The Stolen Bride

by Brenda Joyce

  “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.”

  THE 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.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HE 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 co
lorless 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….