Chapter 14 #2
He hesitated halfway up the dark, narrow stairs.
Leaning on the wall, he began to shake. What was happening to him?
How had he returned home only to become so caught up in Elle’s life—to become so caught up with her?
His life had turned cold and black the night Peg and Michael died.
It was too late, but now, standing in the dark, aching and alone, he thought of Elle and the stairwell became warm and bright with light.
But then, Elle had been the sunshine in his life.
When she smiled, he was warmed impossibly, and not just in his body, but in his heart, his soul.
And if he dared to remember being with her in bed, if he dared to remember being in her arms, he might have to admit that she was far more than sunlight and peace—she was his siren call.
But it was so terribly dangerous to do so.
If he thought about sharing a bed with her, he might explode—and he might decide not to return her to her waiting groom.
But now, he did not know how to best apologize to her and he did not dare attempt to console her. Sean continued up the stairs. Before he reached the top step, he saw the light spilling into the hall and he froze. The front door was wide open.
He dropped the bag and ran to the room. He took one look inside, already knowing she was gone.
The flat was empty. He cried out, smashing his fist against the wall.
Where did she think to go? Panic began, mingling with raw fear.
Peg’s faded black-and-white image floated before him in the room, then it was followed by the coldest and most frightening blue-eyed stare he had ever seen. He started to sweat.
He reminded himself that if Reed still had a command in Ireland, he could be anywhere in the country or to the north, near Drogheda.
The man was cavalry, his regiment stationed as needed or upon request. He reminded himself that, while Reed had become the monster in his dreams, the man had undoubtedly forgotten Sean’s very existence years ago.
Reed was never going to touch or hurt Elle.
He turned to go, then whirled back again. Instantly he saw the lace-up boots he’d gotten her.
She was in the city, but she was barefoot. He was distressed as he charged down the stairs, but he reminded himself that was fortunate, for she would not get very far that way.
A few moments later, Sean was mounted and trotting down the street. He could cover much more territory astride than on foot. But Eleanor could be anywhere.
Did she think to walk home?
Knowing her, she might.
He had calmed some of his panic, but a very genuine fear for her safety remained. A beautiful woman, alone on the public roads, dressed as a man, was sure to attract attention from every unsavory sort, even if she eluded the soldiers. Sean spurred Saphyr on.
DAWN WAS SPREADING a pale gray blush across the harbor just southeast of the city.
Sean sat the stud on the low rise of a hill, too frightened for Elle to be exhausted.
He had quickly realized that if she chose to remain in the city and hide, he would never find her.
He had decided to ride north toward Limerick, but she had been nowhere to be seen on the main roadway.
He had given up when he realized that she could not have gone that far on foot.
Of course, he did not know if she remained on foot. If she had somehow gained transportation, then she might be on her way home. He should be relieved, but there would be no relief until he knew she had arrived safely at Adare.
He needed his wits now, but they were failing him. Where was she? Was she all right? What if she had been accosted, assaulted, worse? Had she been apprehended by troops? He was on the verge of panic, making it hard to think.
Then one thought filled his mind. Cliff and his brother intended to help him, regardless of his wishes.
There was a harbor just below him, where the ferries ran between Cobh and Cork.
Sean stared down at the gulf of water that lay between the harbor and the island, and the shoreline of Cobh’s jumbled buildings.
He had purchased a spyglass the previous night and now, he began to study the panorama below.
A dozen dinghies and sloops were at berth in the harbor, a few fishing boats already putting out to sea.
The only large ship in their midst was the HMS Gallatine, an incongruous sight, as the naval base was on the island’s other side in Cobh.
He lifted his spyglass, for a wider-ranging look—and smiled.
A frigate, far larger, more heavily gunned and quite ominous, her hull painted red and black, rode her anchor some meters away, all sails reefed, the standing rigging vast.
Only Cliff had a frigate painted in such bold colors. If he was not mistaken, that was The Fair Lady, oh yes.
Sean spurred his mount down the hill, leaving Cork well behind. If he had realized Cliff might be nearby, had Elle, as well? He was afraid to hope, but he would give anything to find her safely aboard that ship. He was worried enough now that he would beg Cliff for his help in finding Eleanor.
He left the stallion at the closest dock, where he seized a small fishing boat.
He was no sailor, but he quickly untied her moorings and began furiously rowing toward The Fair Lady.
Halfway there, he heard the watch call out.
By the time he reached the ship’s hull, several sailors stood there, throwing down hooks and a rope ladder.
At first glance, Sean mistook the trio for Moors and pirates.
But the man at the railing was no Moor. Although bronzed from the sun, his tawny hair covered with a red scarf, a gold earring hugging one ear, and a short, Turkish-style velvet vest over his linen shirt, it was Cliff standing above him.
The small boat secured, Sean quickly scrambled up to the deck of his stepbrother’s ship.
Cliff threw his arm around him, steering him across the deck, past numerous cannon, and to the captain’s cabin.
Sean took an inventory of the stepbrother he barely recognized.
He was heavily armed, a huge sword with a bejeweled hilt sheathed in its scabbard on his hip and a dagger winked out from his belt.
A pistol was in a shoulder holster. Cliff clearly meant business and Sean was reassured.
“Are you mad?” Cliff said, low. Then, in a voice of command, “No one is to approach this ship and no one is to leave her.”
Cries of “Aye, cap,” sounded.
“I am pleased to see you…too,” Sean muttered. “What? No gold rings?”
Cliff laughed then, and gestured Sean inside.
Sean stepped into a large cabin painted a dark, surprising red.
A red Chinese rug, laced with green, blue and gold flowers, covered most of the wood floor.
A vast canopied bed was centered in the room, also furnished in red and gold, not far from a dining table with four burgundy velvet chairs.
A Portuguese desk with spiral legs faced the door covered with maps and charts.
Sean’s gaze swept the room and his heart sank.
Cliff booted the door closed and embraced him, hard. “Sean, damn it!”
Sean’s attention turned to his stepbrother, whom he had not seen in well over four years, as Cliff had been sailing the West Indies before his departure.
Cliff was actually two years younger than he was, but because of his bold nature, in many ways he had seemed a peer while growing up.
They had been especially close, perhaps because they were as different as night and day.
Sean was cautious, conservative and responsible, Cliff a hellion from the day he was born.
He met his brother’s blue gaze and found it curious, intent and deeply searching. “It has been a long time.”
“It most certainly has.” Cliff folded his arms across his chest. “We arrived last night, close to midnight. As soon as the British realize I am here, you can be certain I shall be watched.” His gaze slid over him again, from head to toe.
His smile faded. “You barely resemble the brother I grew up with. Are you all right, Sean?”
Sean was well aware that he resembled a villain far more than he did a gentleman, but he certainly had no time to explain. “You hardly appear…the nobleman’s son.”
“I have no use for fashion and airs at sea. What has happened?”
“Have you seen Elle?” Sean asked grimly.
Cliff started. “No, I have not. But she is with you, isn’t she?”
Sean sat down. “No. She is not with me.” He tried to breathe, the panic rising all over again. “I need your help…I am afraid.”
Cliff clasped his shoulder. “Tell me what has happened,” he said very calmly. “And we will make our plans.”
Sean looked at him. “She left.… I went to get supper and when I returned…she was gone.”
Cliff was wary. “Why would Eleanor leave you, Sean? My understanding is that she is deeply, if foolishly, in love with you. After all, she did leave Sinclair at the altar.”
Sean met his stepbrother’s penetrating, but not disapproving, eyes. “I am a fool, Cliff. I told her the truth…that I had married another woman.”
Cliff’s eyes flared with surprise. It was a moment before he spoke. “I begin to understand. I had no idea. Who is this paragon? And where is she?”
“No, you don’t,” Sean said grimly. “Peg is dead, as is her son.”
Cliff stared. When he spoke, his tone was harsh. “I am sorry for your loss, Sean. But you surely did not expect Eleanor to withstand your news? She has been in love with you for as long as anyone can recall. She waited for you to return, to her, Sean. We watched her pine for you for years.”
“I never promised her…” He stopped.
“So you did promise her something?” Cliff was clearly angry.
Sean shook his head. “I said I would come back and I meant it. I did not anticipate rotting in prison…for two years!”
“What possessed you to take up arms against the British?”