The Stolen Bride. Brenda Joyce
Читать онлайн книгу.
Praise for Brenda Joyce
“Joyce’s characters carry considerable emotional weight,
which keeps this hefty entry absorbing, and her fast-
paced story keeps the pages turning.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Stolen Bride
“An emotionally sweeping tale of heartache,
redemption, and rebirth, The Stolen Bride lives up to this reader’s high expectations for a Perfect 10 read.” —Romance Reviews Today
The Masquerade “dances on slippered feet, belying its heft with spellbinding dips, spins and twists. Jane Austen aficionados will delve happily into heroine Elizabeth “Lizzie” Fitzgerald’s family… Joyce’s tale of the dangers and delights of passion fulfilled will enchant those who like their reads long and rich.” —Publishers Weekly
“Joyce brilliantly delivers an intensely emotional and
engrossing romance where love overcomes deceit,
scandal and pride… An intelligent love story with smart,
appealing and strong characters. Readers will savour
this latest from a grand mistress of the genre.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub on The Masquerade
“The latest from Joyce offers readers a passionate,
swashbuckling voyage in her newest addition to the de
Warenne dynasty series. Joyce brings her keen sense
of humour and storytelling prowess to bear on
her witty fully formed characters.”
—Publishers Weekly on A Lady at Last
“The latest in the de Warenne series is a warm
wonderfully sensual feast about the joys and pains
following in love. Joyce breathes life into extraordinary
characters – from her sprightly Cinderella heroine and
roguish hero to everyone in between – then sets them in
the glittering Regency, where anything can happen.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub on A Lady at Last
“I knew you would come back!”
“You’re engaged,” he said. He spoke in a whisper that was barely audible and his voice was hoarse. He was looking at her with such shattering intensity that she hesitated.
“What?” she began, confused.
But he was not looking into her eyes now. His gaze had slipped to her mouth and then it veered abruptly to her chest. In that instant she felt immodest, indecent, naked.
Her body hollowed.
For the first time in her life, Eleanor understood desire. For the space inside her was so empty that she ached, and in that instant, she understood the necessity of taking him inside so he could fill it.
“The wedding –” he paused, as if it was hard to speak “– is in two days.”
She reached out to him, brushing his hand. “It’s been so long! Everyone thinks you’re dead, Sean. I almost believed it, too. But you promised. You promised me you would come back and you did!”
Brenda Joyce is the bestselling author of more than thirty novels and novellas. She wrote her first novella when she was sixteen years old and her first novel when she was twenty-five – and was published shortly thereafter. She has won many awards and her first novel, Innocent Fire, won the Best Western Romance Award. She has also won the highly coveted Best Historical Romance award for Splendor and the Lifetime Achievement Award from Romantic Times. She is the author of the critically acclaimed Deadly series, which is set in turn-of-the-century New York and features amateur sleuth Francesca Cahill. There are over eleven million copies of her novels in print and she is published in over a dozen countries. A native New Yorker, she now lives in southern Arizona with her husband, son, dogs, cat and numerous Arabian and half-Arabian reining horses. For more information about Brenda and her upcoming novels, please visit her website at www.brendajoyce.com.
The Stolen Bride
Brenda Joyce
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I want to thank Lucy Childs once again for reading everything I write and always being so enthusiastic and supportive while offering really helpful criticism. I want to thank my editor, Miranda Stecyk, for being as enthusiastic, as supportive and a great editor (keep on cutting!) as well as being willing to work with me on an insane and manic schedule. I also want to thank Cissy Hartley at Writerspace for her support, patience and utter diplomacy, time and again, and the great job she has done taking care of my websites. I want to thank Theresa Myers for her enthusiasm and brilliance and always taking on copywriting at the last moment! And I want to welcome two new members to my team, designers of dewarennedynasty.com and mastersoftimebooks.com! Thank you, Laurel Letherby and Dorie Hensley, for such wonderful support, unflagging enthusiasm and unfailing creativity!
This one is for the new team! Cissy Hartley,
Laurel Letherby, Dorie Hensley, Theresa Myers
and Miranda Stecyk. I couldn’t do it all without
you guys. Thank you so much!
PROLOGUE
Askeaton, Ireland, June, 1814
THE CALL OF THE UNKNOWN. It was there, around him, inside him, an urgent restlessness, the call to adventure. It had never been stronger, and it was impossible to ignore for a single moment longer.
Sean O’Neill paused in the courtyard of the manor home that had been in his family for almost four hundred years. With his own hands, he had rebuilt the stone walls he faced. With his own hands, he had helped the town craftsmen replace the empty husks where the windows had once been gorgeously colored stained glass. He had knelt on the ancient floors inside, carefully replacing the broken stones alongside the Limerick masons. With an army of housemaids, he had carefully salvaged every burned sword in the front hall, all family heirlooms. The huge tapestry there had been burned beyond repair, however.
And he had plowed the charred and blackened fields alongside the O’Neill tenants, day after day and week after week, until the earth was brown and fertile again. He had overseen the selection, purchase and transport of the cattle and sheep that had replaced the herds and flocks destroyed by the British troops in that fateful summer of 1798. Now, as he stood by his mount, the saddlebags full, a small satchel attached to the saddle horn, lambs frolicked with their dams in the hills behind the house, beneath the blush of first light.
He had rebuilt the estate with his sweat, his blood and even at times, his tears. He had rebuilt Askeaton for his older brother in the years Devlin had been at sea, a captain in the royal navy, engaged in war with the French. Devlin had returned home a few days earlier with his American bride and their daughter. He had resigned his commission and was, Sean knew, at Askeaton to stay. And that was how it should be.
The restlessness overcame him then. He wasn’t sure what it was that he wanted, but he knew that his task here was done. Something was out there waiting for him, something huge, calling to him the ways the sirens did the sailors lost at sea. He was only twenty-four years old and he smiled at the rising sun, exhilarated and ready for whatever adventure Fate thought to hand him.
“Sean! Wait!”