The Stolen Bride

by Brenda Joyce

  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.

  ELEANOR 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, becau
se 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.

  AS 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.

  He cradled her face in his hands. “And I have been a fool, not to see what has been right under my nose…for the past twenty years.”

  “How could you know that a tiny two-year-old child was your fate?” she teased.

  He became terribly serious, his gaze searching. “Maybe I did know—maybe that is why I spent my life taking care of you. I still need to take care of you, Elle, no matter how resourceful you may be…I want to spend the rest of my life protecting you.”

  His tone had softened to a murmur and his face had lowered; Eleanor closed her eyes as their mouths drifted together. She sighed; inside, her nerves fired, her blood quickened. She could barely believe that this was really happening—that the future was theirs.

  “May I do that?” he murmured, rubbing his lips across hers another time.

  She clenched his shirt and answered, “Only if you make a very honest woman out of me.”

  Both brows lifted in mock confusion. “But you are a terribly honest woman.”

  She tugged warningly on his shirt. “I am serious! Are you going to marry me, Sean? Finally?”

  He smiled, and the light of his smile filled his eyes. “Damn it, Elle! Will you not let me take the lead? Ladies do not propose marriage!”

  “This one does!” she cried, her heart thundering as she awaited his answer.

  He dropped to one knee. “Will you do me the vast honor, an honor I do not deserve, of becoming my wife? Will you allow me to cherish you, honor you, protect you and love you for the rest of my life? Will you bear my children, keep my home? Will you forgive me for not coming to my senses sooner?”

  She nodded, speechless, as he stood upright. It finally sank in—Sean loved her. He was returning her love, and they were posed to embark upon the most wonderful journey of their lives, their future. “Sean, this feels like a dream. I have been waiting for you for so long.”

  He pulled her close. “I know. I just didn’t know that it could be this way between us. It was so hard watching you become a woman. For the longest time, I couldn’t believe you were growing up. Elle, I need you. I need your smile and your laughter, I need your hope. I want to stay away from that place of darkness and guilt. I don’t ever want to go back there. I’ve found light and peace with you.”

  “You are never going back to those shadows, Sean,” she whispered. “I will make sure of it.”

  “Then come with me into the future—our future.” He smiled tenderly at her.

  “You couldn’t stop me if you tried!” She smiled back, insanely happy, as he put his arms around her.

  “Foolishly, I did try,” he said with real regret. “Elle, could you be with child?”

  “It seems more likely with every passing day.” Eleanor searched his eyes. “I want your child, Sean, as much as I want our future.”

  He thought about Peg. Suddenly he could recall her vividly, in full color, and to his surprise, there was no guilt, no regret, just a vague sadness. And he thought about Michael.

  Elle whispered, “If it’s a boy, we can name him Michael.”

  He started. “I’d like that.”

  Eleanor reached for his face. “I will go wherever you wish to go,” she said softly, kissing him. “And I know you won’t believe it, but I will follow, not lead.”

  And Sean wanted to laugh, because he didn’t believe it, not for a minute. But her warm, strong body was stirring up too many recent memories, and he paused before kissing her back. “I like it when you lead,” he said, “as long as I am there to follow—and pick up any pieces that might come undone in your wake.”

  Impatient now, she kissed him, long and slow and very intimately. “I am definitely leading now.”

  It was a long, long time before he was capable of speech. “Good,” he whispered. “Now let’s announce our news.”

  And arm in arm, they went in search of the earl and countess of Adare to share their joy and good tidings.

  EPILOGUE

  Kilvore, Ireland, February 1819

  THE DAY WAS GRAY AND RAW, the wind blustery. Eleanor sat beside Sean in the back of a handsome four-in-hand. Sean had fallen silent upon entering the quiet village, but because she held his hand, she knew he was not tense. She placed his hand on her swollen belly, because their child was kicking, and he smiled warmly at her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked softly.

  He had been gazing at the street lined with whitewashed, thatch-roofed cottages. An occasional pedestrian hurried by, fighting the wind and the cold. “I am fine. I know I should be sad, but I’m not. I’m filled with anticipation, Elle.”

  She smiled, relieved. “You should be,” she said. His demons were finally gone.

  They had married the weekend she should have married Peter. The ceremony had been a very small one, with only immediate fa
mily in attendance. The earl had given her away, of course—when they had gone to him to announce their intentions, he had instantly approved of the match. Lord Henredon had been furious, apparently having it out with Edward. Peter Sinclair had not only left Ireland, he had left Britain, as well. Eleanor had heard he was in America and that he had gone West—as he did not need a fortune, he had become an adventurer.

  She had broken his heart and he had not stayed for the wedding, but they’d shared a final goodbye. Eleanor had had the chance once more to thank him for his magnificent gesture and to tell him how much he meant to her. Peter had wished her a lifetime of happiness.

  Their coach halted. Sean got out, a footman opening his door for him. Sean helped Eleanor down, a bouquet of flowers in her hand, and she gazed out at the village cemetery, a soft sorrow creeping over her. She no longer hated Peg and she wished she could have had a different fate. Sean took her hand and they entered the cemetery, neither one of them speaking.

  It was a few moments before Sean found Peg’s grave. The small stone had been placed there by the villagers of Kilraddick. It was engraved and read:

  Margaret Boyle O’Neill

  Beloved Daughter and Mother

  1790–1816

  Eleanor laid the bouquet of flowers down at the base of the small gray headstone and glanced at Sean. The same sadness she was feeling was reflected on his face and in his eyes, but it was a far cry from the grief and guilt that had once consumed him. Then he appeared puzzled. “Where is Michael’s grave? Why isn’t he buried here beside his mother?”

  Even if they had never found his body, there should have been a grave beside Peg’s. Before Eleanor could respond, she heard a shout and she turned. A small wiry man was at the gate by their coach and she recognized Jamie Flynn instantly.

  There had been a huge inquiry into the events at both Kilvore and Kilraddick. Shockingly, other witnesses had been found and brought forward along with Flynn. Colonel Reed had been court-martialed and dishonorably discharged from his service, but before he could be tried in a criminal action for the murders of Peg Boyle and her son, he had vanished. Rumor held that he was on his way to the West Indies, a haven for military men turned pirates.