The Stolen Bride

by Brenda Joyce

  She folded her arms, filled with a new tension, brought on by the sight of the marines. “Why would Cliff take me home now when he could sail you away? The two of you have clearly conspired already.” She refused to meet his gaze.

  “Cliff is going to take you home. He and I are agreed.” He was firm.

  It was so difficult having a conversation with the man she had once loved so completely. All she wanted to do was escape him and never see him again, but he did not deserve to hang. “Do not mistake me,” she said curtly, her gaze on the harbor scene. “I want to go home immediately. I want nothing more. However, I have decided that I prefer to go by land. Cliff can sail you away.” And she finally met his eyes.

  “As soon as you board, I will book passage…on another ship.” He spoke very softly now but his voice had never been more intense. Was it pleading?

  She felt herself flush. “I do not care what you do,” she said, meaning it, “once you are out of the country. There are soldiers right over there. I will travel by coach.”

  His gaze was searching, so she kept her eyes downcast. “We don’t have time to argue…. The plans are made. And Cliff will keep you safe.”

  The words slipped out before she could stop them. “And who will keep you safe, Sean?” Her tone was hostile.

  “But you hate me,” he said slowly.

  A long, tense pause ensued. “I hate you…but I do not wish you dead,” she finally said.

  Then, suddenly, he spoke. “You will never forgive me, will you?”

  She had to meet his anguished eyes. Trembling, she steeled herself against him. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so,” he said.

  ELEANOR SAT IN THE BACK of the gig by herself, wrapped up in a soft wool cloak that belonged to Connelly’s wife. There had been too many soldiers on the docks for her to board Cliff’s ship, and she was travelling home by coach after all. The carriage was an open one, pulled by a single horse, and even though the sun was shining, it was a cold, bitter day. She shivered, but the coldness of her skin was nothing like the iciness in her heart. Connelly had offered to take her to Adare and she was finally on her way home. She was trying not to think or feel but it was so hard. She was never going to see Sean O’Neill again.

  How had her life come to this single point in time?

  Memories she and Sean had made together over an entire lifetime were her only companion now. But the remembrances were so painful now, even the pleasant, happy ones, because all hope was gone.

  Their lives had diverged long ago when he had chosen a path that had led him north, away from Askeaton and into another woman’s life. How odd it was that a single twist of Fate had briefly brought them together. Now, with every breath she drew, their steps diverged again, but this time, more widely. There would be no more miraculous twists of Fate. Their paths were never going to cross again. It shouldn’t hurt, not after all he had done. But, dear God, it did.

  Eleanor shuddered, filled with grief. The adage was that time healed all wounds, but she knew hers would never heal. Hatred was a refuge, but she could never genuinely hate Sean. She would cling to her anger for as long as she could, but her heart knew it was a sham.

  There was so much regret.

  Connelly suddenly glanced back over his shoulder, his face stiff with tension.

  Eleanor felt a frisson of dread. She, too, turned.

  A dusty cloud filled the air, signaling numerous riders behind them, rapidly approaching.

  Connelly saw it, too. “We have company, my lady. Probably a hired coach, but you never know. Could be cutthroats an’ thieves—or worse.”

  Worse, of course, would mean soldiers. For the first time since running away with Sean, Eleanor started to realize the situation she was in. In a way, she had been an accomplice to Sean’s escape. She remained certain, however, that no officer would ever condemn her for what she had done. After all, she was Adare’s daughter.

  Eleanor clung to the carriage door. Connelly slowed the gig. The cloud of dust was replaced by a half a dozen riders, all except one wearing the blue uniforms of a regiment of Light Dragoons. And the officer in red was none other than Captain Thomas Brawley.

  Instantly she was afraid for Sean—and fiercely relieved she did not know his exact plans. Trembling, she realized she must convince the troops that Sean had left the country days ago, that he was already far out to sea. And in that moment, there was no hatred, only a fierce and loyal desire to protect the man she had known and loved her entire life. Lowering her voice, she said, “We have done nothing wrong.”

  Connelly was white. “They’ll hang me if I am found out,” he said.

  Eleanor’s mind sped with excuses and explanations. She hadn’t seen Sean in days—he had left the country immediately, and she had been ill and stranded in Cork. “Let me do the speaking,” she said tersely to Connelly.

  Brawley rode up to her. “Lady de Warenne!” he cried with evident relief.

  She somehow smiled. “Captain.”

  He instantly dismounted. His gaze moved swiftly over her, the inspection clinical, not bold. “Are you all right?”

  Eleanor marked his concern but was now worried about the treachery she suspected had led the troops to her. She glanced at Connelly, but he was pale with fear and she was certain he was not the traitor—if, indeed, there was one in their midst. She must use all of her wits now, she thought fiercely, and if Brawley was concerned for her, she would play him, too.

  She extended her hand to him. Unfortunately she was trembling. “I have been through an ordeal,” she said softly, allowing tears to fill her eyes. “Thank God you are here.”

  “What has happened to you?” Helping her from the carriage, he took her arm and led her a short distance away, so they might speak somewhat privately. “Where is O’Neill?”

  “He is gone,” she gasped. More tears came. “He abandoned me in the city days ago, sir, and I was lost and alone. After wandering the city in the rain, I became terribly ill, with fever. I woke up on a farm and this kind farmer not only cared for me, but once I recovered, he offered to take me home.”

  Brawley’s gaze moved over her face. “You still do not look well, Lady Eleanor. I am sorry you have suffered such a terrible ordeal, but I must ask another question—do you know where Sean O’Neill has gone?”

  “I only know that he took a ship, but I do not know where he was bound.” She regarded the captain closely, breathlessly awaiting his reaction to her story.

  “Did he tell you the name of the ship?”

  She shook her head, relieved, as Brawley seemed to believe her. And to continue her pretense, she said, “How is my fiancé?” She let more tears fall. “He will never forgive me for what I have done.”

  Brawley produced an immaculate, white handkerchief and he handed it to her. “He was vastly concerned when I last saw him, Lady Eleanor. I am certain, once you explain, he will forgive you. O’Neill forced you to leave with him, did he not?”

  Eleanor accepted the linen, dabbing at her eyes. How could Brawley think that, when half of the county had seen her chasing Sean in her wedding gown? “I was worried about him, as you know. I wanted to detain him, and when he would not stay, I was determined to go with him so I could learn the truth. Once we had fled Adare, there was no going back. He told me from the very first hour that he would leave me the moment we got to Cork.”

  “He is unconscionable,” Brawley said grimly.

  She tried to think. Brawley was going to insist that he escort her home. There did not seem to be any way around it. “I must get home and I have promised a considerable sum to O’Brien for so kindly taking me back.” She did not want to reveal Connelly’s real identity. “If you could allow us on our way? I am very eager to reassure my family that I am well, and I miss Peter terribly.”

  “Lady Eleanor, of course you are eager to return to Adare. I would be delighted to escort you,” Brawley stated firmly.

  “That is hardly necessary. I do not want to deter you from your
military duties and as you can see, I do have a driver and a carriage.” She smiled at him.

  He seemed stiff and uncomfortable now. He tugged briefly at his high, tight collar. “I am afraid I have orders to the contrary,” he said.

  She tensed. “Orders? What orders?”

  Brawley wet his lips. “I do beg your pardon, Lady Eleanor. But my orders are to escort you to Kilraven Hill.”

  Eleanor was stunned. You must go home, to Adare and Sinclair. He can protect you, Elle. I will not have you risk your liberty, your life!

  And recalling Sean’s strange words, words she had not been able to genuinely comprehend at the time, she became afraid. “Why would you have orders to take me to the fort?” she asked slowly.

  “My commander wishes to speak with you.” He tried to smile reassuringly and failed. “I have no choice. I am sorry but we must proceed to the garrison there.”

  Sean had insisted she could be charged with various crimes because of him. She had not believed it. She was becoming frightened now. Surely her father would never allow anything to happen to her. “Am I a prisoner, sir?”

  He flushed. “Of course not! Colonel Reed merely wishes to speak with you. I shall be delighted to escort you home, as soon as the interview is concluded.”

  Eleanor said uncertainly, “But I have told you everything that I know, sir.”

  “Lady Eleanor, you may unwittingly possess some more clues as to O’Neill’s destination. You may be able to identify the traitors he has been associated with. Colonel Reed merely wishes to ask you a few questions. I know you are tired and distressed and that this is highly inconvenient. On his behalf, I do apologize, but I must bring you to Kilraven.”

  Clearly she could not manage Brawley now, not to her satisfaction. Still, he might be more pliable at some future time. Eleanor nodded, summoning up all of the grace and dignity she could manage. “I understand that you are merely doing your duty, sir. I will not resist.”

  “I hope you do understand, Lady Eleanor,” Brawley said fervently. “It is my greatest regret that I am inconveniencing you in your time of need.”

  Eleanor somehow smiled.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  DEVLIN O’NEILL ENTERED the great hall of Askeaton with long, purposeful strides, tossing his greatcoat at his valet. “Where is my wife, Hughes?” he began.

  But he did not have to continue. The two solid oak doors that yielded to a large yet intimate salon opened and Virginia appeared, crying out. She instantly rushed across the flagstone floors and into his arms. “Devlin!”

  He embraced her once, hard, then quickly led her back to the salon. “Hughes.” He spoke as if still commanding a warship. “We are not to be disturbed.”

  “Yes, Sir Captain.” Hughes closed both doors behind them.

  Devlin met his wife’s frightened eyes and his heart turned over. Once, his life had been a black hole of obsession; Virginia had been unfortunate enough to be his worst enemy’s niece and he had cruelly and ruthlessly used her as an instrument of revenge. He wasn’t certain when he had fallen in love with her, but he thought he had loved her at first sight, when she had stood on the deck of an American merchantman in high seas, trying to take a sniper shot at him. He had been intent on mayhem and piracy, but even while boarding the enemy ship, he had admired her audacity and daring, not to mention her unusual beauty.

  She had become his mistress and then his wife. She was everything now—his dearest friend, his untiring lover, the mother of his two children, his guiding light. She was his heart. “Darling, you need not worry so.”

  “I need not worry!” she repeated in disbelief, as white as a sheet. She shook her head. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again! I thought you were in Cobh!”

  He took her small hand in his. Even after so many years together, he was amazed by how tiny and delicate she was. “Before leaving the county, I learned of a schooner here in Limerick, newly arrived. I have purchased the Gazelle. She is small but swift and smart and she will suit our purposes nicely.”

  Virginia faced him, both of her small hands on his broad chest. “I must come with you, Devlin. I am terrified that we will never see one another again.”

  He was dismayed. “I have every intention of returning to you. And what of the children?”

  A tear began to crawl down her cheek. “You know I can’t leave them. But they could come with us. No matter what happens, we would be together as a family.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “How small is the Gazelle? How many guns does she carry—how many marines?”

  Unfortunately, his wife had learned a great deal about ships and naval warfare. He hesitated.

  “Devlin!” she cried.

  “Darling, she only carries nine guns.” He saw the panic fill her eyes. “Virginia, I am not going to engage the British. She is exceedingly swift. The British will be following Cliff,” he reminded her. And to lighten her mood, he smiled. “Cliff intends to lead them on quite a merry chase! His arrogance knows no bounds. He is enjoying his mission and I feel certain he thinks to lead them across the entire Atlantic Ocean before they ever realize they have been duped. Knowing my brother, he will serve the officers a fine crow supper in his island home.”

  Virginia wiped at her tears. “If your plan works, how will you return home?”

  “I do not want you to know any details, as my absence will eventually be remarked. I have laid a paper trail to France—you may insist I am attending to business in Paris. But when I return, I will not be on the Gazelle. Have no fear, Virginia. I am coming home.”

  He had never seen her this afraid, not since that terrible day in her native land when she had thought him killed in action during the war between their countries. “Darling, I must help Sean.”

  “I know. You remain the bravest man I have ever met—and the most steadfast,” she whispered.

  “It will only be a few months,” he returned, finally allowing his real emotion to creep into his tone. His life had changed. Once, he had avoided land like the plague, never spending more than a few days in any port. Now, he avoided travel in the same way. He had not seen his wife and children in three days, and it felt like three years. He hated leaving them now, but he must save his brother from the gallows.

  “We will be waiting for you, Devlin,” Virginia said, forcing a smile. “I am sorry I am acting so spineless. I am so glad you could come home, if only for a few hours.”

  She knew him so well. “I must set sail before dawn and speed the Gazelle to Cobh, Virginia.” He met her violet eyes. “I do not want to waste any time.”

  Virginia raised her face to his. “Neither do I.”

  Devlin crushed her in his arms, claiming her mouth with the same hunger he’d felt upon first seeing her on the deck of that ship, six fateful years ago.

  KILRAVEN HILL WAS an old garrison, established centuries ago during the latter part of Queen Elizabeth’s reign. Some of the original stone walls were still standing. About five hours from Limerick and Adare, the fort had certainly been close enough for Eleanor to be familiar with it, but she had never once visited the command. Now, as her carriage passed through the curtain of wood stockade walls, Connelly seated beside her in manacles, she shivered. Brawley had claimed that she was no prisoner, but in that moment, she felt very much like one.

  Connelly was no longer pale. He had spent the past few hours in silence, and occasionally she had heard him pray. Eleanor had tried to reassure him but had then given up. He was a commoner, an Irishman and a Catholic, and he had aided and abetted a traitor’s escape. If he was fortunate, he would be deported, not hanged.

  “My lady,” he suddenly said, facing her. “I have prayed for you, too.”

  Eleanor’s heart danced with renewed anxiety. “Mr. Connelly, you have placed yourself at great risk to usher me safely home. The moment I arrive there, I will do my best to see to it that you are freed.”

  He shook his head. “I have a wife and two children. I’m afraid for them, too
.”

  Eleanor touched his arm. “I will take care of them,” she said, “and it is a promise.”

  Relief softened his eyes.

  The carriage halted before a large stone building, and Brawley was already opening her door. “Lady Eleanor?” He smiled reassuringly at her. “We are at the garrison’s headquarters. Please?”

  “What will happen to O’Brien?” she asked, stepping down from the carriage with Brawley’s help.

  “He will be imprisoned until his trial.”

  “So he has already been charged?” she cried.

  Brawley flushed. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Is there any justice in this world?” she demanded grimly. “Has it not occurred to you that he may be innocent of the crimes you wish to accuse him of?”

  Brawley lowered his eyes. “Lady Eleanor, we have had spies in Cork for days and Connelly was identified as a Blueboy almost immediately by our men. We have a witness who will testify that he aided Sean O’Neill from the moment O’Neill arrived in the city. But you are right. This may be a misunderstanding and I have been too quick to judge.”

  “Thank you,” Eleanor managed stiffly. She was aghast that Brawley knew Connelly’s real identity. The fact that she had been covering for him made her look like an accomplice.

  But Brawley did not remark on it. He ushered her inside, his expression grim. Clerks and staff sergeants were seated at desks in a large room, attending to their duties. Across the room, Eleanor glimpsed an open door and another office, dominated by a large desk. Brawley indicated that she precede him to it.

  Her heart raced madly. She had had several hours to brood in the carriage and she knew what she must do. In a terrible and ironic way, Fate had intervened again, placing her in the position of being able to help Sean elude the authorities. She might never see him again, but she could lead the authorities astray in their search for him by feeding them false information.