The Stolen Bride. Brenda Joyce
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growled. “Might you leave?” He was now blushing.
She began to enjoy the moment. Cliff was never discomfited and she wondered who the woman was. Her gaze strayed in the nameless lady’s direction. He had stopped enjoying housemaids at the age of fourteen—which was when he had run away from home on his first adventure—therefore the lady in his bed was one of her wedding guests. And that would undoubtedly make her a member of Peter’s family or the wife of one of his close friends.
“That’s enough,” he said. Pulling a sheet around his waist so effectively he must have performed the feat a hundred times, he leaped from the bed.
Eleanor quickly backed out of his reach. “I need some clothes.” She turned her back to him and ran into the hall.
“I can see that!” He barked at her.
She kept the bedroom door slightly ajar. She heard him pulling on his trousers. “No, Cliff, I need a pair of your breeches and a shirt—and a jacket,” she added. The moment she spoke, she realized the mistake she had made, in her eagerness to see Sean properly clothed, and she turned around.
He walked into the hall and stared at her. Carefully, he closed the door behind them.
She bit her lip, turned to flee. “Another time.”
He caught her arm. “You are half-naked,” she said pointedly. She herself didn’t care, but a passing maid would surely faint.
“What are you up to now?” he asked, ignoring her remark. “You’re getting married tomorrow afternoon. If that isn’t enough to make you into a proper lady, I don’t know what is. Has your fiancé seen you dressed like this?” He was judgmental.
She stared sweetly into his vivid blue eyes. “The maid who let you in last night said she first thought you were a highwayman—and then a pirate.”
He understood and folded his very solid and muscular arms over his equally solid and muscular chest. “I may choose to dress as a barbarian, but you do not get to choose how you dress. Besides, I came directly from my ship.”
She sighed. “Cliff, just give me the clothes. I’ll explain—but not now.”
His gaze was searching. “Are you in trouble?”
She became still. Cliff had come directly from his ship. “Are you berthed in Limerick?” she asked slowly, her heart beginning to thunder in her chest.
“And if I am?”
She bit her lip. Cliff had been the master of his own ships, sailing the globe for four or five years now, and he had a record which spoke for itself. Last year alone, he had captured eleven prizes, an astounding feat. At the age of twenty-six, he was already recognized as being one of the great privateers of his time. Sean did not want Devlin involved, and he was right—Devlin had a wife and two children and their ancestral home to pass on to his son. But Cliff was an adventurer at heart. He had no wife—he would probably remain a bachelor until he died. And he had enough courage for ten men.
He could sail them away to freedom, she thought. But how could he be convinced to allow her to come along, when she had yet to even convince Sean?
“Eleanor, what trouble are you in?” he asked very sharply.
She decided to put Cliff off for a bit. “Can you give me the clothes now and meet me later? I will tell you everything then.”
“When?” he demanded, at once suspicious.
“Meet me before supper in the gallery,” she said. She tried to smile at him. “I will explain. But I do need the clothes now.”
“You’re running away, aren’t you? You’re running away from Sinclair, disguised as a man.”
“Cliff!” She tried to protest.
“Eleanor, you don’t have to run away. Good God, where would you go? How would you live? If you don’t want to marry Sinclair, we will go to the earl together and tell him. I will back you.”
Tears came to her eyes. “You would have been my favorite brother if you had been here just a little,” she whispered.
“Let me get dressed. Then we’ll speak with Edward,” he said. Oddly, he never called his father anything but the earl or Edward.
She touched his arm. “I am not running away,” she said, and she wasn’t—at least, not the way he thought. “I want to tell you everything, I do, but I can’t—not until later.”
He studied her. “I am confused and I freely admit it. Do you intend to marry Sinclair?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. Not anymore.”
His gaze hardened. “So you will jilt him at the altar?”
“I wish it could be different, but it can’t!” she cried.
“I am not waiting until suppertime to find out what is going on,” he said with heat. “But don’t tell me you are not running away. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve never lied to me, Eleanor.”
“You were never here,” she exclaimed. “I was ten when you ran away. Cliff, I need some time. Please. I am twenty-two, not two or three or ten! I know what I am doing. Let me borrow the clothes, and meet me at six tonight. And don’t mention what we have discussed to anyone!”
His refusal was there, in his piercing blue eyes.
“Please,” she begged.
He finally nodded. “All right,” he said. “But I am not pleased.”
She turned away before he could see her smile. He had not been easy to manipulate, but in the end, as she always did, she had gotten her way.
WHEN SHE RODE into the glade where she had left Sean, there was no sign of him anywhere. For one moment her heart stilled, and she was afraid he had left her again.
He stepped out of the woods. “What are you doing here?” he cried hoarsely. “I told you…I would come to the house tonight!”
She slipped down from her horse, dressed now in a dark, ladies’ riding habit with a jaunty brimmed hat, having ridden sidesaddle. “I was not going to let you starve all day.”
He was angry. He grabbed the horse’s reins as she removed the sack of food and wine from the saddle. “Damn it! Elle…were you followed?”
“No, I was very careful.” She focused on the bundle in her arms. Being with Sean again was simply overwhelming in every possible way.
“It’s almost noon!” he exclaimed. “Someone must have…seen you.”
She gave him a bright look. “I am not a fool. I pleaded a headache to avoid all female company and then went down to the stables by myself. Here. There’s bread, wine, cheese and some ham.” She handed him the sack.
He was staring at her, so she smiled back. “There’s a nice change of clothes in the oilskin,” she added.
“Thank you,” he finally said, grim and grudging at once. He sat down in the dirt, opening the bag. He glanced up at her, then bit into the cheese. In that moment, she felt how hungry he was. Eleanor went still, realizing she had been right to bring him food now. In minutes, he had devoured it all.
Had they starved him in prison? she wondered. She looked away so he would not realize how upset she was.
Suddenly he said, “Elle, I didn’t leave anything for you.”
She inhaled and turned, smiling. “I’m not hungry.”
His gaze met hers. “You’re always hungry,” he said softly.
The present slid away, and she knew he felt it, too. She had always had a huge appetite for a woman and no one knew it better than Sean. She thought of those long days at Askeaton when she had labored at his side to rebuild the manor house from charred ruins; they had taken their