The Stolen Bride Read Free Page B

painful fact: he had never once in their entire lifetime indicated that he felt anything but brotherly affection for her.
    Eleanor realized that a man was approaching, having come out of one of the many entrances of the house. Instantly she recognized her oldest brother, Tyrell. He was so terribly preoccupied with affairs of state, the earldom and the family that they did not spend much time together, but there was no one more dependable or more kind. One day, he would be the family patriarch, and every problem and crisis, both personal and otherwise, would be brought to him for resolution. She admired him tremendously; he was her favorite brother.
    Tyrell paused before her and she was very pleased to see him. Tall, muscular and dark, he smiled at her. “I am relieved that you are all right. I saw you from a window and when you dismounted, I feared something was amiss.”
    Somehow Eleanor forced a smile. It felt sad and fragile. “I am fine. I decided to let Apollo graze, that’s all.”
    Tyrell’s dark blue gaze was searching. “You were never one to dally in bed, but I thought we had anunderstanding that you would not ride about this way while we have so many guests.”
    Eleanor tried to keep smiling, but she avoided his eyes now. “I had to take a gallop this morning.”
    He was blunt. “What is wrong?”
    She stiffened, Sean’s image filling her mind. Oddly, she thought she could feel him with her now, somehow. Shaken, she glanced around, but only a gardener and his boy were passing on the lawns behind her.
    Tyrell caught her free hand. “Most brides would love some extra beauty sleep, sweetheart,” he said kindly.
    “Extra sleep will hardly make me shorter,” she managed tartly. “True beauties are not as tall as most men—and taller than their own husbands.”
    His smile was brief. “Have you decided that you wish a taller husband? It is a bit late to change grooms.”
    Damn it, her first thought was that her head barely reached Sean’s chin—even in her boots. Dismayed Eleanor bit her lip. “I am very fond of Peter,” she somehow said. “I don’t care that we stand eye to eye when I am in my bare feet.”
    “I am glad, because he is very smitten with you,” Tyrell said seriously. “Last night during the dancing, he could not take his eyes from you. He also partnered you three times. A fourth time would have been scandalous.” He laughed.
    Eleanor did not. “That is because I am a ghastly dancer, missing every other step.” She met his gaze. “Do you really think he is smitten? I am bringing a fortune to the marriage.”
    “It is rather obvious that he is besotted, Eleanor. Why are you crying?”
    Eleanor tensed. She was ready to tell Tyrell everything, she realized. She so needed a confidante. “Tyrell, I am confused,” she heard herself whisper.
    He gestured at a stone bench, his expression kind. Eleanor handed him the stud’s reins and walked over, sitting down, that odd desperation coming over her. “I do care about Peter. He is so witty and so considerate, and I have enjoyed the time we have spent together. You know I detest balls, but these past few months, with Peter attending me, I really haven’t minded.”
    “He has been good for you, Eleanor,” Tyrell said seriously. “The entire family is agreed on that. He is turning you into a rather proper and conventional lady.”
    “I have truly tried to be ladylike,” she said.
    Ladies don’t lie, they don’t steal and they don’t spy, Elle .
    Panic overcame her and she stood. “Tyrell! Sean is haunting me now. I can’t do this! I really can’t! Weshould call off the wedding— I don’t care if I remain an old maid on the shelf!”
    His eyes were wide. “Eleanor, what has brought this on?” He spoke with a wary tone.
    “I don’t know!” she cried. “If only we knew where Sean was—if only we knew what had happened to him.”
    Tyrell was silent.
    She filled that silence. “I am aware that you think he’s dead. I know