The Stolen Bride. Brenda Joyce
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“The next time I catch you spying on me, I am turning you over my knee, as if you were five or six.”
“All right! I’m sorry! I swear!” she begged, wild-eyed.
“Ladies don’t swear—but then, you’re a hellion not a lady. Let’s go.” Not releasing her ear, he started to walk away from the stable, Elle in tow.
“I am sorry—and I won’t swear!”
“You’re not sorry—and you’ll probably swear at your wedding!”
“Don’t take me to Father!” she begged, a tear falling.
He halted. In spite of what she had done—and what she had seen—he did feel sorry for her. He transferred his grip to her arm. “Did you really kiss Jack?”
She hesitated. “Yes, I did, but on the cheek—not the mouth.”
“I thought so.” He sighed. “Ladies don’t lie, Elle, they don’t kiss boys, and they don’t swear.”
“I hate being a lady,” she pouted.
He had to smile—and she smiled back.
“ELEANOR—I LOVE YOU.”
Sinclair’s breathless declaration jerked Sean back into the present. He didn’t want to remember the past, but he didn’t want to watch Elle making love to another man, either. Sinclair held her face in his hands. The man was visibly shaking and Elle, damn it, was smiling at him—as if she were in love.
“I am trying very hard to be a gentleman,” Sinclair whispered, “but you make it almost impossible.”
“It’s only the two of us,” Elle murmured. “No one will ever know if you are being a gentleman tonight or not.”
Sean started to step forward to intervene but caught himself in the nick of time. Was she suggesting that Sinclair take even more liberties? She had been such a wild and headstrong child, he knew she was a wild and passionate woman. Had she already taken her fiancé to bed? Elle never denied herself anything that she wanted and he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t care at all about her virginity, but that she would most certainly like bed sport.
And they were kissing again.
Sean slammed his fist into the wall then. Where the hell were her brothers, damn it? Was he going to have to witness her lovemaking all night? Because he didn’t think he could stand it.
Elle leaped out of Sinclair’s arms. “What was that?” she cried, glancing quickly around.
He forgot about his dilemma, willing himself into invisibility as he sank as tightly as he could against the wall.
“What was what?” Sinclair asked, his tone disgustingly thick again.
“Didn’t you hear that?” Elle asked, appearing bewildered. “Are we being spied on?”
“Darling, who would spy on us?”
“Rex, is that you?” Eleanor demanded, scowling now.
“Oh, God,” Sinclair said. “Your brothers are very protective of you—which is laudable, of course, but each and every one has privately made it very clear to me that I had better be a perfect gentleman until we are wed.” Sinclair cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should go back inside.”
Elle shook her head. “Oh, don’t mind them! They are all swagger and high commands. I can manage Ty, Rex and Cliff. Have no fear! I am enjoying being kissed, Peter,” she added boldly.
Sean felt like grabbing her by the ear as if she were eleven years old and shaking her until time went backward and she was an innocent, if vexing, child once more.
Suddenly the terrace door opened and an odd footfall sounded. Sean recognized Rex—and then he realized that he had lost half of his right leg and he was using a crutch. He stared, shocked.
He hadn’t known.
But then, he had been gone for so long, how would he have known that his stepbrother had suffered such a wound?
Rex limped over to the lovebirds. “I thought it might be wise to interrupt this enchanting tryst. The two of you are not married yet.” He smiled, but without mirth.
And in that single instant, Sean recognized a kindred spirit—Rex had changed from the inside out. Although he had never mourned the loss of his own soul, he ached for Rex’s loss now.
“I am twenty-two,” Elle exclaimed. No other woman would ever refer to her advanced age. “I hardly need a chaperone.”
“Oh, I think I can easily disagree with you,” Rex said. “Shall we?” And it was not a question, but an order.
Elle was annoyed. “Oh, I forgot, you outrank me, Sir Rex,” she said with heat.
So Rex had been knighted, Sean thought. He had undoubtedly won that title on the field of battle and Sean was pleased for him.
“Only until you are wed,” he said calmly, gesturing the lovers inside.
Sean watched Elle display her infamous temper, huffing as she swept by him, with Sinclair, chagrined, following. Sinclair would never be able to keep up with Elle, he thought, but he felt no satisfaction. He was thinking now about the fact that in two nights, if he had understood correctly, Elle was going to be in that man’s bed, with every right to be there.
Suddenly Rex stiffened.
Sean stopped breathing, aware that Rex had just sensed his presence on the terrace.
Rex, posed to enter the house, shifted on his crutch and turned, his glance taking in the entire terrace—including the wall where Sean stood hiding.
And for one moment, Sean could have sworn that Rex had seen him, that their eyes had met.
But he was wrong, because Rex turned and limped into the house, leaving Sean alone outside, swallowing the bitter aftertaste of all he had just seen and heard.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS A NEW DAWN. Eleanor had not been able to sleep more than an hour or two, fighting the effects of the wine, and when she had, she had dreamed not of Peter, but of Sean. In her dreams, Sean had come home, but he had changed, and there had been something dark and disturbing about him. She had woken stunned, for one moment believing that her dreams were real. And when she had realized they were only dreams, utter disappointment had claimed her.
Today she raced her stud as hard as he could go. Bending low over the bay stallion’s neck like a Newmarket jockey, she urged him around a particularly sharp turn.
A man stepped directly into her path.
Eleanor hauled hard on her reins. The man just stood there, unflinching, as if he were made of stone. The animal lunged back to stand and Eleanor reacted. She had never been more furious. “Fool!” she shouted, raising her crop, her instinct to strike him down. “Do you wish to die? Did it not cross your mind to get out of my way, or are you a madman seeking suicide?”
She urged the bay forward, intent on going around him, but he seized her reins.
Her fury escalated dangerously, but with it came fear. No one had ever accosted her on her father’s estate before. She spurred the bay—and their gazes clashed, then held.
Her heart ceased beating, and then thundered wildly, in disbelief and elation.
Sean was standing there on the trail before her. Sean had come home.
And she knew, immediately, that something terrible had befallen him. In that space of a single heartbeat, she saw that he was thin and scarred. But it was Sean. With a glad cry, she leaped from her horse. She rushed him so swiftly that she almost knocked him off his feet. Throwing