The Stolen Bride (34 page)

“O’Neill!”

Sean heard his name but refused to heed it, because he was with Elle at Askeaton when she was on the verge of womanhood, before they’d ever made love. There was whitewash on her nose and love in her eyes and he could not understand why he’d been such a fool. Even at fifteen, she’d been so lovely and so wonderful. He could not heed the officer calling him, because her hands were blistered from all the labor she’d done to help him that day and he was going to
bandage them before he left her again. For even in his sleep, even dreaming, he somehow knew that his life would soon be over. His family had been filled with hope this past month but he’d refused to allow himself such a luxury. He was afraid that if he woke up, he would not be allowed another moment to sleep and dream and relive what should have been.

“O’Neill.”

Sean gave up. He sat up, leaving Elle and his home far behind, and he faced Captain Brawley, who had entered his cell, Devlin with him. He hadn’t seen his brother in a month, as Devlin had gone to London to plead for his life. Grim, Sean stood, realizing that the sands of time had finally run out. He stared at his brother and Devlin smiled widely at him.

Oh, God, was it possible he was to be spared?

“You’ve been pardoned,” Brawley said.

Sean was in sheer disbelief.

“It’s official—you’re a free man,” the young officer added, and he shook his hand.

Dumbfounded, Sean looked at Devlin.

“It’s true,” Devlin said, and he embraced him hard. “Congratulations.”

He was free
. Devlin’s wide smile and Brawley’s pleased expression began to sink in.
He was free. He
wasn’t going to hang
. My God, he was going to
live
.

He had to tell Elle!

“Everyone is outside,” Devlin added, clapping his shoulder. “We will celebrate tonight!”

Sean remained incredulous and amazed. Suddenly he was leaving his cell with his brother, who kept a hand on him, as if knowing he was too shocked to navigate his way outside on his own. The moment he stepped into the anteroom outside the prison block, he saw his mother and the earl, beaming and crying at once. Then he saw Tyrell and Lizzie, wreathed in smiles, and Virginia, Rex and Cliff. They were smiling, laughing, grinning. And in that next moment, he realized that Elle wasn’t there.

Elle hadn’t come.

Mary cried out, embracing him, tears of relief falling. He held her, stunned by the fact that Elle wasn’t there, but his shock was passing now. In its place was a frigid reality. Of course she hadn’t come. It was over. She was with Sinclair. Had she married him yet? He had been so careful this past month not to ask about her.

“Sean, I have prayed for this day,” the countess said, clasping his face. “You are so thin! Will you come home to Adare? Please?”

His heart lurched and hurt. He reached for the earl’s hand but his stepfather pulled him forward and
embraced him instead. “Welcome home, son,” he said, his gaze moist.

“Thank you, Father. Thank you for what you have done.”

The earl now shook his hand, and did not release it. “You are my son. I would give my life for you, Sean. But I could not have succeeded without Henredon. My pleas initially fell on deaf ears.” His gaze held Sean’s.

Sean understood. Peter’s father had been instrumental in achieving the pardon. But of course he had; now Eleanor would fulfill her end of the bargain. The earl seemed to comprehend the situation in all its intricate diplomacy, but was uncertain of what Sean intended toward his daughter. “Then I owe him—and Sinclair—my life.”

“Yes, you do,” the earl said, his gaze direct. “But you owe yourself a future of joy, as well.”

Sean tensed. There would be no joy, not without Elle. But that was as it should be, wasn’t it? He turned away, to face his oldest stepbrother.

Tyrell stepped forward. “We have had enough drama in this family to last a lifetime. And I agree that a vast celebration is in order.” He smiled. “We can plan to celebrate well into the holidays.”

Rex limped forward. “Welcome back.” He hugged him with one arm.

Cliff slapped his shoulder. “You are forgiven,” he murmured.

Startled, Sean met his gaze.

“But you need to meet with Eleanor,” he added softly and firmly, his words clearly meant for Sean alone.

Sean was shaken, not sure what Cliff’s last directive meant. Then Virginia came forward to greet him and he finally met Tyrell’s wife.

Sean smiled at them all and glanced at Devlin. His brother smoothly said, “I think Sean might need a quiet night at Askeaton. And I will certainly hold a fête to celebrate his return in a few days. Mother? Why don’t you come home with us? Edward? Perhaps you can spend a day or two there with us at my home?”

“I would love nothing more,” Mary said, smiling. She slipped her hand in Edward’s, who nodded in agreement.

Sean was oddly relieved. He should want to celebrate but he did not. Sean glanced past the family and through one of the chamber’s open windows. Outside it was a pale, gray November day and a few soldiers were passing in the yard. But Elle did not stand in the courtyard waiting for him. Of course, he really hadn’t been expecting her to be there. She remained with Sinclair—and that was what he wanted.

He wondered how long he could lie so baldly to himself.

T
HERE HAD BEEN
a celebration, after all. Numerous bottles of fine burgundy wine had been consumed, followed by brandy, but it was well past midnight now and the earl and countess, Devlin and Virginia had all retired to bed. Sean sat alone in the salon before a roaring fire, staring into the flames.

He was finally beginning to believe that he was truly a free man and the horror of the past two years was over. But he could not find joy—and he could not find relief. There was only this deep, dark sorrow and an equally terrible regret. He needed to see Elle one final time—but if he did, he was afraid of what might happen.

She owed Sinclair marriage;
he
owed the man that marriage, too.

He rubbed his face. Sinclair and Henredon were responsible for his life. He could not go to Elle now and tell her how much he missed her and how greatly he loved her. He had heard that they would be married within days, on the weekend, and he knew he had to leave the county before that. So now there would not even be a goodbye.

No, they had already said goodbye, a month ago, in his cell.

I will never forget you!

You will always be my best friend…. You are my
heart, my soul!

Elle’s stricken image filled his mind. Sean desperately wanted to comfort her, and there was so much he wished to say now. He wanted one more chance to see her. This time, he would tell her far more than goodbye—he would tell her that she was his other half, his best half, that he loved her and he always had, and that his life was going to remain empty and bleak without her.

He stood, taking the bottle of brandy and slamming it against the wall. He couldn’t go to her because he didn’t trust himself not to steal the bride another time, and damn it, he was an honorable man and he was going to do the honorable thing.

He was going to leave Askeaton, and this time, leave Ireland, so she could be free. In time, Sinclair would make her happy; in time, she was going to forget him, no matter what she claimed.

“Sean?”

Sean turned stiffly at the sound of his brother’s voice. Devlin’s gray gaze was searching. “I can’t sleep.”

Devlin entered the room, as usual, not missing a thing, his regard going to the broken bottle and then back to Sean. “You’re a free man now. It’s obvious you’re in love with Eleanor. Why are you doing this?”

Sean made a harsh sound. “She made a pact with
Sinclair. Their marriage for my life.” And as he stared at Devlin, he thought,
he is right
. Why am I doing this? He could not stand the idea of Eleanor marrying the other man. He was Elle’s hero—no one else could ever have that right.

“Break it,” Devlin said softly.

Sean did not hear; he had started for the door. It was time he and Sinclair had a conversation. He owed the man, but he could not give up the love of his life. He had a future now, and he wanted Elle to be it.

“Take a carriage,” Devlin called. “The roads are wet.”

Sean did not answer—he was already gone.

S
EAN HAD ALWAYS
been able to come and go as he pleased at Adare. Having ridden like a madman through the night, he entered the house as if he still lived there. A quick exchange with the doorman told him where Sinclair was housed. Adrenaline flooded him as he strode through the halls of the sleeping house. The dialogue he wished to have with Sinclair could not wait until the morning. Sean hurried into the east wing and pounded on Sinclair’s suite.

A brief moment passed and the bedroom door was flung open, Peter Sinclair standing there in his nightgown and cap, looking utterly dazed. They had never met and Sinclair instantly became fully awake. “I beg your pardon? Is there a fire?”

Sean knew he should not despise the other man and in truth, he did not. But he was jealous and he felt it in the marrow of his bones. “Sinclair, this cannot wait. We need to speak.”

Sinclair’s blue eyes hardened. He stared and it was another moment before he spoke. “O’Neill?”

Sean inclined his head. “Yes.”

“Five minutes then,” he said, stepping back into his rooms to dress.

Sean waited in the hall, pacing restlessly, fists clenched, acutely aware that his life with Elle was at stake. Sinclair’s door opened and he appeared in a dressing gown and trousers. Their gazes clashed.

Sean reminded himself that this man and his father had saved his life. “I am vastly indebted to you and your father,” he said without preliminaries. “And there is no way I can ever repay you both.”

Eyeing him, Sinclair shoved his hands in the pockets of his wrapper. “I would do anything for my fiancée,” he said firmly. “There is no need for any kind of payment.” And his resolute gaze locked with Sean’s.

“Really?” Sean remarked. “Why not?”

“We are soon to be brothers,” Sinclair said. “That is how I have been thinking of it. And of course I would attempt to save my brother from hanging.”

His words were utterly distasteful to Sean. “And being brothers through marriage, we will also be friends?”

Sinclair’s gaze did not waver but he appeared distressed. “Of course. You need not have come tonight,
O’Neill. If you wished to thank me for my efforts on your behalf, it could have waited until the morrow.”

And Sean knew that this man was no fool. Aware that they were true adversaries now, he chose his words with care. “I have come to thank you, but there is more.” He saw Sinclair flinch. “Everyone thinks highly of you, Sinclair. I have been advised that you are a gentleman and a good match for Elle. I am aware that you love her. I am aware that you can give her all of the comforts she should have, not to mention a title. I have been supportive of the match. I think highly of you, too.”

Sinclair was rigid. “You spoke in the past tense,” he said slowly.

Sean knew he flushed. “I met Elle when she was tottering about, falling down more often than not, a precocious and spoiled two-year-old child.” He smiled, recalling her demanding nature and the way she would ride piggyback on his shoulders. “Since that day, I have spent my entire life looking after her. It is my nature to protect her—it is my inclination to want what is best for her. That is why I approved of your match.”

Sinclair flushed. “I have heard the family lore. I understand that you two were close. Why else would she be this devastated these past weeks, in regards to your situation with the authorities?”

Why else?
Sean thought grimly. He was tired of dancing around Sinclair now. “I think you know the answer.”

Sinclair started. “Eleanor is terribly loyal. She adores her family—especially you, her stepbrother and her hero.”

How much did he suspect? How much did he know? And what would Sean have to do to get him to back down? “She is very loyal—on that point, you are right. Sinclair, it is more than that. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Sinclair appeared terribly unhappy. “For God’s sake, my father, at my request, has moved mountains to save your life, O’Neill.”

“Is that what you really want? A marriage based on gratitude, the repayment of a debt?”

Seeming to breathe hard, Peter said, “I fail to comprehend you, O’Neill.”

In a way, Sean felt sorry for Peter Sinclair. “I grew up regarding Elle as my stepsister. I no longer think of her that way.”

Sinclair’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“I have always loved Elle. I love her now even more deeply than before, as the woman I wish to share my life with.”

Sinclair shook his head. “Damn it! Don’t do this
now, O’Neill! I adore her! I did everything possible to attain your freedom so she would not be crushed! You owe me!”

“I know you love her,” Sean said grimly. “And I owe you my life, I do. But I cannot pay you with the woman I love. I’ve come for my bride.”

Sinclair seemed devastated. He turned away, trembling, then turned back. “She is in love with you, too, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

He made a harsh sound. “I have tried very hard to pretend your love does not exist. Of course I heard the whispers, the rumors! What are you really saying? Did you abduct my bride deliberately—to foil our wedding?”

“It wasn’t planned,” Sean said, feeling far too much sympathy for the other man. “And I didn’t know the extent of my feelings for Elle until the authorities captured me in Cork.”

“Are you asking me to give up my bride?”

“Yes.”

The moment was interminable.

“Like hell!” Peter cried. “She cares for me, and you have nothing to offer her except a life of toil and hardship. You are penniless and in disgrace! I can care for her as if she is a queen! If you really love
her,
you
will be the one to let her go.
You
will want her to have the life I can give her.”

Sean was furious, because Sinclair was right. It was many moments before he spoke, and when he did, his tone was quiet. “You would marry her, knowing she is in love with someone else?”

Peter couldn’t seem to speak, either. He was struggling, Sean realized, with the vast complexity of his emotions. But then, so was Sean.

And Sean realized the man was as deeply in love as he was. “Peter,” he said slowly. “What would you do…if she is with my child?” His intention was not sabotage; he simply had to know.

Peter turned white, eyes bulging.

Sean prayed, knowing his prayers were not to be answered.

Peter shook his head, breathed hard and deep. “
Damn you
.
This
is how I have been repaid!” He inhaled. “I can no more stop loving Eleanor than I can will my heart to stop beating. If she is with child, so be it. I will raise that child as my own. I will honor and cherish it as my own. You need to go, O’Neill. And I suggest you go far away, as we are marrying in two more days.”

Sean was reeling. Sinclair not only loved Elle, he would raise their child as his own. He could give Elle
everything—he could give a child everything—and Sean owed him his life. There was only one possible recourse—to honor his commitment to the other man.

And Sean performed the greatest feat of his life—he bowed. Then he turned and walked out.

E
LEANOR STARED AT
her troubled and pale reflection in the mirror above the vanity chest, aware that her eyes revealed her turbulent emotions. Sean was now a free man—and he was only an hour’s ride from the house. But in two more days she was marrying Peter Sinclair. She was at her wit’s end. It was so hard to hold on to her pride and sanity; it was so hard to stay at Adare.

A knock sounded on her door.

Eleanor was confused—it was eight in the morning. She assumed one of her brothers was at the door, because no maid would disturb her before she left her room. She got up and answered the knock and was stunned to find Peter standing there. His eyes were red, as if he had been up all night—or as if he had been weeping.

She tensed. “Peter?”

“We need to speak,” he said. In the most uncharacteristic manner, he walked past her, right into her sitting room, apparently oblivious to the fact that no man should be alone with her there.

Aware that he had something of tremendous importance to divulge or declare, Eleanor closed the door, absolutely indifferent to the impropriety, as well. “Peter, you seem distressed.”

He faced her, waving his hands, unable to speak.

Eleanor felt certain he had been crying. Suddenly she was very alarmed. “Oh, God, please don’t bring more bad news!”

He shook his head. “The news is good, I think.”

“Then why do you appear as if someone has died?” she cried.

“No one has died.” He took her hands in his. “I love you with all of my heart, Eleanor. I have from the moment we first met, and I always will.”

Eleanor was more alarmed now than before. Acutely aware of Sean’s freedom, she felt as if a coffin was being closed on her, burying her alive. She hesitated. “I am very fond of you. You know that, don’t you?” she began.

“Shh,” he said, a tear appearing on his cheek. He pulled her close and kissed her gently. “I have come to say goodbye.”

She had to have misheard. “What?”

He pulled her closer. “I am a gentleman, Eleanor. If there is any one thing that defines me, it is that.
How can I force you into marriage when I see so clearly how much you love someone else?”

She cried out, and she felt her cheeks burn with guilt.

“Will you admit it? You love Sean O’Neill. You are fond of me, as you have just said, but that is all it is. You gave your heart to O’Neill many years ago—and I know you well enough now to know that you will never take it back or place it elsewhere, with me.”

Eleanor staggered. “Peter, you have been so kind. I am prepared to marry you on Saturday, as we agreed. I am prepared to be a good wife—perfect, if I can somehow achieve that. You saved Sean’s life! And I
am
very fond of you.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You are
prepared
to wed, you want to
achieve
perfection as my wife.”

“But I mean my every word,” she declared, still stunned.

“Because you owe me for Sean’s life?”

She did not know how to respond. “Yes,” she whispered.

“I love you enough to let you go. He can’t give you the life I can, but you are a woman of passion and I know, as much as I wish I did not, that you will not be happy with a fortune, not when the man you
love is not at your side. I am breaking off with you, Eleanor, so you may go to Sean.”

She was in shock. “Peter!” she cried, reaching for his face. “I won’t abandon you, not if you tell me you still wish to wed. I do owe you. Sean and I, we both owe you! I will try to make you happy!”

He shook his head. “I thought I could marry you in this fashion, as repayment of a debt, but I can’t. I thought I could ignore your love for another man, but I can’t. I love you enough to want happiness for you, even if that means handing you over to O’Neill.”

Eleanor began to cry. “I have never met anyone as generous and selfless as you.”

“I have never met anyone as passionate and courageous as you,” he replied unsteadily. “O’Neill was here earlier. By now, he must be home. You had better go to him, because he was very upset when he left.”

Eleanor nodded, about to turn and go. Instead, she threw her arms around Peter Sinclair and she held him hard, for the last time. Then she ran.

A
S SHE GALLOPED
the distance from Adare to Askeaton, she thought about Sean’s resolve that she marry Sinclair. Then she thought about that night when he had left her four years ago, mindless of her pleas not to go. She was afraid of his rejection. Two
years in prison and the loss of Peg and Michael had turned him into such a dark, wounded and complicated man. But she would never give up on their future.

Her stallion was heavily lathered and blowing hard when she flung herself from its back in front of Askeaton Hall. Eleanor ran toward the front doors when they opened. Sean appearing, coming down the steps. He was carrying a satchel—and it was déjà vu.

Eleanor halted, panting.

Her gaze fixated on the damned satchel. Somehow she tore her eyes from the bag to his tightly drawn face. “Where are you going?” she gasped.

He came forward. “I told you, I am leaving the country. What are you doing here?” he demanded, eyes wide.

How could this terrible night be happening all over again? “You can’t go—you can’t leave me!” Eleanor began to shake.

“I can’t stay—I don’t trust myself to stay,” he said grimly.

“What does that mean?” she cried, reaching for his hand. To her surprise, he clasped it so hard the gesture hurt. It was as if he was determined to never let her hand go.

“I stole the bride a month ago—I don’t think it
would be wise to test my resolve another time,” he said tersely.

She shook her head. “I’m not marrying Peter.”

“We both owe him,” Sean said fiercely. “And I am leaving so I can be a man of honor.”

Their eyes held. And Eleanor began to realize that Sean wanted to abduct her from the altar again. “Sean, he has broken it off.”

Sean’s expression mirrored confusion. “What? I just spoke to him—we had it out. As justice is on his side, I am the one who must leave you both to your future.”

“No.” Eleanor somehow smiled, realizing that Sean had gone to Peter to fight for her and their love. “Peter has broken off the engagement because he is noble and selfless and he knows I love you.”

Sean stared, incredulous and disbelieving at once.

In the moment that ensued, Eleanor held her breath.

“He is walking away from you—because of me, of us?”

She managed to nod. He was starting to smile but he seemed dazed. “What did you say to him?” she asked.

“I told him I loved you. Not as a stepsister, but as the woman who is my entire life—and my entire future.” His gray eyes softened. “Elle, I love you. In fact, I cannot live without you.”

Eleanor started to cry. She reached for him and he put his arms around her. “When you declared your love in Cork when the troops had captured you, it felt like a dream—it felt too late. I have waited and waited to hear you say those words freely, meaning them!” she cried, laughing at the same time. “I have waited a lifetime to hear you declare your love for me, Sean!” She was giddy with joy, as all the darkness and torment dropped away.