The Stolen Bride

His gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth and then back up to her eyes. “I wouldn’t…do it again.”

“I am so glad you have come home!” She was an instant from reaching for him, from taking his handsome face in her hands. He must have sensed what she wanted, because he stepped farther away, watching her carefully now.

She wet her lips. “He has ships.”

Sean’s eyes flared.

“He has fast, fighting ships. He has a ship in Limerick. Sean, Cliff can help us leave the country!”

He seized her before she had any idea he was crossing the glade to come to her. “What did you tell him?” he demanded, releasing her as swiftly.

“I haven’t told him anything yet!” she cried. “But he has guessed that I am about to run away. He thinks I do not want to marry—and he is right.”

Sean stared. “I think not.”

“I beg your pardon?” She was confused.

“If you did not want Sinclair, then why were you…in his arms last night?”

She felt her cheeks burn. Sean hadn’t put any distance between them, safe or otherwise. His gaze was riveted on hers. Desire filled her now. “I wanted,” she whispered, wetting her dry lips, “to know what it was like to be kissed.”

His silver eyes flickered, brightening.

She prayed that he would kiss her.

“Don’t,” he said tersely. “Don’t ever play me… the way you play Sinclair!” His chest rose and fell, hard.

For one moment, she had believed Sean would kiss her. She dismissed his remark, as she did not even want to attempt to decipher it. “I’m a woman now,” she tried. “Sean, surely you can see that!”

He held up his hand as if warding her off. His hand trembled. “Why won’t you listen? Why are you looking at me that way? I won’t be played…

Eleanor!”

“I have no idea what you mean. I am not playing you or anyone. Sean, I have missed you terribly.”

“But you won’t listen! I’m not that man…I’m not him.”

She shook her head. “I will never believe that.”

“Whatever it is that you want…I cannot give it to you now. Stop looking at me!” he cried desperately.

“I can’t. You must know how much I missed you and how much I love you.” The moment she had mistakenly confessed her feelings, she flushed.

His eyes went wide, half fury, half surprise. His voice became a croak. “Go back to Sinclair… Eleanor…. Your future is in England. Your future is with him.”

“Now it’s not. It’s with you, in America, or wherever it is that you decide to go!”

He was shaking, but so was she. “You’re so stubborn…headstrong…a brat! I’d forgotten how impossible…you can be.”

“And you are wasting your time trying to convince me that you are some kind of criminal, some kind of terrible man!” But his words had hurt her immensely. Did he really see her as a spoiled brat? Had she deluded herself into believing that he saw her as a woman—a woman he wanted?