He smiled at her. "I watch you when I can. You are magnificent. You ride as well or better than any man I know. Watching you gallop that stud at dawn is breathtaking," he said. "I will confess that I was shocked. Not by your skill as a horsewoman, but by the manner in which you dress. But then I realized you could not ride as you do if you were not astride. It would be a physical impossibility. And I understood that you must dress in that manner. I am glad you have confided in me, dear."

Eleanor was stunned. "How can you be so complacent? Ladies do not ride astride in breeches!" she cried. "It is a terrible faux pas."

"But you do, and you are a lady-the lady I love. Why don't you understand? I have never met a woman like you before. You are so proud and beautiful and so original! Why do you think I am smitten? My God, Eleanor, I have never felt this way about anyone and I never will, because there is no one else like you."

She felt her legs collapse. He helped her to a lawn chair. Peter loved her for who she was, not what she had appeared to be. How could this be happening? Desperately she looked at him as he knelt before her on the grass. "Don't you want a proper lady in your home?" she begged. "The English are so frightfully proper!"

"I am not that way. And my friends are not that way, either. They already adore you! Well, the gentlemen admire you as I do. I am sure a few of the ladies are rather jealous of the attention you receive." He smiled tenderly at her. "Why are you so distressed?'

Here was an opening and she should seize it. She could tell him that she had loved Sean forever and that as fond of him as she was, she simply could not go forward with the wedding. But Sean was but a few hundred meters away. She must not tell anyone the truth; no one must ever know that he had been at Adare, not until they were safely gone.

"I am not certain I am the right wife for you," she managed.

"It doesn't matter." He pulled her close. "I am very certain that you are perfect for me."

ELEANOR HURRIED BACK to her rooms, torn between despair over her relationship with Peter and an acute awareness that in a few hours, she would be with Sean once more-and that their time together was running out. If she failed to appear at her wedding now, if she ran away with Sean, she could be the cause of Sean's capture and death. She was at a terrible loss. She could not be his downfall and she was beginning to realize that she was going to have to let him go to America without her. Her mind had become blank and she could not come up with a plan that would allow her to escape with Sean. Wasn't his freedom more important than anything else? Wasn't love about sacrifice? But this was too painful to bear. And suddenly, two men blocked her path.

Rex smiled at her, but without mirth. "Are you in a rush?" he asked politely. But there was nothing polite about his stance as he barred her way.

She looked from his odd smile to Cliff, who was helping him impede her progress upstairs. His expression was almost identical and she knew that she had been discovered.

She turned to flee but someone seized her-it was Cliff. Reluctantly she met his gaze. "We'd like to chat with you," he said in a strangely neutral tone.

She felt like a child again, caught in some stupendously inappropriate act, about to be severely punished. But she wasn't a child and these were her brothers. She could manage them both at once, if she had to. She inhaled for some courage and smiled. They could not know that Sean was hiding in the woods or that she intended to see him that evening and, if she dared seduce him, she would make love to him, too. If they ever suspected her intentions, they would move mountains to stop her.

Rex indicated that she should precede them into an adjoining room, a small salon used on the rare evening, when only one or two family members were present. Eleanor walked inside uneasily, followed by both men. Cliff closed the door behind them.

"How is the bride?" Rex asked, his gaze searching.

"Very nervous, but that is expected, is it not?" She looked from Rex to Cliff.

Cliff said, "I thought you had decided to jilt Sinclair at the altar."

Dismayed, she looked at Rex and saw that he was hardly surprised by Cliff's comment. "I see you have betrayed me," she said to Cliff, but she was too distressed to be angry with him. "How much did you tell him?"

Cliff smiled. "Everything I know and suspect."

She hugged herself, wondering what he meant, exactly. But did it matter? She was supposed to marry Peter tomorrow, and if she did not, they would search for her-and find Sean. If Sean was captured, he would hang, and it would be her fault.

She was going to have to go through with her wedding and let Sean go. And if that were the case, Cliff and Rex could help Sean flee to safety. Sean would be furious over her betrayal, but she had heard Cliff brag that he had never been outrun at sea, or defeated there in battle. He had spoken with such quiet confidence that she knew it was the truth.

Did she dare give Sean up? Did she have the strength?

Rex spoke. "Last night, you were in love-or so it seemed. Today you are jilting your fiance at the altar, and gathering men's clothes! How odd this sudden turn is, especially as I know you well. You are not unkind. If you were to change your mind about Sinclair, I know you would be speaking with Father now. My little sister would never jilt her groom at the altar."

Eleanor knew she must be selfless, but she was paralyzed; she could not speak.

"Has something happened, Eleanor," Rex continued softly, "to change your mind about Sinclair?"

Sean might never forgive her if she betrayed him, but he would be alive and he would be free. "Every bride has nerves." She was shaking. "Every woman has moments of indecision." She needed all of her courage now.

Cliff studied her suspiciously. "The sister I grew up with knew her mind and always got what she wanted. What is it, Eleanor? What has you on the verge of tears? Why do you think to jilt Sinclair? Why were you scrounging for my clothes this morning?"

An image flashed in her mind, of Sean's heated silver stare, but lust wasn't love. She certainly knew that, having seen her brothers racing after more women than she could ever count. If she gave him up now, she wouldn't see him that night. Would there even be a goodbye? She felt a tear slipping down her face.

Before Eleanor could speak, Rex said, "Who are you running off with, Eleanor?"

She could do this. She thought of the lifetime they had shared, the happy warm moments filled with so much affection, trust and laughter. She saw Sean smiling, his face unscarred, his eyes open and unguarded. Maybe, one day, in America, he would become the man he'd been before.

"Is Sean here?" Rex asked grimly.

She met his dark, penetrating eyes, and nodded. "He..." She could barely speak. "He is in dire need. He needs you both." Then more tears fell. She felt sick.

"Where is he?" Cliff demanded, but quietly. His palm covered her shoulder. "You know we will do anything to help him, although I might kill him for hurting you this way."

She managed to look at him through her tears. "He is in mortal danger-but he thinks, as he always does, to protect everyone but himself!"

Cliff and Rex exchanged a potent look. Rex spoke. "If you have been in contact with Sean, then you know that his crimes are exceedingly serious and we must race the clock."

She was so anguished that the fact that both of her brothers seemed to know about Sean's status as an escaped felon only mildly surprised her. "When did you find out? And why was I not told?"

"Two nights ago, Captain Brawley stopped here to ask the earl and Tyrell what we knew. As we knew nothing until that moment, we had nothing relevant to impart to him," Rex said.

"Was anyone going to ever tell me the truth?" she managed to ask with bitterness.

Cliff spoke. "I think one and all decided that you did not need this distraction on the eve of your wedding. Clearly, that judgment was the right one."

"And when did you learn the truth about Sean?" she cried, finally becoming indignant and even angry. "Oh, let me guess! The moment you walked in the door! I am merely a woman, so I did not need to know that the man I have loved my entire life was still alive and in dire need of my help!"

"We understand that you still believe yourself to be in love with him, but he needs to flee the country, and I intend to help him do so. He needs my help, not yours, Eleanor." Cliff stared. His expression was one she had never before seen and she realized this must be how he appeared on his ship when about to do battle with his enemies.

Eleanor shook her head. "He begged me to keep his confidence. He is afraid that the earldom will fall, that Devlin will lose his estates-and he is right."

Cliff's dark brows slashed upward. "And you, also, planned to run off with him. I hope, Eleanor, that you have come to your senses, because jilting Sinclair on the morrow and fleeing with Sean could only hurt him, not help him."

"I have realized that!" she cried. "But you would not understand! You have never been in love! I have missed him so terribly these past years, I thought I might die from heartache. Now, you will sail him to foreign shores! I will never see him again and I will never be able to convince him that I am the woman he must love."

"Where is he?" Cliff had clearly decided to ignore the outpouring of her heart.

"In the woods." She briefly told them how to find Sean.

"He is hurt?" Cliff asked, clearly making plans.

"He is scarred and thin, and his voice is weak and strange. He is terribly wounded, not physically, but in his soul." She had to sit down and she collapsed into a chair.

"So he is physically able to ride and to walk?"

She glared at him. "Yes! But he is filled with pain, Cliff! Not that you can possibly understand."

He was rigid. "I despise seeing you so distressed, but given the circumstances, I am not sorry he has rejected you. Sean has no future now. You have no future with him. Your future is with Sinclair."

"You are arrogant and obtuse!" she cried, ignoring his surprise. "I hope you are struck by Cupid's arrow one day and that the lady realizes you are nothing but a boor."

"You are my only sister, and it is my duty to look after you and do what I think is best," Cliff said, his jaw flexing. He turned to Rex. "I prefer that we leave Father, Ty and Devlin in the dark. I will send a man to Limerick to order The Fair Lady readied to set sail. I'll meet you downstairs in five minutes." And before Rex could even nod, he had strode from the room.

Eleanor wished she had a book to throw at his departing back, or any object in hand, but she did not. She glared after him instead.

Rex pulled an ottoman forward and sat down beside her. He handed her an immaculate handkerchief, embroidered with his initials. She accepted it, wiping furiously at her eyes.

"I understand," he said quietly. "I understand the extent of your love-or at least, I think I do-and I also understand the extent of the sacrifice you are making."

She stilled, meeting his kind brown gaze. "Thank you."

"You are very brave, Eleanor, but your courage has never been in question."

"My heart is broken," she replied.

"He is a fool," Rex said with heat. "And I intend to tell him so. Any man-except Cliff, obviously-would give his right arm to be so well loved."

"Before the war, you were a romantic. You are still one, I see," she managed to say.

He touched a curl. "I will arrange a farewell for you."

She gasped in surprise, and then she seized his hands. "Thank you, Rex...thank you!"

He smiled. "What? You will not insist I am your favorite brother?"

She had no words left. She merely nodded, using the linen against more tears.

He took up his crutch and stood. "You have done the right thing for our stepbrother."

Eleanor closed her eyes against the stabbing pain. It was a moment before she could speak. "I know," she said.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

SEAN SLIPPED THROUGH the window of Eleanor's room. Once inside, he had to pause. He had been in her room countless times, but not since he had left four years before.

He pushed past the heavy gold velvet draperies there and slowly looked around. Once, her bedroom had been blue and white; now, it was green and gold, lush and feminine, the bedroom of a woman, not a child. It felt and looked and even smelled terribly sensual.

He saw the table, set for one. She had made certain a meal was waiting for him. His heart stirred with gratitude. Then he thought about Rex and Cliff, looking for him in the woods. She had betrayed him and that infuriated him, but he had easily eluded his brothers. He shouldn't have come. He should be on his way to Cobh. But he had to say goodbye. He could not leave otherwise.

Her image filled his mind now, as she had been the first moment he had seen her yesterday night, in Sinclair's arms, passionate and breathless and clinging to the other man's shoulders. He wished he could forget her damnable offer; even now, he was acutely aware of it and it was affecting him terribly. A huge tension filled him but he intended to ignore it. He understood now that he needed release. There would be whores on the ship-there always were.

He'd never used a whore in his entire life. From the time he'd lost his innocence, there had always been young women in pursuit of him. But they had wanted Sean O'Neill, the dashing younger son of an Irish nobleman, the stepson of an earl. None of those past lovers would look at him twice now, not that he cared. He wouldn't look at any of them a second time, either.

And as he stood in Eleanor's luxurious accommodations, he wondered for the hundredth time how his life had come to this. How had he become such a stranger, even to himself? He wanted to remain disconnected from that other man, that boisterous yet solidly dependable younger son who would do anything for his family and who had a penchant for the ladies. The bridge to that past remained and he saw it in his mind's eye, a trestle bridge spanning a huge gaping gulf of events, emotions and time, but it was rotting and pieces of it were missing. What would it take, he wondered, to completely sever the connection, to watch that bridge released from its cables so it might shatter on the deadly rocks of mistaken choices below?

His two years spent in prison had not been enough to destroy it, he now realized. While there, he had believed the past completely erased. He had been wrong.

A new life in America might do the trick. If not, he would have to throw stones at that bridge, day after day, until it finally came down.

Suddenly he saw the old stone bridge that was on the roadway between Askeaton and Adare. It spanned a particularly deep part of the river that was an offshoot of the Shannon. As boys, he and his brother had leaped from the bridge a hundred times, but that was only half the fun. The currents were strong at certain times of the day and once in the river, it would sweep them swiftly downstream, through a series of rapids, until it bent and slowed in a calm pool. They would leave two horses at the pool, riding two horses up to the bridge, one horse double, another ridden triple if all five of them were present. They would spend entire afternoons leaping off that bridge.

He didn't want to remember; it was too damned late. "SEAN!"

He was soaking wet and shirtless, riding back up to the bridge with Rex and Cliff, Devlin and Tyrell behind them on a different mount. At the sound of Eleanor's voice, his gaze veered, searching for her, and he was already alarmed. Had she followed them? She was only six years old, but she was becoming far more than fearless recently. She was as reckless as any of them, even though she was half their age.

"Sean!"

He saw her standing on the bridge, grinning happily and waving at them in her white dress.

His heart stopped. He knew what she intended. "Elle! Don't you dare!" he screamed at her.

She laughed and lifted her skirts, revealing thick white stockings and black button-up shoes, and started to climb onto the balustrade of the bridge.

"Shit," Rex exclaimed. He rode in front and he spurred the hack into a canter.

"Elle, get down!" Sean yelled, sandwiched between his stepbrothers.

Elle stood on the balustrade now, no longer smiling, staring down at the river.

She was going to jump, he realized in horror. And Cliff verbalized his worst fears. "She is going to do it."

Sean pushed Cliff off the back of the horse, then followed. Eleanor suddenly lifted her arms and leaped off the bridge.

He ran to the edge of the road and scrambled down the grassy and slick bank, never taking his eyes from her. She hit the water with a cry and as she disappeared beneath its surface, he saw exactly where she had gone in.

But that was not where she would surface. He knew the currents and he kept racing for a point farther down the river. He didn't look upstream now-he reached the bank and dived in.

The water rushed over him, pulling him downstream. He heard her choking and he fought to tread, an impossible task, so he could visually locate her. And he saw her white face and her frightened eyes, just before the river sucked her into its depths.

He reached out as he dived underwater and seized a piece of her skirt. He was absolutely determined that the river was not going to beat him. He fought to swim closer, against the raging current, and he put his arm around her. Then he charged to the surface, where he threw her above him. He heard her choking for air.

"I've got her," Tyrell said, taking her from him.

"Sean." Devlin seized him, helping him stay above the surface now so he had a chance to breathe.

A moment later the four of them were in the quiet, still pool. Sean stood up, trembling. The child was mad. She was only six years old; she had almost drowned! Devlin had also stood, grimly silent, but Tyrell sat in the shallow waters, appearing relieved. Elle sat with him, her eyes wide.

She looked up at him, her face beginning to lose its pallor. She started to smile as she stood. "Can we do that again?"

He charged her. Seizing her hand, he yanked her from the water, hard enough to hurt her and she cried out in protest. "Are you stupid?" he shouted at her when they were on the bank.