Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CAPTAIN brAWLEY was uneasy. He had been in command of the small garrison at Kilraven Hill in County Limerick for almost two years, by default—his superior officer had died in a carriage accident and he had never been replaced.
And ever since the earl of Adare had stepped down from the position of magistrate, Brawley had been performing those civil duties as well.
But the headquarters of the fort were no longer familiar.
Two new aides were in the anteroom, having usurped his aides’ stations and his personal office had been taken over by Colonel Reed.
In fact, Colonel Reed had taken over his command.
Reed sat at Brawley’s desk, flipping through some files with impatience and a brilliance that Brawley had become far too familiar with.
Brawley knew he was reviewing paperwork relating to his regimental command, but a likeness of Sean O’Neill was front and center on the desk, and another one had been taped to the wall behind him.
Brawley wanted the earl’s stepson apprehended as much as anyone, especially as he was almost certain that O’Neill was endangering Lady Eleanor.
He knew that she would never run away with a felon.
He was utterly convinced that O’Neill had somehow misled her into abandoning her groom and leaving Adare with him.
But Reed stared at O’Neill’s poster in his every spare moment.
Brawley knew he carried a folded-up page in his interior breast pocket.
He had seen the captain, in the midst of a drill or reveille, suddenly take the poster from his jacket, unfold it and simply stare.
Reed had the coldest, brightest eyes Brawley had ever remarked, especially when he looked at O’Neill’s likeness.
Brawley did not like his command being hijacked, but more importantly, the captain’s intensity made him uneasy.
He had reviewed the O’Neill file extensively.
Reed’s regiment had been stationed at the county garrison during that fateful night when the villagers had rebelled.
His troops had quelled the rebellion but not before the Darby estate was destroyed and almost every man in the village had been killed.
Reed had been the one to file the initial report.
And he had been the one to apprehend O’Neill and escort him to prison a week later.
And now he was in Limerick, hundreds of miles from his current command, intent on apprehending O’Neill once again. Brawley felt certain that this manhunt had become highly personal for the captain.
In response, Brawley had penned a letter to Major Wilkes, who was in command of the southern half of the country.
The letter merely requested clarification of his role in the current manhunt—while mentioning Reed’s intervention in a district not assigned to him.
But Brawley had yet to send the letter. A soldier to the core of his being, his every instinct was to accept authority, to obey orders.
He wished to avoid sending the Major such a letter if he could help it.
He wished to give his superior, Reed, the benefit of the doubt.
Reed now looked up, his blue eyes pale and brilliant. “Brawley. What is it?”
“The troops have returned from Limerick city, sir. If O’Neill is there, he cannot be found. We have searched every single house, every home, every shop and stable.” Brawley spoke literally. The manhunt had been intensive. As far as he was concerned, O’Neill could not be present there.
Reed leaned back in his chair, smiling without mirth. “He isn’t there. De Warenne sailed out the day after O’Neill escaped from Adare. The Fair Lady has been a few miles from Cork since midnight last night. I believe O’Neill is in Cork.”
Brawley felt a flicker of excitement. “Sir! May I request permission to take a dozen soldiers and proceed directly there?”
“You may not,” Reed said, standing.
Brawley was stunned and disappointed. “Sir, Lady Eleanor may be in danger. You know I believe he has taken her hostage.”
Reed waved at him. “I doubt it. Even you said she willingly left with O’Neill.”
“That is how it appeared,” Brawley said uneasily. “But I do know her somewhat. She is a great lady, sir, if original. He may have persuaded her to come with him, simply to use her as a hostage. She must be rescued before any harm befalls her.”
“And she will be, when O’Neill is apprehended.” Reed went to Brawley and clapped his shoulder. “I have spies in Cork, Captain, watching the de Warenne ship. Sean O’Neill will walk right into the trap I have set for him, you may count on that.”
Brawley met his blazing gaze and shivered.
A knock sounded. Both men turned. A young man stood there, red-faced from exertion, sweating heavily. He was not in uniform, but Brawley thought him vaguely familiar. Reed gestured. “Sergeant Lewes, come in. What have you learned?”
Lewes rushed forward. “O’Neill boarded The Fair Lady at dawn, Colonel. He met with de Warenne for about a half an hour.”
Reed’s brows arched, and he smiled. “Well done! Where is O’Neill now?”
Lewes hesitated. “I don’t know, sir.”
Reed’s smile vanished. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Colonel, sir! I left my post to report to you the moment he left the ship. Those were my orders, sir.”
“You fucking fool,” Reed cried.
Lewes paled.
“Your orders were to discover his whereabouts,” Reed added, flushed with anger now, “and to relay those whereabouts to me. Who is on the watch?” Reed demanded. “Or did The Fair Lady sail away, as well?”
“John Barret, sir, is spying on the ship.”
“You are dismissed,” Reed said harshly.
Brawley was stunned by the developments he had just witnessed.
He hadn’t known that Reed had men stationed in Cork, spying on Cliff de Warenne.
Obviously Reed wished for him to be in the dark, and while it wasn’t his place to question what his superior did or how he did it, he was uneasy yet again.
“Sir, I am very familiar with Cork, its outlying neighborhoods, the mayor, the aldermen and some of its citizens. I also know Cobh.”
“I am aware of that, Captain. I have read your file, not once but several times.”
Brawley was silent, uncertain as to what that comment signified. He could have easily supervised the mission, and they would now know where O’Neill was. But his captain was intent on capturing O’Neill without his help, or so it seemed. But why? Was this a matter of glory, or something else?
Reed was cold. “I have more men in town,” he said. “I have heard it whispered about that a Blueboy helped O’Neill in the first place. Yesterday I broke one of them, Captain. Now there is a traitor in their midst. When O’Neill contacts his treacherous friends again, we shall hear of it.”
“Sir.” Brawley was sweating.
Reed lifted a brow and waited.
“And if he thinks it too dangerous to contact a Blueboy this time?”
“Then he will need help from his brother. That is why, in light of this new information, you are to proceed to Cork with a detachment. You may camp outside of the city. Take one or two men and supervise the watch on The Fair Lady. I will send word to our new spy. Either way, we will locate O’Neill. ”
“Yes, sir,” Brawley said, relieved to be seeing action. Now, he could only continue to hope that Eleanor de Warenne was well, and that her stepbrother did not think to use her in order to flee the authorities.
“Your orders remain. Apprehend O’Neill, dead or alive—it doesn’t matter, as this time, he will hang.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And should the opportunity present itself, you are to apprehend the woman.”
Brawley started. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you discover Lady de Warenne’s whereabouts independently of O’Neill’s, she may have useful information. You will apprehend her and bring her directly to me.”
His distress escalated. “Yes, sir.”
And Reed knew, for he seemed amused. “Calm yourself, Captain. If you are right, the lady has far more to fear from her outlaw stepbrother than she does from me. Besides, I doubt you will discover her alone.” His eyes glittered.
Brawley knew there was an innuendo in the colonel’s words, but he simply failed to understand it.
AT LEAST HE WAS ARMED, Sean thought as he entered the doorway at the base of the stairs that led to his flat.
He remained sick with worry and knew he would stay that way until Eleanor had been found.
She was hurt and angry, and she was also stubborn.
She had no intention of coming back to him.
If she did, she would have returned hours ago.
And now, his stepbrothers and Devlin would begin a massive search for her. Surely they would find her, and soon. He started up the stairs in the dark. He would continue looking for Elle, as well, but he needed an hour of rest.
Suddenly he faltered, his gaze penetrating the shadows on the landing, only to discover a pile of rags which had not been present earlier. Then Sean realized that the rags were far more than clothing; he cried out.
“Elle!”
Elle lay curled up there against the wall, shivering, her eyes meeting his. He knelt, reaching for her, quickly realizing that she was soaking wet. She flinched, pressing him away.
“It’s me,” he said quickly, ignoring the protest and pulling her into his arms. Her skin was wet, icy and cold, frighteningly so.
She pushed him away. “The door is locked,” she said hoarsely.
Still kneeling, his gaze found hers. His heart twisted at the raw grief he saw in her eyes. She remained devastated by what he had done, but she had come back to him, anyway.
“I know. I didn’t want to leave it open in case the British found the flat. You need to get warm,” he said quickly, standing. His hands were shaking now as he tried to fit the key in the lock. Had she spent the night in the rain? Why hadn’t she found shelter!
“I only came back for Saphyr. I am going home,” she said, her tone so low it was barely audible.