The Stolen Bride (28 page)

Reed’s vague smile never slipped. “And which ship did he set sail on? And when did he disembark?”

“I don’t know which ship he sailed on. But he left me in Cork the morning we arrived, four days ago—the day after I was to be wed.” She tried to appear
angry and upset now. “He simply left me there, alone and lost! For that I shall never forgive him, sir!”

“How outrageous,” Reed said with obviously false sympathy. “So you spent three days alone in Cork and only today, the fourth day, did you decide, suddenly, to attempt a return home?”

“I was very ill!” Eleanor exclaimed. She relished a chance to tell a part of the truth now. “I wandered the night in the rain. I became unconscious. I cannot begin to tell you how ill I was—I slept in a doorway, sir! It was several days before I regained enough strength to beg for help, like any common vagrant, and then that sweet farmer was kind enough to offer me a drive home. Of course, I will reimburse him for his efforts on my behalf.”

He made a soft disbelieving sound. “Of course. That sweet farmer is a Blueboy and you know it. He is a traitor to the Crown, intent on revolution and anarchy. And that is before he came to the aid of your outlaw
stepbrother
.”

Eleanor blinked, as he had spoken with heat and anger. His regard slid down the bodice of her inexpensive white dress. When he spoke, his tone was impassive once again. “So you spent the entire time in Cork vagrant and homeless in a doorway?”

She knew her story was a doubtful one. “I was de
lirious for two days, Colonel. And then I wandered to a farm, which is where I woke up. Do you doubt my word?” she cried with indignation, quickly recapturing her cloak and covering her body with it.

Still smiling politely, he stood.

Eleanor became so tense it was hard to breathe.

“I think you are an utter liar.”

She cried out.

And he stared, his smile gone, his eyes brilliant with fervor, the room becoming terribly, unbearably still.

She finally stood. “How dare you,” she managed, beyond shock. No man—or woman—had ever spoken to her in such a disrespectful way.

“Sit down.” It was an order.

She ignored it. “I think not! In fact, I am going home. You, sir, are no gentleman and you will be hearing from my father, the earl.” She was livid now.

And Colonel Reed began to laugh at her.

Eleanor was disbelieving. Genuine dread began.

For Reed now walked around his desk toward her. “Your father, my dear, is not in this country.”

“Sir, this is not appropriate behavior,” she protested.

He smiled. “Utter lies are not to my liking… Eleanor.”

And in that instant, when he dared to utter her
name in such a disrespectful manner, she knew she was in danger. Suddenly, she recalled Sean’s fear for her safety. Suddenly, she began to understand why he had been afraid for her. She backed away from the colonel until she hit the wall. “It is Lady de Warenne.”

He did not pause.

She stiffened impossibly as he approached her, incredulous now, for he only halted when an inch separated them.

“Do you really think me a fool? An utter idiot?” he asked softly.

“Move away,” she commanded desperately, as his breath feathered her face.

“I am the one who gives the orders here,” he reminded her. “You may cooperate, and you will be sent home, relatively unscathed. Or you may lie—and pay the consequences. They will be dire.”

She tried to breathe. “How dare you treat me as if I am some commoner, sir! I am a lady, and—”

“I believe we both know you are no lady.”

She gasped.

He leaned close. His mouth moved over her cheek when he spoke. “I know a whore when I see one.”

She responded on instinct, striking at him; he seized her wrist with so much force that in another moment she knew it would snap in half.

Eleanor inhaled sharply in pain, the room turning hazy. Hot waves knifed through her wrist and the gray room turned black. Miraculously the pressure was eased and salts were placed under her nose, when all she wanted to do was to faint and escape him. “No,” she begged, turning away from the offending odor.

“You will give me what I want,” he said harshly. “And you certainly will not be allowed to faint.”

“No,” she gasped. But he kept the salts there against her nostrils and the world stopped turning. The terrific pain became a terrible throbbing, but one she could endure. She opened her eyes and met the most ruthless gaze she had ever seen. She did not think her wrist was broken but she somehow knew he would have enjoyed inflicting even greater pain if he could have done so.

Never had she been so afraid.

“O’Neill is your lover and you are nothing but a traitor, no less than he is,” Reed said savagely. He put his arm around her.

Eleanor struggled uselessly until she realized he was only forcing her to the chair. She sank into it and dared to clutch her wrist. She tried to breathe and to think, but she was too afraid to plan or scheme now.

“How unfortunate that you had a fall on the stairs,”
he said. “The next fall will even be worse. I imagine a broken limb might result.”

She went still.

“Yes, Eleanor, I will break you into a dozen pieces to get what I want. I want your lover. He should have hanged for the death of my men two years ago. This time, he will pay for his crimes.”

“You are mad,” she gasped, and she finally understood Sean’s fears. She was in grave, mortal danger. “My father, my brothers—”

“They will never know what happened to you! If you force me to abuse you, I will make certain you disappear without a trace.” He suddenly seized her face, lifting her chin. “So do not make me hurt you,
Lady
de Warenne. If you value your life, you will tell me where O’Neill is. And I will even spare you the infamy of any punishment for your involvement with a traitor.”

Eleanor was still. This man was insane. He had just threatened her life and she believed him capable of doing as he said. Worse, he was so arrogant that he was not afraid of her family. This man might even be right—if she simply disappeared, who would ever suspect an officer of her murder?

In that moment, she realized she was powerless.

Eleanor was briefly incapable of thought, of
reason. Her entire life she had been the Earl of Adare’s treasured daughter. She had always been revered and treated with deference and respect. During her lifetime, Sean had been there to defend and protect her, should the need arise, and with him her three brothers and her stepbrother, Devlin. It was almost impossible to comprehend that she was in the hands of a madman who was not afraid of her family and that her rank, her breeding and her station meant nothing to him.

But how could she betray Sean?

“We both know O’Neill is in Cork. I have spies there—how else did I know to apprehend you on the road?” Reed cut into her horrified thoughts.

Eleanor did not speak. She was shaking like a leaf with fear.

He made a harsh sound. “Tell me where he is.”

Eleanor had to marshal her thoughts. She was in grave danger, but she would never betray Sean. She had no death wish, though, either. That meant she needed to escape Reed’s clutches. “I don’t know.”

He seemed surprised. Eleanor waited for some inevitable horror—she thought he might whirl and break her wrist.

But when he turned, he was holding a thin,
delicate sterling letter opener with a beautifully carved horn head.

Her heart sank and then raced wildly. The blade was as fine as that of a stiletto.

He smiled and lifted a tress of her hair. “Do you treasure yourself at all, Eleanor?”

She was relieved—he intended to cut off her hair. She began to breathe, as she could not care less if he turned her bald—it would grow back. And then he shocked her, slicing through the ties of her cloak so it fell to the floor.

She started to leap to her feet but he took his hand and pressed his palm against her bare décolletage, forcing her back into the chair. He met her shocked gaze and smiled. “This can be long and rude, or short and swift. Where is O’Neill?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, agonizingly aware of his hand on her body.

He took the letter opener and lifted the edge of the bodice of her dress with it. He met her gaze and waited for her to understand what he intended. She failed to even swallow now as she realized he was going to cut her dress off her, as he had the cloak. “Do not,” she gasped.

“Modesty from an Irish whore? How odd.”

She was so afraid that moisture trickled between her legs.

“Where is your lover?”

Eleanor closed her eyes. She was too afraid to pray.

And when she refused to speak, she felt and heard the fabric of her bodice tear. She gasped, eyes flying open, as he calmly sliced through the first layer of white cotton, taking the blade down between her breasts, down her torso and to her waist. There, he flicked at the fabric so it fell apart, exposing her body in her transparent chemise.

Instantly Eleanor closed her eyes and tried to think. She was defenseless, powerless and now, being sexually molested in a way she had never dreamed. But she could not give up Sean. What did he intend? Would he disrobe her? She could survive such cruelty and humiliation. Would he rape her? She would rather die than suffer his touch and invasion.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

She opened her eyes and met his cold, brilliant gaze. “What will you do?” With great dignity, she gathered up her torn dress and held it together.

He smiled, amused. “I will proceed until you tell me what I must hear. Do not make me do this, Eleanor.”

“I am not making you do anything,” she somehow
managed to reply. “You do not have to go to such foul ends for what? To avenge your men? Sean did not lead the rising!”

“God, the lot of you, cutthroats and savages, as thick as thieves, and it never changes.” He laid the letter opener down and cupped her chin. “Did you know my mother was an Irish whore? And in the end, she murdered my father. You remind me of her, really, not in appearance, but in spirit.”

“Do not blame me for what your mother did to your father!”

He paced slowly around her chair. “I have dedicated my life to bringing justice to this heathen land, but it is an impossible and thankless task.” He stared down at her. “Perhaps you do not know where he now is. Tell me where the two of you were hiding in Cork.”

“Surely your spies have discovered that.”

He struck her hard across the face and walked away from her.

Eleanor cried silently, until the throbbing of the right side of her face dulled and eased. How much more of this abuse could she stand? She was going to be tortured and raped, because Reed had a personal vendetta against everyone and everything Irish, and
he feared no one. She had to postpone this interview; she had to gain time, because if she had time, she would find a way to escape.

Reed now sat on the edge of his desk, regarding her skeptically. “Are you in love with him?” He laughed with disbelief. “Such loyalty, and for what? Rape, torture, an inglorious death at the bottom of the sea? And does he love you in return? I doubt that,” he added.

Eleanor did not hesitate and the painful reality of Sean’s marriage to another woman fell away. “I love him,” she said, “and I will never give him up.”

He eyed her and spoke with relish. “I wonder if he ever gave you a thought while he was in bed with his pretty redheaded wife, night after night.”

Eleanor choked on mortification, stabbed with hurt. Reed was right—Sean hadn’t been thinking about her when he had been married to Peg, she felt quite certain.

“Ah, so he has already hurt you. He married Peg Boyle—not the Lady Eleanor! I, would have chosen you—your attributes are far more pleasing, and far more vast.” He smiled, directing his gaze at her breasts.

He was beyond disgusting. Eleanor refused to speak.

“Oh, come. Let us talk about Sean’s married life. Shall I tell you about Peg Boyle?”

Eleanor had to look at him. She remained ill, but she would hear him out now, because she was desperate to know something about the other woman, even though she was aware that he was manipulating her.

“She was very pretty, all flaming red hair and flawless skin. She was petite—perfectly so, really. You do know that a man enjoys a small, tight woman? She was very feminine, very seductive.”

Eleanor bit her lip to keep herself from making a sound.

“But I never had a chance to sample her wares. My men were the ones who did that.”

Eleanor was stunned. “I pray you are lying!”

“I am telling you the truth. I could not directly capture him and I made certain she paid for his crimes. Are you prepared to give your life for him, as well?”

Eleanor managed to look at him. “I am prepared to die.”

He stared, his smile vanishing. His voice dropped to a silken whisper. “She did not want to die—she fought to the end. If death doesn’t frighten you, I will have to find a far crueler fate. Of course, you need only confide in me, and you will be spared any further insults.”

She tensed as he approached. “Even if I told you where Sean is now, you couldn’t let me go. I would tell my brothers what you have done and you would pay a terrible price.”

He leaned close. “You cannot triumph over me. You do not want to see any of your brothers assaulting a British officer, do you?”

She realized she was trapped. Even if she escaped, Reed was never going to pay for what he was doing to her, because he was right—she did not want her brothers seeking retribution against a British officer.

“O’Neill is a dead man, with your help or without it. Now I suggest you think about what it will be like to service an entire prison of convicted felons, thugs, cutthroats, murderers and thieves, because that is what I will do—I will lock you away where you will never be found and throw you to the scum of this earth. Think on it.” He suddenly walked out.

Eleanor collapsed in the chair, shaking wildly. She believed him. She suddenly doubted her ability to withstand his threats. The man’s madness knew no bounds. She wiped her eyes and stood, staggering from a sudden surge of dizziness, and she made her way to the window.