Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
HE WATCHED HER.
Elle lay with her back to him. She had wrapped herself in the train of her wedding dress, but whether to ward off a chill or for comfort, he did not know.
The night had settled around them, heavy and dark but starlit.
He was grateful it hadn’t become as cold as he had thought it might.
He knew she had finally fallen asleep because her breathing had deepened and slowed.
He sat with his back to a tree, taking the first turn to watch for troops or anyone or thing that might pose a threat.
But the night was soft and quiet. An owl was hooting, the sound deep and peaceful, crickets sang their night song, and occasionally, he heard the black stallion shifting as he grazed.
Had the day been different, had their situation been different, the night would have been an occasion to relish and enjoy.
But there was nothing to relish or enjoy now.
Sean had his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms looped lightly around them.
Elle had fought her tears, but she hadn’t truly cried, not even once.
He had hurt her yet again, even more terribly than he had the night before, and he could not seem to get past the fact.
How had this happened to them, when he had spent a lifetime taking care of her and protecting her from everything and everyone?
Now, it seemed, she needed protection from him.
And it didn’t matter that she wasn’t a child anymore. It would always be his duty to watch over her. Only he had realized that too late.
His gaze shifted from her long, slim back to the woods. The troops were far north by now, he had no doubt. He had Devlin to thank for their successful escape.
But what about Elle?
I am going to stop loving you.
He did not want to remember her words. It would be for the best; he had never asked for or wanted such love, such loyalty, such trust. But her declaration did not relieve him.
Instead, his body felt racked, as if it were being pulled apart.
His mind remained tortured. And oddly, those words frightened him.
Taking one brief, cautious glance at the perimeter of the clearing, he laid his face on his hands.
She had changed so much; she hadn’t changed at all.
He did not know what to do. Of course she had to stop loving him; she had to marry and love Sinclair.
But could they ever return to being friends?
He had never felt more confused. Memories washed over him.
Elle as a child, tagging along with him and his brothers; Elle growing up, spying on him, even when he was in a tryst; Elle at his side, her hands blistered, her face sunburned, helping him rebuild Askeaton.
He closed his eyes tightly. Returning her to Adare and having her marry Sinclair was his priority.
If he could still escape somehow, he would; if not, he would die knowing she was well-protected and well-loved.
But even he was not mad enough to think she would ever forgive him for using her as he had, or for failing to return her love.
They were not going to be friends again, even if he was capable of such a friendship, which he wasn’t.
Besides, it was highly unlikely that he would remain alive to be her friend.
What he really wanted to know was if she hated him.
He would understand if she did. She had every reason to despise him now. But he could not come to terms with the concept. Sean couldn’t fathom how their relationship, developed over an entire lifetime, had come to such a conclusion, with his hurting her at every turn and her hating him for it.
It remained cool out but sweat trickled from his temple. If hating him would keep her at a distance, than he should embrace her anger and hatred. He needed to keep Elle angry, he realized, in order to push her away—in order to push her into the arms of another man.
The owl hooted; the sound should have been soothing, but it wasn’t. His temples throbbed. Or maybe it was his chest that was aching. Elle’s image remained in his mind, tearful, furious and stricken.
The night softened impossibly, a silken caress on his flesh, becoming the cocoon of sleep. Elle’s expression also softened, and she was smiling at him. No, it was Peg smiling at him, so oddly faded. As he realized he was dreaming, panic began.
He did not want to go back to those nights of horror and death!
Why don’t you love me, Sean?
He tensed, confused. In the dream, Peg never asked the question she hadn’t been able to verbalize when alive, but her confusion had always been there in her colorless eyes.
Why won’t you love me, Sean?
His heart went wild and he was shocked when she spoke again.
Except this time, it wasn’t Peg speaking.
He stared at the woman in his arms and it was Elle, beautiful and whole and very much alive.
Elle, with shining amber eyes, her love reflected there, her love and her trust. He became terribly confused and afraid.
Elle should not be there, not in his dream and not on that bloody night when Peg had been raped and murdered!
He wanted to tell her to hurry and leave before the troops came; he wanted to hold her and beg her forgiveness, and then he wanted to soothe her and tell her that he did love her.
He didn’t like the way the dream was going, but it was too late—the mob of angry villagers appeared and he knew he had to stop them from marching up the road to Lord Darby’s estate.
He knew what would happen if they appeared at those iron front gates.
He tried to tell them that no good could come of this but his voice wasn’t working—he could not get the words out!
His panic escalated—he tried to seize the arm of Boyle, Peg’s father, but the man didn’t seem to notice.
He tried to seize Flynn, but he vanished before his very eyes and the estate was burning, the soldiers were there, and he was there, his dagger in the gut of a redcoat, a boy really, and then the boy looked at him, meeting his eyes, the question there unspoken.
And when Sean laid him down, he was looking up into the blazing blue eyes of a British officer, and Lieutenant Colonel Reed was staring at him with sheer hatred.
Sean understood what Reed intended. Because Elle stood there now, having no idea that she was about to suffer, unspeakably and brutally, at Reed’s hands. He could not let Reed murder her, the way he’d allowed his men to murder Peg and Michael. And just as he knew that, the officer vanished.
Elle was in his arms, smiling at him, her eyes filled with love.
He held her, his heart pumping madly, barely able to believe that she had escaped rape and death.
He held her tightly, filled with relief, but the relief instantly changed.
She was so warm in his arms, so soft, so real, and he stiffened, blinded with desire.
He found her mouth and they kissed, a gentle caress of lips, and then his hunger raged beyond any control.
He had never needed anyone the way he needed her.
And she knew. She smiled at him, understanding, then she beckoned him.
He cried out, somehow restraining himself, moving deep and slow, so ready to explode. …
Sean awoke in the throes of lust, barely able to comprehend that he had been dreaming. He shot to his feet, trying to control an insatiable need. Wildly, he glanced at Elle, but she remained deeply asleep, in a state of exhaustion. The dream had been painfully real.
Even now, he was aroused. He stroked sweat from his brow, having unwittingly walked to stand over her.
He was supposed to be on guard duty but he had fallen asleep.
He was supposed to be protecting her from their enemies, but instead, he’d been making love to her in his dreams. He was furious with himself.
He quickly turned and walked the perimeter of the glade, but all seemed as it should be.
The stallion remained widely awake, the only sentry they needed.
Sean paused, inhaling harshly, trying to shake the physical urgency afflicting his hard, hot body.
Was Elle now going to haunt his nightmare?
He’d had the exact same dream for two years, but suddenly it had changed and she had taken Peg’s place.
He shuddered with fear. What did that mean?
Why was his mind playing such tricks on him?
She had never been in the small village of Kilvore and she never would be.
She would never come face-to-face with his nemesis, Reed.
And he was never going to take her in his arms that way, because it was best that she stopped loving him and returned to Sinclair.
He could offer her nothing, nothing except a life on the run and the empty shell of a soul.
There was a small trickling stream just beyond the edge of the glade, and he needed to douse himself with cold water.
Abruptly, he changed his mind. He could not leave her alone in the glade, not even for a moment.
So instead, he crossed back to where he had been originally seated, but he did not sit. Instead he stared at Elle as she slept.
If he wasn’t mistaken, in that damnable dream, he had told Elle he loved her, and it hadn’t been a lie.
It had been a nasty trick of his mind, because it could not possibly be true. He had no heart left and therefore was incapable of loving anyone, which was as it should be.