The Stolen Bride (32 page)

Sean gripped the bars, controlling the impulse to
lunge for his captor again. He fought to breathe and he fought for his temper.

“There will be justice, on all counts,” Reed said coolly.

“I am glad to see you intend justice, Colonel,” Tyrell said flatly, startling Sean as he and Devlin strode into the corridor from the anteroom. “It should be much easier to obtain with all of us working for the same honorable end.”

Sean finally drew in the air he so desperately needed.
Tyrell and Devlin were there. While his fate
was undoubtedly inescapable, they would never
allow harm to befall Eleanor
.

“Justice requires that O’Neill swing and you bloody well know it,” Reed said.

“No. That would be another injustice, and I am reminding you right now that my stepbrother has suffered the gravest injustice already at the hands of the military—at your hands. He was incarcerated in a British prison for two years. He was falsely convicted. Adare is in London as we speak. There will be a full inquiry into the events of that night in Kilvore and Sean’s apprehension, imprisonment and conviction.”

Sean felt some small surprise, as he hadn’t considered the possibility of an inquiry of any sort. There
was so much authority in Tyrell’s tone and manner that real comfort came from his words.

Reed’s smile was thin. “Is there a point? Because if so, my lord, I fail to comprehend it.”

“There was a witness to those events, Colonel, and my brother is bringing him to London. Sean never committed treason and once that has been proved, he will be pardoned. I am warning you now that you will keep him safe—and alive—until that day comes,” Tyrell said coldly.

Reed replied but not as smugly as before. “There are no witnesses. Every man in that village rose up in arms, and every one was killed—except for O’Neill.”

“You are wrong. There is a witness and his testimony will clear Sean,” Tyrell said flatly. “But that will not be enough. Your actions are going to be scrutinized as if you were a rat being dissected under a laboratory microscope.”

Reed stared, then laughed. “Such bluster. Who allowed you in?”

“Brawley. And if you think to deny me access to my stepbrother now, after two years of mistaken incarceration, you should think again.”

Reed’s eyes flashed. “There is no witness. I have done nothing wrong!”

Tyrell smiled dangerously. “
You touched my sister
.”

Sean tensed. How much did Tyrell know?

It was a moment before Reed spoke. “I interviewed her—showing all the respect she was due. Apparently she tripped and fell when she was first brought to the fort. I would never touch a lady.”

Tyrell leaned close. “Your career is at an end, Colonel.”

Reed started. Then he snarled, “Do not threaten me.” He stalked out.

Sean leaned against the wall. The hatred had receded, and so had the panic. He felt strangely calm. “Ty, don’t. Don’t bait him—he is too dangerous. He may go after Elle when he is through with me.”

“I am not afraid of him, Sean. In fact, I intend to destroy him.”

“Then you will have to get in line,” Sean said.

Ty’s brows lifted. “You have done enough, I think, so I suggest you leave Reed to me.”

Devlin stepped past Tyrell, gripping the cell bars. “You are ill,” he said bluntly.

Sean almost laughed. “I am past being ill.” But he wiped the sweat streaming from his brow.

“How can I help you
now?
” Devlin asked grimly.

His brother somehow knew that being in a cell again was like being buried alive. Sean shook his head, forcing himself to take deep, steadying breaths.
He briefly closed his eyes and then opened them. “There is not enough air in here,” he said with some difficulty. “But I know it is all in my head.”

“Do you have a fever?” Devlin finally asked.

Sean shook his head. “No—but I am mad. I have finally lost my mind.” He sat down on the floor, staring at it. Neither brother spoke. He finally said, “I don’t care about myself. I am prepared to hang…it has been my fate all along and I can no longer avoid it. But Elle…” He looked up. “You must protect Eleanor. Find a way, Dev, to extricate her from any involvement with me. Reed has threatened her.”

“Reed is going to find himself on a convict ship bound for Australia,” Tyrell said grimly. “Damn it! Eleanor is involved and a dozen troops know it. Did you purposely appear on her wedding day to sabotage her future—her life?”

Sean recalled Eleanor, standing before her dressing mirror in her wedding finery, breathtaking in her beauty. His heart caught. He had meant to say goodbye, not steal the bride.

“He has been through enough and we are wasting time with recriminations,” Devlin said coldly.

Sean spoke slowly. “There has to be a way, maybe a trade…her liberty for my life.”

“No!” Devlin snapped.

“You don’t understand.” Sean looked at him. “I will gladly hang if she can live to a ripe old age with all of the creature comforts she deserves.”

“I do understand. I understand that you are in love with Eleanor! There will be no such trade. First things first.” He was commanding. “Runners have been looking for Flynn. Cliff is now on his way to Kilvore—if he isn’t there already. They will find him, Sean. You will be cleared of all of these charges, one way or another.”

“How can you be so certain?” Sean asked, because he recognized the hard gleam in his older brother’s eyes. It was a ruthless light Sean had thought he would never see again.

Devlin smiled without mirth. “You might not recognize Flynn when you next meet him,” he said.

An impostor would be brought forth if Flynn was
not found
. Hope flared—but it was too dangerous to entertain for long. “Soldiers died that night. In the end, I picked up arms, too.”

“You tried to stop the rebels,” Tyrell exclaimed. “And you are a nobleman, not a peasant. Amends need to be made. Then there is the case of your wife and son. They deserve justice, too.”

The guilt that had lain dormant for the past few
days suddenly arose, clawing at Sean. “How? How do you know anything…about them?”

Sympathy filled Devlin’s eyes. “Eleanor told us, Sean. I am sorry.”

“Then you must know the entire story,” Sean said harshly. “They paid…for my crimes. Reed made it so.”

“Then an inquiry might lead to his imprisonment,” Tyrell stated.

Sean slowly stood up. There was hope again—and with it, Eleanor’s beautiful image, her eyes soft with trust and love. Then Peg’s countenance appeared, dancing uncontrollably in his mind, so focused now that she could have been lying in his arms, dying. His heart lurched with dread and raced with fear. Peg had been brutally tortured and murdered because of him, and only God knew Michael’s fate. How dare he hope for anything, much less a future with Eleanor?

He was powerless now, once again, and he must not forget it. There was no hope. His life was over and only a miracle could change that. He no longer cared. However, he cared about Eleanor’s life, as he always had.

As much as he hated the idea of her wedding Sinclair, of her warming his bed, keeping his home and bearing his children, the other man loved her. He
was powerful, wealthy, titled and British, and he would give her a good, long life.

He faced his brother and stepbrother. “You’re both wrong,” he said. “There is no justice in Ireland and there never has been. Reed is going to walk away freely from his sins and I am going to hang for mine. And even if I don’t, I am going to America—alone. As for Eleanor…I do not love her in the way she wants.” He saw Tyrell start. “She threw herself at me. She is a beautiful woman. And I am not the man you once knew. Do I have to be any clearer?”

Tyrell was ashen. “If this is a jest, it is in very poor taste.”

“You know I was always a rake.” Sean shrugged. “Two years alone in a hole, and then Eleanor offered me something I had no wish to refuse.” He did not bother to continue.

Tyrell was so furious he was at a loss for words. He stared at Sean as if he faced an oddly misshapen monster he did not and could not know.

Sean waited; Tyrell cursed him and stormed out.

Devlin just looked at him. “That was utterly convincing. Why, Sean? I am going to make certain you are freed.”

Sean shook his head. It was hard to speak. “I want
her safe. You make certain she marries Sinclair,” he said harshly. “I want…your word.”

Devlin stared, then responded. “I’m not giving it.”

E
LEANOR PAUSED
on the threshold of the gold salon, trembling. Peter was the only one present in the room and he was seated before the fireplace, staring into the flames. He was clearly brooding.

It was late the same afternoon. Eleanor hesitated. Her intention had been to remain in her rooms for as long as possible, ostensibly to rest, in truth to avoid Peter. But she could not rest, not when Sean was imprisoned just a few hours from Adare, his life hanging precariously in the balance. To make matters even worse, she was acutely aware of Peter’s presence in her home and how unfairly she had treated him.

She owed him more than an explanation—she owed him an apology. She had begun a letter to that effect, and had quickly realized that was the coward’s way out. She had to end their engagement, once and for all. “Peter?”

He leaped to his feet, stunned to see her.

She wanted to smile, but she simply could not. She meant to come into the room, but her feet would not obey her mind and her legs did not move.

Peter rushed to her side. “Eleanor! Why aren’t you upstairs, resting? At least until the doctor arrives and has thoroughly examined you?”

She bit her lip. “I can’t rest.” She hesitated again, wishing he were not so kind and caring, then she walked past him into the room. “We need to speak, Peter.”

He stood frozen at the door.

She slowly faced him, her hand lingering on the back of a tasseled chaise. “I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did on our wedding day.”

He was pale. He closed the door. “I understand, Eleanor,” he said hoarsely.

She was surprised. “How can you even begin to understand? May I explain?”

He came forward, his cheeks having turned pink. “I understand that Sean is your stepbrother. I have heard that you doted on him as a child. I also heard he was incarcerated in prison for two years and no one in your family knew if he was dead or alive. How terrible that must have been for all of you!”

Eleanor could not believe that he would be so sym
pathetic. “My family came to the conclusion that he was dead, but I never really believed it,” she whispered.

“I am so happy that he is not dead,” Peter declared.

Eleanor had to sit down. She felt faint.

He sat down on an ottoman facing her. “I know the character of the woman you are,” he said fiercely. “I know you would do anything to help those you love and hold dear.”

Eleanor could only nod. When was he going to accuse her of infidelity, disloyalty, deception? Wasn’t he going to demand an explanation for her behavior?

“Your family insists Sean is innocent. I am soon to be a part of this family, too, Eleanor, and I would ally myself with all of you.”

She remained stunned by his gracious behavior. She studied him, trying to find an accusation in his eyes. There was none. Did he mean that he still intended to marry her? She would not tell him any more lies. “When Sean appeared, Peter, I was overcome. Until he told me the truth, I had no idea he’d been convicted of treason and sent to prison. When I realized the authorities were searching for him, intending to hang him, I had to go with him. Foolishly, perhaps, I was determined to help him escape the country in any way that I could.”

“I understand,” he said simply. “But the authorities must never know.”

“How can you understand?” she cried, leaping to her feet. “Why don’t you hate me? I left you standing at the altar! I
jilted
you, Peter, or so it appears. And that was not my intention!”

He took her hands. “I understand because I love you,” he said.

Eleanor froze. When she could breathe, she said, “How can you love me now?”

“How can I not?” he returned quietly.

She pulled her hands from his and turned away. Peter’s anger and accusations would have made her task much easier. She did not know what to do in the face of such loyalty and trust—both of which she did not deserve. She realized she was going to have to tell him the entire truth. “I love Sean,” she began slowly.

He instantly stepped around to face her. “Eleanor! I know you love all of your brothers! I know you love Sean. And I have sent my father to London to aid your father in obtaining a complete pardon for him.”

For one instant, her mind could not comprehend such generosity. “Lord Henredon is a cousin of the Prime Minister.”

“Yes, he is.” Peter took her hands again. “My father
will do everything in his power to secure Sean’s pardon. He is well connected and I am optimistic.”

Eleanor had to sit. She gazed up at Peter, trying to understand. “Why are you doing this?”

He didn’t quite smile. “You are soon to be my wife. Your troubles are my own. If Sean is your brother, he is my brother, too. When will you realize that I would do anything—
anything
—for you?”

Tears came to her eyes. “You still wish to marry me after I jilted you at the altar?”

“You left me for a noble cause!” he cried, flushed. He knelt before her, taking her hands again. “You are a woman of honor, Eleanor, and of great loyalty, and I admire that as much as everything else. I trust you. How could I not? And I will do
anything
to take you to wife.”

Eleanor felt her cheeks flame with guilt even as she wondered at his use of words and his fervor. “Peter,” she began quietly, still determined to tell him everything, “you should not—”

He leaped to his feet, interrupting her. “When we receive news of Sean’s pardon, we will marry immediately, but this time, without such a spectacular fuss.”

Her heart slowed, but beat in a peculiar manner, hard and thick. She stared at Peter. She had no doubt now that he loved her, but she wondered if he knew the truth about her love for Sean. There was some
thing so unnaturally fierce in his desire to trust her and believe in her.

“Sean will be pardoned, Eleanor. My father is never thwarted in these matters. I am sure we will hear of his pardon soon, and then we will celebrate our union.”

She was still. The room had become still. Peter’s message was suddenly resounding. He had sent his powerful father to London to help Edward in his quest for amnesty, and he expected their marriage to proceed after it was obtained. In that moment, she felt trapped and outmaneuvered. But was that his intention?

Was he offering her a trade? Was Peter purposefully bartering her hand in marriage for Sean’s liberty and life?

If not, what would he do if she told him that she would not marry him? Would he recall Henredon from his mission?

“Eleanor, I thought you would be pleased with my news,” Peter said stiffly.

She stood, managing to smile. She was trapped after all, but then, this was a small price to pay for Sean’s freedom. “I am very pleased. Peter, thank you. Thank you for all that you have done on my stepbrother’s behalf.”

He did smile. “You need not thank me, Eleanor.
You need only promise me that, this time, you will not jilt me at the altar.”

She thought he was making a jest, yet she also wondered if he meant his words, too. “Of course not,” she said. “You need only set a new date, and your bride will be there.”

He beamed, and she saw relief in his eyes. “Then let us share the good tidings with your family.”

Eleanor nodded. He seemed satisfied and she knew that their unspoken bargain was sealed.

E
LEANOR HAD TO KEEP
reminding herself that this turn of fate was as fortunate as could be. Sean was going to attain his freedom, and all she had to do in return was marry a nobleman who loved her. They found the countess in the music room, sitting at the piano, her fingers on the keys, but making no effort to play. She looked up, her gaze wan, and managed a tired smile.

“There is hope,” Eleanor said softly, leaving Peter’s side. She went to her mother and sat down beside her on the upholstered piano bench. “Peter’s father is in London, and he is also seeking a pardon for Sean. There is great hope.”

The countess put her arm around her. “I am too afraid to hope.”

Eleanor bit her lip. Then she glanced at the threshold of the room, where Peter stood. “Peter and I are marrying the moment we receive the pardon.”

The countess started and her gaze went to Peter. He smiled at her and bowed. “With your permission, of course, my lady.”

Mary turned a confused regard on Eleanor. “Darling?”

Eleanor simply smiled at her, the expression forced. “I wanted to share our news with you, first.” She kissed her mother’s cool cheek and stood. “I am going back to my rooms to rest.”

Mary nodded, apparently speechless.

In the corridor, Eleanor was about to excuse herself from Peter when she heard a ruckus in the front hall. Tyrell’s commanding voice sounded—and her heart leaped uncontrollably. Peter took her arm. “In light of the absence of your father, perhaps we should inform your brother as to what we now intend?”

Eleanor barely heard. Was Sean all right? Had Tyrell seen him and spoken with him? And what about Reed? She managed to nod as they hurried through the house and into the front hall.

Tyrell was disappearing into the library by himself as they entered. “Ty!” Eleanor ran after him.

He turned. He had shed his jacket, and his boots
and breeches were muddy and wet. Even his ruffled white shirt was spotted with mud and rain. His gaze went from Eleanor to her fiancé. “Why aren’t you in your rooms, resting?”

Her spirits sank. He was so terribly grim. “I can’t rest. I am too excited.” She managed a wide smile. “Peter has forgiven me for my very lacking behavior and we will soon wed.”

His expression did not change. His gaze held hers and Eleanor knew he suspected everything. “I am pleased,” he said carefully. “Peter, I am more than glad to have a celebratory drink with you. Eleanor, why don’t you excuse us?”

She dug in her heels. “Ty, there are some matters we must discuss.” Her heart threatened the boundary imposed by her rib cage and chest.

His gaze became blank. “Of course. Peter? I’d like a brief moment with my sister.”

Peter bowed. “Take as long as you like.” He left the room.

Eleanor did not hesitate—she ran to the two oak doors and closed them. Panting, she faced Tyrell. “What happened? How is Sean? Did you see him?” she cried.

“Spoken like a true bride,” he said darkly. He turned and poured a large Irish whiskey into a glass.

She ran to face him. “Don’t you dare berate me now for the true love in my heart! I am sorry I do not love Peter, truly, I am! Is Sean all right?”

“He is as well as can be expected, I think,” Tyrell returned flatly. “What the hell happened to him, Eleanor?”

She understood every aspect of the question. “He was locked up in a small, dark cell, Tyrell, and for two years he did not see, speak or hear anyone. That is, he was very much buried alive. Before that, they tortured him—they flogged him. And before that? I already told you that his wife was deliberately raped and murdered by Reed’s men and that his stepson died in a fire set by those soldiers. All to pay for his supposed crimes. He is racked with guilt.”

“He is almost unrecognizable,” Tyrell said slowly, appearing pained.

Eleanor choked. “You should have seen him a week ago, when he could hardly speak a coherent sentence. You should see the scars on his back—you should have seen his eyes—dark, bleak and hopeless.”

Tyrell stared at her. After a pause, he said, “You are doing the right thing by marrying Sinclair.”

She fought tears. “I have no choice. I have made the Devil’s bargain—to marry a man I do not love in order to free the man I do love.”

Tyrell set his now empty glass down and clasped her shoulder. “He has changed, and not for the better. I will always love my stepbrother. But he is not the man for you, Eleanor. He can only bring a woman pain—and I do not think he is capable of the great love you wish for.”

Eleanor was afraid Tyrell was right. But she shook her head and her heart spoke for her. “Just before he was captured, Sean began to find himself. He began to smile. He started to speak of the past—and to share his demons with me. I know that if I was given the chance to stay with him, I could help him find his way back to all of us. But I am not being given that chance. I am going to marry Peter and Peter’s father is going to obtain that pardon. And Sean is going to be alone with his scars and wounds.” She bit off a sob. Who would be there for him now?

“He won’t be alone,” Tyrell said gruffly. “Devlin and Virginia will succor him. We all will.”

No, she thought, unbearably saddened, they would not all succor him—for she would be in Chatton, a loyal and loving wife to another man. She turned away so her brother would not see the depth of her misery.

Tyrell spoke from behind. “This is for the best, Eleanor. I would be afraid for you, if you stayed with the man he has become.”

She whirled. “You are wrong! Sean loves me, and he would still give his life to protect me.”

“A life with him would be so dark and so bleak that he would hurt you more than anything else. You must trust me now.”

She did not tell him that she would give anything to share that dark, bleak life with Sean, even if he did hurt her. “Is he being treated fairly?”

Tyrell nodded. “But it would be best if he were not imprisoned for very long. I do not think he can mentally manage incarceration of any kind now.”

She shivered with fear. “I need to see him.”

“No.”

“I am not asking for your permission. I am telling you that I will go to see him, even if I must do so alone and without escort in the midnight hours of the night!” She glared. “And as I have already suffered unspeakably at Colonel Reed’s hands, it is your duty to make certain I safely visit Sean.”

“You will jeopardize your future with Sinclair!” Tyrell exclaimed.

“No, I won’t. I have lied enough, and I will tell Peter that I must visit Sean.”

And Tyrell capitulated. “Fine. I will take you tomorrow after breakfast.”

E
LEANOR HAD ASKED
Tyrell to wait outside for her. As an aide led her to Sean’s cell, she was as eager to see him as she was afraid of what she might find. When she approached, she saw that he lay on a pallet on the floor, and for one moment, even though it was midmorning, she thought he was asleep. But it was bright and sunny outside, as if to compensate for the previous day’s downpour, and daylight was pouring into the cell. Sean’s eyes were open, she realized, and he was staring at the ceiling, his breathing shallow. Eleanor ran to his cell, crying out. “Sean!”