than he did a gentleman, but he certainly had no time to explain. “You hardly appear…the nobleman’s son.”

“I have no use for fashion and airs at sea. What has happened?”

“Have you seen Elle?” Sean asked grimly.

Cliff started. “No, I have not. But she is with you, isn’t she?”

Sean sat down. “No. She is not with me.” He tried to breathe, the panic rising all over again. “I need your help…I am afraid.”

Cliff clasped his shoulder. “Tell me what has happened,” he said very calmly. “And we will make our plans.”

Sean looked at him. “She left…. I went to get supper and when I returned…she was gone.”

Cliff was wary. “Why would Eleanor leave you, Sean? My understanding is that she is deeply, if foolishly, in love with you. After all, she did leave Sinclair at the altar.”

Sean met his stepbrother’s penetrating, but not disapproving, eyes. “I am a fool, Cliff. I told her the truth…that I had married another woman.”

Cliff’s eyes flared with surprise. It was a moment before he spoke. “I begin to understand. I had no idea. Who is this paragon? And where is she?”

“No, you don’t,” Sean said grimly. “Peg is dead, as is her son.”

Cliff stared. When he spoke, his tone was harsh. “I am sorry for your loss, Sean. But you surely did not expect Eleanor to withstand your news? She has been in love with you for as long as anyone can recall. She waited for you to return, to her, Sean. We watched her pine for you for years.”

“I never promised her…” He stopped.

“So you did promise her something?” Cliff was clearly angry.

Sean shook his head. “I said I would come back and I meant it. I did not anticipate rotting in prison…for two years!”

“What possessed you to take up arms against the British?”

“I tried to stop the villagers…from assaulting the Darby estate,” Sean replied.

“Are there any witnesses? Because Colonel Reed swears he saw you leading the villagers, not attempting to stop them.”

Sean froze. “Reed?”

Cliff reached out to steady him. “Colonel Reed
called on Tyrell, and I have been apprised of the conversation. Apparently he is leading the manhunt for you.”

Sean cried out. He felt the ship tilt and spin. “Cliff! Reed is a murderer—he murdered Peg and Michael!”

Cliff’s eyes widened. “You think he murdered your wife and her son? Are you certain?”

“Oh, I am certain—and I fear he might harm Elle! You must help me find her!” He was consumed with fear and panic.

Cliff grasped his arm. “Are you in love with my sister? And if so, why in hell did you marry someone else?”

He jerked away.
Was he in love with Elle?
“We married two days after the massacre. I married Peg because she was with my child…and because I thought to protect her and Michael from the British troops. They needed me, Cliff, and Michael needed a father. But I failed them— Reed got to them when he could not get to me. Where is Reed now?”

“The last I heard, in Limerick. Sean, we will find Eleanor. Rex, Devlin and Rory McBane are at the Stag’s Leap Inn in Cork—they will help. I can see you are very frightened for her, but she is not the one in danger. Reed may be a murderer but he would never harm Adare’s daughter. That would be politi
cal suicide! You must relax on that count. I am far more concerned about you. I wish to set sail immediately and take you to foreign shores. There is no point in your staying here. I haven’t given my men leave so we can be gone within hours—the tides will be favorable until midmorning.”

“I am not going anywhere!” Sean exclaimed furiously. “You don’t understand. Reed is dangerous. He has no morals. His men raped my wife, Cliff, and beat her…she died from their assault. She paid for what I did…it was punishment for my sins. Elle is barefoot, dressed as a man, penniless. She is alone, somewhere in Cork or on the roadway to Adare! It’s bad enough that any scurvy might accost her! If the soldiers find her, she is finished!” He had to sit down. He could barely draw a deep breath.

“Reed asked about her and your relationship with her.”

Sean began to shake.

“But Eleanor is clever and determined, not to mention very strong, and a better shot than most men. Is she armed?”

“No.”

Cliff was grim. “That is unfortunate. How upset was she when you told her about your marriage?”

“I may as well have stabbed her in the heart.”

“Yes, you may as well have. Well, I know my sister. She might be heartbroken, but she will rebound enough to protect herself. She will probably return to the flat you were hiding in. But I will send word to Rex and Devlin. They will look for her on the road to Adare, and we will sail from here immediately.”

“I am not going anywhere! I will leave when Elle is safe,” Sean erupted. “Not a moment before then.”

Cliff stared. “You never answered me. Are you in love with her?”

Sean’s heart leaped strangely. He didn’t dare contemplate the question. He walked to the porthole, which was open, and inhaled deeply. The seas were so calm. “I have to rescue her. I have always rescued her. It is my responsibility to see her home…and safely wed to Sinclair.” He suddenly turned. Cliff was regarding him with quiet skepticism. “Cliff. Promise me you will make certain…she marries Sinclair.”

“I do not understand,” Cliff said slowly. “If you have feelings for my sister now, and she loves you, as well, why send her back? Why not take her with you? That is clearly what she wants—and I begin to think you want it, too.”

Sean was furious then. “And what if we are captured by Reed? Elle needs to marry Sinclair!”

“I am very sorry about your wife, Sean. I think, however, that I am beginning to comprehend all aspects of this crisis,” he said slowly.

Sean turned away, feeling ragged now. “We need to find Elle. I need weapons.”

Cliff hesitated. “Sean.” He moved to stand in front of him. His gaze was direct. “Will Sinclair take her back?”

Sean understood Cliff’s meaning. Cliff wanted to know how far his relationship with his sister had gone. Somehow, he met his gaze. Somehow, he did not flinch or look away. It was hard to speak, and not because of any physical limitations. “Elle need only tell him…that she ran off with her brother…that she is the most loyal of stepsisters,” he said.

Cliff stared, his eyes darkening. “That wasn’t what I asked. You would never take advantage of her.” It was not a question.

And he could not stop himself from tensing. Worse, he felt his cheeks heat.

Cliff’s eyes went wide. Sean had no time to react; the blow took him in the face, knocking him off of his feet. On the floor, he looked up. Cliff towered over him, furious, a dagger in his hand. “You bastard! You rotten bastard! If we hadn’t been raised as
brothers, I would cut off your balls, one by one and hang them out to dry!”

Sean pushed to his feet. “Go ahead,” he said. “Land another blow. You are right…I was wrong. I am a bastard. Do as you will.”

Cliff clearly fought the need to do just that. Then he shook his head. “Bloody hell,” he said fiercely. “No wonder Elle left you. Why would you ever tell her about your dead wife, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Sean shouted. “I don’t understand myself anymore!”

Cliff stiffened, as if taken aback.

A huge silence fell.

Sean sat down. “I am begging you for your help.” He looked up. “She must go home. She must marry Sinclair, before anyone even thinks of charging her…with any crime, any conspiracy…before Reed ever finds her himself.”

“You should marry her, not Sinclair,” Cliff responded sharply.

“And then we can hang together! That would be a sight for the countess…don’t you think?”

“You hardly let me finish. If the circumstances were different, I would stand you at the altar myself, no matter what you wanted.” His brilliant blue eyes flashed. “All right. I am agreed. I shall contact Rex and Devlin immediately and we will concentrate our
efforts on finding Eleanor. And then what? What if finding her takes days? What if you are captured in the interim?”

“My escape is not the priority,” Sean said.

Cliff’s gaze narrowed. “You do know, Sean, that you behave very much like a man in love.”

“How the hell would you know?” Sean said, instantly uncomfortable. “Or have you changed so much that you have taken that particular fall?”

Cliff smiled, briefly amused. “I am not certain I shall ever fall, as you have put it, but I have watched your brother turn into a besotted fool over Virginia and my own brother almost give up the entire earldom for Lizzie. I think I can recognize the affliction in another man.”

Angry now with everyone, especially Cliff, Sean snapped, “I don’t care what you think.”

“You might think to pander to me, just a bit, as we have devised a plan. I am to be the decoy and while the authorities pursue me, Devlin will sail you away from here.”

“I don’t want you involved…. I don’t want Devlin involved. I will find my own passage. Thank you,” Sean said grimly. He started for the door.

Instantly, Cliff barred his way. “I refuse to be denied. You cannot do this by yourself.”

Sean seized his arm. “Let me go by, Cliff,” he
warned. “I allowed you to beat me a moment ago…. I warn you, I am not the same quiet boy you once knew.”

Cliff hesitated, clearly debating. Then he stepped politely aside. “Very well. I am not afraid of you, Sean, but I can see you remain selflessly noble. How will I contact you when we find Eleanor?” He walked to the desk and unlocked it. He then handed Sean a double-barreled pistol, a pouch containing ramrod, carbine and flint, and one of the daggers he had been wearing.

“You said that McBane is with Rex and Devlin?”

Cliff nodded. “You do not know him, but he is married into the family.”

Sean almost laughed. “Actually I do know him, and he knows me—but as John Collins. Tell McBane. He will know how to reach me.”

“I grow more curious with every passing moment,” Cliff said dryly.

“I am sure that you do.” Sean hesitated. “Cliff, just keep her safe. Give me your word.”

Cliff studied him. “You forget, she is my little sister. Of course I will keep her safe. I would die in order to do so.”

“Thank you.” Relief overcame him then.

Cliff threw his arm around him. “Have a care, damn it,” he said gruffly.

Sean nodded and pulled away.

C
APTAIN
B
RAWLEY
was uneasy. He had been in command of the small garrison at Kilraven Hill in County Limerick for almost two years, by default—his superior officer had died in a carriage accident and he had never been replaced. And ever since the earl of Adare had stepped down from the position of magistrate, Brawley had been performing those civil duties as well. But the headquarters of the fort were no longer familiar. Two new aides were in the anteroom, having usurped his aides’ stations and his personal office had been taken over by Colonel Reed. In fact, Colonel Reed had taken over his command.

Reed sat at Brawley’s desk, flipping through some files with impatience and a brilliance that Brawley had become far too familiar with. Brawley knew he was reviewing paperwork relating to his regimental command, but a likeness of Sean O’Neill was front and center on the desk, and another one had been
taped to the wall behind him. Brawley wanted the earl’s stepson apprehended as much as anyone, especially as he was almost certain that O’Neill was endangering Lady Eleanor. He knew that she would never run away with a felon. He was utterly convinced that O’Neill had somehow misled her into abandoning her groom and leaving Adare with him.

But Reed stared at O’Neill’s poster in his every spare moment. Brawley knew he carried a folded-up page in his interior breast pocket. He had seen the captain, in the midst of a drill or reveille, suddenly take the poster from his jacket, unfold it and simply stare. Reed had the coldest, brightest eyes Brawley had ever remarked, especially when he looked at O’Neill’s likeness.

Brawley did not like his command being hijacked, but more importantly, the captain’s intensity made him uneasy. He had reviewed the O’Neill file extensively. Reed’s regiment had been stationed at the county garrison during that fateful night when the villagers had rebelled. His troops had quelled the rebellion but not before the Darby estate was destroyed and almost every man in the village had been killed. Reed had been the one to file the initial report. And he had been the one to apprehend O’Neill and escort him to prison a week later.

And now he was in Limerick, hundreds of miles from his current command, intent on apprehending O’Neill once again. Brawley felt certain that this manhunt had become highly personal for the captain.

In response, Brawley had penned a letter to Major Wilkes, who was in command of the southern half of the country. The letter merely requested clarification of his role in the current manhunt—while mentioning Reed’s intervention in a district not assigned to him. But Brawley had yet to send the letter. A soldier to the core of his being, his every instinct was to accept authority, to obey orders. He wished to avoid sending the Major such a letter if he could help it. He wished to give his superior, Reed, the benefit of the doubt.

Reed now looked up, his blue eyes pale and brilliant. “Brawley. What is it?”

“The troops have returned from Limerick city, sir. If O’Neill is there, he cannot be found. We have searched every single house, every home, every shop and stable.” Brawley spoke literally. The manhunt had been intensive. As far as he was concerned, O’Neill could not be present there.

Reed leaned back in his chair, smiling without mirth. “He isn’t there. De Warenne sailed out the day after O’Neill escaped from Adare.
The Fair Lady
has been a few miles from Cork since midnight last night. I believe O’Neill is in Cork.”

Brawley felt a flicker of excitement. “Sir! May I request permission to take a dozen soldiers and proceed directly there?”

“You may not,” Reed said, standing.

Brawley was stunned and disappointed. “Sir, Lady Eleanor may be in danger. You know I believe he has taken her hostage.”

Reed waved at him. “I doubt it. Even you said she willingly left with O’Neill.”

“That is how it appeared,” Brawley said uneasily. “But I do know her somewhat. She is a great lady, sir, if original. He may have persuaded her to come with him, simply to use her as a hostage. She must be rescued before any harm befalls her.”

“And she will be, when O’Neill is apprehended.” Reed went to Brawley and clapped his shoulder. “I have spies in Cork, Captain, watching the de Warenne ship. Sean O’Neill will walk right into the trap I have set for him, you may count on that.”

Brawley met his blazing gaze and shivered.

A knock sounded. Both men turned. A young man stood there, red-faced from exertion, sweating heavily. He was not in uniform, but Brawley thought him vaguely familiar. Reed gestured. “Sergeant Lewes, come in. What have you learned?”

Lewes rushed forward. “O’Neill boarded
The Fair Lady
at dawn, Colonel. He met with de Warenne for about a half an hour.”

Reed’s brows arched, and he smiled. “Well done! Where is O’Neill now?”

Lewes hesitated. “I don’t know, sir.”

Reed’s smile vanished. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Colonel, sir! I left my post to report to you the moment he left the ship. Those were my orders, sir.”

“You fucking fool,” Reed cried.

Lewes paled.

“Your orders were to discover his whereabouts,” Reed added, flushed with anger now, “and to relay those whereabouts to me. Who is on the watch?” Reed demanded. “Or did
The Fair Lady
sail away, as well?”

“John Barret, sir, is spying on the ship.”

“You are dismissed,” Reed said harshly.

Brawley was stunned by the developments he had just witnessed. He hadn’t known that Reed had men stationed in Cork, spying on Cliff de Warenne. Obviously Reed wished for him to be in the dark, and while it wasn’t his place to question what his superior did or how he did it, he was uneasy yet again. “Sir, I am very familiar with Cork, its outlying neighborhoods, the mayor, the aldermen and some of its citizens. I also know Cobh.”

“I am aware of that, Captain. I have read your file, not once but several times.”

Brawley was silent, uncertain as to what that comment signified. He could have easily supervised the mission, and they would now know where O’Neill was. But his captain was intent on capturing O’Neill without his help, or so it seemed. But why? Was this a matter of glory, or something else?

Reed was cold. “I have more men in town,” he said. “I have heard it whispered about that a Blueboy helped O’Neill in the first place. Yesterday I broke one of them, Captain. Now there is a traitor in their midst. When O’Neill contacts his treacherous friends again, we shall hear of it.”

“Sir.” Brawley was sweating.

Reed lifted a brow and waited.

“And if he thinks it too dangerous to contact a Blueboy this time?”

“Then he will need help from his brother. That is why, in light of this new information, you are to proceed to Cork with a detachment. You may camp outside of the city. Take one or two men and supervise the watch on
The Fair Lady
. I will send word to our new spy. Either way, we will locate O’Neill.”

“Yes, sir,” Brawley said, relieved to be seeing
action. Now, he could only continue to hope that Eleanor de Warenne was well, and that her stepbrother did not think to use her in order to flee the authorities.

“Your orders remain. Apprehend O’Neill, dead or alive—it doesn’t matter, as this time, he will hang.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And should the opportunity present itself, you are to apprehend the woman.”

Brawley started. “I beg your pardon?”

“If you discover Lady de Warenne’s whereabouts independently of O’ Neill’s, she may have useful information. You will apprehend her and bring her directly to me.”

His distress escalated. “Yes, sir.”

And Reed knew, for he seemed amused. “Calm yourself, Captain. If you are right, the lady has far more to fear from her outlaw stepbrother than she does from me. Besides, I doubt you will discover her alone.” His eyes glittered.

Brawley knew there was an innuendo in the colonel’s words, but he simply failed to understand it.

A
T LEAST HE WAS ARMED,
Sean thought as he entered the doorway at the base of the stairs that led to his flat.
He remained sick with worry and knew he would stay that way until Eleanor had been found. She was hurt and angry, and she was also stubborn. She had no intention of coming back to him. If she did, she would have returned hours ago.

And now, his stepbrothers and Devlin would begin a massive search for her. Surely they would find her, and soon. He started up the stairs in the dark. He would continue looking for Elle, as well, but he needed an hour of rest.

Suddenly he faltered, his gaze penetrating the shadows on the landing, only to discover a pile of rags which had not been present earlier. Then Sean realized that the rags were far more than clothing; he cried out.

“Elle!”

Elle lay curled up there against the wall, shivering, her eyes meeting his. He knelt, reaching for her, quickly realizing that she was soaking wet. She flinched, pressing him away.

“It’s me,” he said quickly, ignoring the protest and pulling her into his arms. Her skin was wet, icy and cold, frighteningly so.

She pushed him away. “The door is locked,” she said hoarsely.

Still kneeling, his gaze found hers. His heart twisted at the raw grief he saw in her eyes. She
remained devastated by what he had done, but she had come back to him, anyway.

“I know. I didn’t want to leave it open in case the British found the flat. You need to get warm,” he said quickly, standing. His hands were shaking now as he tried to fit the key in the lock. Had she spent the night in the rain? Why hadn’t she found shelter!

“I only came back for Saphyr. I am going home,” she said, her tone so low it was barely audible.

He turned. She remained seated on the floor, holding her knees to her chest. Her feet were filthy and he realized that one foot was bleeding. She stared, her eyes accusing.

He realized he needed to somehow explain his marriage to her—but how could he, when it hurt too much to even think about it, much less speak of it? And even if he did explain, then what? He saw from her eyes that she hadn’t forgiven him for his betrayal and that she never would. “You need to dry off. I have an escort for you—you can’t think to ride about the country alone.”

She shrugged.

He hesitated and then held out his hand.

She looked away, the tip of her nose already pink, turning red.

“Elle…Eleanor. Let me help you up.”

She didn’t answer, standing by herself, wincing as she did so.

His heart raced with more alarm as he pushed open the door, going directly to the stove. He quickly started a fire, straining to hear what she was about. She entered the room but then paused and he did not hear her close the door. He didn’t hear her move, either.

The fire crackling, he closed the door to the stove and stood. Slowly he glanced at her, his stomach clenching.

She looked as if she had almost drowned. He ignored the sight of her wet blouse and chemise, mostly transparent, clinging to her breasts. He glanced down to look at her bleeding foot, and instead, his gaze lingered on her long legs, encased in wet doeskin. Shaken, he tore his gaze lower. “What happened?”

She shrugged and started limping across the room.

He realized she meant to drop directly into the bed. He reached her side and grabbed her arm. “You need to change from those wet clothes.”

Her golden eyes lifted. “I don’t think so. Not if you remain in the room.”

He deserved her suspicion, her lack of trust. But he just stared, stricken, because this was the first time in his life that she mistrusted him.

She stared back, her gaze filled with hostility, hurt and suspicion. “Maybe you should visit Kate. That way you can leave me be.”

Her words stabbed through him like a knife. He wanted to tell her it hadn’t been like that. “I’ll wait in the hall,” he said instead, slowly leaving the room. At the door he glanced back, but she hadn’t moved. He realized she was crying.

He had finally broken her heart. Too late, he had the terrible feeling he would never have it back.

Sean stepped outside, closing the door, trying to fight sudden panic. This was as it should be, he told himself fiercely, because she would recover from this and then she could give her heart to Sinclair. He turned and kicked the wall so hard that pain shot right up his leg to his knee, but he could not find calm or relief. It was finally over.

When a sufficient amount of time had passed, he knocked but there was no response. Sean carefully peered into the room. The spare suit remained hanging on the wall and Eleanor was in bed, wrapped up in the blanket. He saw her shirt on the floor, stained with watered-down blood and knew that at least she had cleaned her cuts.

He went inside, bolting the door behind him. “You need to be in front of the fire,” he tried, but as
she had to be nude beneath the blankets, it wasn’t the best of ideas.

She didn’t respond.

And because he was concerned, he went over to her. She was either asleep or pretending to be asleep, but shivering periodically, the shudders violent. He hesitated, uncertain of what to do. She needed far more warmth than that single blanket could provide and he wanted to inspect her wounded foot. But she hated him now. He had no doubt of that. “Elle?”

There was no answer and he realized she was deeply asleep after all.

He sat down at her hip, wondering if she had been up all night, wandering the streets of the city, heartbroken and alone. He could no longer live with himself. He had hurt the one person he cared most about in the world.

Do you love my sister?

The question felt like a trap. He wasn’t going to take the bait. What he really felt didn’t matter. He saw that he had taken her hand and was gripping it. It was icy cold.

Sean gave up. He tore off his boots and he climbed under the covers with her, taking her into his arms. She remained as soft as a rag doll and as cold as ice.

He had done this
. “Elle, I’m sorry.” He kissed her
cheek and he started to cry. “I should have told you about Peg the moment I came home…. I was afraid. I knew you would hate me for marrying her… I never loved her.”