Free The Stolen Bride by Brenda Joyce Page B

was in tears. She wiped her face; she had no time for weeping now.
    “I am sorry,” he said, appearing grim and disgusted.
    She shook her head. “He and Devlin both perjured themselves in the hopes of saving some of the accused. He stepped down because he could not keep the county under control—because he could no longer protect our people.” She forced herself to recover her composure. She strode to him but he stepped back from her, as if he knew she was going to reach for him. His determination to keep a physical distance between them had already dismayed her, but now, it was beginning to frighten her, too. What had happened to him, to make him so wary, so distant?
    “Sean, I don’t care what you did—nothing has changed for us. You’re my best friend and I will doanything for you. Anything!” she stressed fervently. “Sean, why won’t you let me embrace you?”
    “Everything has changed.”
    She wished she could look into his eyes and comprehend his every thought the way she once had. She was sure he was angry, but she could not fathom why. And she had no clue as to what he meant. “You have been through a terrible ordeal, which is obvious. My feelings for you haven’t changed. My loyalty remains. I will help you hide and then we will go to Father and somehow resolve this, so you can be free to come home.”
    His eyes widened. “You are not going to the earl!” he exclaimed hoarsely. “Do you want him… named…a conspirator? Do you want the earldom… forfeit? Traitors do not keep their titles…their land!” He was so agitated that he was shouting, but in that terrible whisper of his.
    She was aghast. “Were you charged with treason?”
    He nodded darkly, his eyes flashing now.
    “But they hang traitors!” she cried. Executions were summary and swift.
    He waved at her, hard, a dismissal. “Cease.” His chest was rising and falling rapidly, an indication of his stress. “I am going to America.”
    She reeled. America was so far away! Yet he wasright in that her father must not be a conspirator to his crimes. The pages of Irish history were filled with stories of forfeited titles and lands. But Sean must not go to America. “You do not need to run away to America,” she heard herself say with desperation. Panic had overcome her now. “Devlin can help us.”
    He jerked, and for one instant, she thought he was reaching for her. But his hand fell to his side. “Not us . And he is not helping me.”
    She flinched. “Devlin will want to help you. He is one of the wealthiest men in Ireland and he is still well connected with the government. In fact, he has many cronies in the Admiralty—”
    “No!” He suddenly towered over her. His lean body was shaking wildly, uncontrollably. “Why won’t…you understand? The man who left… four years ago…he isn’t coming back!” He seemed furiously angry, his eyes bright, his face flushed.
    Eleanor was almost cowed, but she was relieved to see him passionate about something, anything at all. “He did come back. He’s standing right here!”
    “He died,” he shouted in that dismal whisper. “Sean O’Neill is dead.”
    Eleanor recoiled, horrified by his words, and worse, by the fact that he wanted her to believe them.
    “I am John Collins! I am not draggingDevlin…into hell.” His dark stare glittered wildly, almost madly.
    She was terrified, but not of him—she was terrified of what had happened to him. “If Sean were dead, I would know it!” She swatted hard at his chest. He jumped, eyes widening in shock. She hit him again, this time with her fist, the blow a solid one. “If Sean were dead, he would not be trying to protect his brother! I don’t know who John Collins is and I don’t care to know!” Then she swatted at her tears.
    And she saw that he was fighting for composure now. Realizing the enormity of the struggle, she became still. She slid her hand over his cheek just as the tremors ceased. He started, his gaze flying to hers.