by Gayle Wilson
With his characteristic arrogance, Dare led the way, his long stride eating the distance between them. Limping slightly, Ian followed closely behind him.
“You might have given us some warning, you know,” the earl said. “I could probably have managed to delay dinner for perhaps half an hour. Any longer, I’m afraid, and my cook would return to his former position at Carlton House.”
“Hello, Val,” Sebastian said softly, his blue eyes locking with an identical pair. “It would never do to anger your cook. I shouldn’t expect you to. Not for me.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” his brother said, putting out his right hand to grasp his. At the same time he gripped Sebastian’s shoulder with his left. “You’ve had a very long journey, however. Exceptions might have been made,” Dare said, smiling at him.
“But I shouldn’t dream of asking for them. Not so long as you’ve something left that’s eatable.”
“Given the circumstances, I believe we might even persuade the kitchen to prepare another meal,” Ian said, stepping around the earl to get to his younger brother. “The fatted calf, perhaps. Was that what you were hoping for by staging this unannounced arrival, you rascal?”
“Good English beef,” Sebastian said, laughing. “There were times, I confess…” For some reason, his throat closed completely this time, preventing him from finishing.
In the steady hazel eyes of the middle Sinclair brother was a perfect understanding. Of course, Ian understood everything. He might not approve, but he had always understood.
“I know,” Ian said now, pulling him into an embrace that was strong enough to give hope that his terrible injuries were at last almost healed.
And then, just at the proper moment, before Sebastian’s emotions might succumb to the heartfelt honesty of that gesture, Ian put his hands on his shoulders, holding him away as if to evaluate him.
“It becomes you,” Ian said. “Gives your face a rather charmingly cutthroat aspect. You always were far too beautiful to be a proper Sinclair.”
The scar, Sebastian realized. Neither of them had seen it, and the way in which he had acquired it was hardly a story he would have included in any of his rare letters home. And thinking of that now—
He began to step back, and Ian’s hands released immediately. Sebastian half turned, intending to include Pilar in the homecoming by introducing her to his brothers.
Her face was paler now than it had been before, making the contrast between the ivory skin and that midnight hair and her eyes more striking. She was standing with her hands clasped together at her waist. Although her expression was perfectly composed, it was somehow obvious to him that she truly was afraid of what was to come.
Surprisingly, now that he had once again been welcomed into the camaraderie that he had shared with his brothers since childhood, he no longer minded the revelation he would have to make. This was his family, and no matter the circumstances of his marriage, he knew they would eventually accept it. Just as they would accept Pilar.
It might be better, however, not to demand that they do so immediately. Not with her watching for their reaction. Surely the necessary explanation could be made after they’d both had a chance to eat and to rest.
“This is Pilar,” he said. “The reasons are complicated, but I have promised on my honor as a Sinclair that she’ll not only be welcomed here, but also protected.”
Two sets of eyes, one sapphire and the other hazel, fastened on the girl’s face before they returned questioningly to his.
“Protected?” Dare repeated carefully.
“The reasons for that are not something I wish to go into now, if you don’t mind,” Sebastian said. “Perhaps after we’ve eaten.”
It was as near a warning off as he could give without revealing that he was hiding something. Without waiting for their response, although he had no real doubt as to what that would be, he turned back to take Harry’s batman by the elbow, bringing him forward.
“And this is Malford. My…valet,” he said. That was no more the whole truth, of course, than his introduction of Pilar had been. “If Watson would see to his comfort, I would be grateful. We’ve all traveled a very long way.”
“Certainly,” Dare said, that dark brow still raised.
The earl’s eyes, focused intently on Sebastian’s face, said a great deal more, but at least he wasn’t asking the awkward questions he would ask eventually. Although Sebastian had had time to prepare to answer them, he still wasn’t perfectly sure what he would say when his brothers demanded an explanation for what he’d done.
They had always considered him reckless and impulsive. He imagined this episode was unlikely to change that perception.
“I think that perhaps introductions are in order.”
The suggestion, which had been made in a strong but unmistakably feminine voice, brought every Sinclair’s gaze to the same doorway from which Dare and Ian had emerged moments before. Two women stood together there.
The one who had spoken was tall and, despite the cunning placement of an embroidered silk shawl, the ends of which had been crossed over her waistline, she was very obviously pregnant. Her hair was so light as to appear gilt in the glow of the overhead chandelier. It was arranged in curls on top of her head, which was held as regally as a queen’s on a long, graceful neck. Her eyes were almost the same crystalline blue as those of two of the three Sinclair brothers.
The other woman, in contrast, seemed little more than a girl. She was both smaller and less imposing than the blonde. Her eyes, a warm brown, were focused not on the men, but on the girl standing at Sebastian’s side. And she was smiling.
“We are in the process of making our introductions,” the earl said.
“I meant introductions of us, my dear,” his countess responded. “Unless, of course, you consider us in some way unpresentable.”
“I believe I’m the one he considers unpresentable,” Sebastian said, walking toward them. “He’s right, of course. You must be Dare’s Elizabeth. Forgive me for appearing before you in all my dirt, as well as for disrupting your dinner table.”
By that time he had reached the pair. He wasn’t sure what the proper procedure for greeting sisters-in-law might be, never having met one before. His indecision lasted only a second or two—long enough, however, to discern a gleam of amusement in Elizabeth’s eyes.
When she put out her hand, he took it into his. The contrast between his grimy, sunburned fingers and the white patrician ones she’d offered was as glaringly obvious as her pregnancy. Undeterred by the incongruity, he brought her fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss on the backs of them just as if he were bathed, clean shaven, and properly attired in evening clothes like his brothers. When he looked up, still bent over her hand, Elizabeth was smiling at him.
“Welcome home, Sebastian Sinclair,” she said softly. “Now, finally, the circle is complete.”
Again that peculiar tightness thickened his throat, so that he couldn’t even attempt a response. He turned instead to smile at the smaller of the two women, who was waiting patiently by the countess’s side.
“And I’m Anne,” she said.
“Ian’s Anne.”
A subtle change occurred within her eyes. It didn’t destroy the friendliness Sebastian had found there, but there had been some flicker of emotion, an unexpected darkness perhaps, in the aura of welcoming acceptance that had seemed to surround her.
“Ian’s Anne,” she repeated, as if the words meant something beyond the simple acknowledgment of her identity that he had intended. “Welcome home, dear Sebastian,” she said, extending her hand and then pressing her other atop his when he took it. “We are all so very pleased to have you here at last.”
Her voice was as attractive as her eyes, he decided. Although Anne would never have the commanding presence Dare’s Elizabeth exuded effortlessly, she possessed something that was equally compelling. A warmth which immediately put one at ease.
“And your friends?” she said now, freeing h
er hand from his. “I believe Elizabeth and I missed your introduction of them.”
She crossed to where his brothers stood, watching Sebastian’s meeting with their wives. At Anne’s reminder, they all looked toward Pilar and poor Harry’s batman, still waiting by the door, almost forgotten in the unabashed joy of this homecoming.
“I’m Anne Sinclair,” his new sister-in-law said to Pilar. And then, the gesture seeming both uncontrived and sincere, she put her arm gently around the girl’s shoulders. “You must be exhausted after your journey. Please forgive our rudeness. Or at least accept our apologies for it. We’re so delighted that Sebastian has come home safely, you see.”
At the moment when Ian’s wife touched her, Pilar’s back had visibly stiffened, so much so that Sebastian was afraid she intended to step away from that embrace or perhaps even to say something cutting about its familiarity. Instead, after a moment she seemed to force herself to relax.
“Thank you,” she said, her smile as unconsciously regal as that of the countess.
Why shouldn’t it be? Sebastian thought. She is, after all, the daughter of a count.
“You’ve had a very long journey,” Anne said. “After you’ve eaten, you shall have a hot bath and a clean nightgown and be tucked up in one of Elizabeth’s comfortable beds. I’ve always thought that there’s nothing like a bath and clean clothing to make you feel much more the thing—no matter what chaos is going on around you. And men never think about those things, of course.”
Pilar’s eyes found Sebastian’s briefly before she turned her gaze back to the smiling face of Ian’s wife. “I’m really not very hungry, but a bath… I think I should like that above all things.”
“Then you shall have it at once. And one of Elizabeth‘s nightgowns. Hers are all much finer than mine,” Anne confided.
Her arm still around Pilar’s shoulders, she began to lead the girl toward the staircase, chatting easily the entire time. She was still talking as they climbed the stairs to disappear onto the landing.
Unconsciously, Sebastian’s gaze had followed their progress. And it was only when he turned that he realized everyone, including Malford, was looking at him.
They were expecting some explanation for Pilar’s presence. Dare’s brow was lifted, a sure sign that he was waiting. He would simply have to continue to wait, Sebastian decided. At least until they were in private.
“You were going to ask Watson to provide for my man,” he reminded.
“Of course,” the earl said.
“And I believe someone mentioned food.”
“I shall send to the kitchen for something hot,” Elizabeth said, turning to put her intent into motion.
“Forgive me,” Sebastian said. “I find I’m far more concerned with the immediacy of the food than with its temperature. Besides, I doubt I’ve eaten a hot meal within the past year.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said after a minute’s hesitation, her eyes meeting her husband’s. Apparently some silent communication had passed between them, for she said, “I’ll see if there is anything Anne needs. I believe she mentioned borrowing one of my nightgowns.”
“The dining room,” the earl said, gesturing toward the open door at the end of the hall.
Somehow, what should have been an invitation had become a summons. Sebastian had known the time of reckoning would come, and he supposed now was as good a time as any to get this out of the way. As if, he thought meeting his brother’s eyes, he was going to have any other choice.
“So…I took her,” Sebastian said, deciding there was no point in trying to make that kidnapping seem anything other than what it had been.
“You abducted her?” Ian clarified, his tone disbelieving. “You abducted that girl from her guardian’s home?”
“I didn’t have any other choice.”
“I would think it should be obvious even to you—” Dare began.
“You weren’t there. And don’t try to make me believe you would have done any differently. The man had murdered her father to gain control of her and her fortune. He did this—” his finger touched the scar that was a constant reminder of Delgado’s cruelty “—because I interfered with him when she tried to run away. Then, despite knowing he had the wrong man, he killed Viscount Wetherly in a trap that had been set for me. I was hardly able to leave the girl in his hands after that. Especially knowing what I knew about how he was controlling her.”
There was a prolonged silence. Undaunted, Sebastian took advantage of it to spear another slice of rare roast beef from the pile on his plate. He had eaten his fill, but the habit of continuing to eat when there was such an abundance would be hard to break.
“I hid her in the house where the duke’s party was staying and then smuggled her out of Madrid among the camp followers,” he said when the earl’s disapproving quietness had stretched beyond even his tolerance for such tactics.
He had been the victim of them too many times in the past to be truly cowed. Besides, after years spent fighting the French, he was no longer the boy who wilted at the first sign of Dare’s displeasure.
He was truly satisfied in his own mind that he had done the only thing possible in the situation. If his brother disapproved, then Dare would simply have to learn to deal with the reality that Sebastian was making his own decisions now.
“Then the king gave Delgado her father’s titles and sent him to Paris as his ambassador. When Wellington decided to visit the French capital before he returned to London, I knew I couldn’t take Pilar there and risk Delgado seeing her. That’s why I’m home before the duke. And why I arrived unannounced.”
“What titles?” Ian asked.
“The only one I’m sure of is the Conde del Castillo. I’m not certain of any of the lesser ones her father held. And by the way, Val, she seems to feel that your butler is not so well trained as her father’s servants were. I thought you might want to know.”
He managed to take another bite while Ian’s eyes met Dare’s. This time it was the brows of his second brother that had inched upward.
“Are you telling me,” Ian asked, when he turned back to face him, “that you have kidnapped the daughter of a Spanish grandee and dragged her unescorted across Spain and France in order to bring her here.”
Surprisingly, Sebastian found that he was beginning to enjoy himself. It wasn’t often that he could truly shock his brothers.
“She wasn’t unescorted. Malford was with her during any time when, because of my duties, I couldn’t be. Not at night, of course. She slept with the camp followers then.”
Another silence.
“You do realize you’ll have to marry the girl,” Ian said, the pronouncement awful in its solemnity. As it had obviously been intended to be.
“Actually…” Sebastian let the word trail, looking from one face to the other. “You see, once all those women—the camp followers—got to Bordeaux, the army refused to let them on the transports. Those were the quartermaster general’s idiotic orders, but I couldn’t think of any way to get around them. We had planned to pretend that she was Malford’s wife, but once we found out that they were allowing only the officers’ wives on board—”
“You married her,” Dare breathed, sounding relieved.
“If you can consider it a marriage. I’m not sure Pilar does.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Dare asked.
“Because she’s Catholic for one thing. No French priest was going to agree to marry us, so we were married by a dissenter. Some kind of lay preacher attached to one of the Protestant sects. I don’t believe either of us thought to ask which. The vows are probably not binding because I’m not sure any of it was legal.”
“But surely—” That was Ian, who was certain to argue that any marriage, if it had been conducted by a minister, might be considered binding.
“With the chaos in France, you see,” Sebastian continued, “no one seemed perfectly certain which set of laws are in force right now.”
The silence after that l
asted an inordinate amount of time, but Sebastian was determined he would not be the one who broke it. Let his brothers see if they could have come up with a better solution than what he had done.
It wouldn’t really be a fair comparison, he thought, even if they did. They had the luxury of time and no one was trying to kill them. If they believed they might have found one, however, he was perfectly willing to listen to it.
“Then you must be married again here and as quickly as we can arrange it,” the earl said finally.
“Special license,” Ian suggested.
“Hmm…” Dare said, still looking at Sebastian. And seeing what was in his face, his tone quickly changed. “What’s the matter now?”
“I’m not sure she’ll agree. She didn’t want to marry me before, but of course she was afraid, as I was, that if we didn’t get onto the transports, Julián’s men might find us again.”
“Again?” Ian repeated.
“We were attacked the night we left Madrid. While we were sneaking Pilar out of the house to take her to the encampment and hide her among the women. If it hadn’t been for the cook coming to our rescue with an ax, I don’t know how we would have escaped. I must tell you, however, that Pilar was holding her own with the swordsman who had put Malford out of commission. I think that attack and the possibility that it might be repeated if we didn’t get out of the country were the only reasons she agreed to marry me.”
“Good God,” Ian said.
“Exactly,” Sebastian complimented, smiling at him.
“You seem to think this is all some sort of joke,” Dare accused, anger infusing his voice for the first time. “Some juvenile prank, undertaken, perhaps, to prove how daring you are.”
With that accusation, the amusement Sebastian had felt evaporated, to be replaced by an unexpected anger of his own.
“The bastard I took her away from tied me down and did this with my sword, simply because I had tried to help her,” he said, gesturing again toward his face. “At that time, he had already murdered her father. Then he murdered my best friend, a man I owed my life to on more occasions than I can recount. He beats Pilar’s servants when she displeases him. He has stolen everything of value she has ever possessed, including her family and her name. I don’t know what else he may have done to her.”