Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SEAN HAD ALWAYS been able to come and go as he pleased at Adare.
Having ridden like a madman through the night, he entered the house as if he still lived there.
A quick exchange with the doorman told him where Sinclair was housed.
Adrenaline flooded him as he strode through the halls of the sleeping house.
The dialogue he wished to have with Sinclair could not wait until the morning.
Sean hurried into the east wing and pounded on Sinclair’s suite.
A brief moment passed and the bedroom door was flung open, Peter Sinclair standing there in his nightgown and cap, looking utterly dazed. They had never met and Sinclair instantly became fully awake. “I beg your pardon? Is there a fire?”
Sean knew he should not despise the other man and in truth, he did not. But he was jealous and he felt it in the marrow of his bones. “Sinclair, this cannot wait. We need to speak.”
Sinclair’s blue eyes hardened. He stared and it was another moment before he spoke. “O’Neill?”
Sean inclined his head. “Yes.”
“Five minutes then,” he said, stepping back into his rooms to dress.
Sean waited in the hall, pacing restlessly, fists clenched, acutely aware that his life with Elle was at stake. Sinclair’s door opened and he appeared in a dressing gown and trousers. Their gazes clashed.
Sean reminded himself that this man and his father had saved his life. “I am vastly indebted to you and your father,” he said without preliminaries. “And there is no way I can ever repay you both.”
Eyeing him, Sinclair shoved his hands in the pockets of his wrapper. “I would do anything for my fiancée,” he said firmly. “There is no need for any kind of payment.” And his resolute gaze locked with Sean’s.
“Really?” Sean remarked. “Why not?”
“We are soon to be brothers,” Sinclair said. “That is how I have been thinking of it. And of course I would attempt to save my brother from hanging.”
His words were utterly distasteful to Sean. “And being brothers through marriage, we will also be friends?”
Sinclair’s gaze did not waver but he appeared distressed. “Of course. You need not have come tonight, O’Neill. If you wished to thank me for my efforts on your behalf, it could have waited until the morrow.”
And Sean knew that this man was no fool.
Aware that they were true adversaries now, he chose his words with care.
“I have come to thank you, but there is more.” He saw Sinclair flinch.
“Everyone thinks highly of you, Sinclair. I have been advised that you are a gentleman and a good match for Elle. I am aware that you love her. I am aware that you can give her all of the comforts she should have, not to mention a title. I have been supportive of the match. I think highly of you, too.”
Sinclair was rigid. “You spoke in the past tense,” he said slowly.
Sean knew he flushed. “I met Elle when she was tottering about, falling down more often than not, a precocious and spoiled two-year-old child.” He smiled, recalling her demanding nature and the way she would ride piggyback on his shoulders.
“Since that day, I have spent my entire life looking after her. It is my nature to protect her—it is my inclination to want what is best for her. That is why I approved of your match.”
Sinclair flushed. “I have heard the family lore. I understand that you two were close. Why else would she be this devastated these past weeks, in regards to your situation with the authorities?”
Why else? Sean thought grimly. He was tired of dancing around Sinclair now. “I think you know the answer.”
Sinclair started. “Eleanor is terribly loyal. She adores her family—especially you, her stepbrother and her hero.”
How much did he suspect? How much did he know? And what would Sean have to do to get him to back down? “She is very loyal—on that point, you are right. Sinclair, it is more than that. But you already know that, don’t you?”
Sinclair appeared terribly unhappy. “For God’s sake, my father, at my request, has moved mountains to save your life, O’Neill.”
“Is that what you really want? A marriage based on gratitude, the repayment of a debt?”
Seeming to breathe hard, Peter said, “I fail to comprehend you, O’Neill.”
In a way, Sean felt sorry for Peter Sinclair. “I grew up regarding Elle as my stepsister. I no longer think of her that way.”
Sinclair’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I have always loved Elle. I love her now even more deeply than before, as the woman I wish to share my life with.”
Sinclair shook his head. “Damn it! Don’t do this now, O’Neill! I adore her! I did everything possible to attain your freedom so she would not be crushed! You owe me!”
“I know you love her,” Sean said grimly. “And I owe you my life, I do. But I cannot pay you with the woman I love. I’ve come for my bride.”
Sinclair seemed devastated. He turned away, trembling, then turned back. “She is in love with you, too, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
He made a harsh sound. “I have tried very hard to pretend your love does not exist. Of course I heard the whispers, the rumors! What are you really saying? Did you abduct my bride deliberately—to foil our wedding?”
“It wasn’t planned,” Sean said, feeling far too much sympathy for the other man. “And I didn’t know the extent of my feelings for Elle until the authorities captured me in Cork.”
“Are you asking me to give up my bride?”
“Yes.”
The moment was interminable.
“Like hell!” Peter cried. “She cares for me, and you have nothing to offer her except a life of toil and hardship. You are penniless and in disgrace! I can care for her as if she is a queen! If you really love her, you will be the one to let her go. You will want her to have the life I can give her.”
Sean was furious, because Sinclair was right. It was many moments before he spoke, and when he did, his tone was quiet. “You would marry her, knowing she is in love with someone else?”
Peter couldn’t seem to speak, either. He was struggling, Sean realized, with the vast complexity of his emotions. But then, so was Sean.
And Sean realized the man was as deeply in love as he was. “Peter,” he said slowly. “What would you do…if she is with my child?” His intention was not sabotage; he simply had to know.
Peter turned white, eyes bulging.
Sean prayed, knowing his prayers were not to be answered.
Peter shook his head, breathed hard and deep.
“Damn you. This is how I have been repaid!” He inhaled.
“I can no more stop loving Eleanor than I can will my heart to stop beating. If she is with child, so be it. I will raise that child as my own. I will honor and cherish it as my own. You need to go, O’Neill.
And I suggest you go far away, as we are marrying in two more days. ”
Sean was reeling. Sinclair not only loved Elle, he would raise their child as his own. He could give Elle everything—he could give a child everything—and Sean owed him his life. There was only one possible recourse—to honor his commitment to the other man.
And Sean performed the greatest feat of his life—he bowed. Then he turned and walked out.
ELEANOR STARED AT her troubled and pale reflection in the mirror above the vanity chest, aware that her eyes revealed her turbulent emotions.
Sean was now a free man—and he was only an hour’s ride from the house.
But in two more days she was marrying Peter Sinclair.
She was at her wit’s end. It was so hard to hold on to her pride and sanity; it was so hard to stay at Adare.
A knock sounded on her door.
Eleanor was confused—it was eight in the morning.
She assumed one of her brothers was at the door, because no maid would disturb her before she left her room.
She got up and answered the knock and was stunned to find Peter standing there.
His eyes were red, as if he had been up all night—or as if he had been weeping.
She tensed. “Peter?”
“We need to speak,” he said. In the most uncharacteristic manner, he walked past her, right into her sitting room, apparently oblivious to the fact that no man should be alone with her there.
Aware that he had something of tremendous importance to divulge or declare, Eleanor closed the door, absolutely indifferent to the impropriety, as well. “Peter, you seem distressed.”
He faced her, waving his hands, unable to speak.
Eleanor felt certain he had been crying. Suddenly she was very alarmed. “Oh, God, please don’t bring more bad news!”
He shook his head. “The news is good, I think.”
“Then why do you appear as if someone has died?” she cried.
“No one has died.” He took her hands in his. “I love you with all of my heart, Eleanor. I have from the moment we first met, and I always will.”
Eleanor was more alarmed now than before. Acutely aware of Sean’s freedom, she felt as if a coffin was being closed on her, burying her alive. She hesitated. “I am very fond of you. You know that, don’t you?” she began.
“Shh,” he said, a tear appearing on his cheek. He pulled her close and kissed her gently. “I have come to say goodbye.”
She had to have misheard. “What?”
He pulled her closer. “I am a gentleman, Eleanor. If there is any one thing that defines me, it is that. How can I force you into marriage when I see so clearly how much you love someone else?”
She cried out, and she felt her cheeks burn with guilt.
“Will you admit it? You love Sean O’Neill. You are fond of me, as you have just said, but that is all it is. You gave your heart to O’Neill many years ago—and I know you well enough now to know that you will never take it back or place it elsewhere, with me.”
Eleanor staggered. “Peter, you have been so kind. I am prepared to marry you on Saturday, as we agreed. I am prepared to be a good wife—perfect, if I can somehow achieve that. You saved Sean’s life! And I am very fond of you.”
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You are prepared to wed, you want to achieve perfection as my wife.”