

# TOO FAR TO WHISPER

Arianna Eastland

Book One of the Corwin-Chandler Trilogy

Copyright 2012 Arianna Eastland

Cover design by Arianna Eastland

# SMASHWORDS EDITION

This book is a work of fiction. Although some of the cities and locations actually exist, they are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters also are works of fiction. Any names or characteristics similar to those of any person, past or present, are purely coincidental.

# DEDICATED TO JOHN

My inspiration for Shadow Runner

TOO FAR TO WHISPER

PROLOGUE

New England – 1648

She thought he was a bear...

It was nightfall when the girl regained consciousness. She was lying on her back on something soft, something that felt like fur. She could hear the wind still angrily whipping at the trees, yet, for reasons she could not fathom, she no longer feared it.

She turned her head to the side and saw a crackling fire but a few feet from her. Its brightness temporarily blinded her, causing her to clamp her eyes shut. She allowed several minutes to pass before she made a second attempt to scan her surroundings.

Above her was a crude roof made of interwoven pine boughs, which sagged beneath the weight of the snow. Her eyes momentarily were drawn to a hole in the center of it, through which the smoke from the fire curled upward and dissipated. Desperately, she struggled to collect her thoughts, hoping for some flash of memory, some clue that would lead her to recall how she had come to be in this unfamiliar place.

She remembered going out to the woodshed to fetch some firewood just after the blizzard had begun, and spying a doe, injured and limping, near the edge of the woods. Concerned, she had followed it until the fiercely blowing snow had covered the deer's tracks and her own...and everything else that was familiar to her. With no visible landmarks to guide her, and a constant sea of whiteness swirling around her, she had wandered in circles for over an hour. The bone-chilling cold had at first been painful, then numbing, until she no longer was able to feel anything from her knees to the soles of her feet. She remembered her body finally defying her and refusing to move, no matter how strongly she willed it to. Defeated, she had curled into a fetal position in the snow and awaited her death.

Yet here she lay, still very much alive.

Slowly, she lifted her head. She saw him then, sitting directly across from her. He was draped in bearskin from head to foot and sat hunched over with his chin resting on his drawn-up knees. She could not see his face from beneath his cloak of fur, only his black eyes, which reflected the firelight and made him, she thought, appear more beastlike than human. He studied her silently, unblinkingly, until she began to feel as if she were some innocent prey, about to be devoured.

She looked away from him in an effort to ease her discomfort. Her eyes came to rest on something that made her gasp out loud. There, spread out next to the fire, was all of the clothing she had been wearing...including her undergarments. Her heartbeat quickened and her breath came in short gasps as she struggled to sit up. The action caused the blanket of pelts that had been covering her to fall to her waist. Her gaze dropped to her naked breasts, her pale pink nipples erect from their sudden exposure to the air. Her head snapped in the direction of the stranger. His eyes also were fixed on her breasts.

She tugged the furs up around her neck and scooted on her bottom, farther away from the unrelenting eyes.

At that same moment, the man-beast moved to a hands-and-knees position and began to slowly crawl toward her.

In the flickering shadows of the fire, the outline of his form, moving on all fours with the bearskin still draped around it, made the girl believe he truly was not human at all.

Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, she stifled a scream.

# CHAPTER ONE

New England – 1654

Thus far, the day had been an emotional one for Rosalind Chandler. She had dreaded its arrival for weeks, knowing it would bring about a significant change in her life. And now that it was here, her only desire was to see it over with in all possible haste.

She took a sip of sweet sack-posset, the traditional wedding drink, then nibbled absently on her piece of fruit-filled bride cake. Try as she might, she could not deny that her brother Benjamin's undisguised joy as he had spoken his wedding vows but an hour before had thoroughly warmed her heart. His bride, Faith Abbott, was a lovely, well-bred girl, and it was apparent from her radiant smile that she returned Ben's feelings twofold.

But as Rosalind eyed the beaming couple being congratulated by one of the twenty or more guests who had gathered in the Abbotts' small, modest home for the celebration, she was unable to share their joy. She realized she was being selfish, but she could not help the way she felt. She was losing her older brother – her only brother. No longer would he be within earshot whenever she needed him or she wanted to share her thoughts. No longer would she and her two younger sisters enjoy his tall tales each night as they sat by the fire. Since their father's passing six months earlier, Ben had become the only man she could rely upon. And now he was leaving her.

"Why the frown?" a male voice interrupted her thoughts.

Rosalind lifted her gaze to meet her brother's concerned blue eyes, the color of which was identical to her own. She thought he had never looked more handsome. Attired in a crisp white shirt and neckcloth and gray waistcoat, with his blond hair neatly groomed and tied back with a black ribbon, Ben made an impressive groom.

"I am missing you already," Rosalind said. "The house will be unbearably empty without you."

Ben's look of concern turned to one of amusement. "Good Lord, girl, you speak of me as though I have died! I shall be but a stone's throw away."

"Too soon you will have a family of your own to care for. We shall be fortunate if we _ever_ see you."

"I assure you, you are worrying yourself for naught." Ben paused to accept a congratulatory handshake from one of the wedding guests, then returned his attention to his sister. "You must not think of it as losing a brother, but instead as gaining a sister."

"Sisters, I do not need," Rosalind said. "With you gone, there no longer will be a man in the house. We shall be four women alone."

"Then perhaps you should seriously consider filling that void...with a husband."

Rosalind stiffened. "As I have told you repeatedly, Ben, I fully intend to remain unwed."

"Nonsense!" He dismissed her statement with a wave of his hand. "You are far too pretty, too loving in nature, to forsake marriage and children for spinsterhood. The townspeople already are puzzling over the reason why a woman of nearly twenty exhibits no interest whatsoever in finding a husband."

"And what concern is it of theirs?" Rosalind snapped. "'Tis _my_ life! I, and only I, shall decide when or if I ever wish to be wed!"

"By then, all of the eligible men in town will be bald, lame and toothless!" Ben shook his head and sighed. "Oft times I wonder if you fear men, Rosalind. You certainly have done naught to prove otherwise. Perhaps if you had a man in your life, you would not be standing here looking as though you have just witnessed a funeral."

Rosalind narrowed her eyes at her brother, but held her tongue. Somehow he always managed to shift the topic to her lack of eagerness to become a bride. Still, she could not fault him for his concern, for she never had offered him a proper explanation as to why she so adamantly discouraged any man who wished to court her. She knew she never could tell Ben – or anyone else – the real reason; not without bringing irrevocable shame upon herself and her family.

"Have you seen Mother?" Rosalind purposely changed the subject. She did not wish to spend one more second on the topic of marriage.

"When last I saw her, she was in the company of Elias Corwin," Ben said.

"The magistrate?" Rosalind's eyebrows rose. "I was not aware that he and Mother were acquainted."

"Well, they appeared to lack naught for conversation when I witnessed them. One would think they were dear friends."

"Now you have aroused my curiosity," Rosalind said. "I think I shall attempt to find them, if you will excuse me." She smoothed the folds of her plain, blue dress and tucked a stray blond curl beneath her white cap, then slowly made her way through the maze of guests.

She spied her mother and Elias Corwin standing in a corner near the stone hearth. So deep was their conversation, they appeared oblivious to any activity around them. Elias, a portly, balding man, punctuated his statements with exaggerated arm movements that strained the fabric of his already too-snug shirt. Rosalind's mother, slender and dark-haired, seemed to be hanging on to his every word; her eyes embracing his round face.

Most of the townspeople feared Elias Corwin. According to rumor, the man thrived on power and upheld the laws to the extreme. Even young children, whose crimes were no more severe than talking too loudly in church, were said to have felt the sting of the magistrate's whip.

Elias owned an impressive estate and financed the operation of the Fox and Raven Tavern in town. His two sons, Nathaniel, a ship's captain, and Matthew, a student at Harvard College, were away more often than at home. Although Rosalind had not had the opportunity to meet, or even catch more than a brief glimpse of either of the Corwin brothers, she had heard it was not difficult to determine when one of them was about. The steady stream of tittering young ladies carrying their finest baked goods or sweets to the Corwins' door was said to be a telltale sign that either Matthew or Nathaniel was within.

"Hello, Mother, Magistrate Corwin." Rosalind greeted each of them with a nod.

"Rosalind!" Her mother's delight at seeing her daughter was obvious. "We were just speaking of you!" When her mother smiled, Rosalind thought she was truly beautiful, appearing much younger than her years. But since Rosalind's father's passing, her mother's smile had become much too rare.

"Oh?" Rosalind said. "And for what purpose was my name being mentioned?"

"Actually, we were discussing my wife, Abigail," Elias Corwin replied, transferring his attention to Rosalind. "I am greatly concerned about her failing health. At times, I am consumed with guilt because my duties afford me such little time to spend with her. And I fear of late, she cares not whether she lives or dies."

Rosalind stared bewilderedly at him. Why, she wondered, did he believe that she, someone he did not even know, cared to hear the details of his family's problems?

"My two servants already have too many chores, which prevent them from tending to my wife's needs," Elias continued. "'Twould greatly please my wife to have a companion solely to see to her care." He paused to retrieve a handkerchief from his waistcoat, then used it to dab at the beads of perspiration that dotted his brow. "Your mother tells me you have a strong spirit and a kind heart, Mistress Chandler, as well as boundless energy. We both believe you would make a perfect companion for my Abigail."

"I?" Rosalind's eyebrows arched. "You wish for me to be a companion to your wife?"

"'Tis a great honor that the magistrate wishes to entrust his wife's care to you, is it not?" her mother interrupted. "Granted, 'twill be no small task, but Mr. Corwin and I have every faith in you."

Before Rosalind could speak, Elias added, "You will be provided with a bedchamber adjoining my wife's and I shall pay you a fair wage. You will lack for naught, you have my word."

Rosalind did not know how to respond, especially when she realized she would be expected to live with the Corwins and become part of their family. She had no desire whatsoever to leave her own family, nor did she wish to live with a fearsome man who whipped children, and an ailing woman who no longer cared whether she lived or died.

"May I be allowed some time to consider the matter?" Rosalind softly asked.

Her mother visibly blanched at her words. "Rosalind!" Her tone was firm, inviting no argument. "The magistrate has made you a most kind and generous offer, and you will gratefully accept it!"

"Yes, Mother," she whispered, her eyes downcast.

"Excellent!" Elias clasped his hands together. "I shall anticipate your arrival on the morrow, then!"

Rosalind's head snapped up. "So soon?"

"Nellie, Elizabeth and I shall help you pack your belongings," her mother hastily offered, then turned to Elias. "She will commence her duties bright and early."

"Fine, fine." He nodded. "Abigail will be _so_ pleased to hear the news!"

Rosalind forced a weak smile. She felt as if she were a choice cow that had just been auctioned off to the highest bidder. And was she just imagining it, she wondered, or had her mother seemed just a bit too eager to be rid of her? Rosalind had predicted that Ben's wedding day would bring about a change in her life, but certainly not one of this magnitude.

Well, she thought defeatedly, she had vowed never to become any man's dutiful wife, so why not become some woman's dutiful nurse and companion? Perhaps, she reasoned, her work at the Corwins' would, if little else, serve to provide her with some small sense of accomplishment. And although she prayed for God's forgiveness for even thinking it, there always was the possibility her stay at the Corwins' might be only a brief one if Abigail's health worsened...and the woman died.

* * * * *

The sun barely had begun its ascent the next morning when Rosalind, struggling with her bundles – and to keep her breakfast in her stomach – set out on her journey to the Corwins' house.

A distance of just over five miles separated the two houses, but due to her lack of eagerness to reach her destination, she found herself wishing it were a thousand. Her family lived on the outskirts of town in a small community comprised mostly of families who struggled from day to day to get by. They did not own horses, did not have any special trades, and did not possess much more than their parcels of land, gardens and simple, sparsely furnished houses. The Corwins, however, lived in town in an area where the wealthy, successful and educated dwelled. Rosalind wondered how she ever would fit in with such people, for she had little in common with them.

She had lain awake most of the previous night, apprehension knotting her stomach until the pain had become nearly unbearable. It was no wonder her stomach ached, she thought. In the space of twelve short hours, her mother had cast her from the only home she had ever known and thrust her into the arms of strangers.

She deliberately walked slowly, not only because she wanted to delay her arrival, but also because she wanted to memorize every tree, house, wildflower and field along the way, for fear she would not see them again for a very long time. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fresh spring air, not knowing when or if she would be allowed any time outdoors at the Corwins', especially if Abigail was bedridden and unable to leave her chamber.

"You look as though you could use a bit of help."

Rosalind spun around to face her brother.

"Ben!" She dropped her bundles and ran to embrace him. "What brings you here?"

"'Tis not safe for a woman to go wandering about unescorted," he answered. Too abruptly he broke away from her and bent to pick up her belongings. "Besides, I thought you might be in need of some encouragement."

"That I am. In fact, I am sorely tempted to march right back home, crawl into bed and pull the quilt over my head!"

Ben spared her a tired smile. Rosalind thought he looked as though he had not slept a wink, which she supposed was understandable, considering the previous night had been his wedding night. Unlike most unwed young women, Rosalind was well aware of what occurred on wedding nights. On more than one occasion she had overheard her brother and his friends, two of whom already were wed, discussing such matters in some detail, especially as Ben's wedding day grew nearer.

"Why are you not with Faith on this, the first day of your marriage?" Rosalind asked her brother. The two of them walked side by side along the winding dirt path that snaked through a forest of thick pines. Rosalind welcomed the pine-scented air, hoping it might help to calm her stomach.

Ben sighed. "Truth be known, from the moment I awoke this morn, I was eager for some excuse to leave the house."

Rosalind halted, her eyes widening. "But why?"

Ben continued walking at a rapid pace. "You would not understand."

Rosalind had to run to catch up with him. "How do you know I will not understand unless you first tell me what it is?"

Again, he sighed. "Please, just do me the favor of dropping the subject."

"You say you are eager to leave your new wife on the very morn after your wedding and now you want me to simply forget it? How do you propose I do that?"

Ben ceased walking but did not turn to look at her. "'Tis just that in my eagerness to consummate our marriage last night, I did not allow Faith time to...prepare...sufficiently for me. As a result, I caused her undue pain...and now she recoils from my touch."

Rosalind regarded him puzzledly. Granted, she knew what occurred on wedding nights, but she was not familiar with what he so awkwardly was attempting to tell her.

"By what means do you 'prepare' a woman?" she asked.

Ben looked up at the sky and shook his head. "Did I not tell you that you would not understand?" He resumed walking.

Rosalind fell into step at his side. "Then you must _make_ me understand!"

"'Tis best if you wait for your husband to teach you of such intimate matters. It is not my place to do so."

"How many times must I tell you there never will _be_ a husband?" Rosalind snapped.

"Oh, do not be so certain," Ben said. "For what reason do you think Mother practically begged Magistrate Corwin to employ you as his wife's companion?"

Rosalind stopped abruptly and grasped her brother's arm. "What are you saying?"

He turned to look at her. "'Tis quite simple, my dear sister. Mother is hoping that during your time at the Corwins' you will attract the attention of either Matthew or Nathaniel. She, not unlike any other mother of an unwed daughter between here and Boston, would be pleased beyond words to see you wed to a Corwin. That is why she purposely sought out the magistrate at the wedding yesterday and convinced him of your worth!"

Rosalind's mouth fell open. "You are wrong! Mother would never send me away to live with strangers solely because she wants me to find a rich husband!"

"Oh, but indeed she would! She confessed as much to me herself. Is it so wrong of her to want the best for her first-born daughter? If you are fortunate enough to wed a Corwin, you will want for naught for the rest of your life."

"But I do not _want_ to wed a Corwin! Nor any other man, for that matter! Why does no one believe that?"

"Do not be so eager to seal your fate." Ben swatted at a fly that had landed on his cheek. "You have not yet made the acquaintance of either Matthew or Nathaniel. Who knows? You might fall hopelessly in love with one of them at first sight!"

"Do not be absurd! My duty is to care for Mrs. Corwin, not bat my eyelashes at her sons. Besides, 'tis common knowledge that the lads' appearances at home are as rare as udders on a bull! I may never even have the opportunity to meet either of them."

"Ah, I believe 'tis fate," Ben said, smiling. "I hear tell that Nathaniel has been home from the sea since three days past."

Rosalind rolled her eyes and once again continued to walk. "'Tis no concern of mine whether Nathaniel Corwin is at home or is off harpooning whales, or whatever it is he does while on his voyages. He and I shall get along just fine if he has the good sense to stay out of my way."

"Do you not realize how many young women would chop off their right hands to be in your position at this very moment? You should be grateful to Mother for what she has done for you."

"I _am_ grateful. But I fear she will be sorely disappointed when I return home without a Corwin on my arm."

# CHAPTER TWO

"Welcome, Mistress Chandler!" Elias Corwin greeted her with a broad smile. "Come in, come in!" He swung open the thick oak door and gestured for her and Ben to enter.

Rosalind's legs felt suddenly weak as she followed Mr. Corwin into the spacious sitting room. Fatigue was causing her shakiness, she convinced herself, not the fear of living in an unfamiliar house filled with unfamiliar faces.

"How kind of you to accompany your sister here, Benjamin," Elias said, his large hand clasping Ben's shoulder, "most especially on the morn after your wedding."

"'Tis not safe for a woman to be traveling alone," Ben said. "Not with savages lurking about. I have heard disturbing tales of what they do to females."

Elias shook his head. "While I do not entirely trust them, I fear that most of those tales of horror have been greatly exaggerated."

"Be they exaggeration or not," Ben said, "I wish to take no chances."

"Please, be seated," Elias said to the pair. "You must be weary from your journey. I shall have Grace fetch some refreshment for you."

Ben set the bundles on the floor, then he and Rosalind seated themselves opposite each other on two richly upholstered benches.

As if on cue, a plump woman with gray-streaked brown hair partially tucked beneath a white cap entered the room. She nodded in response to Mr. Corwin's orders, then disappeared as quickly as she had entered.

Rosalind was awed by the size and elegance of the Corwins' sitting room. Several benches and stools, decorated with plush, embroidered cushions, surrounded a table made of a dark, polished wood. Ornate brass andirons and tongs complemented the massive stone fireplace, and an intricately carved cupboard stood in the corner. Near the front door, a polished pewter cistern with matching candlestick holders sat on a small round table. Rosalind cast a glance at her brother and sensed by his expression that he was as impressed by their surroundings as she was.

"I am eager for you to meet my wife," Elias said, lowering his bulk onto a stool. "You cannot imagine Abigail's delight when I informed her that you would be arriving today, Mistress Chandler."

"I look forward to meeting her also," Rosalind said, praying her words sounded more sincere than she actually felt.

Grace, balancing a tray that held several pitchers and mugs, entered the room. She set it down on the table and said, "There is ale, cool water and cider. Also some tarts, if you are hungry."

Rosalind's stomach still was too knotted for her to accept anything more than the water, but Ben ate and drank with such relish, she found it difficult to conceal her embarrassment. So intent was her brother on filling his stomach, he paid little attention to Elias's attempts at casual conversation. On more than one occasion, Ben lifted his head and stared blankly at his host in response to the man's questions. Rosalind suspected that in Ben's haste to leave his new bride that morning, he had not paused to eat breakfast – which would explain his sudden lust for cider and tarts.

The unexpected slam of the front door caused all eyes to turn toward the entrance. Even Ben momentarily ceased eating to peer over his shoulder.

"Oh, forgive my interruption," the intruder apologized. He was a young man – tall and solidly lean with thick, light-brown hair. "I was not aware you were entertaining guests."

"Nathaniel!" Elias rose to his feet. "Your entrance could not be better timed! Come here, son, and meet your mother's new companion!"

Nathaniel stepped into the sitting room and flashed a smile at Rosalind. She noticed his even, white teeth and the two dimples that punctuated his smile. He was perfect- looking, she thought...too perfect.

"Allow me to present Captain Nathaniel Corwin, my elder son." Elias's expression could not disguise his pride. "Nathaniel, this is Mistress Rosalind Chandler and her brother, Benjamin."

Nathaniel stepped forward and grasped Ben's hand for vigorous handshake, then moved toward Rosalind. Taking her hand into his, he bowed, then allowed his hazel gaze to linger on her face. "I am certain your presence here, Mistress Chandler, will bring a breath of fresh air to our home."

Ben caught his sister's eye and winked teasingly at her. She responded with a glare.

"Thank you for your kind words, sir," Rosalind said as Nathaniel straightened to his full height. She spared him a slight smile.

"I also have a good feeling about this young lady," Elias added. "I truly believe she will do wonders for Abigail."

"Aye," Nathaniel concurred. "Mother cannot help but benefit from the company of someone so...lovely." Both he and his father smiled at Rosalind.

Sensing his sister's discomfort, Ben decided to put an end to the men's conversation before they nominated her for sainthood. "If you will excuse me," he announced and rose to his feet, "I really must be getting on my way. I do not want my new bride to think I have deserted her."

"I understand," Elias responded with a knowing smile. "New brides do require a good deal of attention."

Ben's words caused a look of panic to settle on Rosalind's face. She did not want her brother to leave her – not yet – not until she felt a good deal more at ease in her new home. She stood and directed a pleading look in Ben's direction, praying he would sense just how desperately she wanted him to stay.

Ben moved toward Rosalind, then leaned to give her a brief embrace. "Do not worry," he whispered against her ear. "You will be just fine." He straightened and turned to face Elias. "May I be permitted to visit my sister on occasion?"

Rosalind thought his request made her sound as if she were a prisoner...which was exactly what she felt like at that moment.

"By all means, lad," Elias said. "Perhaps you and your new bride might do us the honor of supping with us some evening soon."

"It would indeed be an honor," Ben said with a nod. "Please, give my regards to Mrs. Corwin."

"Would you care to meet my wife ere you depart?" Elias asked.

Rosalind silently willed her brother to delay his departure and agree to the meeting.

"Although I am eager to meet your wife," Ben said, "I really must return home posthaste. When next I visit, I shall look forward to an introduction."

* * * * *

Rosalind stood and gazed at the door for long moments after her brother had departed. She truly was alone now, she thought, deserted in a house full of strangers. Biting at her bottom lip, she fought the urge to run after Ben and join him on his journey home.

"You and your brother appear to be very close," Elias broke the silence.

"Aye...we are." Rosalind reluctantly turned away from the door. "Though barely four years separate us in age, he has always seemed like a second father to me – even more so since our own father's passing. Ben possesses the wisdom of someone far beyond his years."

"Well then, it somehow seems fitting that both of you are beginning your new lives on the very same day," Elias said, smiling. "Shall I show you to your chamber now? I imagine you would like to get settled in ere you meet Abigail."

Rosalind nodded and stooped to gather her belongings, but Nathaniel blocked her efforts.

"Allow me to carry those for you," he said, collecting her bundles. Before she could respond, he already was ascending the staircase. Rosalind had been so preoccupied with her brother's departure, she had forgotten the captain still was in the room.

Rosalind's bedchamber bore no resemblance whatsoever to the cluttered space she shared with her two sisters back home. She stared in awe at the canopied featherbed with its embroidered quilt and thick, fluffy pillows. A tall chest of drawers stood against one wall, and a round table with a floral design carved into it sat next to the head of the bed. Rosalind was especially pleased to see a full-length brass-trimmed looking glass against the wall. Few people, save for the very rich, were able to afford such a luxury. There were two doors in the chamber – the one through which she had entered, and another in the upper right corner, which she assumed led to Abigail's chamber.

Nathaniel set Rosalind's belongings on the bed, then turned to face her. "After you have had the opportunity to meet my mother, 'twould greatly please me to escort you on a tour of the grounds. The sooner you become familiar with everything here, the sooner you will come to feel like a member of our family."

Rosalind appreciated the Corwins' efforts to make her feel as though she belonged and could easily fit in and adapt to their way of life, but in truth, she did not want to feel like a member of the family. She already had a family – a perfectly acceptable one – which she missed more and more with each passing minute.

She mustered a smile and looked up at Nathaniel. "Thank you for your offer, Captain Corwin. I am indeed eager to learn all I can about my new home. A tour of the grounds would be greatly appreciated."

"Please, call me Nathaniel," he said. "May I call you Rosalind?" His eyes caught hers and held them.

"If you wish," she replied, although she had strong misgivings about encouraging such familiarity. After Ben's taunting about snagging a Corwin for her husband, she felt even more compelled to keep her relationship with the captain as formal as possible. Not that a man like Nathaniel ever would consider courting her, the family's help, anyway, she thought. She felt certain Nathaniel's ideal bride would be an affluent, elegant woman, not someone who shared a bed with her two sisters in a small two-room house with dirt floors. Nor would his future mother-in-law be a woman who earned a few coins by mending and washing other people's garments. Rosalind knew that her mother and Ben both believed her to possess all of the qualities necessary to capture the heart of a Corwin man, but she wondered how quickly their confidence in her would be dashed if they knew the secret that constantly nagged at her...the secret she intended to take with her to the grave. Even if, by some miracle, she were to suddenly decide to change her mind and search for a husband, she knew she was as likely to wed one of Elias's sons as she was to sprout eagle's wings and fly to the moon.

"Is something amiss, child?" Elias asked, interrupting Rosalind's thoughts. "If there is something about your bedchamber that is not to your liking, please do not hesitate to tell me, and I shall see to it that it is changed posthaste for you."

Rosalind felt her cheeks grow hot. "Nay, everything is just fine. But if you would be kind enough to allow me a moment alone, I should like to make myself more presentable ere my meeting with Mrs. Corwin."

"You look perfect the way you are," Nathaniel commented, smiling. His words served only to fuel Rosalind's discomfort.

"I shall return for you in a half-hour," Elias said.

"That will be more than sufficient." She nodded. She purposely avoided looking at Nathaniel. There was something about the man that made her feel ill at ease. Perhaps it was his smooth, self-confident manner or the way compliments so effortlessly rolled off his tongue. Perhaps it was the way he stared at her, as if his eyes were attempting to bore right through her. Whichever, she found herself regretting that she had accepted his offer to escort her on a tour of the grounds.

* * * * *

Abigail Corwin smiled warmly when Elias and Rosalind entered her chamber. She was a painfully thin woman with gray hair pulled back in a long braid, and dull hazel eyes that appeared even more lackluster against her wan complexion. She sat propped up in bed with her back against several pillows, an unfinished needlepoint on her lap.

The chamber was large, and so was Abigail's bed. The woman seemed lost in its depths, as if the bed were swallowing her. There were two chests of drawers in the room and two small tables – one on each side of the bed – with vases of fresh flowers on them. A rug made of richly colored wools covered the planked floor, and a tapestry of flowers hung on the wall. Although the hour was early afternoon, the room was dark due to the window shutters being closed. The only light came from several candles burning on one of the bedside tables.

"Dear Mistress Chandler," Abigail said in a surprisingly strong voice and extended her hand. "I have so been looking forward to your arrival."

Rosalind took her hand. It felt cold and bony. "I am honored that you and Mr. Corwin consider me capable of handling this responsibility, ma'am," she said. "I promise I shall do my best to attend to your every need."

"I shall leave the two of you alone to get acquainted," Elias said. With a nod, he left the chamber.

"Please, be seated, my dear," Abigail said to Rosalind. She indicated a chair at the side of the bed. Rosalind obeyed and seated herself. "First of all, if we are to become good friends, you must call me Abigail."

"'Twould be discourteous," Rosalind protested, shaking her head and lowering her gaze. Not calling Nathaniel by his surname was bad enough, but addressing the magistrate's wife so informally was totally inappropriate – totally out of the question.

"I insist," Abigail said, her lips tightening. She removed her hand from Rosalind's.

Rosalind dared not argue with the woman. "I-I shall try," she said.

Satisfied, Abigail smiled. Her eyes slowly appraised Rosalind, from her soft blond curls and wide blue eyes to her slim waist. "You are indeed a lovely young woman," she said. "So, pray tell, have you a man in your life?"

Keeping her eyes downcast, Rosalind shook her head. "Nay. There is no one."

"I find that difficult to believe. I would think many young men would be lining up outside your door in their eagerness to win your heart."

Rosalind remained silent, her hands clasped in her lap. She did not wish to respond to Abigail's comment.

"I apologize," Abigail said. "I can see the topic is not one you care to discuss. I did not mean to pry. 'Tis just that most girls your age are eager to wed, or have already been made brides."

Rosalind lifted her eyes to meet Abigail's. "I am not like most girls, ma'am."

"Indeed you are not." Abigail's smile contained a hint of amusement. "I do believe you are someone special, Rosalind, and I am certain you and I shall become very close friends during your stay here."

"I pray we shall," Rosalind said.

* * * * *

The early May air felt cool against Rosalind's face as she followed Nathaniel about the Corwins' property later that afternoon. She tilted her face toward the sun, enjoying its warmth. Abigail's chamber, in her opinion, was much too dark and dispiriting, and she had been eager to escape it.

With each step, the enormity of the Corwins' wealth became more apparent to Rosalind. Their dairy house held flitches of bacon and more cheese than she had ever seen in one location. In the outer buildings and yards there were sheep, cows and pigs, and in the stables, several fine horses.

Leisurely, Nathaniel and Rosalind strolled past the stables and to the top of a grassy knoll. "We are clearing more of the land," Nathaniel indicated, waving his arm in the direction of a large expanse of land that was partially cleared but mostly covered by forest and rocks. The majority of the trees surrounding the clearing were pine and maple, dotted with clusters of white birch.

As Rosalind's eyes swept over the vast acreage, she spied two silhouettes toiling in the area being cleared. "Who are they?" she asked.

"Two of our workers," Nathaniel said.

"May I meet them?"

He shook his head. "There is no need."

"But if I am to live here, sir, would it not be to my advantage to be able to distinguish friends from strangers?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps. But I would not call those two _friends_." He turned to look at Rosalind and, noticing her look of disappointment, added, "Alas, if you would like to meet them, I shall grant your wish. But once I have, I strongly suggest you not go near them again."

Rosalind was about to ask him why, but Nathaniel hastened off in the direction of the workers. She scurried after him.

At Nathaniel's beckoning, the two men halted their work and moved toward the approaching couple. Nathaniel paused and turned a stern gaze on the pair. He assumed an authoritative stance, his arms folded across his chest, his feet braced apart, as he awaited their arrival.

They were Indians.

Rosalind silently scolded herself for allowing that fact to unnerve her. After all, it was not as if she rarely encountered Indians. They frequently ventured into town to trade. Still, whenever she was in the presence of one, she felt ill at ease.

The two workers, both carrying spades, now stood directly before her and Nathaniel. Rosalind's gaze instantly was drawn to the younger of the two. He wore snug leather breeches, nothing more. His muscular chest and taut, flat stomach glistened with a light film of perspiration. His chest was hairless and smooth, something she was not accustomed to seeing. Her eyes rose. His hair, well past his shoulders in length, was glossy and so black, it shone blue in the sunlight, and was held back with a strip of leather. Rosalind decided that his face, with its high cheekbones, strong chin and jaw, and large, dark eyes with their thick fringe of lashes, was one of the most striking she had ever seen.

The other Indian, who was similarly attired, was several inches shorter, much older and not nearly as muscular nor as visually appealing as his companion. Curiously, he also had two prominent slits carved just above each nostril on his hawk-like nose.

"The Indians who trade in town have told us this one is called Shadow Runner." Nathaniel inclined his head toward the younger man. "Shadow, for short. Last summer, my father caught him trying to steal one of our finest ewes. The savage so badly injured the animal, it had to be slaughtered. Had the decision been mine, he would have been swinging from the gallows, but my father instead chose to put him to work here until he is satisfied the sheep's value has been met. For some reason, my father seems bent on keeping peace with the savages."

Rosalind eyed Shadow somewhat warily. His unblinking dark eyes returned her gaze. The way he stood – straight, with his shoulders back – and the way he held his head with his chin tilted upward, gave him an air of importance, even regality. Shadow, she was convinced, was more than just some common sheep thief.

"Although he appears to understand some of what we say," Nathaniel continued, "he has never spoken. I do not know if it is because he cannot or will not." He shrugged. "From what I have heard, he is the son of a sachem, but I am finding that bit of information difficult to believe. I doubt that any son of a chief ever would have allowed himself to be disgraced by being caught doing something as paltry as stealing a sheep."

Shadow's expression remained closed, but Rosalind noticed his fingers tighten around the handle of his spade. The Indian was neither shackled nor guarded, which puzzled her. "Why does he not escape?"

"Getting caught for thievery dishonored him," the older Indian responded in surprisingly good English. "He now must accept his punishment, not run from it like a coward."

"That one is called Silver Cloud," Nathaniel said. "He stole from his own people, repeatedly. Offenders such as he are oft permanently branded to mark them as thieves. In Silver Cloud's case, the sachem slit his nostrils."

Rosalind grimaced at Nathaniel's words. In all of Ben's frightening tales about Indians, he never once had mentioned nostril slitting. And even if he had, she doubted she would have believed him.

"He is an outcast, shunned by his people," Nathaniel added.

Rosalind noticed that Silver Cloud's jaw clenched in response to Nathaniel's words. She thought it odd the captain would speak of each man as if he were invisible, when both were standing directly before them.

"He was seen wandering about here so frequently," Nathaniel continued, "my father, with pistol in hand, finally confronted him and threatened to jail him for trespassing. Alas, as you can see...he did not. Silver Cloud has been with us for three years now."

Rosalind began to suspect Elias Corwin was not the heartless brute the rumors had led her to believe he was. In fact, from what Nathaniel was describing, he seemed to have more compassion than she ever might have imagined.

"So, is this your new woman?" Silver Cloud asked Nathaniel.

His bold question brought an immediate blush to Rosalind's fair skin. "Nay," she responded before Nathaniel could. "I am here to see to the care of Mrs. Corwin. My name is Rosalind Chandler."

"You are too pretty." Silver Cloud's compliment was spoken with no warmth. "Be careful."

The warning look in his eyes made Rosalind feel ill at ease. She opened her mouth to ask him for what purpose she should be careful, when Nathaniel interrupted her.

"Well, enough of this idle chatter," he said, directing a scowl at Silver Cloud. "You men still have work to complete ere nightfall, so I suggest you hasten back to it. Come, Rosalind." He took her by the elbow. "I already have kept you away from my mother far too long."

Not wishing to defy Nathaniel, Rosalind allowed him to lead her away from the clearing...and the Indians.

As she and Nathaniel slowly walked back up the knoll, Rosalind could not dismiss the feeling she was being watched. So disturbing was the sensation, she heard only bits and pieces of Nathaniel's lengthy narrative about his last voyage to France. Finally, when she could bear the feeling no longer, she stole a glance over her shoulder and spied Shadow, still standing where they had left him, his hands resting on the handle of his spade, his eyes burning into her back. She gasped and snapped her head back toward Nathaniel.

"Is something amiss?" he asked.

"Indians make me uneasy. They always have."

"'Tis not unusual. Many people feel ill at ease around savages...and with good cause."

* * * * *

Rosalind supped with Abigail in her chamber that evening. The woman had invited her to sit on the large bed with her and share a trencher of bread, cheese, boiled pork and dried apples. As they nibbled on the fare, Rosalind seized the opportunity to learn more about Abigail.

"May I inquire as to how long you have been ailing?" she asked, hoping Abigail would not take offense at such a personal question.

"For the better part of a year." She drew a long breath. "At first, the weak spells lingered not more than a day or two, and then several weeks of good health would follow. But now I am constantly weak and tired. There no longer are good days...only bad. I fear I have not much longer to live."

"Please, do not say such a thing." Rosalind took a sip of cider, then gathered the courage to ask, "Have you no desire to live to witness the births of your grandchildren?"

Abigail shook her head and laughed humorlessly. "'Tis too far away to even consider. Neither of my sons is yet betrothed, and neither seems eager to remedy that situation, despite my constant urging. I shall consider myself fortunate if I am still breathing when...or if, one of them finally decides to wed."

Rosalind noticed that the tray on Abigail's lap was sliding to one side, so she leaned over to adjust it before any of the food or drink spilled onto the bed quilt. It was such a beautiful quilt, Rosalind thought – soft and white and covered with what resembled an entire garden of embroidered flowers – it would be a pity if it were to become stained.

"You cannot predict fate's plan," Rosalind said. "Why, Matthew might very well return home from college with a bride on his arm."

Abigail smiled. "You do not know Matthew. He is more likely to return home with a stack of books in his arms than a wife. Were he given the choice of a willing woman in his bed or a newly written book, he would opt to take the book to his bed."

Rosalind giggled. "You jest!"

"Nay, I swear ''tis the truth." Abigail's smile grew. "I do suspect if anyone takes a bride, 'twill be Nathaniel, long before Matthew even considers the notion."

"From what I have heard," Rosalind said, "the young women in this town would gladly chop off their right hands for the opportunity to wed either of your sons."

"Are _you_ one of those women?" Abigail's eyebrows rose.

Rosalind's bite of bread nearly lodged in her throat. "Oh, I did not mean to imply...I –I mean, no, I am not here to pursue one of your sons. I pray I did not give you that impression."

Abigail placed her hand over Rosalind's. "Nay, my dear child. I have become quite gifted at determining which women are out to snare one of my boys. I liken them to spiders, hungrily awaiting their prey to be caught in their webs. You, Rosalind, are not one of those spiders. Of that, I am certain."

"I am much relieved to hear you say that. Believe me when I say I have no interest in wedding either of your sons...though I am certain they would make fine husbands. But truth be known, I do not _ever_ wish to wed, and I shall firmly discourage any man who attempts to make me his bride."

"'Tis strange talk for such a charming young woman. Tell me, child, what has so poisoned your mind against marriage?"

"Many things. But trust me, I know what is best for me."

Abigail's brow creased. "And what is best for you is to spend the rest of your life alone, never knowing the joys of motherhood or the warmth of a babe against your breast?"

"Aye." The response came in a whisper. "'Twas not meant to be."

"I do not understand."

"'Tis really not something I care to discuss." Rosalind lifted pleading eyes to Abigail. "Would it be too terribly rude of me to request a change of topic?"

Although the girl's obvious discomfort greatly piqued Abigail's curiosity, she decided it best not to upset her on the first day of her employ. The topic of men and marriage would be dropped...for now. Nevertheless, Abigail thought, soon enough she would learn the whole truth about Mistress Chandler.

"So," Abigail said, "Have you had the opportunity to meet everyone here yet?"

"I have met your housemaids, Grace and Marian, and also Shadow Runner and Silver Cloud, who were out clearing your land."

"Then you have not met Jonathan?"

Rosalind shook her head.

Abigail took a nibble of bread that scarcely was larger than a crumb. The woman's lack of appetite concerned Rosalind. She never would regain her strength if she continued to eat nary enough to fill an ant's belly.

"Jonathan frequented our tavern," Abigail said, frowning at the memory. "The man was always alone and had a fondness for ale, which he drank until he barely could stand. We learned he had lost his wife during childbirth on the first anniversary of their marriage. The babe lived but only a few hours, which probably was why Jonathan took to drinking so heavily. Elias felt sorry for him and decided perhaps what he needed was a purpose in life, so he offered him a job here, caring for our stock. 'Tis a very rare occasion now when you will spy him lifting a tankard."

"Has he no desire to wed again and have a family?"

"Aye, he does, but I fear the tales of his past drunkenness have made him less than a desirable choice for a future husband in the eyes of most women here in town."

"Where do Jonathan...and the Indians...sleep?" Rosalind broached the subject somewhat hesitantly. "Here, in the house?"

"Nay," Abigail replied. "They sleep in one of the sheds near the stables. 'Tis quite comfortable there."

Rosalind was relieved to learn she would not be sleeping under the same roof with savages. She remained silent for a moment as she stifled a yawn. Suddenly she felt unbearably tired. "I fear the hour has grown late," she finally said. She stood and lifted the trencher and Abigail's tray from the bed and set them on a nearby stool. "I think it would be wise for you to get some rest now."

"But I am so enjoying our conversation," Abigail protested.

"And I, also. But I believe we both could benefit from some sleep. Truth be known, I am feeling quite weary. My anxiety about leaving home robbed me of a proper night's sleep last night...as did the tears of both of my younger sisters, who were distressed because they did not want me to go."

"Oh, dear child! How inconsiderate of me! I should have realized that today would be very trying for you. By all means, feel free to return to your chamber. Do not allow me to delay you a moment longer."

"First," Rosalind said, "I must make certain you take your medicine. Your husband has informed me that despite Dr. Tuthill's orders to take a spoonful each day, you have refused to heed the good doctor's advice."

"It tastes terrible," Abigail said, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue. "I dare not imagine what dreadful ingredients Dr. Tuthill combined to make the vile potion!"

Smiling and shaking her head, Rosalind removed the bottle she had tucked into the waist of her apron and opened it. She then poured a drop of the liquid onto her index finger and licked it. "It tastes of rosemary and aniseed," she said. "'Tis not unpleasant at all. I am going to give you a spoonful and you _will_ swallow it, will you not?" She raised an eyebrow at Abigail.

Abigail sighed and scowled, though her eyes could not conceal her amusement. "I was hoping you would be a timid sort, but 'tis quite apparent you are just the opposite!" She opened her mouth just wide enough to accept the medicine from Rosalind.

"There, that was not so bad now, was it? You probably will be a new woman by sunrise!"

"If I could be assured this medicine were indeed some miracle cure, I would gladly drink every last drop of it. I am still not entirely convinced, however, that it will do me any good whatsoever."

"Get some sleep now," Rosalind said. "I shall see you when the sun rises."

Struggling to carry the heavy wooden tray and trencher along with a candle to light her way, Rosalind departed Abigail's chamber and stepped out into the hallway. Even though her aching body was urging her to go directly into her own chamber and collapse onto the soft bed, she first had to return the trencher and tray to the kitchen downstairs.

She took only a few steps when the trencher slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor with a loud crash. Every morsel of food she and Abigail had not consumed lay scattered across the floor.

Rosalind rolled her eyes and silently scolded herself for being so careless. Embarrassed, she quickly knelt to clean up the mess.

"Allow me to get that for you," Nathaniel's voice startled her.

The man, she thought, was like a cat, silently moving about the house and springing out of darkened corners when least expected.

"I am so sorry," Rosalind said to him. "I should not have attempted to carry so much at once."

Nathaniel knelt, facing her, and helped her collect the remnants of food, tossing them back into the trencher. When the floor once again was clean, he lifted the trencher and stood at the same time Rosalind did.

"You look weary," he said, his eyes making a quick sweep over her face. "Go to your chamber now and rest. I shall take the tray and trencher down to the kitchen for you. That is where I am heading anyway."

"Thank you, sir, for helping me," Rosalind said. "But there is no need for you to do any more for me this eve. 'Tis my duty, after all."

Nathaniel made no move to hand the trencher back to her.

"I believe your daily duties cease when my mother retires for the eve," he said.

Rosalind did not wish to defy him, but she shook her head and said, "I do not believe my duties _ever_ cease, sir. If your mother should awaken and call out for my assistance, then I must respond posthaste, no matter what hour of the day or night."

"Then at present, if she were to call out for you, would it not be better if you were in your chamber adjoining hers and not needlessly roaming about somewhere downstairs in the kitchen?" His lips curved into a smile, causing the dimples in his cheeks to appear.

"I suppose," Rosalind said, releasing a long sigh. She hesitated for a moment, then handed the tray to him. "Thank you."

She lifted the candle in its holder and held it out in front of her as she moved back toward her chamber. Her fingers were touching the door's handle when she felt Nathaniel's hand on her shoulder.

"Were you not even going to wish me a good night?" he asked.

Rosalind turned to look up at him. His eyes locked with hers and he moved a few inches closer.

"Good night, Captain Corwin," she said, her voice sounding more brusque than she had intended. "Sleep well."

She opened the door to her chamber and stepped inside.

"Call me Nathaniel," he called after her.
CHAPTER THREE

"Mistress Rosalind," Grace's voice halted her as she walked into the kitchen the next afternoon. "Would you be kind enough to fetch a bucket of water and take it out to the workers? I would do the deed myself but I am in the midst of preparing Mister Corwin's favorite meal – eel pie."

"Eel pie?" Rosalind's expression did little to conceal her intense dislike of the dish. Although the pie also had been one her father's favorites, she never had acquired a taste for it.

"Do not look so concerned, child." Grace chuckled. "A tasty venison stew is already simmering on the lug pole, and Marian baked several loaves of bread this morn."

Grace was not telling her something she did not already know. The scent of freshly baked bread had filled the house all morning.

"Stew sounds more to my liking," Rosalind said. She walked over to the hearth and grabbed the wooden bucket that sat on the floor next to it, then headed outdoors in the direction of the well.

The warmth of the afternoon sun surrounded her like a soft blanket as she filled the bucket with water and then slowly carried it toward the knoll. She welcomed the opportunity to be outside, away from Abigail's musty chamber. She had spent the morning tending to the woman's needs – bathing her, reading the Bible to her, changing her bedding, emptying and rinsing out her chamber pot, brushing her hair and braiding it, and completing what had seemed like a hundred other tasks. Although Rosalind was fond of Abigail, the thought of being confined with her for countless hours day after day, was far from appealing. Perhaps, Rosalind, decided, Abigail's health and mood might improve if she were able to sit out in the sun for a short spell each day. The woman's wan complexion begged for color, and her lungs could only benefit from a breath of fresh air. Rosalind had offered to open the shutters and let some light enter Abigail's chamber, but the woman had protested, saying she preferred the dark.

The Corwins' land stretched out from the top of the knoll to as far as the eye could see. Rosalind paused at the top to watch a raven flying overhead. A part of her wished she could be like that raven and also fly...far away from her new life and back to her old one. To her, it already seemed as if she had been away from her family for weeks instead of only a day.

She was relieved to spy the two Indians separated by only a short distance from one another, toiling in a section of the clearing that was nearest to her. Her arm was beginning to ache from toting the heavy bucket.

As Rosalind approached the two men, her eyes immediately cut toward Shadow Runner. The Indian wore no shoes or shirt, and his deeply bronzed chest glowed as he worked to dig a stump from the soil. His snug breeches clung to his narrow hips and solid thighs, and when he bent over, Rosalind found herself unable to tear her gaze from the hollows of his back, just above his buttocks.

Shadow abruptly straightened and turned to look at her. For reasons Rosalind did not understand, the moment she set eyes on his face, she felt as if she had forgotten how to breathe.

"I-I brought you some water," she said. She plunked the bucket down in front of him with such force, a good portion of the water splashed over his feet.

Shadow squatted before the bucket, cupped his hands, dipped them into the water and drank from them. He then rubbed some of the water on his face and neck. He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded his silent thanks to her.

Rosalind stood there, as if frozen to the spot. She felt a sudden, strong urge to linger in the company of this magnificent-looking man. She wanted to talk to him, to find out more about him and his people...about being the son of a sachem. She knew it was futile to imagine a conversation of any sort with Shadow, for he did not speak, yet she could not suppress the desire. And although a part of her feared him, she, to her bewilderment, felt more inclined to remain than to walk away.

Inhaling deeply, Rosalind grasped the handle of the bucket and lifted it, then straightened and said, "I shall take this over to Silver Cloud now. If you crave more water, I shall leave the bucket beneath that oak over yonder after Silver Cloud has had his fill." She quickly strode away.

In the distance, Nathaniel Corwin stood leaning against a pine tree, his watchful gaze trained on Rosalind as she moved toward Silver Cloud. When Shadow spied the captain and the object of his attention, his eyes narrowed and his fingernails dug into the wooden handle of his spade. From the first moment the Indian had observed Nathaniel and Rosalind together, it had been disturbingly obvious to him that the captain desired the blond beauty. What troubled Shadow was he knew that Rosalind, in her innocence, had not even the slightest notion of the captain's intentions.

Shadow knew first-hand that the rumors about Nathaniel's insatiable appetite for women were true. The Indian vividly recalled the scene he had witnessed the summer before at the pond that lay on the Corwins' property. Nathaniel and a buxom, red-haired woman had first enjoyed a swim together, then emerged from the water, their naked bodies glistening in the sunlight, and had passionately fondled and caressed each other, using their mouths and hands in ways that Shadow at first had found shocking...then enticing. Unable to tear his eyes from the erotic scene, he secretly had observed the pair's lusty mating and the woman's cries of obvious pleasure. On that day, Captain Corwin unwittingly had taught him how to please a woman in ways he never had imagined possible.

Shadow directed his thoughts back to the present and to Rosalind, who cheerfully was serving water to Silver Cloud. For a brief moment he envisioned her taking the place of the red-haired woman and lying naked beneath the lecherous captain as he pounded into her. Unable to suppress the anger that rose in his throat, Shadow closed his eyes against the disturbing thought. He would do everything within his power, he vowed, to protect Rosalind from Nathaniel Corwin.

Shadow set down his spade and lifted a hoe that was lying nearby. He then began to assault the earth with it, sending large clumps of dirt flying in every direction. Both Rosalind and Silver Cloud turned to look at him.

"He seems angry," Silver Cloud said, rubbing a handful of water on the back of his neck. "Did you say or do something to offend him?"

"I said nothing, I assure you," Rosalind answered.

"Something certainly has turned his mood foul," Silver Cloud said. "But then, he has always been moody, that one – silent and serious, always keeping to himself."

"Has he ever spoken to you?"

Silver Cloud shook his head. "Not a word. But I know he understands the English tongue, so mind what you say around him." He spared her a slight smile.

"Do not worry," Rosalind assured him, lifting the bucket. "'Tis my nature to speak kindly to people."

"Even to us _savages_?" Silver Cloud asked, his smile widening.

Rosalind returned his smile. "Even to you savages!"

On her way back to the house, Rosalind caught a glimpse of a man entering the stables. She assumed he must be Jonathan, the subject of Abigail's tale of drunken woe last eve. Although she feared Abigail might already be growing impatient for her return, Rosalind allowed her curiosity to lead her to the stables. Inside, she found a man grooming a chestnut mare.

He turned to look at her when she entered.

"I am Rosalind Chandler, Mrs. Corwin's new companion," she introduced herself, smiling. "May I assume you are Jonathan?"

"Aye, I am he," he said with a nod. "Pleased to meet you, Mistress Chandler."

His steel-gray gaze boldly swept over the length of her. He was short in stature with greasy black hair, a pitted complexion and rotted teeth. His round stomach swelled above the waist of his breeches, giving him an apple-like appearance.

"You live in the main house?" he asked.

Rosalind nodded. "I have been here but one day, but already I have been made to feel as if I am one of the family. I feel fortunate to be in the Corwins' employ. I hear tell that many young women would love to be in my position."

"Indeed they would," he said, smirking. "For the sole purpose of laying claim to one of the Corwin boys. Pray tell, Miss, is that why you have come to work here?"

Rosalind's chin rose slightly. "I can assure you, sir, I have no desire whatsoever to wed a 'Corwin boy.' My only purpose for being here is to aid their mother."

Jonathan's smug grin grew broader. "Oh, we shall see. If I were a betting man, I would wager a goodly sum on your eager acceptance of a marriage proposal from either one of the lads if you were fortunate enough to be presented with the opportunity."

"Perhaps you should place that bet, sir," Rosalind said. "For it shall give me great pleasure to see you lose." She turned and stormed out of the stable.

"Spirited little thing!" Jonathan said aloud, his hand rubbing his stubbled chin as he watched Rosalind hasten toward the house. "I like that in a woman."

* * * * *

Ben and Faith were invited to dine at the Corwins' on a Friday evening two weeks later. Rosalind's eagerness to once again see her brother and his wife made the day crawl by, each minute seeming lengthier than an hour.

Determined to impress the guests, Grace and Marian spent countless hours cooking what appeared to be a kingly feast. The aroma of roasted goose, baked beans and gingerbread wafted through the house, whetting the appetite of anyone within sniffing distance. Rosalind, however, was too excited about her brother's impending visit to think about food. It seemed like a lifetime since she last had seen him.

Shortly before the guest's anticipated arrival, Grace, her hair and face damp with perspiration from long hours of cooking, pointed to a large wooden platter of boiled meats, bread and cheese, and asked Rosalind if she would mind taking it out to the men in the shed.

"Grab a pitcher of cider for them, too," Grace added, wiping her brow with a corner of her apron. "I would tend to the errand myself, but Marian and I still have to polish the silver ere the guests arrive. Tonight is very special for another reason...Master Matthew is returning home!"

The woman's announcement surprised Rosalind. No previous mention of Matthew Corwin's return had been made – not even by Abigail, who usually shared every tidbit of news with her.

The workers' shed was larger and more comfortable in appearance than Rosalind had anticipated. Three pallets of thick straw covered with blankets lined the floor. In the center of the room stood a heavy oak table surround by benches. And in the back corner, a hearth.

Smiling at the men, Rosalind set the platter of food and the pitcher on the table, but neither Shadow, Silver Cloud nor Jonathan made any move to reach for it. They stood as stiffly as soldiers at attention and stared at her.

Rosalind could not resist indulging in a lingering look at Shadow. He looked freshly scrubbed, a loose white shirt complementing his dark good looks. His thick, glossy hair was free of the leather strip that usually held it back when he was working, and it flowed down past his shoulders. To Rosalind's surprise, she found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. She might have stared at him all eve, had Silver Cloud's voice not broken the spell.

"Thank you, Miss," he said. "You caught us by surprise, as Grace always delivers our meals."

"'Tis a welcome change," Jonathan added, winking at Rosalind. The action earned him a disapproving glance from Shadow. Rosalind could not help but notice Jonathan's stained clothing and the perspiration-streaked dirt on his face and neck. She began to suspect his past history as the town drunkard was not the only reason why women were not eager to be made his wife.

"Well, I shall leave you men to your meal," Rosalind announced, feeling suddenly awkward in their company. For one thing, Jonathan was staring at her in a way that made her feel as if she were standing naked before him. "Matthew is due to arrive home at any moment."

"Oh, you will like Matthew," Jonathan said, his decayed smile widening. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you still so certain I shall lose that wager we discussed?"

"More so than ever," she said evenly. She turned to look at the two Indians. "Enjoy your supper, men." Forcing a tight smile, she took her leave.

* * * * *

Matthew's arrival was met with a round of welcoming handshakes and embraces.

"Rosalind!" Nathaniel called to her as he stood with his arm draped around his brother's shoulders. "Allow me to present my brother Matthew, the scholar."

"He exaggerates," Matthew said, laughing. He clasped Rosalind's hand. "I am pleased to meet you. Nathaniel tells me you already have done wonders for our mother."

"I have done little," Rosalind said. She removed her hand from Matthew's. "Your mother has had much to do with her own progress."

"You are too modest, Rosalind," Nathaniel said. "Ere your arrival, Mother seemed content to lie back and await her death. Now, she seems eager to join the living once again."

Rosalind did not respond. Abigail did appear to be much happier of late. Her appetite had improved and she no longer balked at taking her medicine. Perhaps, Rosalind was forced to admit, she indeed had been a positive influence on the woman in some way.

"Speaking of Mother," Matthew said, "I am eager to see her. If you good people will excuse me, I shall hasten up to her chamber."

As Rosalind watched Matthew disappear up the stairs, she concluded that Jonathan had been correct. The youngest Corwin indeed was a likable sort. His manner seemed more genuine and less polished than Nathaniel's – his smile warmer. Matthew was not as tall as his brother, but more muscular and broad-shouldered, with wide-set blue eyes and slightly curly dark hair. He exuded warmth, while Nathaniel gave the impression of being less approachable...and much more conceited.

Ten minutes later, Ben and Faith arrived. The pair barely had set foot inside when Rosalind rushed to embrace her brother.

"I have missed you so!" she cried, before turning toward Faith. "And Faith, you look wonderful!"

Rosalind spoke the truth. There was no mistaking the sparkle in Faith's bright green eyes or the flush in her cheeks as she clung to Ben's arm. Gone were any traces of the wedding-night problem Ben so awkwardly had attempted to describe to Rosalind the last time she had seen him, on the morning after his wedding. Nay, she thought, with some measure of relief, Faith looked very much like a loving wife, not a woman who did not wish to be touched by her husband.

The table in the sitting room was set with a lace table covering and pewter chargers and pitchers. A vase of yellow and white flowers decorated the center of the table. The group was just about to be seated when Matthew came downstairs and whispered to Rosalind that his mother craved a word with her posthaste. Concerned, Rosalind excused herself and hurried to Abigail's chamber.

"Is something amiss, Abigail?" she asked upon entering the room. She noticed that the woman was seated on the edge of the bed rather than lying back against her usual stack of pillows.

"Aye, there is," she responded, but her eyes twinkled with excitement. "I need you to assist me with dressing. I cannot very well join my husband and sons for supper, nor properly meet your brother and his wife, while I am wearing my nightdress!"

Rosalind could not contain her surprise. "Are you certain you feel up to this?"

"I am determined to try," Abigail said. "Quickly, child, fetch me my green dress. I do not wish to keep our guests waiting."

Hesitating for only a few seconds, Rosalind complied.

Several minutes later, Rosalind and Abigail – the frail woman clutching her young companion's arm for support – descended the stairs. A hush fell over the room as all heads turned toward the pair.

Nathaniel and Matthew leapt to their feet and rushed to assist Rosalind. Each son grasped one of Abigail's elbows, then carefully guided her to the table. When Abigail finally was seated at her husband's side, Elias leaned over and embraced her. "Beloved wife, I am pleased beyond words that you have decided to honor us with your presence this eve," he said. He turned to face Rosalind, who was standing near the table. "I cannot thank you enough, Mistress Chandler."

Rosalind wanted to tell him that Abigail was still too weak, too ill, to be up and about, and that if it had been up to her, the woman would have remained in bed where she belonged. Her only response, however, was to smile and nod.

Rosalind could not remember when she had enjoyed a meal more. Matthew was a gifted conversationalist with a knack for making people laugh, especially when he described his days at college. Within minutes, he encouraged even the most tight-lipped members of the group to contribute their own stories to the light-hearted discussion. And Ben, true to form, delighted everyone with several of his more amusing tales, including one about his first attempt to milk a cow. His pleasure was obvious as his audience hung on to his every word.

The food also was delicious, Rosalind thought, as she accepted Grace's offer of another piece of gingerbread. She considered the only drawback of the otherwise perfect evening to be Nathaniel's relentless perusal of her. He was seated directly facing her, and whenever she smiled, she felt his gaze burning into her lips. If she happened to look in his direction, his eyes instantly locked with hers. At times, Rosalind feared her food would stick in her throat, Nathaniel's gaze was so intense.

Immediately following the meal, Abigail's growing weariness became apparent. Several times, the woman's head slumped forward as she fought off sleep, only to snap back up when loud conversation or laughter startled her. Finally, Elias offered to escort her back to her chamber.

"Rosalind deserves to relax tonight and spend time with her brother and his lovely wife," Elias said. He stood and then bent to scoop up his sleeping wife into his arms. "I shall tend to Abigail's needs."

"But 'tis my duty," Rosalind protested, rising from her bench.

"Not tonight." Elias's tone was firm. Carrying Abigail, he moved toward the stairs. "Now be seated and enjoy the company of your guests."

Grateful for the opportunity to spend more time with Ben and Faith, Rosalind obeyed.

An hour later, Ben spoke the words Rosalind had been dreading since his arrival.

"This has been a most enjoyable evening," he said. "But the hour grows late, so Faith and I must be on our way." He rose and took his wife's elbow. "We are extremely grateful for your hospitality."

Rosalind's heart sank. Although the Corwins treated her like a member of their family, they were not _her_ family. Seeing Ben again had served only to heighten her desire to see her mother and sisters.

Excusing herself to the Corwin brothers, Rosalind escorted Ben and Faith outside. The three of them stood at the head of the path, each of them reluctant to bid farewell.

"Do not look so sad," Ben told his sister, giving her hand a squeeze. "I promise I shall return soon. And perhaps next time, I shall bring Mother, Nellie and Elizabeth."

"That would be wonderful," Rosalind said. "I cannot tell you how much I miss them."

"Not half as much as they miss you," he said, shaking his head. "Mark my words, bright and early on the morrow, Mother will be knocking at my door, impatient to hear how you are faring. I shall have to relate every detail of this evening's events."

"Give her my love," Rosalind said as she leaned to embrace her brother.

She stood and watched Ben and Faith as they walked away, even though the night's darkness, save for the light of the moon, prevented her from seeing them clearly. She lingered outside, not wishing to return to the house. The evening, she decided, had ended much too soon.

"You look lovely in the moonlight." Nathaniel's voice came from behind her.

Rosalind turned to find the captain casually leaning against a nearby tree.

"Are you always in the habit of sneaking up on people?" she asked him. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not nearly long enough," he responded with a lazy smile. "I could gaze at you for hours and still not tire of it."

A breeze caused Rosalind to inadvertently shiver. The sight of a bat flying overhead did little to help ease her sudden discomfort.

"I would think you have already had your fill of staring at me tonight, sir," she said. "You did naught but keep your eyes on me throughout the entire meal."

Nathaniel chuckled and moved to stand in front of her. "Surely you cannot fault me for finding you so enchanting. Has no man ever stared at you before?"

"Yes...of course." Rosalind was grateful for the darkness that concealed her blush. "But none as relentlessly as you."

"I truly am sorry," he said, moving even closer. "I was not aware I was causing you such discomfort. I do not believe you realize just how truly lovely you are, Rosalind. Your golden hair, your fair skin, your full lips – they are enough to drive any man to distraction."

She remained silent, not certain how to respond. She was eager to rid herself of the smooth-talking captain. Finally, she said, "If you will excuse me, I shall return to my chamber now. It has been an exhausting day." She nodded at him. "Good evening."

"Do not leave yet." Rosalind felt Nathaniel's strong fingers close around her upper arm. "My purpose for coming out here was to deliver some good news."

Rosalind eyed him suspiciously and tugged her arm from his grasp. "Oh? So pray tell, what is this good news of yours?"

"Father has suggested that I escort you to your mother's on Monday for a visit. He knows how eager you are to see her and your sisters, so he thought a visit would please you. 'Tis his way of rewarding you for all you have done for my mother. He was thrilled beyond words to have her sup with us tonight. It had been far, far too long."

Rosalind's eyes widened. "Truthfully? You will escort me to see my family?"

Nathaniel nodded and smiled. "'Twill be my pleasure." He reached out to brush a stray golden curl from Rosalind's forehead. "Shall we plan on Monday, then?"

"Oh yes!" she responded without any hesitation. "I can barely wait until then!"

"Good. Then it is settled. Word will be sent to your mother so she can expect us."

"Thank you, Nathaniel," Rosalind said. She bowed her head. "I know not how to express my gratitude."

"I can think of a way," he said softly. Before Rosalind could respond, he took her chin in his hand and lifted it until her eyes were forced to meet his. Leaning, he pressed his lips to hers, lingering there for several moments before he broke away. It was a gentle, undemanding kiss that caused Rosalind to unconsciously touch her lips after it ended.

"Good night, fair Rosalind," he called to her over his shoulder as he strode toward the door. There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he added, "Do not stand outside too long. You might catch a chill."

Rosalind glared at his back until he disappeared through the doorway. Nathaniel Corwin, she decided, was someone she would be wise to avoid. He appeared to be doing everything within his power to undermine her efforts to keep their relationship strictly formal...yet she could not fathom his reasons why. Had she not been so eager to visit her mother and sisters, she would have been sorely tempted to rethink her plans for Monday. Just the thought of traveling alone through the woods with the captain made her feel uneasy.

* * * * *

Shadow Runner stepped out of the shed and halted, his eyes narrowing as he spied the couple in front of the stables. Moving back into the shadows, he watched Nathaniel lift Rosalind onto the pillion on the back of the chestnut mare. Even after Rosalind had been properly seated, Nathaniel allowed his hands to linger at her waist – an action that brought a scowl of disapproval to the Indian's face. When the captain swung up onto the same horse, Shadow's hands clenched into fists. The sight of Nathaniel and Rosalind seated together that way, their bodies touching, disturbed him to such a degree, he had to fight the urge to run up to the horse and yank Nathaniel to the ground.

Shadow's eyes trailed the horse and its riders until they were but a speck in the distance...and he spied Elias Corwin, cat-o'-nine-tails in hand, striding toward the shed.

Shadow swiftly moved in the direction of the clearing to resume his work, vowing with each step that if Nathaniel dared to lay even one finger on Rosalind, he would have to learn to make do with only nine fingers.

* * * * *

Rosalind never had ridden on a horse before. The majority of the townspeople traveled either by foot or by dugout, for horses were a luxury few could afford. Although she could not deny that this new experience was exciting, it also was frightening. After all, she reasoned, unlike other modes of transportation, a horse possessed a will of its own. That thought unnerved her. What if the animal decided to leap over a cliff or lie down and roll in the mud? Rosalind resisted the urge to cling to Nathaniel. She held no doubt that the captain would misinterpret the action, and she was steadfast in her determination not to afford the man even the slightest bit of encouragement.

The sky was overcast and the air humid as they rode in silence along the winding trail. Rosalind thought the leaves on the trees looked more green than she had ever seen them. Perhaps, she thought, it was because of late, she had seen the inside of the Corwins' house much more frequently than she had seen trees.

Rosalind could not help but wonder how her mother would react when she saw her daughter in the company of Nathaniel, one of the illustrious Corwin brothers. She hoped the woman would not read something into their relationship that was not there...or even worse, be bold enough to attempt to play matchmaker.

"Tell me about your family," Nathaniel suddenly said, glancing back at her. "I wish to know more about them ere I meet them today."

"Well, there is my sister Nellie, who is eleven. Then there is Elizabeth, who is ten-and-seven. And you already are acquainted with Ben, who, at three-and-twenty, is nearly four years my elder."

"And what of your mother, the widow? Has she any plans to take another husband?"

Rosalind shook her head. "'Tis much too soon to even consider. She still misses my father too greatly. 'Tis not as if she has not yet been presented with the opportunity, however. Ben informed me that Ezekiel Rowe has expressed an interest in making Mother his next bride."

"Ezekiel Rowe!" Nathaniel laughed. "The man must be close to eighty! On their wedding night your mother no doubt would be made a widow for the second time!"

"Not to worry." Rosalind said. "Mother never would marry a man she did not love."

"Oh, and love is very important?"

"Extremely. My brother confessed to me that he loves Faith more than his heart can bear. That is the way it _should_ be between a husband and wife."

"Really?" Nathaniel sounded amused. "And you, I presume, are an expert on such matters of the heart?"

"Hardly. But I believe love should be the primary reason why people wed."

"Oh? I always assumed procreation was the most important reason."

"To most people it is," she said. "But it should not be. Does it not make sense that if a woman loves her husband, she will welcome his touch more often and therefore increase her chances of conceiving? So, in my opinion, _love_ aids procreation."

Nathaniel chuckled and shook his head. "You are so innocent, so full or romantic notions. Did your mother never tell you that 'tis a woman's _duty_ to pleasure her husband? It does not matter whether she enjoys his touch or is repulsed by it. 'Tis still her duty and she still will conceive."

Leave it to Nathaniel, Rosalind thought, to reduce her ideas of love to something as romantic as churning butter.

"Believe it or not, dear girl," Nathaniel continued, "many women enjoy bedding men...with or without this love of which you speak. I cannot count the number of women who have frequented my cabin when my ship was in port and offered themselves to me."

_For a price_ , Rosalind thought, scowling at the back of his head. "Pray tell, did you accept their offers?"

He laughed. "Some things are best kept secret."

Rosalind already knew the answer. She did not doubt for one moment that Nathaniel shamelessly had bedded any and every woman who had set foot aboard his ship. His notions about love, marriage and women greatly disturbed her.

"Are you aware that your mother anticipates you to be the first to wed?" she asked.

"Aye." He tugged on the reins to maneuver the horse around a large branch that had fallen across the trail. "The woman is eager to be made a grandmother and feels that I, because I am her first born, also should be the first to fulfill that wish. I have told her repeatedly, however, she must wait until I find the right woman."

Rosalind could not help but wonder what constituted the "right" woman for a man like Nathaniel Corwin. Although she first had assumed his bride would have to be chaste and untouched, she now suspected that a worldly, experienced woman would better suit him.

As if reading her thoughts, Nathaniel said, "Of course, I shall insist that my bride be pure. It is imperative that I be the first man to touch her, and, God willing, the last."

"And how, pray tell, do you intend to keep a wife happy or be a proper husband and father when you are away at sea more oft than you are at home?" Rosalind asked.

"When I wed, I shall give up sailing and manage my father's tavern."

His reply surprised her. Nathaniel did not impress her as the sort who would give up anything to please a woman. "'Tis very noble of you," she said.

"Not really." He shrugged. "My sole purpose for remaining in town will be to keep a watchful eye on my wife. If I were away at sea, I am certain men would be more than eager to seize the opportunity to help ease her loneliness...for I never would marry a woman who was anything less than beautiful."

Rosalind directed another glare at the back of his head.

"If she took a lover during my absence," the captain continued, "'twould destroy both my pride and my reputation, neither of which would be acceptable. Therefore, my intent is to never allow my wife that temptation."

Unable to think of a response that would sound anything other than rude, Rosalind remained silent.

"And what of you?" Nathaniel asked. "Have you set your sights on a prospective future groom as yet?"

"Certainly not!" she answered, thinking it really was no concern of his whether she had or had not.

"So, pray tell, what are you waiting for?"

Rosalind gritted her teeth. "A snowy day in August!"

He tilted back his head and laughed. "You win. I shall drop the subject!"

Rosalind was unable to mask her embarrassment when she spied the cluster of neighbors that had gathered in front of her mother's house. It was apparent her mother and sisters already had spread the news that the magistrate's son would be visiting. As Nathaniel reined the horse to a halt in front of her mother's weathered, clapboard, one-story house, several of the children in the group stepped forward to stare wide-eyed at the mare. One lad even was bold enough to reach out and touch the animal's side. Silence fell over the crowd as Nathaniel dismounted, then reached up, grasped Rosalind around the waist and lowered her to the ground. He then tethered the horse to a small maple tree.

After she had smoothed her skirts and her hair, Rosalind turned to face the gaping onlookers. "This is Nathaniel Corwin," she announced, "the magistrate's son."

Giggles and whispers circulated as Nathaniel, flashing one of his dazzling smiles, acknowledged the group with a nod. Rosalind thought he looked very much out of place in his crisp white shirt tied at the neck, tailored black-leather jerkin, tan-colored breeches and knee-high black boots as he stood surrounded by people whose plain, worn clothing appeared to have been salvaged solely due to an abundance of creative mending and patching.

The starry-eyed gazes of several of the younger maidens drew a frown from Rosalind. Nathaniel, she thought, already was too conceited for his own good. He certainly did not need to have his head further inflated by this group of adoring strangers.

When Rosalind entered her family's home, she was taken aback by the amount of cleaning, scrubbing and furniture rearranging that apparently had been done in preparation for the visit.

"Mother!" Rosalind rushed to embrace the slim, dark-haired woman. "I have missed you so!" Before her mother could respond, she gathered both Nellie and Elizabeth into her arms for a hug.

"Nathaniel," Rosalind finally directed her attention to the man she had left standing in the doorway, "I would like you to meet my mother and my sisters, Nellie and Elizabeth." Nellie, petite and apple-cheeked, with an abundance of golden curls, and Elizabeth, tall, slender and dark like her mother, both smiled shyly at the handsome captain.

"Pleased to meet you," Nathaniel responded, smiling, as he stepped into the room. "Rosalind neglected to mention that the three of you were so lovely."

Rosalind suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and groan as her sisters and, heaven forbid, even her mother, tittered and blushed in response.

"We have eagerly been awaiting your arrival," Rosalind's mother said, directing her comment to Nathaniel rather than to her daughter. "Please, be seated. I shall fetch you some refreshment." She beckoned to Nellie and Elizabeth, who followed her to the corner of the room that served as the kitchen.

Nathaniel straddled a stool and then scanned his surroundings. Rosalind wondered what he was thinking as his eyes swept over the plain, well-worn furnishings and dirt floor.

"Cozy," he finally said. "'Tis exactly what I had imagined it would be."

"It seems so small and cluttered now," Rosalind said, seating herself on a plain wooden bench. With a cupboard, great chest, table, benches, stools, kettles, pots and even two beds crammed into the room, it seemed ready to burst. "I fear I have grown too accustomed to the spacious accommodations at your house."

"And of having a bed all to yourself?" he added, glancing at the larger bed in the corner. "Do you not miss sharing a bed with your sisters?"

"At first, I did. But I now have come to appreciate the solitude. Also 'tis nice to be able to sleep in the center of the bed if I so desire."

"Well, do not grow too fond of sleeping alone," Nathaniel said, smiling slightly.

Rosalind regarded him curiously.

"Sorry for the delay," her mother, with Nellie and Elizabeth at her heels, interrupted. The three stood directly in front of Nathaniel and offered him food and drink, then stood staring at him.

Nodding his thanks to the trio, Nathaniel accepted a mug of ale and piece oatcake. As he ate and drank, six adoring eyes burned into him. Rosalind witnessed the look of discomfort on his face as her family continued to watch him eat. Perhaps now, she thought, with a small measure of satisfaction, Nathaniel might comprehend how she had felt when he had stared at her throughout supper the night Ben and Faith had come to dine.

Several minutes passed before Rosalind reluctantly decided to come to the captain's aid. "Nellie, Elizabeth," she said with more than a touch of enthusiasm, "Captain Corwin's mare is tethered out front. Would you not like to go out and see her?"

"May we?" Nellie asked, her brows arching.

"By all means," Nathaniel answered, his tone hinting of his relief. "And be sure to scratch her neck. She likes that."

Both girls quickly disappeared, slamming the heavy door behind them. Rosalind hoped that by the time her sisters returned, some of their wide-eyed fascination with Nathaniel would have faded. In truth, her family's behavior was beginning to try her patience.

"May I have something to drink?" Rosalind was forced to pose the question to her mother's back.

"You know where it is," her mother absently replied with a wave of her hand. Her gaze remained riveted on Nathaniel as he sipped his ale.

Sighing, Rosalind rose to her feet, but Nathaniel held up his hand to halt her.

"Please, Rosalind," his command was spoken gently. "Remain seated for a few moments. There is a matter of great importance that I wish to discuss with you and your mother, and 'twould be best to do it now, while the three of us are alone."

Bewildered, Rosalind dropped back onto the bench and turned her attention to Nathaniel. Her mother moved to sit next to her.

Nathaniel set down his drink and stood. Then, with his hands clasped behind his back, he spoke directly to Rosalind's mother. "Mrs. Chandler," he began, his tone formal, "I normally would address this question to your husband, but under your unfortunate circumstances I, of course, cannot." His eyes briefly cut toward Rosalind, and she spied a flicker of amusement in them. He then returned his attention to her mother. "I seek permission to marry your daughter."

A shocked, outraged gasp escaped Rosalind's lips.

"I realize I have known Rosalind but a short time," Nathaniel calmly continued, "but at first sight, I knew she was the woman I have been waiting for. Not only do I adore her, my entire family also is completely smitten with her."

Rosalind's mother's hands flew up to her face, which suddenly was bright with color. "Dear Lord in heaven! Tell me I am not dreaming!"

"I assure you," Nathaniel said, smiling, "you are fully awake."

"I knew it!" her mother cried, her eyes lifting heavenward as if to deliver a silent prayer of thanks. "I knew my lovely Rosalind would win your heart – albeit, not quite so swiftly – but I knew it!"

"When I set my mind to do something," Nathaniel said, "I do not delay. In fact, if you are not opposed, Mrs. Chandler, I would like to make this betrothal but a brief one."

"I support your decision completely," the woman responded, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. "Lengthy betrothals serve little purpose other than to frustrate the young people who are so eager to begin their new life together." She rose from the bench and rushed to Nathaniel for an embrace. "Welcome to our family, my son!"

Clutching her chest, Rosalind stared at her mother and Nathaniel, her eyes wide with disbelief. The two of them, paying no mind whatsoever to what _she_ wanted, were planning her future! She shook her head to clear it. This could not be happening, she thought, refusing to believe the conversation she had just witnessed. For what purpose, she wondered, was Nathaniel doing this to her...to her family? Solely to entertain himself? He knew all too well she had no desire to wed him, nor any other man, yet here he stood, giving her mother false hope and seemingly enjoying every moment of his ruse. Rage coursed through Rosalind with such force, it robbed her of her breath and the room began to spin. She grasped the table's edge to prevent herself from falling off her bench.

"My dear, dear Rosalind," her mother tearfully breathed, oblivious of her daughter's stricken expression and sudden pallor. "You and Captain Corwin have made me the happiest woman alive! I _must_ send word to Benjamin posthaste!" She dabbed at her eyes with a corner of her apron, then turned toward the door. "I shall engage either Elizabeth or Nellie to deliver the wonderful news to him! I am certain he will be as thrilled as I am!"

By the time Rosalind found her voice, her mother already had disappeared outside.

"Surprised?" Nathaniel asked her, his expression so smug, Rosalind wanted to leap up and claw it from his face. He returned to the stool and seated himself. Tilting back, he clasped his hands behind his head and leaned against the wall.

"Furious!" Rosalind shot back. "I do not know what game you are playing, Captain, but I shall _not_ allow you to make a mockery of me or my family! I insist you put an end to all of this ere it goes any further!"

"Too late." His tone was matter-of-fact. "I will wager that at this very moment your mother is out there spreading the news to everyone within earshot! In fact, the news probably will have reached my parents' estate ere we even get back."

"Well, then," Rosalind said through gritted teeth, "you shall have a good number of people to explain the truth to, for I have absolutely _no_ intention of wedding you – not now, not ever! And I cannot fathom what it was I ever said or did to give you the mistaken impression that I would!"

Nathaniel leaned forward, returning the stool to its upright position. He smiled at her. "Dear girl, 'tis what you did _not_ do that enticed me! Since you have been in my parents' employ, you have shown very little interest in me, have rebuffed any and all of my attempts to get close to you, and have made no attempt whatsoever to pursue me. I find your aloofness incredibly...stimulating. In truth, the more you avoid me, the more I desire you. And 'tis certainly no secret that my parents adore you. 'Twould not surprise me in the least if my mother miraculously recovers her health when she learns of this news. What better reason for us to be wed?"

" _Love_!" she snapped.

Nathaniel shook his head and chuckled. "Ah, yes, _love_! How well I remember our conversation during our journey here. Your romantic notions were so innocent, so amusing, I decided at that moment to ask your mother for your hand."

Rosalind glared at him. "I am _so_ pleased to hear you took so much time to make a decision as important as selecting the woman with whom you will spend the rest of your life! Would not the flip of a coin have served equally as well?"

Nathaniel laughed easily. "You do amuse me, my love. As I told your mother, when I want something, I do not hesitate to take it. What purpose would it serve to delay what you and I both know is inevitable?"

"Inevitable?"

"Aye. Given more time, you would come to love me...all women do. I, however, have not the patience to wait. So, we shall wed first. This essential _love_ you seem to so highly regard and consider of the utmost importance prior to marriage, will just have to come later."

"You pompous swine!" she hissed, her eyes blazing. "I would rather wed Daniel Straw!"

Nathaniel's eyebrows arched. "The whiner who hangs onto his mother's skirts and fears his own shadow?"

Rosalind's rage increased. "You find all of this to be amusing, do you? Well, how amusing will it be when I am forced to cause my mother undue pain by confessing to her that there will be no wedding – that this betrothal is nothing but some ruse you created for your own pleasure? If, as you say, she is out there spreading the word to everyone within earshot, then she will be made to look the fool!"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Then do not tell her. Marry me and please both your family and mine. Have you so soon forgotten that your mother still mourns the loss of your father? Do you care so little about her feelings that you would snatch away this one bit of happiness from her?"

"There would be no need to distress her if you first had consulted me ere you asked her for my hand!" Rosalind's anger caused her voice to tremble. "And I refuse to allow you to use guilt to force me to do your bidding!"

Nathaniel released a long sigh and stood. "My dear Rosalind, you do confuse me." He moved closer and his eyes penetrated hers. "Do you find me so terribly unappealing? Would being wed to me really be so distasteful?"

"I barely know you, sir. But from what I have witnessed during our brief acquaintance, I am convinced no one on this earth is – or ever could be – as important to you as Captain Nathaniel Corwin!"

"'Tis no crime to possess a high opinion of one's self." He seemed unfazed by her insult. "I would not be the successful man I am today if I lacked confidence."

"Your success is a direct result of your father's wealth," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "And there is a vast difference between confidence and conceit!"

"My father's wealth is what has kept a roof over your family's heads for the past six months!" he snapped.

Rosalind stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he mumbled. "I said nothing." He looked away from her.

Rosalind leapt to her feet and roughly grasped his forearm. "Tell me what you meant!"

Nathaniel turned to face her, then tugged his arm from her grasp.

"Please, Nathaniel," she said, her voice softening.

Sighing, he moved to sit on a bench near the table and patted the space next to him. Rosalind quickly sat.

"Your father," he began, "made some unfortunate...investments...involving several unsavory gentlemen from Boston, ere his death. He was on the verge of losing his house and land to them when he sought out my father and begged him for a loan...a substantial sum of money. Your father died shortly thereafter, without paying back as much as a shilling to my father."

Rosalind only stared at him, too confused to speak.

"By law," Nathaniel continued, "my father can take any or all of your family's property and possessions as payment for the loan, whenever he so desires."

"My father was an honorable man who worked hard for his family!" Rosalind's chin rose. "Why should I believe even one word of what you say?"

"Because my father keeps very accurate and detailed records of all such transactions...and your father signed for the loan. Would you care to see the document upon our return?"

Rosalind silently studied Nathaniel for several moments, then lowered her head. "Does my mother know of this?"

"I cannot answer that for certain, but I do know that if I had been your father, I would not have wished for anyone in my family to be made aware of what I had done, for my shame would have been too great."

Rosalind could not dispute his words. She knew what a proud man her father always had been and how he would not have wanted anyone, most especially her mother, to learn of the errors in his judgment.

"I came upon the document several days ago while searching through my father's desk for some sealing wax for a letter," Nathaniel said. "I have mentioned it to no one."

Rosalind hesitated to ask her next question. "These unfortunate 'investments' of which you speak...are you saying my father might secretly have been...gambling?"

Nathaniel looked away from her. "Aye, you might say that."

He rose to his feet and turned his back to her.

Rosalind moved to stand directly in front of him. "My mother must never find out, then." Her gaze was imploring. "She thought so highly of my father, this news would destroy her, as would the constant fear and uncertainty of losing the house he so lovingly built for her and their future family together."

Nathaniel's eyes appeared empty of any feeling, most especially sympathy, when he returned her gaze. "No doubt it would be very upsetting for her. But not to worry. Your dear mother and sisters shall never learn the truth, nor will they be forced to surrender their home and land to settle your father's debt. I can promise you that." His eyes narrowed as he reached out to slowly run his index finger down the side of her face. "That is, unless you refuse to wed me."

For a second, Rosalind feared her heart had ceased beating. She jerked her head from his touch. "That is blackmail!"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Call it whatever you wish."

# CHAPTER FOUR

"The wedding will be held here, of course," Abigail said, clasping her hands together and smiling. "And I shall have the best seamstress from Boston brought here to fashion your wedding dress from the finest silk!"

Rosalind absently fiddled with a leaf that had fallen onto her lap as she and Abigail sat outside in the spring sun. Nathaniel's prediction had been correct. The news of the betrothal had done more for Abigail's health than any medicine or tonic. Although it had been but two days, already the woman's movements seemed more animated, her complexion less wan and her eyes brighter. In fact, she was the one who had suggested they sit outside, which attested to her improved condition.

Sparrows flitted about in the branches of a sturdy maple that stood at the edge of the Corwins' dooryard. Rosalind watched them, envying their freedom to fly wherever they pleased...and not be hopelessly trapped the way she felt she was. She wanted to stay outside forever and never return to her chamber in the Corwins' house. Her only wish at that moment was to be far away from all of this foolish talk of weddings.

There was, however, one small blessing for which Rosalind was grateful. That morning, Nathaniel had announced he would be sailing to, among other ports, Plymouth and Gloucester at week's end and would be away for a fortnight. She already was counting the minutes until his departure.

"I cannot tell you how thrilled I am that you will soon become a part of our family," Abigail was saying, paying no mind to Rosalind's silence or distant expression. "Did I not tell you from our first meeting that I knew you were special? Fortunately, my son quickly formed the same opinion. You certainly swept him off his feet, child. In little more than two weeks' time you have managed to accomplish what scores of young women have been attempting to do for years! Pray tell, what is your secret? Everyone is curious to know!"

Rosalind shrugged. "I fear there is no secret. Nathaniel told me he was drawn to me because unlike most women, I displayed little interest in him."

"Oh, I believe Nathaniel decided at first sight that he wanted to make you his wife. I could tell by the look in his eyes whenever he spoke of you that you immediately had captured his heart. A mother can sense these things!"

Rosalind sighed wearily. "In truth, I find all of this a bit overwhelming and occurring much too fast. My head feels as if it is spinning."

"Oh, all young maidens who are about to become brides feel as you do." Abigail dismissed Rosalind's statement with a wave of her hand. "And, I assure you, as the big day approaches, you will feel even more overwhelmed." She reached over to place her hand on Rosalind's arm. "But 'twill all be worth it in the end. I foresee a long and happy life for you and Nathaniel...blessed with many children."

Rosalind stared at the ground and suppressed the urge to tell Abigail that the only way she and Nathaniel would live a long and happy life would be if they lived it far apart.

"I have been curious about something, child," Abigail said, turning to face her. "On the first day of your employ, you swore to me you never would wed. And you were so adamant about it, you had me convinced it never would occur. What caused you to so swiftly change your mind?"

_Blackmail_ , she wanted to shout at her. Instead, she responded, "Your son can be very persuasive." She lifted her eyes. "Believe me, he would not accept 'no' for an answer."

"Well, whatever it was that Nathaniel said or did to convince you to change your mind and become his bride, believe me, no one could be more pleased than I!"

"Oh, my mother might dispute that claim." Rosalind forced a tight smile. "She all but danced a jig when Nathaniel asked her for my hand."

Abigail laughed a warm, rich laugh that brought a sparkle to her hazel eyes. Although it pleased Rosalind to see the woman so happy, she wished the reason for Abigail's joy were something other than this mockery of a betrothal.

"I think it would be a good idea to have your mother and sisters sup with us soon," Abigail said. "I wish to become well acquainted with them ere the wedding."

"May Ben and Faith come also?" Rosalind's eyebrows rose. She desperately wanted the opportunity to speak privately to her brother.

"Most definitely!" Abigail said. "Truth be known, child, I would do anything to please you. After all, look at all you have done for me. For the first time in a very long time, I am not looking toward my death, but toward my future. I even intend to be fully recovered far in advance of the birth of my first grandchild!"

Rosalind looked away from her and took a long breath in an effort to settle the knot in her stomach. How special would Abigail think she was, she wondered, if she knew the truth – that she had no intention whatsoever of marrying her son – that she had not changed her mind at all about marriage, and with good reason. She would not – could not – allow this nightmare to progress as far as the wedding day. Her only hope was to confess everything to Ben, and then together they would think of a solution. They _had_ to.

* * * * *

At first, Shadow Runner refused to believe the news Grace delivered along with his supper.

"Master Nathaniel and Mistress Rosalind are to be wed!" she excitedly announced. "Is it not wonderful?"

"I knew it!" Jonathan exclaimed, slapping his knee and laughing. "Barely two weeks it took the lass to blind him with her charms. I knew all of her protests and denials when I accused her of being here for the purpose of snaring a Corwin lad rang false!"

Shadow stiffened, his fists clenched at his sides. Surely, he thought, Grace was mistaken. Rosalind never would promise herself to a rogue like Nathaniel, and certainly not this quickly. Shadow held little doubt that within a week after the wedding, if even that long, Nathaniel would be out searching for some tavern wench to satisfy him. Rosalind deserved so much better...or at least until now, he had believed she did. Granted, he did not know her well enough to understand the workings of her mind, but he had perceived her to be different from other women and not the type who would wed a man solely for his wealth or power. Yet, try as he might, he could not deny what seemed so painfully obvious...that Rosalind indeed had come to work for the Corwins to snare a husband.

Well, he thought bitterly, if that had been her mission, then she obviously had wasted not a minute in carrying it out.

* * * * *

To Rosalind, the days preceding Nathaniel's impending voyage crawled by at a snail's pace. She purposely had avoided the captain, sharing all of her meals with Abigail in the confines of the woman's chamber, and then often retiring to her own chamber even before the sun had set.

On the eve of Nathaniel's departure, Rosalind was returning Abigail's tray to the kitchen when the captain confronted her in the hallway.

"When you come out of the kitchen," he said evenly, blocking her path, "we shall take a walk." His tone invited no argument.

Not wishing to incite a quarrel, Rosalind nodded. She knew what Nathaniel wanted, and the thought had filled her with dread all week. He would insist upon a farewell kiss, especially now that they were betrothed. It did not matter to him that such familiarity between an unwed man and woman was considered a sin – he already had proven as much when he had kissed her the night of Ben's visit.

Rosalind decided to stall her walk with Nathaniel for as long as possible, hoping he would grow frustrated and give up waiting for her. After all, he was leaving early, before sunrise, for the harbor, so she assumed he would need his rest.

She generously offered her assistance in the kitchen, and Grace, kind soul that she was, seized the opportunity to unburden herself of as many unpleasant tasks as Rosalind would accept.

When Rosalind, her hair a mass of disheveled curls and her face smudged with soot from cleaning kettles, finally emerged from the kitchen well over two hours later, she expected to find no trace of Nathaniel.

"I can be patient...when I wish to be." Nathaniel's calm voice startled her. He was leaning against the wall near the front door, his arms folded across his chest. Before Rosalind could recover from the surprise of seeing him, he moved toward her, grasped her by the wrist and led her outside.

She silently cursed herself for having wasted so much time in the kitchen. Not only had she nearly worked her fingers to the bone for naught, it now was dark outside. Had she not been so determined to delay the walk, she at least would have had some remnants of daylight for an ally.

The black evening sky was sprinkled with stars, and a gentle breeze caressed the couple as they walked to the edge of the dooryard. The air felt refreshing against Rosalind's skin, which was damp with perspiration from her time spent in the hot kitchen. The moon offered only a small amount of light to guide their way as they walked in silence. The night was quiet, save for the sounds of chirping of crickets and the song of a night bird in the distance.

Rosalind kept her head lowered and prayed for strength, for she was uncertain what Nathaniel was about to say or do. She found a small measure of comfort in knowing that after this eve, she would be free of him for a fortnight.

After several long minutes, Nathaniel stopped walking and turned to face her. Reluctantly, she looked up at him.

"You have been avoiding me of late," he said. "I had anticipated that the days ere my departure would be spent with us growing closer, not more distant."

"Your mother has required my attention more often than usual this week," she explained, tearing her eyes from his penetrating gaze. "She feels it is necessary to consult with me on every decision about the wedding. And after constantly tending to her needs each day, I have been too exhausted to do anything other than retire to my chamber."

"If you are indeed as weary as you claim," he said, his chin rising, "then why did you so eagerly offer to assist Grace in the kitchen just now?" When Rosalind lowered her head and remained silent, Nathaniel sighed and shook his head. "You do not like me much, do you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Rosalind reached up to twist a lock of her hair. She allowed her eyes to return to his. "Nay, I do not."

"And despite witnessing my mother's delight and improved health due to the news of our betrothal, you still would prefer not to wed me?"

"As I told you, I do not wish to wed any man." Before she could stop herself, she added, "but most especially you."

Nathaniel stared at her for a moment, his expression revealing nothing. He turned and presented his back to her, then gazed up at the stars.

His lack of response disturbed Rosalind. She feared she might have made him too angry to speak. And the last thing she wanted was to anger a man who held her family's future in his hands.

"I apologize," she softly said. "I did not mean to blurt out my feelings that way."

Nathaniel slowly turned to face her. "Do not apologize for being honest," he said. "You may not have feelings for me now, but I still believe you will come to love me. Perhaps 'tis for the best that I am leaving on the morrow. Our time apart might serve to strengthen our relationship." He offered her a slight smile. "Perhaps you even will come to miss me."

Rosalind remained silent, afraid to comment, for she was certain her words once again would spill out in the form of an insult.

Nathaniel moved closer to her until his body nearly touched hers. "Do you realize how much I desire you?" he asked. He used his thumb to wipe a smudge of soot from her cheek. "You are far too innocent to understand that whenever you are near, whenever I see your hips swaying as you walk, I ache from wanting you."

To some extent, Rosalind understood the meaning of his words. Her brother oft had discussed his own aching need for Faith during their courtship. And it was that very ache that had driven Ben to his regrettable behavior on his wedding night.

"I suppose I should be flattered that I incite such desire within you," she said, her cheeks coloring, "especially since I have done naught to purposely tempt you. Perhaps 'twould be to your benefit while on this voyage, Captain, if you entertain several of those women of whom you spoke – you recall, the ones who so eagerly flock to your cabin whenever your ship is in port?" She lifted her chin and looked directly at him. "I am certain they would be more than willing to relieve this disturbing 'ache' of which you speak."

Nathaniel smiled wryly. "My desire is only for you, my sweet. I assure you, there will be no wenches aboard my ship during this voyage, for 'tis only proper that I respect our betrothal and remain faithful to my future bride."

"Do as you wish," Rosalind said with a shrug. "I shan't know the difference."

"But _I_ shall. And, despite what you may think, I _do_ have a conscience."

Rosalind swallowed a laugh. _Conscience?_ Considering all she had observed of his actions thus far, she was convinced he did not even know the meaning of the word! She did not doubt for a moment that he frequently would sate his lust while away. And truth be known, she hoped he would. She had neither the desire nor the patience to deal with the frustrated, ill-tempered beast she was certain would return home to her in two weeks' time if, by some miracle, Nathaniel did manage to keep his word and remain celibate. Sighing, she dismissed the thought. Not for a moment did she believe the captain suddenly would transform into a pillar of virtue. Nay, he was too set in his ways.

"The hour grows late," Nathaniel said. "As much as I am enjoying being out here alone with you, I fear I must retire. Had you not insisted upon delaying our walk, we would have been afforded much more time to spend on our last night together."

"I also am in need of rest," Rosalind said. "It has been a long day and I am weary. Goodnight, Captain. I wish you a safe voyage and a safe return. Godspeed."

Not allowing him the courtesy of an opportunity to respond, she turned toward the house and began to walk at a rapid pace. It came as no surprise to her when she felt Nathaniel's hands on her shoulders. She halted and stiffened.

"You did not intend to allow your future husband to go off to sea with such a cold farewell, did you?" he asked, turning her around to face him.

Ere Rosalind could respond, Nathaniel pulled her against him. His hand reached behind her to grasp a handful of her hair and force her head back until she was looking directly up at him. He then lowered his mouth to hers, crushing her lips beneath his in forceful kiss. His mouth was possessive and demanding, nearly sucking the breath from her as his lips sought hers over and over again. His breathing grew more rapid and a moan escaped from him as his tongue forced its way between her lips and flicked against her own tongue. Rosalind felt as if she were being devoured.

Summoning all of her strength, she pressed her palms against the captain's chest and pushed him away. She then took several steps backwards and used the back of her hand to wipe his kiss from her mouth.

Nathaniel cocked his head and smiled at her. "Did you not enjoy being kissed in the way the comely maidens in France taught me, my love?" he asked.

Glaring at him, Rosalind lifted her long skirts above her ankles and ran into the house.

* * * * *

On the fourth day following Nathaniel's departure, Rosalind's mother and sisters, accompanied by Ben and Faith, arrived at the Corwins' for supper. Although it was the habit of most people to eat only a light meal in the evening, the Corwins enjoyed large meals no matter what time of the day they dined. The table was spread with an assortment of meats and fish, breads, cheese and vegetables.

During the meal, Rosalind sat with her chin resting on one hand while she picked at her food with the other. The more the group's enthusiastic chatter centered around the impending wedding, the more withdrawn she became. She could concentrate only on her urgent need to confess her troubles to Ben. She had no idea how she would manage to lure him away from the table, and especially from his new bride, Faith, but for the sake of her sanity, she knew she had to find a way.

"You are very quiet this eve, my daughter," Rosalind's mother commented. "Are you feeling ill?"

"The poor child is probably missing Nathaniel," Abigail cut in. "And here we are, chattering endlessly about the wedding, which more likely than not, is causing her to long for Nathaniel's return even more."

Rosalind managed a weak smile. "In truth, all this talk of weddings is making my head throb."

"I know exactly how you feel," Faith said, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "I was so nervous ere my wedding day, my stomach refused to accept any food. Ben was concerned I would starve ere he could make me his bride!"

"I am certain I shall be fine," Rosalind said. She lifted a spoonful of corn to her mouth, eyed it, and then put it back down. "But I do believe I shall need some time to adjust to the notion of becoming a bride. 'Tis all happening a bit too rapidly."

"You will make such a beautiful bride," Abigail said, smiling. "Nathaniel is indeed a lucky man."

"All of us Corwins are lucky," Elias added. "Soon we shall gain a lovely new daughter."

"And sisters," Matthew said, nodding at Nellie and Elizabeth.

Blushing, Elizabeth smiled shyly at the youngest Corwin.

Rosalind could bear no more. The smiles, the compliments, the endless talk about the wedding, all were proving to be too much for her already fragile nerves. With each passing minute it became increasingly difficult for her to control the urge to scream out her frustration at the irritatingly cheerful group.

"I need some air," she suddenly announced, rising. "Please excuse me." She hastened toward the door, not pausing to look back as murmurs of concern circled the table.

The sun, bathing the land in a pale orange glow, had just begun to dip behind the trees. Rosalind walked to the edge of the woods and leaned forward against a thick oak tree, her head resting on her folded arms. She could not blot out the faces of everyone at the supper table – especially their smiles and laughter as they discussed the wedding. She wondered how quickly their smiles would fade if they knew the truth about the reasons behind the betrothal.

"Are you all right?"

She recognized the voice as her brother's. Sucking in her breath, she silently prayed he had come outside alone. Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her head and turned to peer over her shoulder. Ben stood alone.

"Oh, Ben!" she cried, relief flooding through her as she ran to him. Flinging her arms around his neck, she embraced him with such force, she nearly squeezed the breath from him. The tears she had struggled to hold back during supper streamed down her cheeks.

"Dear sister," Ben whispered, his voice heavy with concern as he gently patted her back. "Pray tell, what troubles you so?"

Rosalind pulled away just far enough to allow her gaze to meet his. "Please, Ben. I must speak with you in private. 'Tis extremely urgent."

Ben's eyes hastily scanned their surroundings. "Come," he whispered, taking her by the hand, "there is privacy behind that cluster of evergreens."

When they were safely concealed behind the wall of trees, Rosalind released a ragged sigh, then knelt on the ground and sat back on her heels. Ben sat cross-legged before her, his eyes fastening on her face.

"I-I know not where to begin," she softly said, still sniffling. "But Ben, I am in urgent need of advice, and you are the only person I can trust."

"Sister," he reached out to take her hands into his, "you know I will help you in any way I am able. Now tell me, please, what is troubling you?"

Rosalind exhaled, her shoulders slumping. "Do you remember six years back, when I chased after an injured deer and lost my way in the blinding snow?"

He frowned. "Aye. 'Twas a day I shall never forget. We thought for certain you were lying dead and frozen somewhere. Mother cried buckets of tears, and Father and I searched for you in the woods for hours...until the cold numbed us to the bone and the storm forced us to return home. 'Twas deemed a miracle when you appeared the next morning, very much alive. In truth, we first thought we were seeing a ghost!" He paused to give her a puzzled look. "But why are you asking me about an event that occurred so many years ago?"

Rosalind bowed her head, not wishing to witness her brother's expression as she struggled with her confession. " I nearly died that day, Ben. My body was so cold and my pain so severe, I finally curled up in the snow and awaited my death. When I awoke, I was lying beneath a blanket of furs in a shelter made of branches and boughs." She briefly lifted her gaze to meet her brother's intense stare. "An Indian had rescued me. I suspect the deer I had been following was one he had also been tracking, perhaps because he had been hunting and wounded it. Otherwise, our paths never would have crossed...and I definitely would not have survived."

Ben's mouth fell open and his grip tightened on her fingers. "You speak the truth? You were rescued by a...savage?"

She nodded.

"But why have you never spoken of this before? For what purpose have you kept it a secret?"

Rosalind's large blue eyes brimmed with fresh tears, and her bottom lip began to quiver. "When I awoke, I realized I had been stripped of all my garments," she said softly. She briefly looked down at her hands. They seemed so pale and small against her brother's. "I was not certain then what had occurred, but in my countless nightmares since that night, I have seen a blurred image of the savage, covered in bearskin and leaning over me, his hands upon my bare flesh. Perhaps he felt he deserved a reward for saving my life, which was why he..." She lowered her head, unable to say any more.

Ben tore his hands from hers and reached to grasp her shoulders. "Please, sister...tell me what the savage did."

Rosalind slowly lifted her head. In her eyes, Ben plainly read what she was unable to put into words.

"Dear Lord!" He pulled her trembling body into his arms. She clung to him and wept.

"How have you managed to keep silent about this for all of these years?" Ben asked. He noticed that his own hand was shaking as he reached up to stroke her hair.

"I-I was too ashamed to speak of it," she choked, her words muffled against his shirt. She moved to look up imploringly at him. "Please, Ben, I beseech you – promise me you will breathe not a word of this to anyone!"

He pulled her back against him. "You have my word." She felt his muscles tense. "But the Lord as my witness, Rosalind, if it takes me the rest of my life, I shall track down the savage and make him pay for what he did to you."

Rosalind broke away from the comfort of Ben's arms and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dress. "'Twould be a futile quest," she said, "for too many years have passed." She sighed. "It matters not anyway. What is done is done, and there is naught you, I, nor anyone else can do to change what occurred...although Lord knows, it would be worth any sacrifice if I _could_ change it."

A look of confusion settled on Ben's face. "Forgive me, Rosalind, but I do not understand why it was so urgent for you to discuss this matter with me this evening, or why you were so distressed at supper."

"Do you really not understand, Ben? Everyone, most especially Nathaniel, believes me to be pure! If I go through with this marriage, he will learn the truth on our wedding night and cast me aside. Such a scandal would bring shame upon our entire family. And what do you suppose our sisters' chances of ever wedding any decent man would be after that?"

Ben's jaw muscles flexed as he considered her words. "I believe I now understand why you have been so opposed to marriage all these years. But have you considered confessing the truth to Nathaniel? Surely he could not fault you for a tragedy that occurred when you were so young...and helpless. The savage's actions were beyond your control. In your heart and mind you are still pure."

Rosalind laughed bitterly. "My heart and mind matter not to him! Nathaniel has informed me it is imperative his bride be chaste, and that he be the first – and the last – man to touch her. His pride never would allow him to accept a woman who has lain with another man...most especially a savage."

Ben frowned at her. "Then why, dear sister, did you agree to marry the man?"

Rosalind hesitated, unable to meet her brother's penetrating gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. There was no easy way to tell Ben about their father's secret gambling habit or his dealings with dishonorable characters.

"Please, Rosalind," he gently urged, "you know you can confess anything to me."

"According to Nathaniel," she finally began with marked difficulty, "our father died owing Elias Corwin a large sum of money he had borrowed from him to cover some... unwise investments. I do not believe Father ever mentioned it to anyone, however, not even to Mother, for his shame would have been too great. Alas, if I choose not to wed Nathaniel, he has threatened to make certain that Elias calls the debt...by laying claim to all of the Chandler land and possessions."

Ben gaped at her. "And you believe these lies?"

"Unfortunately, Nathaniel informed me that Elias possesses a legal document bearing our father's signature, promising to repay the full amount of the loan."

Ben leapt to his feet. "'Tis blackmail! I will not allow Elias's scheming rakehell of a son to extort you and our family in this manner!" He waved his finger in the direction of the house. "And I intend to go back in there right now and tell Elias as much!"

"And hasten our mother and sisters' eviction?" she asked.

"They can come live with Faith and me!" He turned to leave.

"Your house stands on Chandler land – Father's land." Rosalind spoke to his back. "Elias will lay claim to your house also – especially if you storm in there and speak unfavorably of his precious son!"

Ben halted and turned to face her, his hands balling into fists at his sides. With a frustrated groan, he returned and plunked down on the ground in front of her. "Then what do you propose we do?"

"I was hoping you would be able to answer that question for me," Rosalind said, sighing. "I feel I am doomed no matter what I do. If I do not go through with the wedding now, I will humiliate and upset the Corwins and incite Nathaniel's wrath. Yet if I do go through with it and Nathaniel then leaves me because I am not pure, I still will humiliate them...and I dare not think of the consequences. If only there were some way we could pay off father's debt – at least then I would know that Mother and our sisters...and you and Faith...would be safe."

"If the amount is enough to warrant the taking of houses and land, I suspect 'tis more than either of us ever could live long enough to pay," Ben said. "Why do you suppose Elias has not yet made an attempt to collect on the debt? After all, it has been six months since our father's passing."

Rosalind shrugged. "Perhaps he wanted to allow Mother sufficient time to mourn before he further distressed her. Or perhaps so many more important matters have required his attention, he simply has forgotten."

"From what I know of the man, 'tis unlikely he would be inclined to forget anything that involves even a single coin," Ben said. "If Elias possessed any compassion whatsoever, he would have acted in a charitable manner and erased the debt when our father died. He, if anyone, certainly can afford to."

He paused to search Rosalind's face before he asked, "What in God's name did you do to make Nathaniel so determined to have you for his wife? I believe we can rule out that he asked for your hand because of your impressive dowry!"

"I did nothing! And that is the problem! He said he finds my lack of interest in him...stimulating."

When Ben offered no response, Rosalind added, "Truth be known, if I were indeed still chaste, I would go through with the wedding and make a sincere effort to be a good wife to Nathaniel. There is no sacrifice too great if it will protect my family, most especially Mother, from further heartache."

Ben suddenly seemed so deep in thought, Rosalind wondered if he had heard any of her words. "Perhaps..." he finally said, his eyebrows arching, "there is a way to convince Nathaniel you are still pure."

"'Tis impossible!" she said. "A man with Nathaniel's experience surely would be able to tell the difference."

"Perhaps not," Ben said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "You lost your maidenhead years ago and have remained untouched since. When he enters you on your wedding night, you will feel virginal to him."

Rosalind felt what little supper she had eaten rise up to her throat at the mere thought of Nathaniel "entering" her.

"Too often," she said, "I have heard people say that the proof of a girl's chastity can be found on the wedding-night bedsheet. Though I am not entirely certain what that 'proof' might be, I _am_ certain I no longer possess it!"

"Blood," Ben said, appearing slightly uncomfortable. "The tearing of the maidenhead usually results in some bleeding."

Rosalind winced. "Then I am grateful I was not awake when mine was taken." She released a long, exasperated breath. "Now I am more certain than ever that it would be impossible for me to conceal the truth from Nathaniel."

"But I believe there _is_ a way," Ben said. "You could conceal an embroidery needle near the bed."

Rosalind stared at her brother with eyes that told him she thought he had lost his mind.

"Think about it, Rosalind. Nathaniel is not likely to disturb your wedding bed by checking the bedsheet in the dark of night...he will wait until morning. So, after he has fallen asleep, you can withdraw the needle, prick your finger with it, and allow a few drops of blood to fall onto the sheet. Nathaniel will be none the wiser."

Rosalind silently regarded her brother. She did not know whether to laugh at his suggestion or to actually weigh its merit. As ludicrous as his idea sounded, she was just desperate enough to consider it. Long seconds passed before she spoke. "Truly, Ben, do you believe such a deception could work?"

"Aye, I do. And when it does, Nathaniel will have his virgin bride, Mother will retain her property and gain the wealthy, handsome son-in-law she has always craved, and Mrs. Corwin will still have a reason to carry on. Is that not what you want?"

"I suppose." Rosalind spoke the words with little conviction. "But I cannot deny that the thought of being bound to the captain for life does not appeal to me. I seem to be the only person in town who does not adore the man." Flushing, she dropped her eyes. "And his kisses do naught but repulse me."

Ben's hands clenched into fists once again. "Nathaniel has kissed you?"

"Aye, and against my will. He claims he aches for me."

"Someone should give him a different sort of ache!" Ben snapped. "The man is no gentleman!"

"Indeed, he is not, which is for the best, I suppose. If he were a kind and caring sort of man, my conscience would not allow me to go through with this wedding night deception. A man like Nathaniel, however, deserves to be gulled."

"If he were a kind and caring man, he would not be forcing you to marry him against your will!" Ben paused before adding, "Then you have decided to carry out my plan?"

"I shall consider it. Lord knows I have no other options at present."

Rising to her feet, Rosalind brushed the back of her dress and then attempted to smooth her wild tangle of curls. "We should be getting back inside. I am certain we have been sorely missed by now. I must look a sight!"

Ben used the cuff of his shirtsleeve to wipe her tear-streaked face. "Do not concern yourself about the people inside. I shall take care of everything. Just follow my lead." He took a deep breath and held out his hand. "Ready?"

Rosalind nodded and took his hand.

When the pair entered the Corwins' house, anxious eyes immediately turned toward them. Ben, his arm protectively around Rosalind's shoulders, calmly explained, "I fear that my sister misses Nathaniel more than she is willing to confess. Fortunately, a good cry has helped to ease her pain."

"You poor dear!" Abigail's tone was sympathetic as she stared at Rosalind's red, swollen eyes. "Take heart. Your Nathaniel will return soon. And then the two of you shall be together forever." She turned to face Rosalind's mother. "Are you aware that Nathaniel has decided to give up the sea after he and Rosalind are wed?"

"How noble!" Mrs. Chandler exclaimed, looking extremely pleased with this bit of news. "You must feel very special, Rosalind."

"Aye," she said. She took her former seat at the table. "But I assure you, I asked the captain to give up naught. 'Twas all his own idea."

Ben struggled to conceal his displeasure. He had assumed Nathaniel would be away at sea for months at a time, giving Rosalind what he was certain would be much-needed respites from her wifely obligations. He could not help but feel sorry for his sister if Nathaniel planned to be with her every day...and night.

* * * * *

Rosalind spent the next several days trying to convince herself that Ben's plan was the only solution to her dilemma. She tried not to think of all that could go wrong or what would happen to her family if the scheme failed. Still, all of her life she had been taught that dishonest people were doomed to spend the hereafter in Hell...and that concerned her.

The next afternoon, Grace asked Rosalind to take a bucket of water out to the workers. It had seemed like years since Rosalind had seen Shadow Runner or Silver Cloud, so she eagerly accepted the chore.

Struggling with the heavy bucket, Rosalind descended the knoll. She spied Shadow chopping down a pine tree that was rotted and had not a needle left on it. She had forgotten just how greatly the sight of him affected her. His muscular chest and powerful arms as he swung the axe caused her heartbeat to quicken...although she was unable to comprehend the reasons why.

"I have brought you some cool water!" she cheerfully called out to him as she approached.

When Shadow turned, she was taken aback by the angry scowl that greeted her. He set down the axe, stepped forward and jerked the bucket from her hand, then presented his back to her as he drank his fill from it. Without a glance or even his customary nod of thanks, he thrust the bucket back at her and returned to his work.

Shadow's actions disturbed and confused Rosalind. He was treating her as if she had done him some great injustice, yet she could not begin to imagine what it might be. She turned to walk away, then paused.

"They say that although you do not speak, you are able to understand." Rosalind spoke to Shadow's back. "I want you to know that if I have said or done something to offend you, it was purely unintentional, and I sincerely apologize."

Shadow stopped chopping and faced her. His expression was hard, cold. He was not worthy of this woman's concern, he thought bitterly. At one time, he had allowed himself to believe he was her equal, for he, like she, was nothing more than a servant of the Corwins. But now, she was about to become a Corwin, and with the name would come power and wealth – everything that was important to the English – everything he loathed. He felt certain that in Rosalind's eyes, he always would represent something primitive and savage – a lowly thief – someone undeserving of the attention of a _Corwin._

Bewildered, Rosalind only stared at Shadow as his dark, icy gaze seemed to penetrate right through her. She opened her mouth to speak, but when his chin rose and he narrowed his eyes at her, she took a step backward and said nothing.

"I will take some of that water, Mistress Chandler." Silver Cloud's voice came from behind her. He approached, knelt before the bucket and splashed water over his face and the back of his neck, then drank deeply from his cupped hands.

He rose and smiled at her. "I understand that good wishes are in order," he said. "Although I must confess we were surprised to hear of the news of your betrothal. It was quite sudden, was it not?"

Rosalind bent to lift the bucket and then straightened. "'Tis not unusual for love to strike one's heart quickly and unexpectedly." She feigned sudden interest in an earthworm as it wiggled about in the freshly turned soil.

"Then you have fallen in love with the captain?" Silver Cloud persisted.

"Indeed," she answered, her eyes still downcast. Her grip tightened on the handle of the bucket until her knuckles turned white, an action that escaped neither Indian's scrutiny.

"Forgive me, Miss," Silver Cloud said, "but your voice betrays your words."

"'Tis no concern of yours," Rosalind said, not looking at him. She turned on her heel, the water splashing over her feet as she did. "Good day!"

Silver Cloud shook his head, his eyes trailing Rosalind as she disappeared over the knoll. "What she does not say speaks louder than her words," he said.

Shadow's brow creased in response. Something about this betrothal, he decided, was wrong...very wrong.

CHAPTER FIVE

Rosalind sat up in bed and used a corner of her quilt to wipe the perspiration from her neck. The heat in her chamber was nearly suffocating. Climbing out of bed, she tiptoed on bare feet to the window and threw open the shutters, hoping for a breeze that would offer some relief from the humidity that had robbed her of her sleep. But the night air was calm. Sighing, she returned to bed.

Although she blamed the heat for her restlessness, she could not deny it was the thought of Nathaniel's return that was keeping her awake. The captain was expected to arrive home within two days' time, and she could not recall when she had dreaded anything more.

As Rosalind tossed and turned, silently cursing even the smallest lumps in her bed, she came to realize she no longer appreciated the luxury of having a bed to herself. She craved the company of Nellie and Elizabeth and their giggles as they exchanged silly stories before nodding off to sleep. The silence in Rosalind's empty chamber served only to magnify the disturbing thoughts that constantly had plagued her of late.

She found herself wondering what sharing a bed with Nathaniel would be like. Would he sleep naked, with his arms around her? She shuddered, clamping her eyes shut to dismiss the thought. At times, she actually believed she possessed the courage to wed Nathaniel. This was not one of those times.

Wrestling with her pillow, Rosalind alternated between bunching it up and punching it down, but it still felt like a pile of rocks beneath her head. With a defeated sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that another long, sleepless night lay before her.

From somewhere outside, a man's voice, singing, sliced through the night's calm. Rosalind sat up in bed and cocked her head. There was something familiar about the voice, yet she could not immediately place it. The off-key crooning grew louder, bolder, until it drew Rosalind from her bed to peer out the window. The moon, although still several days from being full, provided just enough light to reveal a dark figure, bent and slightly staggering, moving about near the stables.

Rosalind gasped. It was Nathaniel! The captain's erratic movements and enthusiastic singing led her to suspect his early return had likely been celebrated at the local tavern. She frowned. Abigail had been so eagerly awaiting his return, she had spoken of little else all week. Rosalind could well imagine the disappointment the woman would feel when her beloved son staggered into the house in the middle of the night and awakened the entire household.

Although a voice in Rosalind's head advised her to return to her bed and turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to Nathaniel, she knew she would be unable to forgive herself if Abigail were made to suffer a setback due to the stress caused by her drunken, inconsiderate son.

Muttering under her breath, Rosalind flung a cloak over her shoulders to conceal her thin nightdress, then silently made her way through the dark hallway and down the stairs. With great care not to make a sound, she unlatched the front door and creaked it open, then scurried outside.

The rocks on the path jabbed at her bare feet as she hastened toward the stables, but she paid no mind to the discomfort. She prayed she would be able to convince the captain to spend the night in the stables and sleep off the effects of his drink. She also prayed that in his current state, she would be able to fend off his drunken advances, which she was certain would be inevitable the moment he set eyes on her...especially when he discovered she was clad in her nightdress.

When Rosalind neared the stables, she noticed, with a measure of relief, that Nathaniel's singing had dwindled to a soft hum. He was seated on the ground with his back toward her, his head hanging forward.

"Nathaniel," she whispered, squinting into the shadows. "In all good conscience, I cannot allow you to greet your parents at this late hour and in your present condition. I implore you to stay in the stables until morn, when you will be able to make a more proper entrance."

Nathaniel ceased his humming, but did not turn. He gave no indication he even had heard her words. Rosalind hesitated, then moved closer and bent to gently lay her hand on his shoulder. "Please heed my advice. You have my word that no mention will be made of this and no one will be the wiser."

"How about giving your betrothed a proper welcome?" A calloused hand reached back and roughly grasped hers, which still was on his shoulder.

Rosalind winced. "You are hurting me! Please, Nathaniel, I beseech you – go lie down in the stables and sleep this off ere you do something you might later come to regret!"

Not loosening his grasp, the man stood and turned to face her. Rosalind's mouth fell open as she stared into Jonathan's leering face. His breath reeked of strong drink and his eyes looked glazed. His brute strength, however, did not seem the least bit impaired by his drunkenness.

"Release me!" she demanded in a hushed voice, so as not to disturb anyone in the house. She struggled to pull her hand free from his forceful grip.

"How disappointed you must be that I am not your precious captain!" Jonathan responded with a crooked, taunting smile that revealed his rotted teeth. "I shall, however, be more than pleased to take his place until his return."

"Let go of me this instant, or I swear I shall scream!" Rosalind said through gritted teeth.

"Go ahead, scream," he said shrugging. "Wake everyone in the house. And then you can explain to them what you are doing out here with me in the middle of the night while wearing naught but your nightdress!" His gaze boldly dropped to where her cloak had fallen open, revealing the full swell of her breasts through the thin fabric of her nightdress. "Do you really think anyone will believe you mistook me for Nathaniel? We look nothing alike!"

"'Twas dark!" Rosalind protested, her cheeks blazing. "And you were seated hunched over with your back to me. Anyone could have made such a mistake!"

She once again attempted to wrench free from his grasp, but his fingers were like steel bands around his wrist. "And to think I believed Abigail when she informed me you had all but given up drinking!"

"The lady was sadly misinformed." He chuckled. "Actually, there is little in life I require to make me happy...except a good strong drink and a good lady." Brazenly, his eyes once again dropped to Rosalind's breasts.

"Release me!" she repeated. "Return to the shed and sleep this off!"

"Sleep it off?" He chuckled again. "You insult me. I can drink more than any man in town and not only still be on my feet...but still be stronger than any of them!" As if to prove his words, he jerked her forward until her face was within an inch of his. "I shall do as I damned well please, little lady, and neither you nor Old Man Corwin can stop me!" With his free hand, he clutched Rosalind by the back of the neck and forced her head forward until her mouth was pressed to his. His stubble of a beard scraped at her tender flesh, and his foul breath invaded her nostrils.

Rosalind opened her mouth to utter a cry of protest, but immediately regretted the action as Jonathan seized the opportunity to ram his tongue into her mouth. Nausea and panic rose in her throat as she futilely struggled against him. Her mind raced, thinking back to all Ben had taught her about defending herself...primarily against savages. At the present time, she could think of no one more savage than Jonathan.

Recalling Ben's advice about the most vulnerable part of a man's body, Rosalind drew back her leg and rammed her knee into Jonathan's groin. A loud, shocked, groan escaped him and his eyes bulged as he released her and sank to his knees on the ground. Despite the breathlessness and violent trembling that immediately overtook her, Rosalind did not hesitate to make her escape. Grasping her long nightdress and hiking it well above her knees, she ran toward the house as fast as her bare feet would carry her. With every painful step, she prayed she would be able to cover the distance before Jonathan was able to recover from her assault.

The tree root appeared from nowhere, its tentacles reaching up from the depths of the earth to snag Rosalind's foot as she ran over it. Stumbling, she fell forward, her stomach smacking hard against the ground, the impact forcing the air from her lungs. She lay there momentarily stunned, unable to breathe.

A full minute passed before she found the strength to pull herself up to a sitting position. Moaning, she folded her arms across her stomach and leaned forward, gasping for air.

"Allow me to assist you," Jonathan's voice offered from behind her. Rosalind felt his hand clamp around her upper arm and pull her to her feet. His fingernails dug into her skin as he did. "I shall make you pay for what you just did to me," he whispered against her ear. "And I shall make certain the good captain will not have the pleasure of finding a virgin in his wedding bed. Perhaps by the time your wedding day arrives, my seed already will be growing in your belly! Would not that be a nice wedding gift for your beloved husband?"

"No!" Rosalind cried, panic gripping her as she struggled against him. "Release me!"

"'Tis a pity your fine hero of a captain is not here when you need him, eh?" Jonathan twisted Rosalind's arm up behind her back and held it there as he roughly shoved her ahead of him in the direction of the stables. "Try to kick me now!" he said with a drunken laugh.

Even though Rosalind felt more frightened than she ever had before, she was determined not to allow her fear to force her to obey Jonathan. She made a silent vow to do everything within her power to fight him off. Years ago, when the Indian had taken her, she had been unconscious and defenseless, but now she was fully awake and was prepared to claw, kick, bite – anything to fend off Jonathan's attack.

"Here we are," Jonathan announced when they reached the door of the stables. "Now, my lovely, you will learn what it feels like to be made a woman. Truth be told, I do not know which will give me more pleasure...feeling you beneath me in the straw, or taking something from Captain Corwin that he values so highly. I have never liked the man, nor the way he always looks down upon everyone. He likens himself to some sort of god."

Rosalind swallowed against the panic that rose in her throat. She knew she had to think of some way to prevent Jonathan from forcing her into the stables, because once inside, she was certain her chances of escaping him would greatly be diminished.

"Move!" Jonathan commanded, shoving her toward the doorway.

Mustering all of her strength, Rosalind kicked back at him, her heel catching him squarely on the kneecap. Although her small, shoeless foot was capable of inflicting little damage, the unexpectedness of her kick caused Jonathan's leg to buckle, and for a brief moment he loosened his grasp on her arm – just long enough to allow her to break free. Rosalind whirled around to face him, and without pausing to consider the action, clenched her hand into a tight fist and delivered a solid blow to his jaw. Not allowing Jonathan any time to react, she hit him again, this time squarely on his nose.

Stunned, his body swaying as he struggled to keep his balance, Jonathan reached out for something to grasp, something to prevent his fall. His fingers found and clutched the front of Rosalind's nightdress, but the thin fabric easily tore. Cursing, he staggered several steps backward before falling and landing hard his back. Rosalind heard the sickening crack of his skull hitting rock. Jonathan's mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back as a pool of red slowly spread out from beneath his head.

"Dear Lord!" Rosalind gasped, her trembling hands flying up to her mouth. "I have killed him!" She stood there, immobilized by fear, waiting for Jonathan to stir. When he did not, she cautiously inched her way toward his lifeless form, dropped to her knees, put her ear to his chest and listened for a heartbeat...or for any sign he still was alive.

She found none.

Stifling a scream, she sat back on her heels and stared in horror at the body. Should she, she wondered, awaken Elias and tell him what had occurred? He and Abigail were so fond of Jonathan, would they even believe her if she told them what he had attempted to do to her? And Abigail was convinced the man no longer drank!

She could not believe the irony of everything that had just occurred. She had come outside to quiet Nathaniel and prevent Abigail from any undue stress, and instead, she had done something that was a hundred times more stressful than a drunken Nathaniel ever could have been.

Feeling lost and frightened, Rosalind looked up at the sky. "Oh, Papa," she whispered, "if you are looking down upon me, please guide me, for I know not what to do!"

"Return to your chamber," a voice came from the shadows. "I will take care of everything. No one ever need know of this."

Rosalind froze. "Wh-who is there?" Her eyes, blurred with tears, hastily scanned her surroundings. After several long, terrifying seconds, a figure emerged from the darkness.

"Shadow!" Rosalind rose to her feet and ran to him. Casting all propriety aside, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his bare chest. "I murdered Jonathan!"

The Indian's powerful arms wrapped around her trembling frame. "You did no such thing." His voice was calm, soothing.

_His voice!_ "You can speak!" Rosalind pulled away to look up at him.

Shadow nodded, offering no explanation. "I stepped out of the shed just as Jonathan fell," he said. "The fall killed him...not you. Now heed my advice and return to your chamber before someone discovers you out here."

"I cannot!" she protested. "I must confess what I have done! Jonathan never would have fallen had I not struck him! So I _did_ murder him!"

"That would not be wise." Shadow's dark eyes regarded her seriously. "I know not what brought you out here in the dark of night, nor why you saw fit to strike Jonathan." His lips formed a taut line as his gaze dropped to her dirty, torn nightdress. "But I suspect no matter how innocent the explanation, there still will be those who will choose to believe you deliberately enticed the man."

Rosalind glanced down at her nightdress and was appalled to discover that the front of it was shredded, exposing her breasts. She futilely tugged at the remnants of the gown and then crossed her arms over her chest. "I was unable to sleep this eve because of the heat," she explained. "I heard singing. It was Jonathan, drunk. In the darkness, I mistook him for Nathaniel and came out here with the intent of convincing him to sleep off the effects of his drinking ere he greeted his family." She lowered her head. "Jonathan overpowered me and tried to force me into the stables. I need not tell you of his intent."

Shadow's eyes narrowed. "I also heard the singing," he said, "but we have grown accustomed to Jonathan's serenades." He took another quick survey of Rosalind's dirt-covered nightdress and tangled hair. "Did he harm you?"

She shook her head. She found herself desperately wishing she had something with which to cover herself. It took her a moment to realize that she did. "My cloak!" she gasped. Her eyes darted about. "Where is my cloak? I wore it out here!"

Shadow held up his hand. "Stay where you are. I shall find it for you."

He moved to search the area and soon located the garment lying near the tree root where Rosalind had fallen. Returning to her, he slipped the cloak over her shoulders, allowing his hands to linger for a moment as he did.

"It is better for everyone to believe Jonathan died in a drunken fall," he stated evenly. "What purpose will it serve if you make the truth known? 'Twill not bring Jonathan back. It will, however, raise many questions about the events of this eve."

"I cannot deny that your words make sense," Rosalind whispered. "But how will I be able to live with my conscience. _I_ shall know the truth...that Jonathan died by my hand."

He shook his head. "The truth is that Jonathan's fondness for drink, not you, killed him. Had he been asleep tonight in the shed where he belonged, none of this would have occurred."

"And had I remained in my own chamber tonight, he still would be alive!" she added. She leaned to once again rest her head against Shadow's chest. She enjoyed the feel of his cool, smooth skin against her burning cheek. Shadow's arms encircled her protectively, making her feel safe and secure. Had she not been so distraught, she might have laughed. Never, not by any stretch of her imagination, would she ever have believed she could feel _safe_ in the arms of a savage.

"Go now," Shadow ordered, gently pushing Rosalind away from him. "I shall erase all evidence of a struggle. If Elias inspects the area for clues, he will find nothing to indicate Jonathan was not alone at the time of his death."

"Thank you, Shadow," she said softly, staring up at his handsome face. "I know not how to repay you."

Almost hesitantly, he touched her cheek. "Just go, ere someone spies you out here."

Nodding, she took one last lingering look at him, then turned and fled toward the house.

* * * * *

In the dark, tomb-like stillness of the Corwins' house, Rosalind crept up the stairs to her chamber. Once inside, she sagged against the door and gasped for breath as a fit of severe trembling overtook her. _She was safe!_ No one need ever know the circumstances surrounding Jonathan's death. Shadow had prevented her from bringing certain scandal to the Corwin name...and most assuredly to her own. Still, Shadow's willingness to help her was a source of puzzlement to her. He had been so cool and aloof of late, Rosalind had been convinced he disliked her. Yet tonight, he had shown her a kindhearted side of himself she had not known existed. And he had _spoken!_ Shadow Runner, she concluded, was indeed a man of many mysteries.

When Rosalind's legs ceased their trembling, she removed her torn nightdress, buried it in the bottom of the sack in which she had carried some of her belongings to the Corwins', and made her way to her washbasin. She lifted the pitcher, poured water into the basin and then attempted to scrub away the unclean feeling Jonathan's touch had left behind.

After donning a fresh nightdress, Rosalind slipped into bed and tugged the quilt up beneath her chin. Despite the sweltering heat in her chamber, she shivered until her teeth chattered. The sound of Jonathan's skull cracking against the rock relentlessly echoed in her ears. She grabbed her pillow and put it over her head, but still she was unable to blot out the haunting sound.

"Father! Come quickly!" Matthew's frenzied shouting from somewhere outside cut through the night's silence.

Rosalind sat up in bed, her heart racing. Had the body so soon been discovered?

_Please, Lord, do not let it be so!_ _Not nearly enough time has passed for Shadow to have erased all of the evidence and returned to his bed!_

She heard men's voices outside, followed by the pounding of running footsteps across the dooryard. After a brief silence, the blast of a musket shattered the stillness.

"No!" Rosalind gasped, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. _Have they shot Shadow?_ She felt as if her head were spinning, and a cold clamminess crawled over her skin. She was too terrified to move, to breathe.

It seemed like hours before she heard the slam of the front door and voices downstairs, although it had been only minutes.

"I _must_ find out what occurred outside!" she whispered,

Rosalind climbed out of bed and hastily threw on a dress, then ran down the stairs. She found Elias and Matthew seated at the table in the sitting room. Elias's elbows were propped on the table, his forehead resting on the heels of his hands, while Matthew sat with his head lowered and his arms folded across his chest.

"I-I heard shouting," Rosalind said softly. "And I think...the sound of a gunshot. Is something amiss?" To her dismay, her voice quivered.

Both men straightened to look up at her, but neither gave her the usual courtesy of standing as she entered the room.

"Matthew thought he heard the front door open," Elias said. "He suspected a thief. When his inspection of the house revealed nothing suspicious, he ventured outside." He paused to draw a deep breath. "I fear he was quite unprepared for what he stumbled upon out there."

Rosalind's eyes widened and her heart flew up to her throat. "What was it?"

Elias slowly shook his head and sighed. He ran a shaky hand through his thin hair, then absently studied his fingernails in the light of the candle on the table. Rosalind was tempted to shake the news from him, her nerves were so raw.

"I found Jonathan," Matthew finally explained, "lying on the ground. Shadow Runner, the savage, was standing over him." He turned to look directly at Rosalind. "Jonathan was...dead."

He paused, apparently awaiting Rosalind's reaction. When she did nothing but stare at him, he continued, "At first, I assumed he had fallen and injured himself. After all, the man's fondness for drink was no secret, and the smell of him told me had tipped more than a few pints this eve. But then I noticed his nose had been freshly bloodied and his cheek bore a mark. He was lying on his back, so his face was not injured in the fall. 'Twas obvious someone had struck him."

Rosalind gasped, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she struggled to keep her legs from buckling beneath her. Abruptly, she plunked down on the nearest bench.

"Jonathan was murdered," Elias added, his features contorting into a scowl. "The savage did it, which does not surprise me. It takes very little to make one of them snap. A mere insult or wrong look can set one off."

Rosalind folded her hands in her lap in a futile attempt to steady them. She wanted to blurt out the truth, to clear Shadow of all suspicion, but she was unable to form the words. For one thing, she reasoned, a confession so long after the incident, especially since she had gone to her chamber instead of directly to Elias, would serve only to make her look as if she were hiding something...or attempting to cover for Shadow.

"I heard a gunshot," Rosalind gathered the courage to mention once again. "Did you...shoot the Indian?"

"Nay," Elias said. "'Twas only a warning shot in case he attempted to run. We bound him and tossed him into the stables for the night. At daybreak, we shall escort him to the gaol, where he will await his trial."

"Seems like a waste of time to go through the court process for a no-good savage," Matthew muttered. "We already know his fate – he will be sent to the gallows. I could have saved us a good deal of time and trouble by taking care of his execution myself...with one well-aimed shot."

"And I could have saved Jonathan's life had I strung up the savage a year ago when I caught him stealing our ewe," Elias said. "But nay, I had to give him a chance to redeem himself. I now regret that decision. Jonathan was a good man – like one of the family. I feel as if I have lost a brother."

Rosalind realized at that moment that Jonathan had managed to conceal his true character from the Corwins and blind them to his faults all these years. She now was even more convinced they would not believe her if she chose to confess the truth about what had occurred. To them, Jonathan was someone who deserved to be loved and nurtured...someone to be pitied, not murdered.

Fighting to hold back her tears, Rosalind managed to inquire, "Do you think that...the savage...will be all right out in the stables tonight?"

"We made certain he will not be going anywhere," Matthew assured her, misinterpreting the reason for her question. "Fear not. You will be safe."

"Come, let us try to get some rest," Elias said. Sighing, he stood and stretched. "Hopefully, we still can get a few hours of sleep ere sunrise. I fear a busy day lies ahead of us. We must arrange for Jonathan's proper burial and tend to transporting the Indian. 'Tis also quite likely Nathaniel may arrive home amidst all of this chaos."

Rosalind's head began to ache at the mere mention of Nathaniel's name. The last thing she needed was to have to deal with the pompous captain when she already had far too much else on her mind.

Once back in her chamber, Rosalind sat on her bed and rested her chin on her drawn-up knees. Try as she might, she could not dismiss a disturbing image of Shadow lying alone and bound in the stables...nor could she dismiss the memory of the feel of his arms around her or his fingertips as they gently had touched her cheek. Because of her, in a few short hours he would be taken away to a gaol to await his execution. She knew she could not, no matter what the consequences, allow that to occur. She already was responsible for one man's death – she was not about to double that number.

There was only one way to prevent it, she decided.

She had to free Shadow.

The house had been silent for well over an hour when Rosalind eased out of bed and quietly dressed. From the chest of drawers, she removed a blanket and a pillow coate, then, one step at a time, she crept downstairs to the kitchen. Using the pillow coate for a sack, she filled it with food, a carving knife, and one of Matthew's shirts, which had been washed and hung by the hearth to dry.

Swiftly and silently, Rosalind made her way outside and down to the stables, taking care to keep to the shadows. Her search for Shadow was delayed for several minutes until her eyes adjusted to the darkness within. She finally located him in a vacant stall at the rear of the structure. The stall was located near two large doors, so she rushed to open one of them, allowing the moonlight to bathe the area so she could more clearly see Shadow. He was lying face down in the straw, his hands and feet drawn up behind him and bound together.

She winced at the sight of him. "Shadow," she whispered, "I am here to help you."

Her spirits sank when he did not stir.

With unsteady hands, she rummaged through the pillow coate until she located the carving knife, then used it to cut through Shadow's bonds. After she freed him, she struggled to roll him over onto his back. A shocked gasp escaped her as she spied the blood on his forehead and the thin, ragged gash along his hairline. Feelings of both remorse and anger coursed through her as she wondered what other injuries Shadow had been forced to suffer at the hands of Elias and Matthew.

A bucket containing little more than a cup of water stood just outside the stall. Tearing a strip from the hem of her underskirt, Rosalind wet it with the water and then gently washed the blood from Shadow's face. He looked so peaceful, lying there, she thought, his thick lashes resting against his high cheekbones. She instantly was overcome by a wave of guilt.

"Shadow," she again whispered, stroking his hair. "Can you hear me? You must awaken!"

The Indian moaned and slowly rolled his head from side to side.

"Please, Shadow," Rosalind urged, her voice rising, "Your time grows short. You must leave here posthaste."

Shadow's eyelids fluttered as he struggled to open them. Two unseeing black pools suddenly gazed up at her.

"Thank God," Rosalind breathed. "Are you badly injured? Are you able to move? Have you any pain?" The questions spilled from her. "If you do not leave here straight away, Elias will see to it that your neck is fitted with a noose come morn!"

"Rosalind?" his voice was but a hoarse whisper. "Why have you come here? It is not safe."

"I have come to help you make your escape." She indicated the pillow coate lying next to her. "I have brought food, a blanket, garments and a knife."

Shadow struggled to sit up, then rubbed his wrists and ankles to help restore circulation to them. "They arrived too soon," he explained. "It took me longer than I had expected because I could not locate the piece of your nightdress."

Rosalind stared at him, confused.

"Your nightdress was torn," he said. "I recalled seeing a piece of it missing. I knew I had to find it ere Elias did."

She sucked in her breath. "And did you?"

He nodded. "In the very last place I thought to search...in Jonathan's hand." Despite Rosalind's stricken expression, he continued, "Death had made his fist difficult to open, but I managed to wrench the fabric free and tuck it into my breeches just moments before Matthew...and his musket...descended upon me." He touched the gash on his forehead. "Although he did not aim the shot at me, he still decided to use the musket...against my head...even though I did as he ordered and did not move."

Rosalind reached out and gently used her fingertips to trace the length of the cut. "I shall never forgive myself for this."

"It is not your fault," he said. Concerned eyes searched her face. "They do not suspect you, do they?"

She shook her head. "I already was safely tucked in bed when Matthew made the discovery. I heard the shot and feared you were dead." She paused before lowering her head and saying, "If I could return to the past and repeat this eve, I never would have struck Jonathan."

"Had you not struck him, you would have been raped," Shadow said tightly.

Rosalind looked directly at him. "Being raped would have been preferable to seeing you executed."

"Do not speak so foolishly." Shadow's hand moved to cover hers. "Your life is worth a hundred of mine."

Rosalind did not know how to respond. For what purpose, she wondered, after all she had done that eve to destroy his life, would Shadow place such a high value on hers?

One of the horses moved in its stall and kicked the wall. The noise startled Rosalind and made her realize that the next sound she heard very well could be one of the Corwins coming out to the stables to check on Shadow.

"Come," she said to Shadow, rising to her feet. "You must be well away from here ere the sun rises...and I must be back in my chamber. They will come for you soon."

He made no move to stand. "It is not my nature to run. I am no coward."

Rosalind could not conceal her feelings of panic. "Please, Shadow, I beseech you! Just this once, disregard your pride and save yourself! If you refuse to do it for yourself, then do it for me! Are you so cruel that you would condemn me to a life in which I must forever bear the burden of your death? Is that what you wish for me?"

The fear and desperation in her voice made him seriously consider her words. Still, running away like some frightened rabbit was not his way...not the way of his people.

Rosalind dropped to her knees in front of him. " _Please_ , Shadow," she whispered.

The moment he looked into her wide blue eyes, he knew he could not refuse her. He nodded.

"Thank you." She spared him a shaky smile. "Now, let us see if you are able to stand." She moved to assist him to his feet, her arm around his waist. He leaned against her as he tested his legs. They were as wobbly as a newborn calf's.

Shadow's head throbbed and his vision blurred. He clung to Rosalind as the walls swirled around him.

Rosalind could not mask her concern as she helped lower him back onto the straw. "Do you think you will be fit enough to make your escape?"

Shadow leaned his head back against the wall of the stall. "Do not concern yourself. I shall be fine."

Rosalind cast an apprehensive glance toward the house. "If you are certain you will be all right, I really must return to my chamber now. I fear I already have stayed far too long."

Shadow lifted his head to look at her, but he offered no response.

Impulsively, Rosalind knelt next to him and lightly touched her lips to his forehead. "Godspeed," she whispered, then stood and turned to leave. The thought of never seeing Shadow again disturbed her much more than she ever could have imagined.

Her retreat was halted by a strong tug on the hem of her skirt. She turned and looked down to see Shadow's hand grasping it. "Come with me," he softly said.

The gaze that rose to meet hers was so intense, Rosalind had to remind herself to breathe.

"I cannot!"

Shadow's stare was unwavering. "Then you are happy here? Happy at the thought of spending the rest of your life with the captain?" His grip tightened on her skirt.

Her lack of response revealed more to him than her words might have.

"'Tis complicated," Rosalind finally said. "And this is neither the time nor the place to relate all of the details to you."

"Then come away with me," he repeated. "Break free of whatever hold the Corwins have on you."

His mention of the Corwins having a hold on her took her aback. Were her feelings, she wondered, so easy to read?

"What you ask is impossible," she said. "Were I to leave with you, I never would be allowed to return here again, nor to see my family. My heart could not bear that. And if I ever dared to desert Nathaniel, my family would lose..." She stopped herself from revealing any more about Nathaniel's threats.

Shadow, however, she noticed, suddenly did not seem to be paying attention to her. The tilt of his head told her he was listening to something in the distance. Struggling to his feet, he gripped the edge of the stall for support as he moved out into the open to peer out the door. "There is light coming from within the house," he said. "Someone is awake."

He returned to the stall, his movements now stronger, and stooped to gather the blanket, pillow coate, and all remnants of the rope that had bound him. He wanted no one to discover that the ropes had been cut. He spied the bloodstained piece of fabric Rosalind had used to wipe his forehead, and quickly stuffed it into the sack. He had to make certain no evidence remained that would lead Elias to believe his escape had been assisted. He even bent to fluff the pile of straw where Rosalind had knelt and caused it to flatten.

Rosalind froze, her face growing pale. "They cannot find me here!"

A door slammed in the distance.

"Dear Lord!" she gasped. "They are coming! What shall I do now?"

"Come with me." Shadow extended his hand to her. "We can escape through the back and be safely in the woods ere anyone reaches the stables."

Rosalind cast a panicky glance toward the house, then turned to face Shadow. She was left with little choice, she decided. Hesitating only briefly, she accepted his hand.

* * * * *

"The savage has escaped!" Matthew shouted as he burst into his father's bedchamber. "There is no trace of him!"

Elias sat up, immediately awake. "Impossible! No one could break free of those bonds."

"Then someone must have helped him," Matthew returned. "I will wager it was the other savage, Silver Cloud."

"Did you check the workers' shed to see if Silver Cloud was within?"

Matthew shook his head. "I came straight here after checking the stables."

Elias slid out of bed and hastily donned a shirt and breeches. "For what purpose did you check on the prisoner? If you heard something that disturbed your sleep, you should have awakened me posthaste."

"'Twas not a noise, but a feeling," Matthew said. "I awoke with a strong feeling something was amiss. I did not wish to trouble you until I was certain."

"Well, let us go investigate." Elias sighed. "I should have known the Indian would cause us trouble."

When Elias and Matthew reached the workers' shed, they found Silver Cloud sleeping within.

"You do not fool me!" Matthew shouted, grabbing the Indian by the arm and yanking him from his pallet. Silver Cloud landed on all fours on the dirt floor. "Tell me where Shadow Runner is!"

Dazed, Silver Cloud squinted up at the intruders, then shook his head to clear it. "I know naught of which you speak," he replied hoarsely.

Outraged, Matthew grasped a fistful of the Indian's hair and jerked his head back. "Your Indian companion has escaped! Where is he?" He released his grip on Silver Cloud's hair and shoved his head forward with the heel of his hand.

"Escaped?" Silver Cloud repeated, moving to a sitting position. "Why after all this time would he suddenly wish to escape?"

"Because he murdered Jonathan," Elias answered, carefully studying the Indian's reaction to the news.

Silver Cloud's head snapped in the direction of Jonathan's empty bed. "Jonathan is dead? "

"You _know_ he is!" Matthew shot back.

"I thought I heard a gunshot and your voices earlier," Silver Cloud said, "but I guessed you were after another wolf at the sheep, so I paid no mind."

"Liar!" Matthew's eyes blazed. "You will tell us where the savage is or we will beat the truth from you!"

"Calm yourself, Matthew," Elias ordered, still gazing intently at the Indian. "I believe Silver Cloud speaks the truth. He knows nothing of tonight's events."

Matthew gaped at his father. "How can you suggest this man is innocent of any wrongdoing? Shadow Runner had an accomplice, I am certain of it."

"I am not," Elias said, rubbing his chin. "Perhaps we have misjudged the Indian's strength and cunning. He might very well have made his escape entirely on his own."

Matthew frowned. "If that is true, then he is far more dangerous than we imagined." He moved toward the door. "Come, Father, we must track him down and make him pay for what he has done ere he harms anyone else."

"'Tis still too dark out to follow his trail," Elias said. "We shall wait until the sun's first light."

"I do not like the idea of giving him such a lengthy head start," Matthew said.

"I fear we have little choice," Elias said. "But mark my words, son, we will find him...and when we do, I shall not be so lenient this time. I promise you he will not live long enough to see the inside of a gaol."

# CHAPTER SIX

Surrounded by a protective wall of spruce trees, Rosalind and Shadow sat on a large, flat rock and rested for the first time since their escape. The day was overcast and humid, and the heavy air clung to Rosalind like a second sticky skin. Silently, she and Shadow shared a portion of the cheese and bread she had taken from the Corwins' kitchen. Although she was not hungry, she knew she must force herself to eat if she wished to keep up her strength...and keep up with Shadow. The effects of his injuries had been short-lived, and too quickly his pace had become a grueling one, forcing her to run during most of their journey.

A wide brook flowed just below the rock on which they were seated. When they first had arrived, both of them had cupped their hands, filled them with the cool water and drunk their fill.

As Rosalind nibbled on a piece of cheese, she stared at the Indian. With his wild mane of black hair, he looked every bit the savage and, she thought, comfortably at home in the midst of this insect-infested wilderness. A sudden feeling of panic swept over her and she ceased chewing. She barely knew this man, yet here she was, far from her home and family, alone with him, trusting her life to him. Her uneasiness increased as she wondered who would come to her rescue if Shadow proved to be more lecherous than Jonathan. The squirrels and the rabbits?

Shadow felt Rosalind's eyes burning into him as he ate. He turned to face her, his expression concerned. "What troubles you?"

Rosalind momentarily was taken aback by his question because she had not been aware he had caught her staring at him. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I-I was wondering how your head is feeling now."

He reached up to touch the thin gash along his hairline. "A bit sore," he said with a shrug. "But I shall survive. I have been told my head is hard." He studied her face for a moment and sensed she was struggling to hold back tears. "Now tell me truthfully what is wrong."

"Everything," she quietly answered, briefly allowing herself to be drawn into the depths of his eyes. She lowered her gaze to conceal the tears that threatened to reveal just how truly weak she was. "I shall never see my family again, and I am most assuredly a wanted woman by now. A hangman's noose awaits me as surely as it awaits you. How could I have done this to my mother and sisters?"

"Calm yourself, Rosalind," Shadow said, setting down his piece of bread on the rock and sliding closer to her. "You shall be able to return to your family any time you so desire, and everything will be fine."

Her expression reflected her confusion.

"Think about it," he said. "Surely no one will suspect you ran off with me, a _murderer_ , of your own free will, especially when you were in the midst of planning a wedding that was destined to be the biggest event the town has ever seen. Nay, they will believe something terrible happened – perhaps that the night's events had robbed you of your sleep, and you were outside getting some air just as I made my escape...and I took you hostage after forcing you to steal food and supplies for me." A faint smile curved his lips. "After all, according to your people, we savages are in the habit of doing things like that."

Rosalind opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "You do not have to remain with me for any longer than you wish. You can allow them to find you whenever you so desire, for you know there must be searchers on our trail at this very moment, perhaps less than two hours behind us. And when they do find you, you will be regarded as a heroine, not an accomplice, because you managed to escape from the murderous savage who, in their eyes, surely would have tortured you to death after he had his way with you."

Rosalind carefully considered his words. They made sense, she concluded. The Corwins, because they thought so highly of her, would be more likely to believe she was a helpless victim, not an accomplice. And if she were indeed to be considered a heroine upon her return, it could serve only help her family. But how long, she wondered, should she remain with Shadow? Should she allow the searchers to find her as soon as possible and put an abrupt end to all of this madness? A vision of Nathaniel embracing her and kissing her, and Abigail contacting seamstresses in Boston to fashion her wedding dress, filled her with nothing but dread.

She looked at Shadow, whose gaze was fixed on her as he awaited her response to his words. He had been so kind to her, so unselfish in all of his actions – the complete opposite of the captain. Perhaps, she decided, another day on the run with him might not be so bad after all. Besides that, and she was embarrassed to admit it even to herself, she was finding this adventure to be worlds more exciting than sitting with Abigail in her dark, dreary chamber all day.

"You have been naught but kind to me," she softly said to Shadow. "Therefore, I fear I shall not be the least bit convincing if I have to tell everyone I was taken hostage by you."

"They will believe you," he said. "They trust you."

Rosalind absently toyed with a dead maple leaf. "So where will you go when we part? Back to your village?"

He shook his head. "My guess is that will be the first place Elias will search. I shall head toward the Banke."

"Portsmouth?" Rosalind arched a brow. "'Tis such a busy port. Why there?"

"A friend of mine, Adam Stoddard, a fisherman, lives there. You might say he is the family not many are aware I have."

"How so?"

"His daughter, Mary, wed my cousin, Storm Dancer, four summers past. Mary and Adam have taught my people much about the English and their ways."

"Including our language?"

He nodded.

"And your people have accepted Mary as one of their own?"

"For the most part. At first, my cousin's family was against the union. They wanted him to wed a girl from our village, not a white woman. But Mary and Storm Dancer were determined to be together."

"Are they happy?"

"When last I saw them, they were...but I have not been back to my village since I had the misfortune of meeting Elias."

Rosalind stared at Shadow for a moment before she plucked up the courage to ask, "Tell me, Shadow, did you _really_ try to steal the Corwins' sheep? Ever since Nathaniel told me of your crime, I have been very curious as to why you would do such a thing. Stealing just seems so...beneath you."

He chuckled. "It is a long story...which I will tell you this eve when we stop for the night...that is, if you intend to still remain with me?"

"Well, now I feel I must," Rosalind said, smiling. "Otherwise, I shall be forever curious about your story!"

Shadow returned her smile, then grew serious. "We must be on our way, then. It is certain that Elias and his men are not far behind us." He rose to his feet and extended his hand to her.

"You do realize that Elias and Matthew will not rest until they see you hang?" Rosalind said, taking his hand and allowing him to help her up.

"They do not know these woods the way I do. They will not find me...unless I wish them to."

* * * * *

Abigail Corwin was concerned. Rosalind usually was so punctual with her breakfast tray. But on this morn, she was late...very late. It was not the food that Abigail craved, it was Rosalind's company. Seeing the lovely blonde's cheerful smile each morning always gave her the incentive to face the rest of the day. The chamber seemed dark and dismal without Rosalind to brighten it. Fastening her gaze on the chamber door, Abigail grew increasingly impatient.

After many long minutes dragged by, Abigail decided to take matters into her own hands. Struggling to her feet, she left her bed and inched her way toward the door that connected her chamber with Rosalind's. Lightly she rapped on it. When she received no response, she knocked with more force, then slowly creaked open the door and peered inside. There was no sign of Rosalind within, and her bed was unmade, which was not Rosalind's habit at all. The very first thing the girl usually did upon rising each morning was straighten her bed.

Abigail stepped out into the hallway and shouted for Elias. It was Grace who answered her.

"Your husband left just ere daybreak with Master Matthew, ma'am," Grace informed her from the foot of the stairs. "They have gone in search of the Indian."

"Which Indian?" Abigail asked. She vaguely recalled hearing voices and shouting in the night, but her medicine usually rendered her too drowsy to discern dreams from reality.

Grace seemed surprised by the woman's question. "Has Mistress Rosalind not yet informed you of last evening's events? I was certain it would be the first topic of your conversation this morning."

"I have not yet seen Rosalind. Do you know her whereabouts?" Abigail asked. "Has she been to the kitchen to fetch my breakfast tray yet?"

"Nay, ma'am." Grace shook her head. "Perhaps she is still within her chamber, asleep. I fear she did not get much rest last night."

"I just checked her chamber and she is not within. And her bed is unmade."

Grace immediately looked concerned. "'Tis not like her at all. Do you wish me to search for her?"

"Please," Abigail answered, leaning against the wall for support. "But first, I would greatly appreciate it if you would enlighten me. Pray tell, what occurred here last eve?"

"The Indian, the one they call Shadow Runner, he murdered Jonathan – smashed his head on a rock," Grace said. "Matthew and Mr. Corwin bound the Indian and left him in the stables so they could take him to the gaol this morn. But during the night, the savage managed to escape."

"Shadow? A murderer?" Abigail shook her head. "There must be some mistake. He has always been a good man, a hard worker. He has never caused us any problems. And he and Jonathan never have been at odds with each other."

"The minds of savages are not easily understood," Grace said. "Mr. Corwin said that when provoked in even the slightest way, they can snap as easily as dry twigs. Why, the Indian even had the impudence to enter this house and steal food and clothing for his escape! When I entered the kitchen this morn, I noticed that a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese were missing, along with one of Master Matthew's shirts I had placed by the hearth to dry after washing it. Oh, and my best carving knife! And not a soul heard the savage roaming about."

"He was _here_ , in this house?" Abigail suddenly felt weak, her heart thumping wildly.

"Aye!" Grace frowned. "Can you believe it? Granted, I always knew the man was a thief, trying to steal your sheep and all, but imagine being bold enough to enter this house after committing a murder? Had I been him, I would have run like the wind the second I broke free and made my escape. I do believe he came in here not because he actually needed any supplies, for I am certain he is an expert at surviving in the wilderness, but solely because he wished to make us look the fools!" She looked deep in thought for a moment, then added, "Although I suppose I can understand his need for the knife – not only for protection, but also to slay and carve animals for his food."

The walls began to spin around Abigail, and her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Grace sensed that the woman was about to swoon, and bolted up the stairs two at a time to assist her. Supporting Abigail against her hip, Grace led her back to her chamber and lowered her onto the bed.

"Grace," Abigail whispered, reaching out for the housemaid's hand and clasping it. "If, as you say, the Indian was indeed here in the house last night, what, pray tell, do you suppose might have occurred had Rosalind unexpectedly stumbled upon him?"

Grace's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Dear Lord," she breathed, her free hand flying up to clasp her chest, "you do not suspect that Mistress Rosalind might have confronted the savage, do you?"

"I do not know. But 'tis not like Rosalind to disappear this way. I am frightened, Grace."

"Fret not. Marian and I shall search for the lass. Do not go getting yourself all upset now. I am certain Mistress Rosalind is just fine. Perhaps she just became so involved in some chore, she simply lost track of the hour."

"Go, then, and search for her," Abigail said. "Leave no stone unturned!" She watched Grace depart her chamber, then said a silent prayer for Rosalind's safe return. Never had Abigail felt such a deep sense of foreboding. If indeed Shadow had snapped in the manner Grace had described, there was no doubt in her mind that Rosalind currently could be in grave danger...very grave.

* * * * *

The frigid water numbed Rosalind's feet, and more than once, she nearly lost her footing on the slippery rocks as she silently followed Shadow through the stream. He had decided they should walk in the water to conceal their tracks. Rosalind had agreed it was a good idea, but that was before she realized the water's temperature was the equivalent of an icicle's.

As the morning progressed, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds, adding a sparkle to the water as it rippled over its rocky, winding course.

The silence of their journey provided Rosalind with ample time to reflect upon all that had occurred during the last twenty-four hours. She knew she should be feeling guilty for deserting Abigail and for making the Corwins, she was certain, worry needlessly about her, but all she felt at the moment was a sense of relief, of freedom. She was surrounded by trees, water and bright blue skies, and in front of her was the most kind-hearted, caring...and handsome...man she had ever met. She still feared Shadow, not because he ever had given her reason to, but because of her past nightmarish encounter with the savage in the snow. Also, her brother had told her lurid tales about savages and the ways in which they treated the white women they captured – beating them while having their way with them, even carving symbols into their skin to forever mark them – but she did not know how much was true and how much simply was the result of Ben's wild exaggerations. Nevertheless, her brother's words had crossed her mind more than once during her journey.

Shadow still affected Rosalind in ways she could not comprehend. One of the benefits of walking behind him in the stream was it afforded her the opportunity to liberally survey his form without him knowing she was doing so. Shadow wore no shirt, and even though the blanket and pillow-coate sack were casually thrown over his shoulder, an ample portion of his back and waist still were visible. His leather breeches clung to his narrow hips and muscular thighs, and his long, ebony hair gleamed in the sunlight. Rosalind longed to put her arms around him and rest her head on his chest again, the way she had the night before. She felt the heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks as she scolded herself for thinking such thoughts. She knew if Shadow were able to read them, he likely would laugh at her. To him she probably was naught but some silly, helpless woman who had managed to make a ruin of her life – someone to be pitied.

Rosalind's thoughts distracted her to such an extent, she lost concentration on her footing and stumbled. Shadow heard the splash behind him and whirled around to find Rosalind sprawled on her stomach in the shallow stream. In two long strides he reached her, then grasped her beneath her arms and pulled her, sputtering and red-faced, from the water.

"Perhaps we should rest for a while," he suggested as he slipped his arm around her waist and guided her to the rocky bank. When they both were seated, he pushed the dripping hair from her eyes. "You should have told me you were growing weary."

"I am _not_ weary!" Rosalind said, wiping her face against her wet sleeve. "I merely slipped, 'tis all." Inadvertently, she shivered.

"It might be a wise idea to remove your wet garments and wrap yourself in the blanket," Shadow said.

Rosalind pulled her soggy clothing more tightly around her and eyed him warily. "Do not concern yourself. I shall be just fine. Wet garments will not affect my ability to keep pace with you."

"If you insist." He shrugged. "But do not complain later when your lips turn blue and your teeth begin to chatter."

Rosalind could tell by his voice that he was teasing her. "If that occurs," she said, "I shall build a fire."

Shadow smiled. "And shall we also send smoke signals to anyone who might be tracking us, in case the fire alone is not clue enough to our whereabouts?" The thought suddenly struck him that she might be attempting to tell him she wanted to be found – that the time had come for them to part ways. His expression sobered and he looked directly into her eyes. "Unless you are ready for them to find you?"

His words caught Rosalind unprepared. She had not thought much about when she would part from Shadow and allow herself to be found by Elias and his searchers. Was she ready to return to her life at the Corwins'? She could not tear her eyes from Shadow's as he awaited her answer.

"I am not yet ready to be found," she said, rising to her feet. "Therefore, should we not be moving along?"

Shadow hesitated. "You are certain you are ready to continue?"

"Quite!" she said.

Shadow rose, took her hand and led her back into the stream.

"How much longer will it take to reach Portsmouth?" Rosalind asked.

"About three days," he said. "'Twould be unwise for us to follow the most direct path."

"Of course it would!" she said, frowning at the water. "In truth, I have become rather fond of cold, numb feet and ankles! And I think the water dripping from my hair is a lovely touch!"

Shadow looked at her and laughed. At that moment, Rosalind thought it was the most wonderful laugh she had ever heard.

* * * * *

Nathaniel Corwin's homecoming was not at all what he had anticipated. He had spent two weeks thinking of naught but the innocent woman-child he had left behind. He held no doubt that if Rosalind knew of the thoughts that had occupied his mind during the course of his voyage, she never would consent to wed him, for he had imagined making love to her in every conceivable manner. He placed the blame solely on Rosalind for his current state of frustration. Because of her, he had not enjoyed the company of a comely wench or two, as was his usual custom whenever his ship dropped anchor in a port. His marriage to Rosalind, he decided, would have to take place soon, very soon. He would go mad if he had to remain celibate for much longer, especially with Rosalind living in his house, sleeping in the chamber directly above his and constantly tempting him with her beauty. He was impatient to make her his wife – to give her a wedding night she long would remember. Nathaniel smiled at the thought. She would be fortunate if he allowed her to sleep at all on their first night together, for he felt certain it would take all night, perhaps longer, to fully sate his lust. Indeed, he mused, his little blond angel would be lucky if she were able to walk the next morning.

Eager to embrace his betrothed, Nathaniel burst into the Corwins' sitting room and called Rosalind's name. Silence greeted him and he saw not a soul about. Tossing his pack onto the floor, he craned his neck toward the staircase and again shouted for Rosalind.

Grace, her eyes red and swollen, emerged from the kitchen. "Welcome home, Captain," she said, looking at the floor. "Your mother has requested that I send you to her chamber posthaste upon your return."

"Is something amiss?" he asked.

"Aye," she softly answered, biting at her bottom lip. "But 'tis best if you learn the news from your mother."

Without another word, Nathaniel bolted up the stairs.

Abigail was lying in bed, her head propped against three pillows, her eyes closed.

Nathaniel approached the bed. "Mother," he whispered.

"Welcome home, my son," she quietly answered, not opening her eyes. "Please, be seated."

He obeyed, staring expectantly at his mother. Abigail's lashes slowly lifted and she turned to face him. "You must help Rosalind." Her words barely were audible. "I fear she is in terrible danger."

Nathaniel felt his breath catch in his throat. "Please, tell me what occurred."

"The Indian, Shadow Runner, murdered Jonathan. Ere your father and Matthew could transport him to the gaol, he managed to escape."

"And Rosalind? What of Rosalind?"

Abigail tore her gaze from her son's concerned face and again closed her eyes. "All evidence suggests the Indian has taken her hostage."

Nathaniel's hands clenched into fists. "When?"

"Just last eve." When she opened her eyes, tears spilled from them and ran down her cheeks. "Please, Nathaniel, you must find her. Your father and Matthew departed here ere we discovered that Rosalind was missing. We thought she still lay asleep in her chamber."

Nathaniel placed his hand on his mother's arm. Before he could speak, she added, "I cannot help but imagine all of the frightful things the poor girl may already have been forced to endure at the hands of the savage."

Unconsciously, Nathaniel tightened his fingers around his mother's thin arm. "God as my witness, Mother, I shall find Rosalind and return her to you unharmed. You must have faith."

He rose, and then leaned to kiss her on the forehead. "Now promise me you will try to get some rest. All of this worrying is not good for your health."

Abigail managed a weak smile. "I shall try. Godspeed, my son."

* * * * *

A fine mist dampened the cool night air. Rosalind found it difficult to believe that only a night ago she had been too hot to sleep and now, she was craving a warm bath and a stack of quilts. She wondered if she ever would grow accustomed to the changeable weather. She had seen it snow in April and become unbearably hot in November.

She and Shadow had walked in the stream for most of the day, finally stopping to eat and rest for the night as the sun was setting. Now, here she lay on the hard ground, attempting to find a comfortable position. Her back ached and her muscles felt as if they had been tied into thick knots. Grumbling, she finally sat up and braced her back against a pine tree. She tugged at the blanket that hung about her shoulders, but it offered little warmth against the moist, chilly air. The fact that her skirts still were damp from the stream only added to the chill she felt. She wished she would have possessed the foresight to bring extra blankets and clothing...but how could she possibly have known that Shadow would not be making this journey alone?

Rosalind turned to glare at Shadow, who seemed oblivious to the night's dampness and the hard ground as he slept peacefully beneath a tall pine. He wore Matthew's shirt and lay on his side with his arm cradling his head. He slept like a man who had not a care in the world, and for a moment, she resented him for it.

A chorus of howls in the distance suddenly sliced through the forest's silence. _Wolves!_ Rosalind held her breath. With no fire to keep them at bay, she held no doubt that she and Shadow would become dinner for the beasts.

"All that will be left of me when the searchers finally discover me is a pile of shredded garments!" She did not realize she had spoken the words aloud until she heard them echo in her ears.

Shadow instantly sat up, his hand instinctively reaching for the carving knife, which he kept at his side. His keen eyes scanned the area before coming to rest on Rosalind.

"I-I am sorry," she apologized. "I did not mean to disturb your sleep. The wolves' howling startled me."

"You are trembling," Shadow observed. "Come, sleep here beside me." He patted the pine-needle-covered ground next to him. "I shall keep you warm...and safe."

Rosalind did not move. Although she found his offer tempting, she knew it would not be proper for her to sleep next to a man who was not her husband...most especially when that man was a savage.

Another howl, this one nearer, put an abrupt end to her concerns about propriety. Rosalind quickly crawled over to Shadow and snuggled against him, her back pressed to his stomach. Shadow reached over and took the blanket from her shoulders, then covered them both with it. His arm fell protectively across her waist, pulling her more tightly against him.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked. His breath was hot against the back of her neck.

"Yes, thank you," she whispered, finally allowing herself to exhale.

Rosalind always had held the belief that sharing a bed with a man would be no different than sharing one with her sisters, but she soon realized there was no comparison. Shadow's strong, solid form molded perfectly to her back, as if it had been expressly created for that purpose. She allowed her thoughts to wander, boldly imagining how his body would feel against hers if they both shed their garments. Shadow was so muscular, his skin so taut and smooth, she was certain that lying naked with him would feel...well, wonderful. Her thoughts drifted back to a story Ben once had told her about Indians and how they disliked body hair to such an extent, they painstakingly grasped the hairs between two clamshells and pulled them out one by one. At the time, she had laughed at her brother and accused him of telling tales, but now, after having had the pleasure of seeing Shadow's smooth, hairless chest on more than one occasion, she suspected Ben just might have been telling the truth.

Shadow wondered if Rosalind had any idea of the effect she was having on him. Each time she moved, unintentionally rubbing her backside against his loins, he gritted his teeth. He tried to concentrate on something other than the warmth of her body and her soft curves pressed against him, but his attempts were futile.

"Shadow?" Rosalind's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you asleep yet?"

"Nay," he answered.

She hesitated before asking, "Will you take your father's place as sachem when he...dies?"

"I know not," he said, sighing. "I fear I have been gone too long and my people may think I have adopted too many of the ways of the English to deserve such an honor." He paused before adding, "Also, I am a hunted man now."

"Do _you_ believe the ways of the English have altered your way of thinking?"

He shook his head, knowing full well they had. Why else, he wondered, would he be lying here with a white woman and speaking to her in her own tongue while the gallows awaited him, all because he had tried to protect her? And why did the thought of Rosalind marrying Nathaniel disturb him to such a degree, he had to bite back his anger whenever the subject was broached?

"You promised to tell me about the stealing the sheep," she reminded him. "I still wish to hear the story."

"If I tell you, will you then go to sleep?"

"I promise," she said.

"A cousin of mine, Little Bird, was not in good favor with his father," he began. "It seemed that no matter what Little Bird did, he failed, which made him a constant source of shame to his family, and the object of much taunting in our village. One day, I invited Little Bird on a hunt with me – I suppose because I felt sorry for him."

"But what does all of this have to do with the Corwins' ewe?" Rosalind interrupted.

"I am getting to that," he assured her. "While hunting, we happened upon the Corwins' land and spied a pen with sheep in it. Little Bird became obsessed with the notion he could greatly impress his father if he were able to gift him with a fine, fat ewe – especially one that belonged to a rich English settler."

Shadow paused to chuckle at the memory. "He wanted to capture it and bring it back alive, so he climbed into the pen and wrestled with the ewe...with the ewe winning. He then decided he would have to kill it, so he withdrew his knife and attempted to swiftly take the sheep's life...but also failed at that. The sheep's bleating grew so loud, Little Bird feared it would attract undue attention, so he lost his courage and dashed back into the forest with the speed of a frightened deer. At the same time, the ewe fell over onto her side, and I noticed the jagged gash near her ribs where the knife had left its mark."

"I should have followed Little Bird into the forest, but in all good conscience, I could not allow the sheep to suffer. I intended to climb into the pen, swiftly end the animal's life with my own knife, and then leave with a peaceful mind. Alas, no sooner did I enter the pen did I look up and spy Elias standing on the other side of the fence...with a musket aimed directly at my head! Had I shown any resistance, I am certain he would have taken great pleasure in shooting me."

Rosalind rolled over on her side so she could study Shadow's face. "I cannot believe you have spent all of this time being punished for your cousin's deed!' Tis not fair! If I were you, I would have made my escape long before now."

Shadow shook his head. "As I have told you, it is not my nature to run. My actions that day were careless, and I have no one to blame but myself for what occurred. My people are taught they must pay for their mistakes, whether large or small. In truth, I feel my punishment should have been more severe."

Without thinking, Rosalind said, "Being forced to work for the Corwins is punishment enough for anyone...especially with the likes of Nathaniel always lurking about."

Shadow stared at her for a moment. "Why, then, Rosalind, did you consent to wed the man?"

His question caught her unexpectedly, and she did not immediately respond. As much as she desired to tell Shadow the truth, she did not wish him to know of her father's secret debts. She knew it might seem foolish, but she did not want to taint her father's memory...not even in the eyes of a complete stranger like Shadow.

"I never did consent to wed Nathaniel," she finally said. "For reasons I still cannot fathom, from the first moment he set eyes on me he became determined to make me his bride, even though I had no interest in him and did naught to encourage him. Without first consulting me, he boldly asked my mother for my hand. She has had such little reason to smile since my father's passing and was so genuinely thrilled about Nathaniel's desire to wed me, I could not bring myself to hurt her. Then Abigail learned of the news and was beside herself with joy, proclaiming she finally had a reason to get well and live." Rosalind frowned at Shadow. "I fear I am weak because I cannot find the courage to tell either woman I do not wish to wed Nathaniel."

"And their happiness is worth the sacrifice of your own?" he asked.

An exaggerated vision of her mother, Nellie and Elizabeth clad in rags and begging people for scraps of food flashed through her mind.

"My happiness matters not," she quietly answered. Her eyes locked with his. "But then, I suppose you, if anyone, should know about making sacrifices to help others. You seem to be doing little else of late."

Shadow reached out to pull her against him. "Hush now," he whispered against her hair. It smelled faintly of pine. "We have much ground to cover on the morrow. Try to get some sleep."

"I _do_ feel a bit tired." Rosalind closed her eyes and released a long sigh. Within seconds, she was asleep.

# CHAPTER SEVEN

The sun already was high in the sky when Shadow opened his eyes. He bolted upright, causing Rosalind, who was snuggled with her back against his stomach, to roll over onto her face.

"We have slept too long," he told her, hastily gathering their belongings. "We should have been well on our way by now." Very rarely did Shadow sleep beyond sunrise, but he had so enjoyed the feel of Rosalind, the warmth of her in his arms, he could have lain with her all day.

Rosalind sat up and brushed the pine needles and dirt from her face and hair. She directed a scowl at Shadow. "Do you always awaken people in such an abrupt manner?"

"We have given our trackers too much opportunity to gain on us," he said, rolling up the blanket. "We shall have to increase our pace to keep ahead of them." He paused and looked directly at her before asking, "...if, that is, you still wish to continue with me."

Rosalind knew the answer before he even asked the question. She wanted to remain with him for as long as possible – for as long as he would have her. The mere thought of leaving him, never to see him again, caused her heart to ache nearly as much as it had ached when her father died. She did not, however, wish Shadow to know how she felt, for she had not a clue about his own feelings.

"I shall continue with you," she said, hoping her voice sounded casual. "I am not yet ready to return to the madness at the Corwins'."

"Good. Then let us be on our way." He reached down to help her to her feet. "We can eat as we walk."

"I fear our food supply has just about run out," she informed him. "Had I known I would be accompanying you on this journey, I would have packed more."

"We can eat raw fish later then," he said, shrugging.

Rosalind wrinkled her nose. "Raw?"

"We cannot risk making a fire to cook it," he said. "It does not taste bad...especially if you are hungry."

"I may never be _that_ hungry," she said, falling into step behind him.

* * * * *

Nathaniel's anger spurred him to keep walking. So strong was his determination to find Rosalind, not once during the past eight hours had he paused to eat or rest. Even stronger was his desire to kill the savage who had taken her. Nathaniel suspected that the Indian long had been attracted to Rosalind. From the first day he had introduced them, the spark in the savage's eyes had been unmistakable.

Nathaniel's grip tightened on his musket and his steps quickened as a vivid image of Shadow forcing himself upon Rosalind blinded him to all else. He shook his head to dismiss the thought. He would find Rosalind before anything happened to her...he _had_ to. And if he arrived too late? What then? Nathaniel already knew the answer. He would have no choice other than to call off the wedding. It was imperative that his bride be chaste. After all, he reasoned, he was a Corwin, a man who could have his pick of any woman, so there was no reason to settle for one who did not meet his high standards.

Within an hour, Nathaniel's feverish pace began to slacken. Cursing his rubbery legs, he blamed his waning energy on his recent voyage. Had he not just returned from the sea, he told himself, he undoubtedly would have been better prepared for this search – and better rested.

Nathaniel paused to drink from the stream, then splashed the cold water on his face, hoping it would refresh him. He had closely followed the stream, assuming the savage would travel by water to conceal his tracks. Although Nathaniel had not yet spied any solid evidence to confirm that the pair had come this way, his instincts told him he was on the right track. Sighing, he seated himself on a rock along the edge of the water and removed a biscuit and a boiled egg from his pack. He desperately craved sleep, and felt his eyelids growing heavy as he ate, but he would not – could not – allow himself to give in to the urge. He knew that each minute he spent resting afforded the Indian additional time to drag Rosalind farther away.

After he had finished eating, Nathaniel rose to his feet and stretched. On the other side of the stream, the terrain dipped into a small vale, then rose to a steep, tree-covered hill. He squinted at the row of trees on the hill. He longed to lie beneath the shade of their branches and sleep for hours, but he knew it was not an option. He had to keep moving. Grabbing his pack and his musket, he stole another glance at the hill...and froze. Near the crest, he spied two figures swiftly moving through the trees. He narrowed his eyes against the sun just as the pair disappeared over the top of the hill.

"Praise God!" Nathaniel silently cheered as he leapt into the shallow stream. "I have found them!"

With renewed strength, he quickly waded across to the other side and ran up the steep hill, his breath coming in short, anxious gasps. His lungs felt as if they were about to burst, but he continued to push himself. A victorious smile curved his lips as he thought of how heroic Rosalind would think him when he rescued her. He even dared to hope she might reward him in a passionate and spontaneous manner. Perhaps, he thought, as odd as the idea seemed, Rosalind being taken hostage would prove to be to his benefit. No longer would she be inclined to accuse him of caring about no one other than himself.

Silently and stealthily, Nathaniel moved through the trees, his heart racing as he rounded the top of the hill and caught another brief glimpse of the two figures moving among the shadows of a thicket of evergreens below. Readying his musket, Nathaniel hastened down the hill, pausing only when he was certain his target was within shooting range. "Halt!" he shouted, squinting into the sun as he aimed his musket at the back of the taller silhouette. "Take one more step and I will fire!"

Both figures abruptly stopped, their hands rising above their heads. "Hold your fire!" a familiar voice called out. "We mean you no harm!"

Frowning, Nathaniel lowered the musket and sighed. "Father? Is that you?" He already knew the answer.

The shorter figure spun around. "Nathaniel!" Elias's voice confirmed his relief. "My boy, you really gave us a start!"

Nathaniel approached his father and brother and gave each a brief embrace. "Forgive me," he said, unable to conceal his frustration. Of a sudden, he felt unbearably tired. "The shadows and the sun in my eyes concealed your identity." He paused to eye the two men. "Have you yet managed to find any clues to their whereabouts?"

" _Their_ whereabouts?" Matthew questioned.

Nathaniel nodded, his expression grim. "It appears the Indian has a hostage with him...my Rosalind."

Elias's mouth fell open. "That cannot be!"

"I fear it is," Nathaniel said. "Rosalind has not been seen since Shadow's escape. 'Tis likely she stumbled upon him just after he broke free and he forced her to accompany him. I think the savage has always been fond of her anyway."

Matthew shook his head and released a long breath. "The poor girl." He cast his brother a sympathetic look. "The odds are not good that we shall find her...unharmed, especially if, as you say, the savage fancies her."

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at him. "I do not wish to hear such talk. I vowed to Mother I would return Rosalind safely to her, and I fully intend to keep that promise!"

"Then I suggest you rest ere you collapse," Elias said, critically eyeing his haggard-looking son. "I can fully understand your desire to find your future bride, Nathaniel, but you cannot possibly go on in your present state. Have you slept at all since your return?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "Do not concern yourself, Father, I am fine. I cannot allow the Indian time to gain any more ground. When he makes camp tonight, I shall seize the opportunity to close in on him."

"Have you any evidence of the Indian's whereabouts?" Matthew asked.

"Nay, 'tis just a strong feeling I have. I know I am on the right track. My heart tells me so."

"Your heart will cease to beat if you keep pushing yourself this way," Elias said. He paused to wipe his perspiration-soaked brow on his sleeve. "Heed my advice, son, and get some sleep. 'Twill make a new man of you."

"The only thing that will make a new man of me is getting my Rosalind safely back. And I shall not rest until I do!"

* * * * *

By the time Rosalind and Shadow paused to rest for the night, the stars already were twinkling in the sky. The day's journey had been long and arduous, causing Rosalind to have serious misgivings about her ability to continue with Shadow. As much as she wanted to remain with him, her tired, aching body was telling her if she did, she would slow down his progress and possibly allow Elias and his men to gain on them and capture him...or worse, shoot him on sight. She knew she never would be able to forgive herself if that occurred. She already was feeling the heavy burden of guilt for thrusting Shadow into such an unfortunate situation to begin with.

Seating herself on the trunk of a fallen birch tree, Rosalind rubbed her tender feet and painfully knotted calves, wincing when she touched a particularly sensitive area.

"I am too exhausted to carry on," she defeatedly announced to Shadow. "I fear that for your safety, you may have to continue on without me, for I shall only slow you down."

"After you have eaten something and had some sleep, you will feel much better," he assured her. "You did well today, keeping pace with me. I pushed you harder due to the time we lost this morning, and for that, I apologize. But I must confess, you impressed me. You possess remarkable strength for someone so slight."

"I fear all of my strength has been spent," Rosalind said. She slipped her right foot back into her boot, which had stiffened from being in the water. The tender flesh on her heel all but screamed in protest. As much as she longed to be with Shadow, she doubted she could bear one more minute of sleeping on rocks, fending off muscle cramps and insects, and spending countless hours with her feet submerged in icy water. Even the thought of emptying Abigail's chamber pot suddenly did not seem quite as distasteful.

Shadow removed the last of the bread from the pillow coate and broke it in half, then handed a piece to Rosalind. She took it from him and nibbled on it. The bread was as dry and hard as tree bark. She thought of what she might be eating if she were back at the Corwins'. A vision of roasted venison, bacon and freshly baked bread covered with a thick layer of just-churned butter, made her momentarily want to shout, "I am here, Elias! Come and fetch me!"

Rosalind and Shadow finished eating their meager rations and sat silently, gazing up at the stars. The sounds of crickets and a bird making "whip-poor-will" sounds in the distance, were all that disturbed the peace of the forest.

"I have never spent so much time outside in the night," Rosalind quietly said. "The dark has always frightened me. But somehow, I now find it peaceful." She turned to look at Shadow, who was seated with his back against a tree. "Have you the blanket? I am feeling a bit chilled."

He reached for the blanket and unrolled it. Rosalind moved to sit next to him on the ground. He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and unconsciously, Rosalind snuggled against him, resting her head against his shoulder. This, she thought, made all of the pain, all of the exhaustion worthwhile, for she felt as if being next to Shadow was where she truly belonged.

Shadow slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her more tightly against him. Together, they sat, not speaking, just listening to the music of the forest.

"Shadow," she began. "How does a man propose marriage to a woman in your village?"

"If he is interested in a woman, and wishes to make her his bride, he drops a piece of wood at her feet."

Rosalind turned to look at him. "You jest!"

He shook his head.

"What would occur if a warrior were carrying an armload of wood for the fire and he tripped and fell in front of a group of women?"

He smiled. "Then I suppose he would have to suffer with many wives!"

Rosalind giggled, then leaned back against Shadow and sighed. She could not believe how easily he was able to lift her mood and put her at ease. His mere touch seemed to have the power to soothe her and make her forget her problems. All last eve, as she had lain next to him, she had imagined what it might feel like to be kissed by him. Would his kiss, she wondered, leave her feeling naught but cold and repulsed, the way Nathaniel's had? Did savages, she also wondered, even know how to kiss?

Snuggling even closer to Shadow, Rosalind felt the warmth of him, the strength of him, and suddenly her curiosity became more than she could bear.

Perhaps her exhaustion, or the stress of all that had happened of late, had affected her ability to think rationally, but she found it impossible to prevent herself from doing what she did next. She pulled away from Shadow just far enough to look up at his face and then murmured, "I would like you to kiss me."

He only stared at her.

Rosalind swallowed her pride. "Please," she whispered, "do me the favor of just one kiss?"

Shadow neither spoke nor moved.

Rosalind held her breath in anticipation. Finally, after what seemed like the passing of a hundred years, Shadow lifted his hand and placed it over hers.

"Believe me," he said softly, "there is nothing I would enjoy more than to grant your request. But I fear that on the morrow, once you are rested and are able to think more clearly, the memory of our kiss might cause you some... regret."

Rosalind shook her head. "You are wrong. This is something I have given serious thought to. Truth be known, I have felt drawn to you since the first day we were introduced on the Corwins' land."

Rosalind's confession greatly pleased Shadow, but he was careful not to allow his expression to reveal his feelings. He also was careful not to allow his desire for her to rule his actions. Fear and exhaustion, he decided, had made Rosalind vulnerable. He did not wish to live up to the title of "savage" by taking advantage of her in any way.

"Get some sleep now," Shadow whispered, attempting to pull her back against him so they could sleep nestled together as they had become accustomed to doing.

Rosalind jerked away from him. "I fear that what I am feeling cannot just simply be slept off!"

Silently she cursed herself. What, she wondered, had possessed her to so foolishly blurt out such a bold request when it was painfully obvious that Shadow was not the least bit attracted to her? Granted, he had treated her with naught but kindness during their journey, but she sensed it was solely because she had saved him from the gallows. Had she possessed the ability, she would have been sorely tempted to deliver a well-deserved kick to her own backside.

Rosalind rose to her feet and walked several steps away from Shadow before halting. She wondered how she ever would be able to face him again, especially once she no longer had the dark of night to conceal her humiliation. She momentarily contemplated running off into the blackest part of the forest where Shadow never would find her. Dealing with a pack of hungry wolves, she decided, would be preferable to having to face him. She closed her eyes and silently wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

Rosalind tensed when she felt Shadow's hands on her shoulders. Gently, he turned her to face him, but she kept her head lowered, for she was much too ashamed to look up at him. Her cheeks burned and she swallowed nervously as she awaited his lecture. She already knew what he was going to say: that she was in urgent need of a good night's sleep; that her exhaustion was to blame for her behavior; that she would feel like a new woman come morning. He would, she was certain, speak to her in the same tone and manner as one would speak to a disobedient child.

With the crook of his index finger, Shadow nudged Rosalind's chin upward until she was forced to look at him. He hesitated only briefly before he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was as gentle as a feather, so light, it barely was perceptible, yet it immediately stirred something within Rosalind that she was unable to comprehend...or control. Uninhibitedly, she clung to him and returned the kiss, her fingers moving up to thread through his thick hair, her body pressing to his.

When she felt Shadow's arms tighten around her and his lips grow more insistent, she concealed a victorious smile. He _did_ find her desirable!

Rosalind could not understand the feelings that were coursing through her. Her lips could not seem to get enough of the taste, the warmth of his. Her breasts, pressed against his solid chest, felt as if they were hardening, tingling. Her breathing grew more rapid. All she did know was she wanted the kiss to last forever, blotting out all thoughts of Nathaniel and Jonathan; blotting out all but the delicious warmth that was spreading through her.

Seconds later, much to Rosalind's disappointment, Shadow broke away from her. Suppressing a shiver as the cool night air replaced the heat of him, she tilted her head back and stared up longingly at his face. She wanted to memorize every angle of it, every handsome feature, exactly as it looked at that very moment.

Shadow pulled her against his chest and settled his chin on top of her head. His breathing was rapid and Rosalind could hear his heart pounding wildly, just as she was certain her own heart was pounding. She desperately craved another kiss, a much longer one this time, but thought better than to ask for one. It was best, she decided, if she allowed Shadow to make his own decisions about when – or if – to kiss her again. She prayed it would be soon.

Shadow inhaled deeply, attempting to calm the waves of desire that Rosalind's soft, sweet mouth had aroused. He had not expected her to cling to him with such abandon, nor to return his kiss with such a degree of passion. He had intended to kiss her only lightly, to silence her so she would go to sleep, but the moment she pressed her body to his and ran her fingers through his hair, his honorable intentions nearly had dissolved. He could think of nothing other than how much he wanted to touch every inch of her soft, pale skin...to possess her totally.

"We had better get some sleep now," he whispered hoarsely. Reluctantly, he loosened his grasp on her and backed away from her.

"Thank you, Shadow," she whispered shyly, her cheeks still burning. "I know you kissed me only because I was so insistent...and you were hoping to silence me."

His eyes captured hers and held them. "I do not do anything I do not wish to do."

* * * * *

Sleep eluded Rosalind that night as she lay snuggled against Shadow beneath their blanket. Over and over again she relived their kiss and the unexpected way she had reacted to it. Try as she might, she could not comprehend the feelings that had raced through her when Shadow's lips first touched hers. It was as if her blood had been heated over a roaring fire prior to flowing through her veins. Why, she wondered, were Nathaniel's kisses so distasteful to her, while Shadow's left her wanting more? And why, after all her years of fearing Indians, was she lying here, desperately craving the touch of one?

Frowning, Rosalind realized how pointless it was for her to form any sort of attachment to Shadow. For all she knew, he probably was counting the minutes until he could be free of her...free to move at his own pace. She realized he already had sacrificed far too much for her, and for that, she suspected he harbored at least some resentment toward her, even though he had not outwardly shown any...at least not yet.

If she had no family to consider and no ties whatsoever to bind her, she wondered, what would her future plan be? She did not have to consider her answer for very long. Her heart told her she would remain with Shadow, no matter where his path took him or how difficult the journey might prove to be.

Rosalind rolled onto her side and gazed at Shadow as he slept. A feeling of deep sadness overtook her as she thought about what it would be like never to set eyes on him again. Too soon, she lamented, she would have to return to the Corwins' house, where she would be expected to resume her daily tasks and carry on with making plans for her wedding as if nothing had occurred, nothing had changed. She anticipated that for a while, she would be the center of gossip in town and that people would point at her and whisper speculatively about her unfortunate ordeal with the "savage." But Rosalind held little doubt that after the gossip died down, her life would return to exactly what it had been before, but with two exceptions: Shadow no longer would be a part of it...and Nathaniel would be her husband.

# CHAPTER EIGHT

Sighing wearily, Abigail pushed aside her supper tray and leaned back against her pillows.

"You really must eat something, ma'am," Grace scolded her. "'Twill certainly not help matters any if you starve yourself to death! Lord knows, we already have enough to worry about around here."

"I cannot eat," Abigail said, frowning. "Not while my husband, sons and future daughter are off wandering in the forest somewhere, at the mercy of wild animals, savages, and heaven only knows what else! I shan't rest until they all have safely returned home."

"But no one knows how long that might be," Grace said. "If you neither eat nor sleep until then, your family might return to find naught but a corpse in your bed! Is that what you wish?"

"No, of course not," Abigail muttered. "I am not avoiding food. I simply have lost my taste for it."

Before Grace could make another comment, Abigail asked her, "Did you do as I instructed and send word to Rosalind's brother?"

"Aye. Early this morn¸ the upsetting news about Rosalind was delivered to him. From what I understand, he was not at all pleased that no one had seen fit to inform him the moment the incident occurred. He was prepared to leave posthaste to join in the search for his sister, but his young bride carried on so about being left alone, he finally, although much disinclined to do so, chose to remain with her."

"I am sorry to hear that," Abigail said. "The greater the number who search for Rosalind, the sooner she is likely to be found." She slowly shook her head. "I had hoped it would not be necessary to tell Benjamin about any of this because I clung to the belief Rosalind would walk back through the door at any moment. But now I have come to accept the possibility she...may never return."

"You must have faith," Grace said. "If anyone can find Rosalind, the captain can. Why, at this very moment, he might be heading back home with her."

"I wish I possessed your confidence." Abigail released a long, defeated sigh.

"I truly believe Mistress Rosalind will return to us," Grace said. "And when she does, how do you think she will feel when she sees how poorly you have fared during her absence? She has put a great deal of effort into improving your heath, and here you are, about to undo all of her hard work. Why, I would not blame the poor lass if she changed her mind about becoming a part of this family because of you!"

Narrowing her eyes at Grace, Abigail lifted a chunk of buttered bread and took a large bite of it. "There!" she huffed, chewing. "I am eating! Now cease your complaining!"

* * * * *

Rosalind crinkled her nose and warily eyed the raw fish Shadow set before her. "Do you really expect me to eat this?" she asked him. "I could swear I just saw it breathe!"

It was midday and they had stopped to eat, which had not been their habit, as they usually did not cease walking until dusk. But their gnawing hunger had dictated otherwise. They were seated beneath a tall maple near a bend in the stream that was well concealed by trees.

Shadow smiled in amusement at Rosalind. "Granted, it is not as tasty as cooked or smoked fish, but I assure you, it is not bad." He used the carving knife to slice off a small piece of the fish. He then stabbed it with the tip of the knife and extended it toward her. "Here, try it."

Hesitantly, she accepted the morsel. With her eyes clamped shut, she quickly stuffed the fish into her mouth and swallowed it.

Shadow laughed. "Might it not be better if you chewed it?"

Rosalind shook her head and grimaced. "I do not believe so." Scrambling to her feet, she hastily covered the short distance to the stream, then knelt at the edge of it and gulped water from her cupped hands.

Shadow, who sat with one knee propped up as he leaned against the tree, smiled and shook his head as he watched her. "Ready for another bite?" he asked.

Rosalind stood and turned to glare at him. "I fear the first bite is still lodged in my throat...and may very well remain there."

Shadow laughed again, his dark eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun. Just minutes ago, Rosalind had watched with fascination as he had stood statue-like in the water, his face etched with deep lines of concentration, his arm holding his makeshift spear at a precise angle as he had waited to strike the fish. She had been unable to tear her eyes from his form and the perfect symmetry of it. Although Rosalind felt Shadow's appearance was enough to cause any woman's heart to flutter, she also admired his other many qualities – his physical strength, his courage, his unselfish nature and his intelligence.

After she managed to wash down the piece of fish, she walked back toward Shadow and seated herself on the ground at his feet. Silently, she watched him as he ate, her eyes settling on his mouth...the mouth that had given her so much pleasure the night before.

"What are you thinking?" Shadow's voice startled her back to the present.

"I am thinking I shall retch if I have to eat one more bite of that slimy fish!" she lied.

"Then do not blame me when your stomach begins to rumble like thunder," he teased, "and the noise draws Elias and his henchmen directly to us."

Rosalind giggled. When she did, to her embarrassment, she belched.

"I am sorry," she said, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. "All I can taste is that terrible piece of fish."

Without saying a word, Shadow stood and walked over to a small, marshy area near the water. Bending, he appeared to be searching for something. Rosalind watched with growing curiosity as he bent to pick several green sprigs. She continued to watch as, using his knife, he cut a twig from one of the trees, a young sapling, then returned to sit next to her. He set the sprigs on the ground, then used his knife on the sapling twig. On one end, he feathered the soft wood, and on the other end, he carved a sharp point, He then handed it and one of the sprigs to Rosalind.

She stared blankly at them and then looked up at Shadow. "What do you wish me to do with these?"

"Chew the mint leaf," he said. "It will remove the taste of the fish. Then use the twig to clean your teeth. One end is for cleansing and brushing them and the sharp end, if you feel the need, is for digging between them."

Rosalind did as instructed and bit into the mint sprig. It was slightly bitter but made her mouth instantly feel refreshed. She then used the twig's feathered end to rub the surfaces of her teeth.

When she was finished, she ran her tongue over her teeth and marveled at how smooth they felt.

"Now I believe I understand why your smile is so striking," she said, smiling at Shadow. " I mean you no insult, but I must confess I did not realize you...your people...did things such as this."

Shadow nodded, his expression clearly amused. "Yes, we 'savages' do things like that. And your people? Do they not also clean their teeth?"

"Aye, we use chew sticks. But not many of my people possess teeth as white as yours."

"That is because they drink too much wine," he said. "It stains."

"But do not all of the berries your people eat, stain their teeth also?"

"At times, but that is when we use the blackened part of a stick from the fire to remove the stains. The charcoal is good for scrubbing and cleaning. But we must make certain to rinse all of it away afterwards."

Rosalind smiled, imagining how Shadow would look with black charcoal stuck to his teeth. Before she could stop herself, she boldly blurted out, "I now find myself wishing our kiss would have been tonight instead of last night, now that my mouth feels so refreshed. I am certain it would have been much more pleasurable for you."

Shadow's lips once again curved in amusement. "I can assure you, your mouth was just fine."

Although his words pleased her, Rosalind could not help but feel somewhat disappointed that he made no attempt to kiss her again, especially since she practically had just invited him to do so. She lowered her gaze and absently used the tip of her index finger to trace the shape of a smooth stone on the ground. Finally, she gathered the courage to ask a question she had spent most of the morning contemplating.

"Shadow..." she began, allowing her eyes to meet his, "may I meet your friend, Mr. Stoddard, in Portsmouth ere you and I part ways? I was thinking it might be safer if I am left to be discovered in a port rather than out here in the middle of the forest, where I would be at the mercy of wild animals and Lord only knows what else. What if the searchers are farther behind us than you suspect? Or what if no one is searching for us at all? How would I even survive alone in the forest? I have never caught a fish nor killed an animal for food. My father and brother always provided for us."

Shadow was surprised by her request, but he secretly was pleased she was interested in staying with him longer than he had anticipated. In truth, he was enjoying her company to a greater extent than he ever might have imagined.

"I will wager that just about everyone who has ever met Elias is searching for us by now," he said. "And I also will wager they are much closer than you suspect. If you wish to meet Adam, then I am not at all opposed to it. In fact, I agree that it might be a wise idea to leave you in a more settled area."

Rosalind struggled to conceal the feelings of joy that were flooding through her at the mere thought of being able to spend more time with Shadow. Her voice, however, sounded calm and composed when she asked, "When will we reach his house?"

"By tomorrow eve."

"And what then? Will you just leave me there?"

"I must." His eyes briefly held hers. "You can trust Adam to see to your comfort and safety. I shall have to keep moving, probably north, up to New France."

"I have heard it is dangerous there." Her concern was apparent.

"No more dangerous than if I remain here to face the gallows."

"I truly am sorry," she whispered. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I shall be fine." Shadow's eyes swept over her face. "And what of you? Do you think you also will be fine...once you are back with the Corwins?"

She slowly nodded. "They treat me well enough. I shall lack for naught with them." _As long as I agree to wed their son._

Shadow hoped his expression did not reveal his disappointment. Although he realized the unlikelihood of it, he had held the small hope that Rosalind might choose to sever all ties with the Corwins and remain with him. She certainly had not acted in the manner of a betrothed woman when she had kissed him with such passion the night before. He battled the urge to tell her he did not wish to leave her at Adam Stoddard's and go on without her. But, he thought defeatedly, what purpose would such a confession serve? If Rosalind were to remain with him, she would be condemned to spend the rest of her life on the run, breaking all ties with her family and friends, and sacrificing the luxuries she had come to know at the Corwins'. And what could he offer her? He had lost everything. He no longer even had a place to call home. As much as he disliked Nathaniel, he was forced to admit that Rosalind's life with the captain still would be far better and much safer than a life with him.

"I believe you and Nathaniel will have a good life together," Shadow finally said, nearly choking on the words.

Rosalind felt as if he had struck her. How, she wondered, after all she and he had been through together, could he so casually sit there and encourage her to marry Nathaniel? Had their kiss meant nothing to him?

Apparently not, she concluded, her pain increasing. She felt embarrassed that she so foolishly had allowed herself to believe, even for one second, that Shadow actually desired her.

"You were right about one thing," Rosalind said softly. "I did need these few days away from everyone to calm myself and collect my thoughts." She turned to face him. "Many things are more clear to me now."

"I am glad," he said.

He finished eating the remainder of the fish, then moved to bury its bones, tail and head. After he did, he carefully concealed the makeshift grave with leaves and branches. Dropping to one knee, he then bowed his head over the spot and spoke several words in his native tongue, as if eulogizing a dearly departed friend. Rosalind observed his actions with marked curiosity, but thought better than to question him about it.

Shadow stood, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the hills behind them. "We should be on our way," he said. "The sooner we reach Adam's house, the better I shall feel."

_Because you finally will be rid of me,_ Rosalind thought.

* * * * *

Hidden amongst a thick growth of trees on a ridge overlooking Portsmouth harbor, Rosalind and Shadow silently eyed the scene below. The port was bustling with activity and sound –the laughter of children playing, mingling with the shouts of workers on the docks. Lining the shore were the fishermen's modest dwellings, interspersed with the more impressive residences of the wealthy. The ocean stretched out as far at the eye could see, its waves gently rolling in.

"We shall remain here until the sun sets," Shadow said. "It is better if we make our way to Adam's in the cover of darkness, so as not to attract attention."

Rosalind sighed and sat on a flat tree stump. "I must look a fright," she complained, using her hand to brush at her wrinkled, dirt-covered skirts. "My garments are torn, I am in urgent need of a bath, and my hair is matted with leaves and twigs...and I dare not imagine what else. I cannot bear the thought of facing your friend while looking this way."

"I fear you have little choice," Shadow said. "Besides, Adam will understand."

"Has he a wife?"

"Yes...Esther. She is a kind woman. You will like her, as I am certain she will like you."

"I shall _love_ her if she offers us a hot meal!" Rosalind's hand settled on her stomach. "I am nearly hungry enough to eat your raw fish!"

"If you had eaten my fish, you would not be so hungry now," Shadow said. "But I must warn you, Adam and his wife are so fond of raw fish, they eat it daily. So you may be offered that instead of a hot meal. And it would be rude of you to refuse it."

Rosalind turned to stare wide-eyed at him. When she did, she saw by his expression that he was teasing. She broke into a relieved smile and said, "Then I hope I shall not offend your friends if I toss the fish into the fire ere I eat it!"

* * * * *

As the sun slowly settled behind the trees, Rosalind battled a thousand conflicting thoughts. She and Shadow sat on the ground next to each other, their backs braced against a large rock that sat amongst a cluster of pines. She glanced at Shadow, who sat cross-legged, his eyes closed. An overwhelming sense of sadness hung about her as she realized this would be the last sunset she and he ever would share. She could not help but wonder whether he would choose to spend the night at Adam's, or hasten on his way as soon as he felt she was safe.

She took a deep breath. The smells of the port – the fish, the salt air, the freshly cut white pine to be used for ships' masts – filled her senses. But there was something else of which Rosalind wished to fill her senses...Shadow. Suddenly it became imperative that she savor every moment of her remaining time with him. Greedily, her eyes traced the angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips...and the smoothness of his muscular chest and flat abdomen. He had doffed his shirt earlier, much to Rosalind's pleasure. She selfishly hoped he would not don it again until they reached Adam's house.

An aching need to touch him caused her to abruptly turn away and close her eyes. By tomorrow, Shadow no longer would be a part of her life. Why then, she wondered, was she so desperately attempting to fill herself with the memory of him, when she knew she should be making every effort to forget him?

Several silent minutes passed before Shadow opened his eyes and stole a glance at Rosalind. She looked as if she were sleeping, so he allowed his gaze to linger on her. Even with her face smudged with dirt, he thought he had never seen her look more beautiful. In the orange glow of the setting sun behind them as it filtered through the trees, her hair resembled spun gold as it framed her face in a wild disarray of curls. He imagined she resembled one of the angels Mary, Adam's daughter, so often had described whenever she had spoken of her people's heaven.

Shadow was unable to look away from Rosalind. How, he wondered, could he possibly bear to leave her? Did he really possess the strength to walk away, never again to look into her wide, innocent blue eyes...never again to taste the sweetness of her lips? Did he actually possess the strength to send her back to the likes of Nathaniel Corwin?

Rosalind could feel Shadow's gaze burning into her, but she knew if she allowed herself to open her eyes and look at him, her feelings would be revealed and she would succeed only in humiliating herself once again. After all, Shadow had made his own feelings quite clear when he told her he thought she would have a good life with Nathaniel.

"Rosalind," Shadow whispered.

She pretended to be asleep...even when he moved closer to her...even when she felt his hand on her arm.

"Look at me." His voice was husky.

The heat of him next to her nearly was unbearable. Slowly, Rosalind opened her eyes and turned to face him.

Shadow stared silently at her, drawing her into the hypnotic depths of his eyes, rendering her incapable of concentrating on anything other than the nearness of him. For a moment, she feared her heart had ceased to beat.

Shadow leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, followed by another on the tip of her nose and another on her chin. With each kiss, Rosalind held her breath in anticipation of the moment when he finally would find her lips and _really_ kiss her. She could think of no better way to forever preserve him in her memory.

Shadow lifted his head and studied her face, as if he were carefully considering his next move. His face was so close to hers, Rosalind could feel his breath against her lips. A sudden, driving need from somewhere deep within her took control. It no longer mattered if she humiliated herself, she thought defiantly, for in a few short hours, Shadow would forever be gone from her life. She longed to kiss him, over and over again – and that, she decided, was exactly what she was going to do. Reaching up, she slipped her arms around his neck and urged his head forward until their lips met.

The moment Shadow felt the softness of Rosalind's mouth innocently coaxing him to respond, his willpower dissolved. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her back onto the ground and then covered her body with his. He returned Rosalind's kiss with a hunger that made their previous kiss seem almost fatherly in comparison.

Shadow's response delighted Rosalind, but it also frightened her, for she had not the slightest idea how to pleasure a man. She felt his lips travel down to her neck, leaving a trail of lingering kisses in their wake before sliding back up to reclaim her mouth in a fiery kiss. Rosalind closed her eyes and blotted out all but the feel of him. Nothing else existed in her world at that moment but the two of them. Instinctively, her hands stroked the back of his neck and she arched her back until her body was tightly pressed against the full, muscular length of him.

Rosalind began to feel lightheaded, not unlike the time she had drunk too much of her father's aged cider. She knew she should feel naught but shame for her actions, but instead she found herself wishing her garments and Shadow's suddenly would disappear, so she could run her hands over every part of his taut, bronzed body. If indeed this kiss was to be their last, she wanted it to be one that still would take her breath away twenty years from now when she recalled it – the touch of Shadow, the taste of him, the feel of him – forever branded in her memory.

Shadow's desire to become one with Rosalind ignited a fire within him that threatened to erase all rational thought. Her lips, her soft sighs, her breasts pressed so tantalizingly against his bare chest, all fueled his passion to such an extent, it nearly overwhelmed him. He held little doubt that if he so desired, Rosalind would deny him nothing, but his sense of honor was too deeply ingrained to allow him to take advantage of her innocence. He knew all too well that giving herself to a man who was about to walk out of her life was not what Rosalind truly wanted. She was not some unfeeling doxy who could bed a man and then forget him. No, he was forced to remind himself, Rosalind, although very much a woman, still was childlike in far too many ways.

With great effort, he broke free of Rosalind's arms, rolled off her and sat up.

"Shadow?" she breathlessly whispered, lifting her head to look up at him. "What is wrong?"

He only stared down at her, his breathing uneven as he struggled to maintain his self-control. Her tousled hair, her flushed cheeks, her lips – slightly swollen from his kisses – were almost more than he could bear. Rosalind's skirts had hiked up to her thighs, revealing long, perfectly shaped legs. Feeling his resolve crumbling as he battled the urge to climb between those legs, Shadow stood and turned his back toward her.

"Get up!" he snapped at her, sounding much more harsh than he had intended. "It is time to make our way to Adam's."

"But the sun barely has set," she said, not moving...nor making any attempt to pull down her skirts.

Shadow turned to her and extended his hand. "Come, now." His tone was less commanding.

When Rosalind, her expression displaying her confusion, did not accept his hand, Shadow dropped it and moved to collect their things. Without another word, he slipped into his shirt, then swung the blanket and pillow sack over his shoulder and walked off.

Rosalind was too stunned to comprehend what had just occurred. Frantically, she searched her mind for some explanation for Shadow's confusing behavior. In a matter of only seconds, his fire had turned to ice. _But why?_ Did he think her too inexperienced to satisfy him?

"Please, Shadow," Rosalind called out as she struggled to her feet and hastily straightened her clothing. "Wait for me!

He halted, keeping his back to her.

Together, they walked in silence, neither looking at the other as they followed the winding footpath down the tree-lined hill that led to Adam's house. Tension hung between them, Rosalind thought, like an impenetrable fog. Several times she opened her mouth to speak, but then, not knowing what to say, remained silent.

The ocean breeze was cool and she suppressed a shiver as they walked. She was uncertain if the chill she was feeling was due to the breeze...or from Shadow's icy treatment of her.

The longer the silence continued, the more urgently Rosalind felt the need to discover why Shadow so abruptly had chosen to distance himself from her. She could not allow him to leave her, not the way things currently stood.

"I do not understand what just occurred between us," she finally gathered the courage to say. She touched Shadow's elbow to gain his attention. "Once we reach Adam's, we will be unable to speak privately, so please, grant me the courtesy of talking to me now."

Shadow paused, his eyes fixed straight ahead. "I cannot explain what just occurred between us," he said tightly. "But it should not have gone as far as it did."

"Why?" Rosalind softly asked, silently cursing the quiver in her voice. "Do you not find me appealing? Is it because I am...white?"

Shadow's head snapped in her direction and she saw the anger in his eyes. "You are _too_ appealing! It is fortunate for you that I am not the sort who would take advantage of your passion just as I am about to walk out of your life!"

When Rosalind did not respond, he tossed the pillow sack and blanket onto the ground, then turned and grasped her by the shoulders. Leaning forward until his face was very close to hers, he said, "Tell me, Rosalind, is that what you wish? For me to sate my lust and then disappear from your life as though it never occurred?"

Rosalind's eyes brimmed with tears as she slowly shook her head. "I-I was just too caught up in the moment to consider anything beyond it. I cannot even comprehend what I was feeling because it was all so new to me. What I _can_ say with certainty is I wanted the moment never to end." She drew a shaky breath. "Was it so wrong of me to want something special to remember you by?"

Shadow's expression softened. He removed his hands from her shoulders and reached down to take her hands in his. "I do not wish you to remember me for something you will too soon come to regret. Can you not understand that? We have shared much during these past few days, Rosalind, and I have gathered a thousand memories of you that will forever live in my heart. I do not need to know you...intimately...to remember you."

Rosalind shyly lowered her lashes. "Although your words make sense, a part of me still believes that in the future, when I think back upon this eve and the way your lips and body felt against mine, my greatest regret may be that you stopped when you did."

Shadow released her hands and looked away from her. "Perhaps it shall be mine also."

# CHAPTER NINE

"Their latchstring is not out," Rosalind said as she and Shadow approached the Stoddards' front door. "They do not wish to be disturbed."

Shadow frowned at her. "This is not the time to concern yourself with your silly English customs."

"They are _not_ silly!"

Ignoring her, Shadow knocked on the thick wooden door, then stood glancing uneasily about as he waited for someone to answer. It seemed like hours before the door creaked open to reveal the scowling face of a short, balding man whose shirt appeared to have been carelessly thrown on. The man's eyes widened as a look of recognition crossed his heavily jowled face.

"Shadow Runner?" his eyebrows rose. "What brings you here?" At that moment, he spied Rosalind and curiously eyed her from head to toe.

"I seek your help." Shadow responded. "Please, may we enter?"

"Certainly, lad." The man opened the door wider. "Come in, come in."

The interior of the house was warm and inviting, but, Rosalind thought, much too cluttered. The single room held a table, stools, benches, a large bed, and near the hearth, kettles, buckets, pots, fishing nets, and more. From a kettle that hung on a lug pole in the fireplace, wafted such a delicious aroma, Rosalind feared she might embarrass herself by drooling.

"Be seated," the man offered, waving his arm in the direction of a cushioned bench. "Are you hungry?"

"As a bear in the spring!" Rosalind answered without hesitation.

The man chuckled as he moved toward the hearth. "By the way, I am Adam Stoddard," he said for Rosalind's benefit.

"Pleased to meet you, sir. I am Rosalind Chandler. Shadow has told me much about you and your daughter, Mary."

"All good, I hope?" He cocked an eyebrow at Shadow.

"Very good!" Rosalind smiled.

Adam turned to fill two wooden bowls with steaming pottage, then set them, along with two spoons, on the table. "Come, eat!"

Rosalind and Shadow needed no further encouragement. Eagerly they dug into the thick soup, gulping down the chunks of meat and vegetables without pausing to savor the flavor, or to take caution not to burn their mouths.

Adam seated himself on a stool near the fire and silently studied the pair as they ate. He allowed several minutes to pass before he spoke, his voice calm. "Are you the one they are searching for, Shadow? Did you murder a man and take a woman hostage?"

Both Rosalind and Shadow ceased eating to stare at him. "Where did you hear such a thing?" Shadow asked.

"At the docks, just this afternoon," Adam responded. "Two men were questioning people, asking if perchance they had caught sight of an Indian and a fair-haired young woman passing through this way."

"Have you a description of these two men?" Shadow asked.

"The older man was fleshy, with a round face and thinning hair. The younger was solidly built with dark hair and referred to him as his father."

"Elias and Matthew!" Rosalind gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Dear Lord, Shadow, they obviously anticipated our arrival here! You must leave posthaste!"

"Nay," Adam said, shaking his head. "They were only seeking clues to your whereabouts. When they found none, they assumed you had ventured elsewhere. They gathered some supplies and several volunteers and said they were heading north to continue their search."

Shadow's brows creased together. "As I anticipated, the Corwins will not rest until they see my neck in a noose."

"You have not answered my question," Adam reminded him, his gaze unblinking. "Are you guilty?"

"Nay, he is not," Rosalind answered before Shadow was able to. "I am solely to blame for all that has occurred, including the murder of which they speak. Not only is Shadow innocent of all he has been accused, I am with him of my own free will. He has been naught but kind to me and has sacrificed much for me."

"I do not understand," Adam said, shifting his gaze from Rosalind to Shadow, then back to Rosalind. "Why then, pray tell, does everyone seem to believe you have been taken hostage?"

Rosalind rolled her eyes and sighed. "'Tis a long story, fraught with false notions."

"Tell me," Adam encouraged her, leaning forward with obvious interest. "I have been told I am a good listener." He paused before adding, "Besides, if you expect me to help you, should I not be informed of the events that led you here, to my home?"

Rosalind hesitated, not wishing to relive the nightmare of the past several days.

"Tell him," Shadow gave his consent with a nod. "You can trust Adam."

Rosalind lowered her eyes and studied her half-eaten pottage, which too quickly had grown cold. Choosing her words carefully, she related to Adam how Jonathan had died, how Shadow had been falsely accused of the murder, and how she had freed him and run off with him.

Adam took a few moments to digest the information before he spoke. "Well, well," he finally said, mostly to himself, "you two certainly have managed to get yourselves into one fine predicament, have you not?"

Shadow and Rosalind both nodded.

Adam looked at Shadow. "Forgive me, lad, if I insulted you when I asked if you were guilty. Knowing you as well as I do, I should have thought better than to ask."

"No need to apologize," Shadow said. "It is best if everyone believes the worst of me. When Rosalind returns to her people, I want them to believe she was taken against her will. I want no suspicion to fall upon her for anything that has occurred."

"So," Adam said, trying to understand, "your sole purpose for shouldering the blame for everything is to protect Rosalind?"

"Yes," Shadow responded without hesitation. "What happens to me is of little consequence."

"But why not make the truth be known?" Adam asked. "Do you not care how your father – your people – will react when they hear these terrible falsehoods about you?"

Shadow smiled bitterly and shook his head. "Do you sincerely think anyone would believe me...a _savage_? I see no benefit in trying to convince anyone of the truth, especially not now. It is far too late for that."

Adam released a long sigh. Shadow's behavior greatly puzzled him. He had known the Indian for years, and during that time, Shadow had spoken of little else but his burning desire to follow in his father's footsteps as sachem of his people. Now, here he sat, casually stating that nothing was as important to him as his need to protect this woman...a white woman. For what reason, Adam wondered, was he so willing to cast everything aside for her? Had he so easily fallen prey to the pretty blonde's charms? Nay, Adam decided, dismissing the thought. It was too unlike Shadow to be swayed by a woman.

Nevertheless, he felt compelled to ask, "Might there be something...deeper...between the two of you?"

Rosalind felt her heartbeat quicken as she recalled what had occurred between them just a short time before – the memory of Shadow's kisses still burning her lips.

"Nay," she responded. "There is nothing between us. The man who was asking questions earlier – he is Magistrate Elias Corwin from Eastwell. He has another son, Nathaniel." She forced a weak smile. "Nathaniel is my betrothed."

Adam's eyes widened. He had not anticipated that answer. "Oh...I see. 'Tis no wonder then that this magistrate is so determined to find you."

"And hang me," Shadow muttered.

"So what are your plans now?" Adam asked.

"It is time for Rosalind and I to go our separate ways," Shadow explained. "I thought we would arrive here ere the Corwins and they would find her here in the port and escort her back home...or find someone to do so while they continued their quest for my hide. But now that they already have passed through here, I suppose Rosalind will be in need of someone else to safely escort her back to Eastwell."

"That should be no problem," Adam said, nodding. "And what of you, lad? What are your plans?"

"Perhaps I shall head to the mountains, or up to New France."

"The same direction in which the magistrate and his group were headed?" Adam asked.

"It is as good a direction as any," Shadow said. "And if they already are ahead of me, then they cannot very well track me."

Adam rubbed his chin thoughtfully and was silent for several moments. "I just may have a solution to your problem," he finally said. "What would you say if I told you there might be a way for you never have to concern yourself about being hunted again?"

Shadow stared at him. "What is your plan?"

"That you stow away aboard a ship," he calmly answered, paying no mind to the scowl that immediately crossed Shadow's face. "A British vessel, the _Conway_ , is in port. Its hold is loaded with timber to be used for the Royal Navy's masts. The ship sets sail for England the day after tomorrow. But tomorrow eve, as is the usual custom, most of the ship's crew will gather at the tavern to celebrate their last night in port. 'Twill be relatively simple for you to gain access to the ship then."

Shadow eyed him in disbelief. "What you are suggesting is absurd...out of the question!"

"Do not be so hasty to dismiss the idea," Rosalind broke in. "I think Mr. Stoddard makes good sense. No one would think to look for you at sea. Do you wish to condemn me to spend the rest of my life worrying about you, wondering if you ever made it safely to New France or if some angry mob finally caught up with you and hanged you on the spot?" Her eyes became imploring. "Please, Shadow, give serious consideration to Adam's suggestion. You could begin a new life in England or Europe as a free man."

Shadow remained silent, hoping his expression did not reveal how close he was to laughing. He did not wish to hurt their feelings, but the idea of him sailing off to England as a stowaway was too ridiculous to even consider. Shadow wondered, with some indignation, why Rosalind and Adam did not believe him to be intelligent enough to outwit Elias Corwin and his men. He knew these lands well – every tree, hill, mountain, stream and cave, every hiding place. He belonged here, the place of his people, and not in some far-off country on the other side of the ocean. Still, Shadow thought, it probably would be best not to further distress Rosalind by flatly denying her request. She had been through too much of late. The matter, he decided, would require careful handling.

"I shall consider it," he finally said.

"Well, do not take too long," Adam advised. "If you do decide to board the ship tomorrow eve, I shall have to go into town beforehand and pick up supplies for your voyage. You cannot expect to stow away without sufficient provisions."

"I shall let you know in more than enough time," Shadow said, his tone indicating he wished to discuss the matter no further.

Adam wisely turned the topic. "I visited your village two weeks past," he said.

He instantly gained Shadow's full attention. "How is everyone faring?"

A proud smile curved Adam's lips. "Fine, fine. Mary and Storm Dancer finally have made me a grandfather. They have a strong, healthy son."

Both Rosalind and Shadow smiled at the news. "I am pleased for them...and for you," Shadow said. He hesitated, as if debating whether or not he should ask the next question. "And my father...how fares he?"

"White Eagle is well," Adam replied.

Shadow sensed an uneasiness in his voice as he spoke the words. He looked directly into Adam's eyes. "My father has disclaimed me as his son." It was a statement, not a question.

Adam shifted his weight on the stool. "Nay, but you greatly disappointed him, getting caught for such a petty crime as thievery. I fear the deed has cost you much respect in the eyes of your people."

"Most especially my father's," Shadow said.

"'Tis not fair!" Rosalind protested, fully prepared to come to Shadow's defense by divulging all she knew about Little Bird and the Corwins' sheep. A warning glance from Shadow, however, silenced her.

Sighing, Shadow shook his head. "It matters not anyway. I cannot return to my people while I am being hunted. As it is, I am concerned that Elias may send men there who will tear the village apart in their search for me. If that does occur, the blame for any harm that might come to my people or their homes will fall solely upon my shoulders. And, as you said, my father will think even less of me when he learns of these new accusations against me. I am certain I shall then be dead in his eyes."

Rosalind clearly heard the pain in Shadow's voice. She wanted to offer him some words of comfort but could think of none that would be appropriate or suffice at that moment.

Instead, she turned to Adam, hoping to lighten the mood. "Shadow tells me you have a lovely wife. Will I have the pleasure of meeting her?"

"Unfortunately, no," Adam said. "She is away, caring for her sister. I do not anticipate Esther's return until week's end at the earliest."

"I regret I shall be unable to meet her," Rosalind said. She dropped her gaze and studied her dirt-encrusted hands and fingernails as she contemplated how, or if, she should ask her next question.

Somewhat timidly, she finally inquired, "Mr. Stoddard, might it be possible for me to have a bath and a change of clothing? I do not wish to impose upon your hospitality, but I would feel so much better if I were clean."

"Certainly, lass," he answered, immediately rising. "I shall fetch the tub and heat a kettle of water. And I also shall find one of Esther's dresses for you." He measured Rosalind with his eyes. "You also will be in need of a nightdress."

* * * * *

Rosalind awoke from the sleep of the dead the next morning and lingered in the warmth of Adam's bed. The Stoddards, their children grown and wed, had but one bed, which Adam graciously had offered to her. At first, she had protested, not wishing to put the man out of his own bed, but he had insisted, assuring her that he would be perfectly comfortable on the floor.

Stretching, Rosalind looked about the room. She spotted Shadow seated before the hearth. His back was to her and he appeared to be lost in thought, gazing into the fire as he sipped from a mug he held clasped between his hands. She was pleased to see him still there with her, for she strongly had suspected he might slip away during the night, without even so much as a goodbye, to make his departure less difficult.

"Shadow?" she whispered, sitting up.

He turned and smiled at her. "I thought you were going to sleep all day. The hour approaches noon."

Rosalind was surprised by his statement. "Never have I slept more soundly," she said. "And you? Did you sleep well? I am sorry you had to make your bed on the floor."

He shrugged. "I can sleep on rocks, if necessary."

"Aye, I am aware of that from traveling with you these past few days!" She allowed herself a lingering look at him. His appearance was much fresher and cleaner than when she last had seen him. Over his leather breeches he wore a loose-fitting, immaculate white shirt, which she guessed had been donated by Adam. His hair, thick and glossy, looked freshly washed and fell past his shoulders. Rosalind's heartbeat quickened as she recalled the way his hair had felt when she had run her hands through it during their too-brief passionate interlude the day before. Unexpectedly, she found herself battling the sudden urge to brazenly invite him to join her in the bed.

"Where is Adam?" she asked instead, her eyes darting about.

"He has gone to gather supplies for my journey. Time grows short ere I must depart."

Rosalind's eyebrows arched. "Then you have decided to stow away aboard the _Conway_?"

He nodded. "You and Adam have managed to convince me it might be a wise idea."

"I am so relieved!" Rosalind breathed. "Knowing you will be safely away from here – far from all of this madness – will make my life much more bearable. If you had decided to remain here, with so many people out hunting for you, no doubt I would have worried myself into an early grave."

Shadow smiled slightly. "Well, now you no longer will have any reason for concern."

In truth, he had no intention of sailing to England, but he was not about to confess that fact to either Rosalind or Adam. Earlier that morning, as he and Adam had shared breakfast, Adam had mentioned that the _Conway_ would briefly drop anchor in Boston ere it sailed on to England. Shadow had found that bit of news most intriguing. In fact, the information had swayed his decision to make plans to stow away – but only as far as Boston, and only to appease Rosalind. When the ship anchored in Boston, he planned to disembark and then circle back on foot to the Corwins'. He calculated that by sailing, he would gain time and arrive back there ere Rosalind did. Then he secretly would keep an eye on her. His instincts rarely were wrong, and they clearly were telling him she soon would be in need of his assistance again...and he was determined to be nearby when she did. Besides, he reasoned, what better place to hide from the Corwins than on their own land? It seemed unlikely they would think to search for him right under their very noses.

Shadow stared at Rosalind, who did not seem at all eager to leave the comfort of Adam's bed. "Hungry?" he asked her.

"A bit," she answered, even though her appetite had vanished with Shadow's announcement that he planned to board the ship within hours. A part of her was relieved he had decided to heed her advice and begin a new life abroad, but a much larger part was deeply saddened by the thought that never again would she have the pleasure of seeing him...or touching him.

"There is bacon, bread and cheese," Shadow offered, pointing at each item as he named it. "Oh, and pottage left from last night."

"Bread and cheese will be fine," Rosalind said, tossing the quilt aside and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. "I cannot believe how swiftly time flew while I slept." Under her breath, she cursed herself for having slept away precious hours she could have been spending with Shadow.

"Adam set out some of his wife's garments for you." Shadow nodded at the bench where they lay. His eyes skimmed over Rosalind as she stood. Even though Esther's nightdress was much too large for her, the fabric was thin enough to show the entire outline of her body. "Perhaps you should get dressed ere he returns." He smiled at her before adding, "Although, were it up to me, I would not mind it at all if you chose to remain just the way you are."

Rosalind rolled her eyes and moved to snatch the garments from the bench. "Turn your head," she said.

Shadow complied as she donned the garments. When she was fully dressed, she walked over to the hearth, where Shadow was seated. His expression clearly displayed his opinion of her garb – an unflattering, voluminous brown dress with a square white bib and a matching white apron.

"If you were to present that dress to the women in my village," he commented, "they would use it for a wigwam."

Rosalind giggled. "I fear that Esther Stoddard's proportions are far more generous than my own." She tugged at the extra folds of cloth that hung around her trim waist.

"Well, then, I suggest you eat something so you can better fill it out."

Sighing, Rosalind moved to take a seat at the table. "Have you eaten?" she asked as she reached for a piece of bread.

He nodded. "Hours ago."

Rosalind nibbled absently on the bread while Shadow sat silently watching her. She was reminded of the night Nathaniel had stared at her throughout supper, but oddly, she did not mind Shadow's gaze. In fact, she rather enjoyed receiving his attention. After several minutes passed, Rosalind set down the remainder of her bread and lifted her eyes to meet Shadow's. "What will happen to you if you are discovered hiding aboard the ship?" she asked.

"I am too cunning to get caught." His tone exuded confidence. "Do not concern yourself."

"You got caught with the Corwins' sheep," she reminded him. "And look what occurred because of it."

"A torture worse than any I could have imagined," he said, his dark eyes teasing. "My path crossed with yours."

The door swung open, giving them both a start. Adam, his arms laden with supplies, struggled through the doorway and into the room. Shadow leapt to his feet and closed the door behind him, then assisted him with his bundles.

"Did you arouse any suspicion in town?" Shadow asked.

"Nay," Adam said. He seated himself on one of the stools. "'Tis not uncommon for me to stock up on provisions."

"I am indebted to you," Shadow said. "And I vow I shall find some way to repay you."

"'Tis the least I can do for a dear friend," Adam said. "The only payment I shall require is your safe escape."

* * * * *

After the three had supped on a broth thick with clams and vegetables late that afternoon, Adam rose from the table, rubbed his rounded stomach and announced that he was going to the tavern.

"I wish to keep a close eye on the activity there," he said, turning to face Shadow, "while you make your escape." He paused before adding, "I suggest you prepare to take your leave within the next hour."

Rosalind was unable to hide her concern as she stared at Shadow. "Are you certain you can safely board the ship without being detected?"

"I am," he assured her.

"You are distressing yourself for naught, child," Adam said. "I assure you, Shadow will slip aboard that ship tonight as easily as if he were a member of the crew."

Rosalind sighed. "I pray you are right."

"Now if you two youngsters will excuse me," Adam said, "I shall be on my way." He extended his hand to Shadow, who stood and grasped it for a vigorous handshake. "Godspeed, my lad. And do not concern yourself about Rosalind. I shall make certain she is safely returned to Eastwell."

"I cannot thank you enough, Adam," Shadow said. He clasped the man's shoulder. "But remember, you must tell no one you saw me. You will say Rosalind came to your door alone, seeking help in the night after I abandoned her. The last thing I would want is for you to get into trouble with the law for aiding me."

Shadow then turned to look at Rosalind. "And you must tell the same story when you are later questioned about how you came to be here. I was never here. You found your way here on your own, once left alone. You must see to it that Adam shall be known only for helping you, nothing more. As far as you are concerned, Adam and I are complete strangers to one another, understand?"

Rosalind nodded, but she knew that even the most skillfully told lies never would erase the truth...that she was the only real criminal in the room. The mere thought of returning to Eastwell and being forced to play the innocent and weave false tales about Shadow solely to protect herself and her family, greatly distressed her.

Adam directed his next words to Rosalind as he moved toward the door. "After Shadow's departure this eve, latch the door behind him and open it to no one until my return. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," she said.

* * * * *

Methodically, Shadow laid out his supplies, then rolled them in a blanket and secured the roll with long strips of leather. Rosalind sat near the fire and watched him in heavy-hearted silence. Over and over again, she cursed herself for the way she had destroyed his life. Because of her, he now would be condemned to spend the rest of his days in an unfamiliar land instead of fulfilling his destiny as the future chief of his people. She could not understand why Shadow did not resent her, even hate her, for all the trouble she had brought upon him.

When Shadow completed his packing, he paused, his hands planted on his hips, and assessed his work. Satisfied that everything was secure and he had forgotten nothing, he turned to look at Rosalind. Her hands were folded in her lap and her head was bowed. Although faint, he could hear her softly weeping.

He approached the low stool where she sat, and knelt before her. Taking her chin in his hand, he gently lifted it until he could see her tear-streaked face. "Please, do not weep," he whispered.

"Oh, Shadow!" She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "I shall miss you so much!"

"Do you wish me to remember you this way?" he softly asked, stroking her hair. "With tears and sorrow?"

"Nay," she whispered against his shirt. "But at present, I can find little reason to smile." Sniffling, she released her grasp on him and pulled away just far enough to allow him to see her face. "Will you not miss me even a little, Shadow? I cannot tell by your expression what you are thinking. Are your people taught that it is weak to feel any emotion?"

He stiffened slightly. "I feel many emotions," he said, "but I keep them here." With his clenched fist, he touched his chest near his heart.

"I envy you," Rosalind said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Of late, I seem incapable of concealing any of my feelings."

"You have been through much," he said. "But you must be strong, especially now that you will be on your own again. Soon, you must answer to the Corwins. No doubt it will be very trying for you."

"That it will," she said, sighing. "I fear that my tales of being taken hostage by you will prove to be not even the slightest bit convincing."

"I have every faith in you." He smiled slightly. "Besides that, how can they possibly disbelieve someone who possesses a face as innocent as yours?"

Rosalind managed a shaky smile. Shadow's gaze was so intense, she felt as if she were being pulled into it. He rose to his feet and she stood with him.

She felt his hand cup the side of her face. Tilting her head toward his hand, she closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against his strong fingers. She drew a long breath. The moment she had been dreading since the night they had fled the stables together had arrived. Shadow was about to leave her...forever. She felt as if she were losing a piece of her very soul.

Shadow removed his hand from Rosalind's cheek and moved a few inches away from her. "I must go now," he said.

Her eyes flew open. "Please...not yet!"

He leaned toward her and silenced her with a kiss – a gentle, undemanding kiss that lacked the passion of the others they had shared...a kiss of farewell.

Abruptly, he stepped away from her and silently moved toward the door, then lifted his pack and flung it over his shoulder. He paused with his hand on the door's latch and turned to take a lingering last look at her.

"Remember...be strong," he said.

Before she could respond, he was gone.

* * * * *

Rosalind did not know how long she stood there, staring at the door and silently willing it to open.

"He is gone," she at last said aloud, as if she believed actually hearing the words spoken would serve to more easily convince her of their truth. Following Adam's instructions, she latched the door and then flung herself across his bed. Never had she felt so empty, so lost. She and Shadow had spent every day and night together since Jonathan's death – eating together, sleeping together, talking about their lives...and inciting each other's passion. Now, there was nothing left but a painful void. She realized that a part of her forever would belong to Shadow, no matter what the future held. Already she regretted that she had not become one with him in every sense of the word. Emotionally, she and Shadow had shared so much, but physically, they barely had begun to explore the pleasures she imagined they could have given each other.

None of it mattered now anyway, Rosalind thought, swallowing against the lump in her throat. Soon she would be sharing Nathaniel's bed, where whatever pleasures that might be experienced would solely be his. The thought of Nathaniel kissing her and touching her in the way Shadow had, did naught but turn her blood to ice. Nathaniel had sounded confident in his belief that she would grow to love him in time, but she knew it was impossible – even more so now than ever, because she already was in love with...

Rosalind gasped and abruptly sat up as the truth struck her. "Dear Lord, I have fallen in love with Shadow!"

The admission seemed inconceivable even to her own ears. She had spent the past six years determined not to allow any man to enter her heart or to penetrate the wall she so carefully had constructed around it. Yet somehow, Shadow had managed to weaken her resolve and tear down that wall in just a few short days.

Hugging the bed pillow to her chest, Rosalind pressed her cheek to it and wept. The last time she had experienced such a deep sense of loss was when her father passed away. In many ways, she thought, the losses were similar. She had dearly loved her father and now, she loved Shadow...yet she never would see either man again.
CHAPTER TEN

Rosalind was awakened by a pounding on the door. She struggled to open her eyes and for a moment, forgot where she was. She thought she still was lying out in the woods and would roll over to see Shadow, peacefully sleeping next to her. Instead, she realized she was alone, in Adam Stoddard's bed. She could not speculate how much time had elapsed since Shadow had left and she had cried herself to sleep. It might have been only minutes...or hours.

Yawning, she padded across the floor and lifted the door latch, all the while hoping Adam had not been left standing outside too long before his knocking had roused her. She pulled open the door only a crack, then turned and went to warm herself by the hearth. Although the night was warm, Rosalind felt chilled. Shivering, she extended her hands toward the dwindling blaze.

Behind her, the door creaked open, then closed. "I am sorry to disturb you at this late hour, ma'am," a male voice apologized, "but I have been informed by several people in this port that your husband is somewhat of an authority on the Indians in these parts, and I desperately seek his advice."

Rosalind froze, her heart hammering in her chest. She could not respond, could not breathe. She knew the voice, and she was ill prepared to face the man who possessed it. Slowly, and with her eyes closed, she turned to face the intruder.

"Rosalind!" Nathaniel's voice held stunned disbelief. "Dear Lord in heaven! You are safe!"

Her eyes flew open just as Nathaniel reached her, his arms surrounding her and pulling her against him with such force, she feared her ribs might crack.

"I cannot believe my good fortune! Fate has obviously led me to this house!" he cried, planting several kisses on the top of her head as he held her. "I have searched endlessly for you. I did not even pause to rest until my body betrayed me and forced me to sleep, and even then, I awoke feeling ill because I had wasted so much precious time that could have been spent searching for you!"

Rosalind managed to disentangle herself from Nathaniel's grasp long enough to observe that his dark-ringed eyes and haggard appearance confirmed his statement. His hair was a mass of tangles, and several days' growth of beard covered his face. Had she not recognized his voice, she might have mistaken her own betrothed for a stranger.

"Are you all right?" Nathaniel questioned her. He took a step back as his eyes surveyed her unkempt hair, swollen red eyes and Esther's unflattering frock. This definitely was not the image of his betrothed that had filled his mind nearly every moment he had been away. Nevertheless, he felt more than blessed at that moment just to be with her again. "Are you safe here? Where is the Indian?"

"I am fine," Rosalind responded. "The Indian is far from here. When he no longer had any use for me, he abandoned me. I found my way to this house last night, seeking help, and Mr. Stoddard, who lives here, was very gracious."

Nathaniel's expression reflected his concern. He hesitated for several moments before he asked the question Rosalind knew he would be incapable of waiting even a second longer to ask: "The Indian, did he...harm you in any way?"

She momentarily considered telling Nathaniel that yes, Shadow had indeed had his way with her, over and over again. She knew that the moment the words slipped from her lips, her betrothal to the captain would be a thing of the past. But alas, she wondered, could the same be said of her father's debt? Although she was tempted to find out, she could not bring herself to accuse Shadow of violating her. It was going to be difficult enough to tell falsehoods about Jonathan's death and being taken hostage, without adding rape to Shadow's list of alleged crimes.

"The Indian harmed me not," she finally answered.

Nathaniel released a long breath and ran his hand over his unshaven face. "Thank the Lord," he murmured. Taking Rosalind by the hand, he led her to one of the benches, then sat down and pulled her down beside him. He turned to look at her. "Tell me everything," he urged, staring unblinkingly at her. "I wish to know all of the details of how you came to be here."

Rosalind withdrew her hand from his and folded both of her trembling hands in her lap. Nathaniel's unanticipated arrival had caught her unprepared to relate a believable tale about her time with Shadow. The mere thought of having to depict him as some bloodthirsty, cold-hearted savage, when he had shown her naught but kindness and respect, caused her stomach to knot. She realized, however, that she must heed Shadow's last words to her and be strong. For the sake of her mother and sisters' futures, her only hope was to convince everyone, most especially Nathaniel, that she had been taken against her will.

Sensing her distress, Nathaniel slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. "Please, Rosalind, tell me everything. I know it will be extremely difficult for you to relive the hell you undoubtedly have gone through these past few days, but there are many questions that need to be answered if we are to catch the savage and make him pay for what he has done."

Rosalind pulled away from him and dropped her gaze. She knew she would not be able to conjure a convincing tale while looking directly at him.

"The night Jonathan died," she began, her voice but a hoarse whisper, "sleep eluded me because I was so distressed about all that had occurred. The heat of the night also was unbearable, so I finally left my chamber and went down to the kitchen for some cider, thinking it might help calm me. When I entered, I heard a noise behind me. It was...the savage...lurking in the shadows. Before I even could comprehend who he was or why he was there, he grabbed me and put one of Grace's carving knives to my throat, warning me not to make a sound."

She paused to mentally organize the remainder of her tale before she continued. "Shadow forced me to accompany him because he knew if he left me behind, I would have alerted your father posthaste, and he wanted to gain a good lead ere anyone went searching for him. We walked in the stream for days, to conceal our tracks, and finally arrived here yesterday, at the edge of the port. That is when Shadow informed me I no longer was of any use to him and in fact, I was slowing his progress. So he left me in the woods and continued on his own. He first warned me, however, not to seek help for at least several hours...or I would come to regret it. He assured me he had watchful eyes – several of his own people – hidden all over this port, so I dared not move for a long while after he left. Once darkness fell, I followed a path that led me down the hill to this house, Mr. Stoddard's, where I knocked at his door and asked him for help. As I previously said, he has been very kind and gracious. He has fed me, given me his wife Esther's garments to wear, and even said he would arrange for my safe return to Eastwell."

"So you _did_ walk in the stream," Nathaniel said, mostly to himself. "I wish I had continued to follow my instincts then, instead of changing my course. I might have found you long before now...and while the savage still was with you."

He then asked, his brows creasing, "Tell me, if you have been here since last eve, then why did the local magistrate know nothing of your whereabouts when I inquired earlier? Did Mr. Stoddard not go to him directly to report the crime so a search for the savage could be organized without delay?"

"I beseeched him not to," Rosalind said. "My fear was so great that, as Shadow had warned me, my every move was being watched, I wanted to make certain I waited more than a sufficient amount of time before alerting anyone in authority."

"My poor darling." Nathaniel rubbed her arm in a gesture of comfort. "I cannot express how so sorry I am that you had to suffer through so much fear and distress. I still cannot believe that Shadow would do this to us, to my family, after we have been naught but kind to him. My father provided him with food, clothing and a comfortable shelter when he instead should have sent him to the gaol, or even to the gallows, for killing our sheep! The Indian finally has revealed his true nature, and in my opinion, he is lower than any vermin!"

Rosalind did not trust herself to respond, for fear she would blurt out something that would cause Nathaniel to suspect her words were untrue. She remained silent and stared down at the floor.

"Tell me, where went the Indian?" Nathaniel asked.

"I believe he headed due west. But I know naught of his destination."

He frowned at the news. "We thought he might be heading north. In fact, my father and Matthew and perhaps ten men they gathered here in the port yesterday, from what I was told, are concentrating their search in that direction. But even though the Indian may have increased his lead, fear not, he _will_ be found, and this time, my father has instructed everyone to shoot to kill. Shadow will not be afforded the opportunity to escape again."

His words caused Rosalind to feel a sense of relief in knowing that at that very moment, Shadow safely was hidden aboard the _Conway_ , about to set sail for England... or at least she prayed he was.

"All of this talk about killing makes me feel ill at ease," she said. She lifted her head and turned to look at Nathaniel. "I must confess that a part of me wishes the search would be called off so the men may safely return home to their families, which is where they belong...not off on what could turn out to be some lengthy, futile chase. I have been found now, and I am safe, so that should be all that matters, should it not?"

"My dear Rosalind!" Nathaniel's eyes grew wide. "The savage murdered a man, a friend of my family, and then took you hostage! If an Englishman, perhaps a neighbor of yours, had committed such vile acts, would you also be inclined to want everyone to just forget about it and leave him to do the same to someone else whenever he so desired?"

"Nay, of course not," she said, sighing. "'Tis just that I still am not entirely convinced Jonathan was murdered. I suspect he fell and hit his head because he was sotted."

Nathaniel shook his head in obvious disbelief. "The Indian was found leaning over Jonathan's body – which showed evidence of being beaten about the face. And by your own admission, the savage held a knife to your throat and forced you to accompany him. Is that the sort of man who should be allowed to run free and not be punished for his deeds? Who is to say he will not return someday and capture you again – to finish what he failed to do this time? 'Tis no secret to any of us who have witnessed the way he so often stared at you, that the savage fancies you."

Rosalind had to bite back the bittersweet smile his words threatened to bring to her lips.

"I _do_ understand your need for justice, Nathaniel, but my only desire at present is to put all of this nightmare behind me." She prayed for the strength to convincingly add, "Can you not understand that I want...I need...to think of much more pleasant things right now, such as...planning our wedding and our future together?"

Nathaniel stared at her in a way that made her feel as though her words had been so unexpected, they had stunned him into silence. Several long seconds passed before he grasped Rosalind by the shoulders and turned her toward him. "You sincerely wish to plan our wedding?"

She forced a slight smile and nodded. "'Twas what kept me going and gave me the strength to carry on during my entire ordeal with the savage."

"I am both pleased and somewhat taken aback to hear you confess this." His hazel eyes caressed her blue ones. "After all, when last we saw each other, you seemed determined to avoid me."

"You said on that night that your absence might cause me to miss you," she said. "I now suspect that perhaps you were correct."

His stare was relentless, and she began to feel as if he were attempting to somehow read her true thoughts. Every part of her was screaming to free herself from his grasp, but instead, she returned his unwavering gaze.

"I fear I have allowed my hatred of the savage and my desire for vengeance to blot out all else," Nathaniel finally said. "'Tis such a blessing that amongst all of this turmoil there is something as special as our wedding to look forward to. Now that we are together again and you are safe, my main consideration should be to make you my bride."

He smiled and added, "Truth be told, our wedding cannot be soon enough to suit me. I spent all of my time while at sea thinking only of you and anticipating my return to you once again. Therefore, even though I sincerely would enjoy being the one who finds Shadow Runner and fires the fatal shot that brings him down once and for all, I think I shall heed your advice and cease my search. I, although somewhat regrettably, shall allow someone else, hopefully my father or Matthew, to have the honor and pleasure of exterminating the savage."

Nathaniel stood, pulling Rosalind to her feet with him as he did. "I promise you," he whispered, "so please, hear and believe these words...I shall never allow us to be parted again."

He kissed her then, a hard, possessive kiss that nearly crushed her lips.

Rosalind's first impulse was to pull away, but her conscience prevented her from doing so. After all, she reasoned, Nathaniel had searched endlessly for her, caring naught about his own welfare. The least she could do was allow him the reward of a kiss. As Nathaniel's mouth lingered on hers, Rosalind made a futile attempt to blot out the memory of Shadow's kisses and the passion they so easily had ignited. Loving Shadow, she realized, was senseless, not only because come morning, he would be sailing out of her life forever, but also because he had given her no indication whatsoever that he returned her feelings. When he left her earlier that evening, he had not even mentioned he would miss her, which served only to further fuel her suspicions that he was eager to be rid of her.

Determined to erase all memories of Shadow and ease the gnawing pain that had arrived with his departure, Rosalind defiantly wrapped her arms around Nathaniel and pressed her body to his. After all, she thought, if this man soon was to become her husband and she was to be bound to him for the rest of her days, then perhaps it would be wise to attempt to please him, even if only in some small way, rather than constantly push him away.

Nathaniel was taken aback by Rosalind's sudden, unexpected response to his kiss. Never before had she shown him even the slightest bit of affection. Had she, he wondered, truly missed him so desperately? Or was this merely an expression of gratitude and relief because he was the one who had found her? Whatever the reason, he decided he was going to take full advantage of this pleasant change of circumstances, especially since he so desperately craved the company of a woman...any woman. He moaned with pleasure as he forced his tongue between Rosalind's lips and slid his hand down to roughly knead her right buttock.

Revulsion quickly gripped her as she realized, with a deep sense of regret, that her actions had transformed Nathaniel into the lust-incited beast he truly was. She moved her arms from around him and pressed her palms against his chest, struggling to break free of him, but he did not allow her to move. Rosalind suppressed a cry of pain and outrage as he tightened his grasp on her buttock and forced her hips even more tightly against him.

Rosalind gulped back the anger that rose in her throat as Nathaniel's mouth and tongue continued their relentless assault, his rough stubble of a beard tearing at her delicate skin. His hold on her was so powerful, it rendered her incapable of moving even a fraction. Breathing became difficult.

Nathaniel's mouth moved to Rosalind's ear, where he traced the outline of it with his tongue, his breath coming in short, passion-filled gasps. "Oh, my sweet Rosalind," he whispered, "I have waited so long for this moment. I cannot – will not – allow you to refuse me."

"Please, Nathaniel," she barely was able to utter, "wait until our wedding ni..."

Her words were abruptly halted by the sound of heavy footsteps on the walk outside. The door burst open to reveal a scowling Adam. "Did I not specifically instruct you to latch this door?" he boomed.

Startled, Nathaniel released his hold on Rosalind and whirled around to face the man who so boldly had dashed his plans for the evening. Rosalind grasped the edge of the table and leaned forward, hungrily gasping for air.

Adam halted just inside the doorway and warily eyed the scene before him. His gaze darted from Rosalind, who was trembling and breathless, to the stranger, a handsome but disheveled-looking character with ire in his eyes and a telltale bulge in his breeches. Adam needed no further proof of the man's intentions. He reached for and withdrew the knife he kept sheathed at his side.

"Do not move – not one muscle!" he shouted at Nathaniel. "Or I swear, I will slice your lecherous throat from ear to ear!"

Nathaniel extended his palms toward Adam in a gesture of surrender. "I assure you, sir, there has been some grave misunderstanding."

Adam did not move. His grip tightened on the handle of his knife as his eyes remained locked on Nathaniel. "Are you all right, child?" he called to Rosalind, not looking at her.

Rosalind straightened. "I am fine, Mr. Stoddard," she said with some effort. "This is Nathaniel Corwin...my betrothed."

Adams eyebrows shot up. His expression did little to conceal his disbelief as his gaze made a critical sweep of Nathaniel's wrinkled clothing, unshaven face and tangled hair. "Truthfully?" he asked when he was able to find his voice. " _This_ is the son of the magistrate?"

"Aye, that I am," Nathaniel confirmed, not daring to remove his eyes from the knife in Adam's hand. He found himself wishing he had not left his musket and pack by the door when he had entered. "I fear that in our joy and relief to see each other, Rosalind and I allowed ourselves to become a bit...carried away." He paused to laugh nervously. "Perhaps 'twas for the best that you came home when you did, sir, ere we had the opportunity to do something we might later have regretted."

Adam finally stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He then spied Nathaniel's musket leaning against the wall and felt some measure of relief that it had not been within Nathaniel's reach when he so boldly had pulled his knife on him. Adam's eyes, reflecting his skepticism, cut toward Rosalind.

"He speaks the truth," Rosalind said, having managed to regain some of her composure. "I know that any intimacy prior to marriage is considered a sin, but we have been apart for so long, we could not help ourselves." The smile she offered him was feeble, at best.

Solely for Rosalind's benefit, Adam slowly nodded, as if accepting her explanation, but he was too wise, too experienced, not to recognize when someone was feeding him an out-and-out falsehood. The girl's eyes, still wet with tears, contained raw fear. Adam was positive this was not, not by any stretch of the imagination, some passionate reunion between two young people in love. He already knew where Rosalind's heart lay. A man would have to be blind not to see it was Shadow she loved. Adam only could assume that her reasons for lying about her reunion with this Nathaniel person were valid ones.

"So pray tell, what led you here to my home?" Adam, his tone cold, asked Nathaniel.

"I arrived at the port late this afternoon and spoke with several of the people there, as well as the local magistrate," he answered, allowing himself to relax somewhat as Adam finally sheathed the knife. "That is when I learned that my father and brother had passed this way earlier yesterday and found nothing. My father previously had informed me they would be heading toward the mountains, so I thought it might be best if I directed my search along the coast. So I was understandably distressed to learn my father and brother already had been here ere my arrival."

" Just as I was beginning to feel completely defeated in my efforts to find my Rosalind," Nathaniel continued, "one man suggested I seek you out, Mr. Stoddard. He assured me you were the local authority on Indians – that you were familiar with all of their habits...and even their way of thinking. So I hastened over here to seek your advice about how best to track the murdering savage who took my future bride. You can well imagine my astonishment when I found her here, right within your very walls! 'Twas truly a miracle!"

Adam moved toward a cabinet where he withdrew a flagon of wine and three cups. After pouring equal amounts of the red liquid into the cups, he extended one to Nathaniel and another to Rosalind. "Aye," he finally said, his eyes narrowing. "I do know a great deal about the Indians in these parts." He straddled a stool and sat facing Nathaniel, who remained standing. "But I fear I cannot offer you any suggestions about catching your particular man, for I know naught about him nor even from which tribe he hails. And as far as knowing his way of thinking, they do not all think alike...just as we do not."

"Is there a village near here where he may have gone?" Nathaniel persisted.

"There are several," Adam said. "But none that would harbor an outcast. He will remain on his own...and on the move."

Nathaniel sighed and shook his head. "That is what I suspected. 'Tis difficult for me to think he may never be found, for my desire to see him pay for what he did burns within me. I shall not be happy until he is dead."

Both Adam and Rosalind remained silent, for fear their voices might betray their true feelings for Shadow. They knew that if Nathaniel sensed they had aided him in any way, they might be spending the rest of their lives looking at the world through the bars of a gaol.

"Sir," Nathaniel said to Adam, "I do not mean to impose on you in any way, but I am so weary, I barely can keep my eyes open. May I stay here tonight? I wish to escort Rosalind back to Eastwell early in the morn, and I just now promised her I never would allow us to be parted again. I am determined to remain a man of my word."

From the corner of his eye, Adam noticed Rosalind's stricken expression.

"I do not think it would be proper," he answered, shaking his head, "especially after witnessing what I just did when I walked in here this eve. I suggest you seek a room at the inn for the night. You have my word I shall take good care of Rosalind ere your return on the morrow."

Nathaniel's expression did little to conceal his disappointment. "I do understand, sir, but it pains me to know I already am breaking my promise to her so soon after making it." His eyes darted about the room. "And your wife? She will be here also?"

"Aye," Adam lied. "She is due home from her sister's at any moment."

Nathaniel returned his attention to Rosalind. "I shall come for you at daybreak, then – as a new man. A hot meal, a pint of ale, a bath, a shave and a good night's sleep should do wonders for me. I also will collect some supplies for our journey. Do you feel fit to travel?"

Rosalind nodded, then drained her wine in one gulp.

"Fine, then." Nathaniel set his empty cup on the table. "I shall take my leave now. Tonight I anticipate I finally shall sleep like a babe, knowing you are safe."

Nathaniel moved toward Adam and extended his hand. "Thank you so much, kind sir, for seeing to Rosalind's care and comfort. My family and I are in your debt."

Adam accepted his hand for a brief, perfunctory handshake. "'Twas no trouble at all."

Nathaniel then faced Rosalind. "Until the morrow, my love, may your dreams be pleasant ones." With a smile and a nod, he took his leave.

The door barely had closed behind him when Rosalind, her eyes brimming with fresh tears, said, "What am I to do, Mr. Stoddard? I do not wish to make the journey home in the company of that man...unchaperoned! The mere thought of having to sleep in the forest alone with him makes me extremely ill at ease. The man does as he wishes, even when someone strongly protests."

Adam seated himself on the edge of the bed and carefully regarded the distraught girl. "Am I to assume then that this is perhaps an arranged marriage?"

Rosalind laughed humorlessly. "Aye, but 'tis Nathaniel who is doing all of the arranging." When she noticed Adam's look of puzzlement, she added, "Ere my father died, he borrowed a large sum of money from Nathaniel's father and was unable to pay back any of it. Nathaniel has threatened to take my family's house, land and possessions as payment for the debt...unless I wed him."

Adam's brows creased together. "I see," he said. "That would explain why someone with your obvious intelligence would consent to wed a rake like Corwin. I wish I could help you, lass, but I have little money to speak of. Nevertheless, you are welcome to take what I have if it will help ease your father's debt."

"You are too kind," Rosalind said. "I am extremely grateful for your offer, but my father's debt appears to be nothing short of a king's ransom. I fear Nathaniel has me exactly where he wishes me to be."

"Although my meeting with the man was but a brief one," Adam said, "My dislike of him was instant. In all good conscience, I cannot allow you to journey alone with such a lusty young bull. I fear he allows his loins to rule his actions."

Rosalind blushed at Adam's crude assessment of Nathaniel, even though she agreed with his every word. "Then you will help me find someone else to escort me back to Eastwell?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not," he said. "It all depends upon your decision."

She stared at him. "Decision?"

"Whether to allow the captain to continue to blackmail you, or to fight for what you truly want."

Rosalind continued to stare.

"You _are_ in love with Shadow Runner, are you not?"

Rosalind's mouth fell open. "Why ever would you assume that?"

Adam chuckled and shook his head. "My dear child, 'tis as obvious as the nose on your face. Whether or not you are willing to admit it, you and Shadow share a bond that goes much deeper than friendship. I have been on this good earth long enough to recognize love when I see it."

Adam's words caused the now-familiar lump to form in her throat. "Aye," she softly confessed. "I do love Shadow...more than I ever thought possible." She moved to kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed, then gazed up at Adam. "I feel so lost without him, Mr. Stoddard."

Adam's eyes were sympathetic when he looked at her. "Only you can decide which path is best for you, child. But I can tell you from my own experience that if you truly want something desperately enough, some way, somehow, you _will_ find a way to make it yours."

"Not in this instance," Rosalind said. "Shadow never has given me any reason to believe he shares my feelings. And even if he had, none of it matters now. He is gone."

"Oh, I can assure you, Shadow does love you," Adam said, smiling gently. "I have known the lad for years and can plainly read what is in his eyes. And he is _not_ gone. The _Conway_ does not set sail until morning."

"And what do you propose I do?" Rosalind frowned at him. "Climb aboard the ship and politely ask the crew if perchance they have spied an Indian lurking about?"

Adam smiled at her. "When I left the tavern less than an hour ago, the sailors barely had begun their celebration. 'Tis unlikely they will return to the ship for several more hours. Shadow spoke of hiding in the cargo hold. 'Twould not be difficult for someone to sneak aboard and convince him to return."

"What would be the point?" she asked. "If I ran away with Shadow, Nathaniel surely would seek his revenge by punishing my family for my actions."

"Not if I tell him the Indian returned for you in the night and dragged you away." Adam said. "As long as the Corwins continue to believe you are a victim and are with Shadow against your will, they will do naught to further distress your family...or make themselves look cruel and heartless in the eyes of the townspeople."

"Never attempt to guess what a Corwin will do," Rosalind muttered. "I can ill afford to take any risks with them."

"Is it not worth taking a few risks to gain the happiness you deserve?" Adam asked. "Are you so willing to accept your fate? Have you no fight left within you?"

When Rosalind offered no response, he added, "Does the thought of spending the next thirty years sharing a bed with Nathaniel appeal to you? When I entered the house this eve and witnessed the fear in your eyes and the hunger in his, I saw only an animal and his prey, not a loving couple. Tell me, child, how will you endure the man's touch night after night when it is Shadow's touch you crave?"

"Please, be silent!" The anger that flashed in Rosalind's eyes surprised the old man. "My happiness is not worth the guilt of abandoning my family and casting them to the wolves! 'Tis my responsibility to go through with this wedding! Perhaps, in time, I may even come to love Nathaniel. Stranger things have occurred. What I feel for Shadow could prove to be naught more than an infatuation simply because he protected me after I killed Jonathan."

"So be it," Adam surrendered with a long sigh. "But keep this in mind. On the morrow, Shadow's ship will set sail and you never shall see him again. Also on the morrow, Nathaniel will arrive to escort you back home...to plan for your wedding. After this eve, Rosalind, there will be no turning back. The decision you make tonight will be the one you must forever live with."

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

In the tomb-like darkness of the cargo hold, Shadow changed into dry clothing. Gaining access to the _Conway_ , as he had anticipated, had been accomplished with relative ease. Holding his pack above his head with one hand, he had sliced sideways through the icy water as quickly and as silently as an eel, the night's blackness concealing his approach. Upon reaching the stern, he had removed the long coil of rope from around his neck and flung it over a low boom, then used it to climb up to the deck. The few crew members who had remained aboard the vessel were gathered at the bow. None noticed the Indian as he crept along the deck and quietly disappeared through the main hatch.

The cargo hold was stacked with thick timber, mostly pine, Shadow guessed, judging from the scent of it, for the darkness severely restricted his vision. In a far corner of the hold, well concealed behind a wall of timber, he spread out his blanket and lay on it. Silence, save for the scurrying patter of rats, and dampness hung about him. No English gaol, Shadow decided, could be worse than this self-made floating prison. He was thankful his confinement was to be but a brief one. Had his destination truly been England, he held no doubt he would have jumped ship only minutes after he had set foot on it.

Locking his hands beneath his head, he closed his eyes and attempted to shut out all but the gentle rocking of the ship as the waves rolled into shore. Rosalind's image immediately invaded his thoughts and senses, filling him with an aching need to touch her silky skin...to taste the sweetness of her lips. Too vividly he recalled the tear-filled blue eyes that had watched him depart, and a pang of remorse stabbed at him. Although he had left her barely an hour ago, already he was missing her more than he ever could have imagined.

* * * * *

The light of the moon silhouetted the three women, chattering and giggling like a group of young schoolgirls, as they approached the gangplank of the _Conway._

"Who goes there?" the boatswain who was positioned at the top of the plank called out. He held a lantern at shoulder height, to gain a better look. He was a giant of a man with a pocked complexion and auburn hair pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck. His arms seemed as massive as tree trunks.

"We ladies got to thinkin' how lonely you might be, left here on the ship while your mates are makin' merry in town," the tallest of the trio, a striking raven-haired young woman, said to him. Her long lashes fluttered demurely. "Might you be cravin' a bit o' company?"

His interest piqued, the boatswain arched a thick brow at the trio. "There are five of us aboard," he said.

The raven-haired woman chuckled. "Why, 'tis barely enough to keep _me_ busy, ne'er mind my two friends, here." She waved her hand in the direction of the two attractive blondes. "We even brought a bit o' libation with us from the tavern."

Licking his thick lips, the boatswain hesitated, his expression etched with indecision. Turning his head, he shouted over his shoulder, "Frederick! Thomas!"

The two men answering to those names immediately appeared, flanking the auburn-haired giant on either side.

"It appears we have guests," the boatswain informed the men as he nodded toward the women. "They wish to...entertain...us on our last night here in port."

Two pairs of hungry eyes devoured the unexpected guests.

"How much?" the shorter sailor, round-faced with a thick mustache, inquired.

The raven-haired woman shrugged and smiled seductively. "Any gratuity, kind sirs, would be gratefully accepted. But truth be told, on this special eve, we shall deny no man, whether he has coin or not." Her eyes burned into the boatswain's, all but promising him a night of passion far beyond his most erotic imaginings.

Following brief, sidelong glances at his two shipmates, the auburn-haired man swooped into an exaggerated bow and announced, "Welcome aboard the _Conway,_ ladies. I am Joshua Ward."

The procession of hip-swaying females quickly ascended the gangplank. Upon reaching the top, the raven-haired woman extended a gloved hand to Joshua and cooed, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Ward. I'm Molly." She turned to nod over her shoulder. "The buxom one is Kate and the younger one is Rachel."

Beneath the men's unblinking perusal, Kate opened her cloak and flashed a brief, yet sufficiently enticing view of her ample bosom, which strained against her low-cut bodice. Rachel offered no more than a shy smile.

"Allow us to escort you below deck," Joshua offered, his voice husky. "Scant time remains ere the rest of the men return."

Molly slipped her arm through his and pressed her hip against his side. "Ooh, you are so big and strong," she said. She ran her hand down the inside of his massive arm. "You must be _very_ powerful!"

"Aye," Joshua answered, his chin rising. "You will soon come to know the full extent of my power." He paused to call over his shoulder, "Frederick, remain up here on deck and keep watch. When I get below, I shall send up Caleb to take your place."

Frederick, his arm firmly around Kate's waist, halted abruptly and frowned. "I do not want to remain up here!" His voice sounded like a childlike whine. He was a lanky man who looked barely twenty, with thick black hair, tiny eyes, and a nose that overwhelmed his slender face. "I want to go with you...and the ladies."

"And leave the deck unguarded?" He cocked a brow at him. "I think not!"

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Frederick pulled away from Kate and folded his arms. His bottom lip jutted forward in a pout. "I had better not be kept waiting long," he grumbled.

"Fear not." Joshua's tone held amusement as he continued to walk across the deck. "Your sweet Kate shall remain untouched until your arrival."

Laughing, Joshua raised his lantern and then he and Thomas led the three women down to the crew's quarters, a dark, dank chamber lined with what appeared to be built-in wooden shelves or platforms with mats on them – the crew's beds.

Joshua immediately shouted orders at the two young men within, sending them scampering off to the main deck. He then climbed onto one of the beds and pulled Molly down on top of him. The platform seemed far too narrow and short in length to accommodate the sailor's bulk.

"Now, now, do not be so eager!" Molly scolded, flashing a teasing smile at the giant as she playfully shoved at his chest. "'Tis only fair that we wait for Frederick."

"And share a bit o' drink first!" Kate added, retrieving a flask from beneath her cloak and holding it up. "After all, 'tis not fair that your mates are ashore and enjoying their fill of the drink while you are forced to remain here."

"'Tis not a drink I crave," Joshua responded, his lust-filled gaze fastening on Molly's full, red lips. Grasping the woman roughly by the back of the neck, he planted a wet, open-mouthed kiss on her. Not wishing to incite the brute's ire, Molly returned the kiss with feigned passion, running her fingers through his hair and moaning into his mouth.

"Have I missed anything?" Frederick's breathless voice interrupted. Molly welcomed the diversion, using it to temporarily free herself from Joshua's iron grasp.

"I missed you," Kate cooed, extending her arms toward him.

He smiled and moved to slide his arm around her waist, his eyes fastening on her cleavage. "I am eager to discover just how greatly you did."

"First, a drink, to properly celebrate!" Kate said, thrusting the flask into Frederick's hand and leading him to one of the beds.

Molly followed her lead, withdrawing her own flask and pressing it to Joshua's lips. Propping himself up on one elbow, he grabbed the flask from her hand and drained half of its contents before returning it to her. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gazed hungrily at the raven-haired temptress. "Now, let us see how well you can pleasure me on my last night here in port!" His voice invited no argument. "I can wait no longer."

He lay back. "Remove my breeches," he ordered.

Molly complied, moving to stand next to the platform and then lifting Joshua's shirt well above his waist before her slim fingers set to work on loosening the ties that held his breeches. When the task had been accomplished, she tugged at the garment, which refused to budge beneath the man's enormous bulk. "Lift up your buttocks," she demanded.

Her request was met with a loud snore.

"Joshua!" Molly called, gently shaking him by the shoulders. "Are you asleep?" His even breathing and lack of response confirmed that he was.

Slowly, Molly turned to look at her two companions. "Well?" She arched a painted brow.

"Mine's asleep!" Kate said, smiling.

"How about yours?" Molly's eyes cut toward Rachel.

"Out like a candle flame in a windstorm," she said, releasing a long sigh of relief. "That sleeping potion works quickly!"

"An old Indian recipe!" Molly said with a wink. "When I first set eyes on Joshua here, I thought I might need a bucket of the potion to fell him!" She tossed a brief, wary glance at his snoring form. "Nevertheless, I believe 'tis best if you hasten from here while the opportunity presents itself, Rachel. Once you have fled, we shall make certain the two men up on deck are given the same fond attention their mates received."

"Are you certain you will be all right?" Rachel asked, hesitating.

"Do not concern yourself," Kate assured her with a chuckle. "Molly and I shall be fine. We have had years of experience in handling sailors."

"I cannot thank you enough for your help," Rachel said, turning to look at each woman. "I only wish I could return the favor in kind."

"Shoo now!" Molly ordered, waving her hands in a gesture of dismissal. "Your time grows short!' She narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "You have not changed your mind, have you?"

"Nay," Rachel answered. "I hold no doubt whatsoever that my decision is the right one."

* * * * *

Shadow awakened abruptly from his fitful sleep and sat up. Something had disturbed the silence of the cargo hold – not a noise or a movement, but a presence. He could feel it surrounding him, yet, as he squinted into the inky darkness, could detect nothing. Resting his hand on the knife at his waist, he held his breath and waited. Why anyone would choose to roam the hold at this late hour without the benefit of a lantern or candle made no sense, but Shadow's instincts rarely were wrong. Someone was there.

He heard it then, a footfall, followed slowly by another one. The intruder, Shadow deduced, was not familiar with the layout of the hold. Could it be possible, he wondered, that it was another stowaway?

"Shadow?" a voice whispered. It clearly contained fear. "Are you in here? I cannot see a thing."

Shadow shook his head to clear the fragments of sleep that still remained. The voice sounded like that of his sweet Rosalind, yet he knew it could not be. He wondered if his self-imposed isolation already was taking its toll on his sanity.

"Shadow?" the voice again whispered from a good distance away, its pitch markedly higher. "Please, if you are within, answer me!"

Silently, Shadow rose to his feet and felt his way around the pile of timber that formed the barrier of his corner hideaway. "Rosalind?" he softly asked, still thinking he might be hallucinating. He kept his hand on his knife.

"Aye!" the voice returned with breathless relief. "Dear Lord, where are you?"

"Make your way to the wall at your left," he instructed. "You will find a narrow aisle there. Follow the wall to the rear of the hold."

Rosalind did as she was told, carefully feeling her way along the cold, crusted wall as she futilely struggled to see. At one point, she felt something scamper across her foot, forcing her to bite back a scream, but even the fear of vermin did not weaken her determination to be with Shadow. She had come this far, and she was not about to turn back.

Minutes that seemed like hours passed before Rosalind at last reached the rear of the hold. She paused, her hand pressed against the wall to brace herself. "Shadow?" she whispered, suppressing a sudden shiver of fear.

"I am here," he answered. Although she could not see him in the darkness, she felt his hand grasp her arm.

"Oh, Shadow!" she breathed, reaching out to embrace him. "Thank God I am not too late!" The moment she felt his arms tighten around her, his warm breath against her hair, she knew she was where she belonged.

Without speaking, Shadow broke away from her and took her hand, then led her to his blanket. He seated himself and pulled her down beside him. The darkness prevented Rosalind from seeing his expression, so she was unable to determine whether he was pleased or angered by her unanticipated arrival.

"How came you to be here?" he asked her, his voice revealing little.

Rosalind giggled nervously. "I do not think you will approve of my explanation once you hear it."

"I suspect not," he said. "But tell me, nevertheless."

"Nathaniel once mentioned to me," she began, "that every time his ship set anchor in a port, ladies would visit his cabin and offer their...favors. So when I was attempting to think of some way to gain access to this ship tonight, the idea came to me that I could pretend to be one of those ladies. Adam provided me with some coin so I could seek the aid of two...doxies...to help me carry out my plan. I told them my name was Rachel, and that my betrothed, a sailor, had been falsely accused of a crime and was imprisoned in the ship's brig...and I wanted to free him ere the ship set sail."

Shadow's silence made her feel uneasy. She took a deep breath before continuing. "There were but five men aboard, and their eagerness for female companionship made them easy prey. We offered them a drink from our flasks...laced with a goodly amount of sleeping potion. Molly said it was an old Indian recipe! Do you know of it?"

An awkward silence hung between them before Shadow finally responded. "What you did was both foolish and dangerous." His tone was icy. "Adam gave me his solemn promise that he would watch over you and keep you safe. I now see that I was wrong to put my trust in the man."

"Do not place any blame on Adam," Rosalind said softly. She reached for Shadow's hand and wrapped her fingers around his. "His only desire was to see me happy." She drew a shaky breath. "The moment you left me this eve, such a terrible feeling of loss overcame me, I could do naught but weep. 'Twas Adam who convinced me to follow my heart."

She wished a ray of light magically would appear and enable her to search Shadow's face for clues to his feelings.

When Shadow offered no response, Rosalind whispered, "Please, leave this ship with me posthaste, while the men are still sleeping off the effects of the potion, ere their mates return. I told Nathaniel you were headed west. So perhaps now we can safely go to New France."

Although Rosalind's use of the word _we_ when referring to any future travel greatly pleased Shadow, something else in her statement held the opposite effect. "You spoke with Nathaniel?" he asked tightly. "When? Where?"

Rosalind imagined his jaw muscles tensing as he posed the question. "This eve, shortly after your departure. He came seeking Adam's advice because he had heard he was somewhat of a local authority on Indians. You can well imagine Nathaniel's astonishment and disbelief when he found _me_ there!"

"And what was the captain's reaction upon seeing you?"

Rosalind hesitated, not certain how much of the evening's events she should disclose. "He was pleased...very pleased."

Instinctively, Shadow sensed the reason for her reluctance to answer. "Adam was still at the tavern, was he not? Then you were alone with Nathaniel?"

"I fear so," she softly said.

"Did he attempt to..."

"Aye," she cut him off before he could complete the question. When she felt Shadow's fingers tighten beneath hers, she hastened to add, "But 'twas my good fortune that Adam arrived home from the tavern when he did and abruptly cooled Nathaniel's ardor. Nathaniel wished to stay the night at Adam's, but Adam wisely refused him and directed him to the inn. Alas, Nathaniel said he would return for me at dawn to escort me back to Eastwell so that we may be...wed."

"And if you are not there when Nathaniel returns, how will Adam explain your absence?"

"I believe he intends to tell him you returned for me and dragged me off in the night," she answered. "Adam is confident that as long as the Corwins continue to believe I am a victim, my family will be spared any consequences for my actions."

Shadow sighed and shook his head. The few hours he had spent in the dank, lightless hold had been more than sufficient to convince him he could bear little more of the confinement before he went mad. Even a short voyage to Boston now seemed unthinkable. Still, he was reluctant to flee the ship with Rosalind. To do so might increase the danger of her being discovered as his accomplice, especially with Nathaniel lurking about.

"If I leave with you," Shadow said evenly, "what then?" He still was not certain exactly how – or where – he fit into Rosalind's future plans.

"We shall be together and away from here," she stated simply. "That is all that matters."

Shadow's mind was filled with many conflicting thoughts. Although he desperately wished to believe that Rosalind's feelings for him were as deep as her actions professed them to be, he could not dismiss his suspicion that her sudden, urgent need to seek him out aboard the ship might have been a direct result of her encounter with Nathaniel earlier that evening. Had the captain's actions, Shadow wondered, disturbed Rosalind to such a degree, they had caused her to panic and seek out any means in which to quickly flee the port prior to his return for her in the morning? _Does she wish to be with me because she truly cares about me, or is she merely using me because I, "the savage," am her only logical means in which to escape from Nathaniel without causing him to suspect the truth about her?_

"Please, Shadow," Rosalind pleaded, her voice interrupting his thoughts. "If we are to leave this ship, we must do so now! The rest of the crew too soon shall return." She hesitated before adding, "Unless you still wish to journey to England...alone?"

"I have no desire to go there," he quietly responded.

His admission afforded Rosalind a small measure of hope. "Then come," she urged him, rising to her feet and tugging on his arm. "We must hasten back to Adam's. Once there, we can discuss and decide what to do next."

She left Shadow little choice. He could not allow her to return to Adam's unescorted in the middle of the night, especially with scores of drunken sailors wandering about, nor could he allow her to remain aboard the ship with him. He reached out and felt the floor around him, gathering his belongings. He then stood and rolled them into the blanket and tied it. "I hope we have not already waited too long," he said.

In silence and with measured steps, Rosalind allowed Shadow to lead her out of the cargo hold and past the galley. Gripping his hand, she pressed close to his back, carefully matching his every step as she strained to hear any sound of activity on the deck above. The stillness was reassuring, yet Rosalind could not ignore the hammering of her heart. Her only desire was to return to the safety of Adam's house and warm herself before the fire. The damp chill of the ship felt as if it had penetrated her every pore.

When they reached the hatch, Shadow motioned Rosalind to remain below while he climbed out onto the deck and scanned the area. When he saw no sign of any of the crew members above, he helped Rosalind onto the deck and together, they crept toward the gangplank.

Shadow and Rosalind barely had set foot on it when three figures emerged from the darkness on the dock below.

"Well, well, what have we here?" a voice called out, its slurred pronunciation of the words attesting to the owner's drunkenness.

Rosalind dug her fingers into Shadow's arm and froze where she stood. In one fluid motion, he dropped the pack and pulled Rosalind behind him, blocking her from the strangers' view.

The three sailors, one burly and the other two lanky, staggered up the moonlit gangplank and did not halt until the burly one was within an arm's length of Shadow.

"I asked you a question," the burly sailor snapped, craning his neck to look beyond Shadow and catch a glimpse of Rosalind. "What seems to be the problem, red man? Can you understand only the primitive grunting you and your kind call your language?"

Shadow stared unblinkingly at him, his chin rising.

"What have you done with our crew?" one of the other men questioned. "Why is there no one out here on watch?"

The burly sailor's brows creased together. "Aye. Where are they?"

Shadow's continued silence appeared to do little to ease the men's growing anxiety. Boldly, the burly one stepped forward and poked his finger into Shadow's chest. "Answer me, you ignorant savage!"

Moving only his right arm, Shadow reached up and grasped the sailor's wrist, then twisted it and shoved him backward. The startled man stumbled, but his fall was halted by his two companions, who caught him and steadied him, then pushed him forward to once again confront Shadow.

"You are trespassing," the burly sailor, struggling to regain his composure and his dignity, angrily informed Shadow. "I have every right to defend this ship." He narrowed his eyes. "Even if it means killing you!"

Shadow shrugged. "Then by all means, do so."

"He speaks English!" the burly sailor said. Shadow's calm acceptance of his threat appeared to cause the sailor to carefully consider his next move. "If I were sober," he finally stated, "I would easily bring you to your knees, savage, but at present, I fear you have the advantage."

"But the rest of our mates are on their way back here," the youngest sailor chimed in. "Soon you will find yourself sorely outnumbered!"

Shadow cast him an amused smile. "It appears to me that I already am outnumbered." He directed a glare at each one of them. "You will forgive me if I choose not to remain here long enough to meet your friends." He bent to lift his pack, then took Rosalind by the hand and moved forward, attempting to lead her down the gangplank. As he had anticipated, the sailors blocked his path.

"Allow us to pass," Shadow stated coolly, "and no harm shall come to you."

The burly sailor laughed mockingly. "Oh, how kind of you, _sir_!" His expression sobered as he added, "You are going nowhere until we find out what you were doing aboard our ship...and what is in that pack of yours. What did you steal?"

Glaring at the man, Shadow released Rosalind's hand and took another step forward.

"Stay where you are!" the burly sailor warned, as he backed away from him. When Shadow did not comply, the sailor inhaled, straightened his shoulders and lunged at him. Shadow's reflexes were sharp, and his movements as swift as a cat's. With a well-timed step to the side, Shadow easily avoided his drunken assailant's charge. The man landed hard on his stomach, a loud gush of air expelling from his lungs.

Once again grasping Rosalind's hand, Shadow stepped over the moaning sailor, who seemed in no hurry to make any attempt to stand.

"Step aside," Shadow ordered the two remaining sailors, who stubbornly continued to block his way. Although their attempts to maintain their stances were greatly hampered by their drunkenness, they still appeared determined to stand their ground.

Sighing, Shadow eyed the two lanky, swaying men who had become more of a nuisance to him than a threat. He was tired, and his patience was wearing thin. Once again dropping his pack and Rosalind's hand, Shadow reached out and grasped the front of the younger sailor's shirt, the action so swift, the man had no time to react. Effortlessly, Shadow lifted the slim form and tossed it over the side of the gangplank. A shocked gasp was the only sound the sailor made before he hit the water with a loud splash. Shadow spun around to face the other sailor who, with his hands and teeth clenched, threw a punch at Shadow's face. Shadow ducked, causing the intoxicated man to lose his balance and stumble forward towards Shadow. Shadow lifted his foot and rammed it into the side of the sailor's chest, sending him, his arms flailing in the air, over the edge of the gangplank to join his companion in the frigid water.

Shadow reached for Rosalind and his pack. "Hurry!" he shouted, pulling her behind him down the gangplank.

When they at last set foot on land, Shadow tightened his grasp on Rosalind's wrist and broke into a run. Twice, Rosalind lost her footing and stumbled, but Shadow yanked her back to her feet before she was able to fall. The pair reached the protective shelter of some trees just as they heard the off-key singing and drunken revelry of a group of sailors returning to the ship.

"That was too close," Rosalind breathlessly whispered, sagging against a tree.

"We are not safe yet," Shadow said. "We must hasten back to Adam's house ere anyone else spies us."

Before Rosalind could take another breath, he reclaimed her hand and pulled her to her feet, leaving her no choice but to follow him.

* * * * *

"Latch the door!" Adam called out when Shadow and Rosalind entered his house. "Good Lord, I am relieved to see the two of you! I could not sleep, my worry was so great."

"And with good cause!" Shadow snapped. He tossed his pack onto the floor and cast a scowl of disapproval at his friend. "What were you thinking, allowing Rosalind to take part in such a dangerous scheme? Did you not give me your word you would keep her safe? I trusted you, Adam. Do you realize how very near we came to not making it back here at all?"

With each question, Adam opened his mouth to respond, then closed it abruptly, allowing the Indian to continue his rant.

"Do not place the blame on Adam," Rosalind cut in, seating herself before the hearth and extending her hands to capture the warmth of the blaze. "It was all my idea, my plan. I gave Adam little choice other than to help me, for I still would have carried it out on my own. My desire to prevent you from sailing out of my life was so strong, it blotted out all rational thought."

"May I assume then, that your plan worked?" Adam's eyebrows rose.

"Perfectly!" Rosalind could not suppress a giggle. "I wish you could have witnessed it!" She removed her cloak and revealed a dress that obviously had hastily been altered to make her performance more convincing. The bodice was cut low, revealing an ample swell of pale bosom, and so snug, her breasts looked as if they were about to burst forth from the dress with her next breath.

Shadow's eyes widened as they scanned Rosalind's immodest attire. "How can you sit there and make light of this?" he exploded. "Tell me, Rosalind, would you still be so pleased if the sailors had refused the drink and instead had violated you?"

Her victorious smile instantly faded. "But my plan did _not_ fail," she emphasized. "Everything went exactly according to plan, and you are back here where you belong. So there is no point in discussing what might or might not have occurred. 'Tis over!"

Shaking his head and frowning, Shadow took a seat on one of the benches.

Adam turned to face him. "So, pray tell, what do the two of you intend to do now? You do realize that Nathaniel will arrive at daybreak to fetch Rosalind?"

Rosalind visibly cringed at the mention of Nathaniel...an action that did not escape Shadow's notice.

"We have discussed no plans yet," she said. "We were too busy making our escape from the ship."

"If you need a place to stay for a spell while you form your plans," Adam said, "my brother, Joseph, has a place about two miles north of here on the river. He is a trapper who recently has been made a widower and at present, is staying with his daughter and her family until his grief eases. I have been keeping an eye on his house for him during his absence. So upon his return, if he notices that anything in the house has been disturbed, I simply shall tell him I decided to stay there one night." He directed his next statement to Rosalind. "I think you would be wise to hasten there posthaste, while you still have the cover of night to conceal you, and be well away from here ere Nathaniel's arrival."

Rosalind stifled a groan at the thought of having to move from her cozy spot near the hearth to venture back out into the night and hike to Adam's brother's house. The day's events already had exhausted her to the point of near collapse.

"How will you calm the captain when he does not find Rosalind here?" Shadow asked Adam. "No doubt the man will be furious."

"I shall tell him that his bold display of ungentlemanly behavior this eve caused Rosalind to have serious misgivings about journeying home alone with him...so she demanded the aid of a guide to escort her back home without any further delay."

Rosalind stared bewilderedly at him. "I thought you were going to tell him that Shadow returned and snatched me away?"

"I was," Adam said. "But the more I considered it, during my seemingly endless hours of waiting for your return this eve, the more I thought it might be too much of a risk to say that Shadow returned here, to my house. If Nathaniel ever were to find out the connection between Shadow and me – that my daughter is wed to his cousin – then I dare not think what might occur to all of us. Also, Nathaniel might wonder, if Shadow supposedly came here to take you away, why I did not use my knife the way I so nearly had used it on him earlier this eve when I saw the two of you together."

"You threatened Nathaniel with a knife?" Shadow asked.

"Aye, and I would gladly have used it, had the need arisen!" Adam collected his thoughts before he turned to look at Rosalind and said, "If Nathaniel believes that you and a guide are journeying back to Eastwell, he will hasten off in that direction, attempting to catch up with you. When he finally arrives home and discovers that you and your guide never made it back, he will likely think Shadow, or even another savage or savages, ambushed you during your journey. 'Tis much more likely for you to encounter danger out in the woods than here, in the shelter of my home."

Rosalind carefully considered his words. "You do make sense," she said. "And Nathaniel unwittingly gave me the perfect reason to go off without him after the way he attempted to force himself upon me earlier."

Shadow scowled at the mention of Nathaniel's behavior. He did not even wish to speculate what had – or very nearly had – occurred between the captain and Rosalind, for the mere thought enraged him.

"Do not be so certain Nathaniel will think his actions improper," Shadow said. "The man holds no respect for women. I have witnessed it myself...at the Corwins' pond."

Rosalind stared at him. "What do you mean?"

Shadow ignored her question, not wishing to discuss the lewd details of the captain's lusty romps with the buxom, red-haired woman, among others. "Let us not delay any longer," he said, rising from his seat. "I think we should heed Adam's advice and stay at his brother's house until we decide upon a definite plan." He frowned at Rosalind's dress. "Please, go change into something more proper and we shall be on our way. We already have delayed far too long."

* * * * *

The night air was cool and the forest quiet as Shadow and Rosalind walked side by side, their path illuminated only by the moon. The day's events had unfolded so rapidly, Rosalind had been afforded too little time to consider her actions. Now, in the calm of the night, the impact of what she had done – and was about to do – fully struck her. With heavy disappointment she recalled how unemotional her shipboard reunion with Shadow had been – a far cry from the passionate welcome she so eagerly had anticipated. He had not even kissed her! In truth¸ Rosalind thought Shadow had seemed more irritated than pleased by her arrival. Even when she had confessed how much she longed to be with him, he had not reciprocated in any way. A pang of doubt stabbed at her as she considered all she had sacrificed to be with him. Had she made a grave mistake? Even now, he was acting as if she were invisible. He had not spoken a word since they left Adam's house, nor had he favored her with more than a slight glance. It was becoming frighteningly apparent to her that Adam's observations may have been wrong...that Shadow did not really love her at all.

With a deepening sense of apprehension, Rosalind reminded herself it was not too late to turn back, to keep her meeting with Nathaniel at daybreak, if she so desired. Adam had warned her that the decision she made on this night would forever alter her future.

If only she could be certain she had made the right one...

# CHAPTER TWELVE

"What do you mean she is not here!" Nathaniel angrily demanded as he stood in Adam's house the next morning. "For what purpose would she leave in the dead of night? It makes no sense!"

"Aye, it does make sense," Adam, unfazed by the younger man's outburst, responded. "After your behavior last night, Rosalind thought it best not to make the journey alone with you."

Adam had to confess, as he eyed the captain, the man was quite handsome when clean and groomed – a vast difference from his unkempt appearance of the night before.

"If she was so opposed to being alone with me, why did she not wait here and confess her feelings to me instead of running off in the night?" Nathaniel continued. "I would have understood and arranged for a third person to accompany us back. 'Twas extremely inconsiderate of her to desert me without even the courtesy of an explanation!"

"She saw no reason to delay her departure," Adam said, "especially since the man I engaged to escort her was willing to leave within the hour."

"What kind of man did you send her off with? Only a fool would depart on a journey in the darkness, especially with a vulnerable young woman!"

"Perhaps." Adam's eyes narrowed. "But obviously Rosalind thought him to be a safer traveling companion than you!"

Nathaniel opened his mouth, as if to deliver an angry response, then appeared to think against it. Sighing, he shook his head. "Granted, I was a bit too forward with Rosalind last eve," he said tightly. "But surely you, a man, can understand the reasons why. I had been away at sea for a fortnight and then returned to be told Rosalind had been dragged away by a savage! When I finally found her, my emotions...my passion...overtook me. Any man would have reacted in the same manner."

"And do you suppose 'any man' also would have selfishly ignored the woman's protests and still attempted to force his affections upon her?" Adam asked him. "And now you stand here wondering why your betrothed was so eager to be gone ere your arrival? Do you not think it is sad that she does not even trust you, her future husband, to ensure her safety?"

Nathaniel glared at him. "I shall apologize to Rosalind when we are reunited," he said. "But all that matters now is I keep my promise to her that we shall never again be separated. It is beginning to appear to me that the entire world seems bent on making me break that promise to her at every turn, no matter what I do! How long ago did she depart from here?"

"Three, perhaps four hours."

"If I leave posthaste, then I should have no problem gaining on her and her escort." He turned toward the door, then paused to crisply add, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Stoddard."

"Godspeed," Adam said in a voice that lacked sincerity. A satisfied smile curved his lips as he watched Nathaniel rush off down the path, eager to begin his futile journey. Rosalind had indeed made a wise choice, he thought. He held no doubt whatsoever that her place was with Shadow.

* * * * *

After spending the night on a quilt in front of the hearth, Shadow left at daybreak to hunt for game. Rosalind had slept so soundly, she had not heard him leave, and was disappointed when she awakened to find herself alone. She knew, however, he must be out hunting for food because the bow and quiver of arrows that had been hanging on a peg in the corner were gone.

For lack of anything more inspiring to do, Rosalind busied herself with tidying Adam's brother's house. It was apparent the dwelling had not been cleaned in some days. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and the floor was littered with dead leaves and mouse droppings. A kettle hung from the lug pole, its contents dried and moldy. The first thing Rosalind did was open the shutters to allow fresh air to enter the house.

It was late afternoon by the time she finished cleaning. She stood, her hands planted on her hips, and admired her efforts. The house was small, containing but one room, which was stacked with everything from kettles to animal traps and fishing nets. But on the whole, the house possessed a warm, lived-in coziness that Rosalind found appealing. For a brief moment, she allowed herself the luxury of imagining what it would be like to settle here with Shadow and never have to run or hide again.

Sighing, Rosalind moved to the window and peered out, hoping to spy some sign of Shadow. The day was gray and humid and the leaves on the trees were turned upward, a sure sign of impending rain.

Rosalind stepped away from the window and attempted to dismiss the growing fear that Shadow had decided to leave her and not return. He had seemed so distant and withdrawn since leaving the ship, speaking only when spoken to and even then, mostly in one-word responses. Rosalind attributed his behavior to exhaustion and prayed his mood would be greatly improved upon his return from his hunt...that is, if he did return.

A thorough search of the house revealed, to Rosalind's delight, a store of corn, wheat and rye. Some freshly baked maslin might be nice for supper, she thought, as she searched for something to use for a mixing bowl. The simple bread would go well with whatever game Shadow might bring home.

The day had just begun to grow dark and the bread was cooling on a cloth on the table when Shadow entered the house. Rosalind felt her pulse quicken as she took in the Indian's ruggedly primitive appearance – from his wild, windblown hair and the bow slung over one shoulder to the fat, skinned rabbit dangling from his hand.

"Smells good in here," he commented, laying the rabbit on the table.

"Maslin," Rosalind said, picking up the rabbit and carrying it to the fire. "I busied myself with baking and cleaning while you were gone."

Shadow set aside the bow and arrows, then took a seat at the table. He tore a chunk from the still-warm bread and bit into it.

"Hungry?" Rosalind asked.

He nodded, chewing.

"Oh?" Her tone was teasing. "I thought you might have eaten a few raw fish while you were out. After all, the river is right at our doorstep."

Shadow chuckled and shook his head. His smile, too long hidden, greatly eased the knot that had settled in her stomach.

Later that evening, Shadow and Rosalind supped on roasted rabbit and maslin. Although Rosalind attempted to carry on a conversation during their meal, Shadow became more and more unresponsive until she felt certain she could have announced her hair was on fire and he would only have nodded absently in response.

As Rosalind cleared the table, Shadow made his way to the hearth and seated himself cross-legged on a blanket on the floor. Rosalind's hopes for a pleasant evening all but vanished as she eyed him, his expression solemn as he stared into the flames. Sighing, she realized she no longer could delay the inevitable. The time had arrived for her to have a much overdue discussion with him about his plans for the future. If his intent was to leave and move on without her, then she preferred to be informed of it beforehand.

As Rosalind approached the hearth, the familiar knot in her stomach returned, making her wish she had eaten less of the rabbit.

"May I sit with you?" she softly asked.

Shadow nodded, not removing his eyes from the fire. Rosalind plopped down beside him and tucked her legs beneath her.

"What troubles you?" she finally found the courage to ask. She doubted she would receive more than a one-word response...if she received any response at all.

"Nothing troubles me," he answered, still not looking at her.

"You have barely spoken to me since we left the ship," she persisted. "I cannot help but think, by your actions, that you would have preferred to continue on to England."

Shadow turned to face her. His gaze was so penetrating, Rosalind momentarily felt impaled by it. "Truth be known," he said, "I never intended to sail to England. I planned to leave the ship when it docked in Boston."

Rosalind's eyes widened. "But why?"

His gaze returned to the fire. "I could not bring myself to leave the land of my people." He paused before adding, "I could not bring myself to leave...you."

His words caused Rosalind's heart to leap. Dared she hope he really did care about her?

Cautiously, she said, "There is no distance between us now, Shadow, yet I sense that a part of you still remains far away. Please, tell me what is wrong."

There was no warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. "No, _you_ tell me, Rosalind."

She just stared at him, not understanding.

"Why is it," he said, "that you were so eager to fetch me from the ship only _after_ your encounter with Nathaniel last eve, when prior to that, you never once mentioned wanting to remain with me indefinitely?"

Rosalind's mouth fell open. "What are you suggesting? That I would be with Nathaniel right now and would not have sought you out, had his actions been more gentlemanly and respectful?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

She stared at him for several moments before she responded. "Shadow, from the moment you left last night, I felt an emptiness like no other – not since my father's passing." She knew she must swallow her pride to speak her next words, but she decided to be honest and confess what was in her heart, come what may. "I realized then that I had fallen in love with you. And I knew that if I allowed you to sail out of my life, never to see you or touch you again, then I no longer would possess the will to carry on."

She felt tears pooling in her eyes and hated herself for allowing Shadow to see them.

He reached out and took her hand in his. "Do you truly believe you could be happy with me?" His question was spoken so softly, it barely reached the distance between them. "I cannot offer you the comforts, the luxuries, the Corwins can, which was the reason why I told you not long ago that you should wed Nathaniel...even though it pained me to do so. Have you even considered that with me, you might be forced to spend your life hiding, constantly looking over your shoulder and never feeling truly safe? And I cannot predict when, or if, you will ever see your family again."

Rosalind placed her other hand over his and looked directly into his eyes. "I have come to realize that no sacrifice is too great if it prevents me from losing you." She briefly thought of what would happen to her family if Nathaniel ever were to discover she had run off with Shadow of her own free will. She immediately dismissed the thought. Nathaniel must never find out. _Never._

Rosalind swallowed the lump in her throat and gathered the courage to ask what she so desperately needed to know. "Do you think you ever could come to...love me...Shadow?" She lowered her head to conceal her blush.

Shadow used the side of his index finger to lift her chin until she was forced to look at him once again. "Come to love you?" he repeated. A hint of a smile curved his lips. "I do believe so." He moved his hand and allowed his fingertips to trace a trail down the side of her neck to her shoulder. "I do believe I have loved you ever since I first set eyes on you." His expression grew serious. "Since then, not a day has passed when you have not occupied my thoughts, nor a night when you have not filled my dreams."

Shadow's words, combined with his breathtakingly handsome features in the firelight, rendered Rosalind speechless. She could only stare silently at him.

Leaning forward, Shadow slowly, deliberately, lowered his mouth to hers. The moment their lips met, a spark ignited within Rosalind that swiftly and uncontrollably escalated into a flame. All of her previous fears and misgivings dissolved as Shadow's arms moved to wrap around her, and his kiss deepened. Back was the passionate, fiery Shadow she had believed was forever lost to her. Gone was the cold, expressionless statue of late who had tormented her with his silence. _Shadow loved her!_ He had confessed it! So great was Rosalind's happiness, she felt as though her heart might burst from it.

Shadow's lips were hungry, possessive, as his mouth slanted over hers again and again in a series of searing kisses that left her gasping for breath. His strong hands moved to massage her shoulders, to caress the back of her neck, to press her more closely to him. Rosalind moaned softly into his mouth and slid her arms around him. When Shadow gently pushed her back onto the blanket, Rosalind had neither the will nor the inclination to resist. She lay there, gazing up longingly at him as he knelt before her.

"Please...remove your shirt," she whispered, her own boldness surprising her.

Without hesitation, Shadow slipped out of his shirt and tossed it aside. Rosalind greedily eyed his smooth, broad chest and flat stomach, bronze in the firelight. He remained kneeling, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I wish to see you," he finally said, his voice husky. Before Rosalind could question his meaning, Shadow lifted her dress, his deft hands coaxing her to assist him. She complied, wriggling out of her bulky dress and undergarments and then stretching out on her back, presenting Shadow with and enticing view of her pale, naked curves. She held her breath as his eyes slowly, appreciatively, traveled from her neck to her ankles.

Shadow moved to kneel between Rosalind's legs. Planting a hand on either side of her shoulders, he leaned to kiss her on the forehead. He lingered there only briefly before his mouth slid down to her chin, her throat and her shoulders, each kiss causing a delicious shiver to travel the length of Rosalind's spine. When Shadow's mouth reached her breast, Rosalind gasped with a combination of shock and pleasure, awed by the unfamiliar, yet thrilling sensations his lips and tongue incited. Arching her back, she grasped the back of his neck and pressed his face more tightly to her breast. He remained there for several minutes, nibbling, licking, and drawing the taut pink bud into his mouth until Rosalind nearly cried from the pleasure of it.

As Shadow slowly kissed his way back up to Rosalind's mouth, he lowered his body onto hers, so his full weight was pressed against her. Rosalind slid her hands down his smooth, solid back, her fingers pausing to dip into the waist of his breeches. Silently, desperately, she willed him to remove them.

Shadow wondered how much longer he would be able to control his passion, especially with Rosalind's soft hands caressing his flesh and her mewls of pleasure filling his mouth. His need to totally possess her, to make her _his_ woman, was so all-consuming, he had to battle the urge to shed his breeches and thrust into her. Still, he was determined to hold back, to prolong his pleasure...and most especially Rosalind's. He wanted not one inch of her body to remain untouched by either his hands or mouth.

Rosalind felt certain she would die from the exquisite torture Shadow was forcing her to endure. She felt an unfamiliar dampness spreading between her legs, and puzzled over it for a moment. Ben's words about Faith needing sufficient time to "prepare" before he entered her suddenly came to mind. Could it be, Rosalind wondered, that this was what her brother so awkwardly had attempted to explain to her on the morning after his wedding?

Tearing her mouth from Shadow's, she breathlessly blurted out, "I am prepared!"

Shadow gazed down bewilderedly at her.

Rosalind's cheeks burned as she hastily explained, "My brother Ben once told me that a woman must be properly prepared ere a man can...enter her." Her embarrassment increased. "I never really understood what he meant...until now."

Shadow wisely concealed his amusement. "Then you wish me to enter you?" he softly asked, wondering if Rosalind would be bold enough to actually speak the words.

"Aye," she whispered, closing her eyes and praying she would not immediately be struck to Hell for her admission.

"In time, my love," he breathed, leaning forward to capture her mouth in yet another burning kiss that caused her head to spin. Brazenly, Rosalind thrust her tongue into his mouth in the same manner that Nathaniel, and even Jonathan, had done to her. She could only assume, considering how both men had seemed so determined to invade her mouth with _their_ tongues, that men derived some sort of pleasure from the act...and she desperately wanted to please Shadow.

At first, Rosalind's bold action seemed to surprise Shadow, as if it were something he never had experienced before, but he quickly reciprocated, matching her tongue's thrusts with heated ones of his own. Determinedly, Rosalind's hands once again slipped into the waist of Shadow's snug breeches. She was eager to feel the full length of his naked body pressed against hers.

Shadow gained great pleasure from Rosalind's futile attempts to remove his breeches, yet he made no move to assist her. Still holding her mouth captive, his tongue teasing hers, he slid his hand between her legs. Indeed, she was ready...

Rosalind tore her mouth from Shadow's to whisper an impassioned plea against his ear. "Please, Shadow. I want...I need...to touch you."

Shadow rose to his elbows and gazed down at Rosalind's flushed face and passion-filled eyes. She looked so beautiful in the firelight, he thought, her blond hair framing her face, her lips rosy from his kisses. Never had he felt more love...or desire...for a woman.

"Why, Mistress Chandler," he softly teased, his hand moving to smooth a damp curl from her forehead. "For someone so innocent, you are indeed bold!" He could not resist claiming her lips in another deep, greedy kiss.

Rosalind froze. _Shadow believed her to be pure!_ She had been so caught up in the moment, the passion, she had completely blotted out the nightmare of her past and the consequences of it. How, she frantically wondered, would Shadow react when he discovered the truth? Surely virginity was as highly regarded among his people as it was among her own! She might have devised a plan to trick Nathaniel on their wedding night, but at this very moment there was no way to deceive Shadow. A lump of panic rose in her throat as shame flooded through her.

Shadow felt Rosalind suddenly tense beneath him. He lifted his head to search her face and was disturbed to see tears in her eyes. "Do not be frightened," his tone was soothing. "I know it is your first time. I will not hurt you."

She rolled her head to the side so she would not have to see his face when she made her confession. "This is not my first time...I-I am not pure."

Shadow sat upright, his eyes narrowing. "Nathaniel?"

"Nay." Rosalind shook her head. "'Twas one of your own people, over six years in the past." She finally dared to look at him, her tear-filled eyes pleading for understanding. "You must believe me, Shadow, 'twas not my fault. The Indian rescued me from the deep snow – I was near death. I was not even aware of what had occurred until I awoke naked in his shelter. I swear to you, I was helpless to prevent it. My nightmares ever since that night have been filled with frightening images of his cloaked face close to mine, his hands...on my skin."

Shadow slowly rose to his feet, then presented his back to her. Raking his fingers through his hair, he sighed deeply and tilted his head back, as if looking to the heavens for guidance.

Suddenly Rosalind became acutely aware of her nakedness. She sat up and struggled to pull the blanket around her, her trembling hands making the action frustratingly difficult.

"I-I am so sorry," she choked, speaking to Shadow's back. "'Twas not my intent to deceive you. Can you not understand why my past is a subject I prefer not to discuss? The memory of what occurred distresses me far, far too much."

Shadow turned to face her then, and she was surprised to see pain, not anger or disgust in his eyes. He moved to kneel beside her, causing Rosalind to instinctively cringe as he reached out to wipe her cheek with the back of his hand.

"My poor, sweet Rosalind," he whispered, his tone unexpectedly sympathetic. "Had I known of this burden you have been carrying all these years, I would have eased your mind weeks ago." His eyes locked with hers as he softly added, "You have been punishing yourself for naught. You are indeed still pure."

Rosalind stared at him, confused by his words. "Why do you say such a thing? Is it because you cannot believe one of your own kind could commit such a vile act? Well, I assure you this savage could...and did!"

"And I assure you he did not," Shadow stated evenly.

"You do not know of what you speak!" she shot back, anger rapidly replacing her tears. "You were not there!"

Shadow looked away from her and released a long sigh. "Yes...I was."

Fearing that her heart had ceased its beating, Rosalind clutched at her chest. "What are you saying?"

He turned to look directly at her. "I was that savage of which you speak, Rosalind! I was hunting deer, wounded a doe and was attempting to track it in the blinding storm when I found you, lying lifeless in the snow. I carried you back to my shelter and cared for you. I swear, I did nothing improper nor did I disrespect you in any way whatsoever. Such thoughts never even crossed my mind. My _only_ thought was to not allow you to die!"

Rosalind saw it then, the same eyes that had gazed at her in the firelight six years ago. Why had she not realized it sooner?

Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes growing wide. "It _was_ you!"

Unconsciously, she reached down to pull the blanket more tightly about her, then slid several inches backward, away from Shadow.

"Your garments were frozen with snow," he attempted to explain. "I removed them and laid them by the fire to dry, then rubbed your skin with warmed animal fat and wrapped you in furs to restore your body's heat. I took no liberties, I swear to you. Your memories of me touching your naked flesh were due solely to my attempts to warm you, nothing more."

Fresh tears welled in Rosalind's eyes as she considered his explanation. Finally, she asked, "Did you know ere tonight that I was the girl you had saved?"

He looked at the floor. "Yes. I knew from the first moment Nathaniel introduced us."

Rosalind sucked in her breath. "And you chose to make no mention of it to me?"

"I saw no reason to – not unless I was searching for some form of reward for saving your life. But I am not like that."

Rosalind no longer could hold back her anger. "All these years, I have considered myself soiled – a woman worthy of no decent man! I have shed endless tears and lost precious sleep, mourning the loss of my innocence! And now you inform me I have been punishing myself for naught?"

Shadow's eyes were blazing when he looked at her. "You found yourself deserving of no _decent_ man?" he repeated. "Is that why you are here...with me?"

"Do not be absurd! I am with you because I love – or at least I believed I loved – you. But how could I have given my heart to a man who has deceived me so?"

"I have never lied to you," he said icily.

"Nay, but you have concealed the truth, which is just as sinful! You led everyone to believe you could not speak. You led me to believe our meeting at the Corwins' was our first. You even led me to believe you never had seen or touched my...naked...body before! Do you honestly think there is nothing wrong with that?"

Shadow frowned and shook his head. "Surely you do not believe I purposely meant to cause you any pain."

"Pain?" she exploded. "You do not know the meaning of the word! I have endured six long years of suffering because of you!"

"Your suffering has been solely of your own doing!" he said as evenly as his anger would allow. "The wild imaginings of a frightened girl are to blame for your misery, not I! You would not even be alive at this moment if it were not for me, yet you are treating me as if I attempted to harm you rather than save you!"

"And was tonight to be your long overdue reward for saving me?" Her voice rose.

Shadow held his tongue. He knew from past experience the futility of arguing with this headstrong woman. He had felt the sting of her tongue six years ago when she had awakened in his shelter and discovered he had removed her garments. After her fear had worn off, she had launched a lengthy, verbal assault at him. He had not been able to understand the English tongue back then, but there had been no mistaking her rage. It was apparent that little of the fiery temper he had witnessed that night had waned over the years.

Silence hung heavily between them as Rosalind sat unmoving, the blanket still pulled protectively about her neck. The more she thought about the six years of hell she had endured, condemning herself to spinsterhood because she thought she had been violated, the more anger and resentment she felt toward Shadow. She knew she should be feeling naught but relief now that she finally knew the truth, but the shock of his admission was causing her not to think rationally. Instead of allowing herself time to calm down and consider all that had been said, she surrendered to a powerful desire to cause Shadow as much pain as she had been forced to endure over the years, all because of him.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Truth be known, the only reason why I allowed you to touch me so intimately this eve was because I thought I had nothing to lose – that I already was soiled goods!"

The moment the words escaped her lips, she wished she could take them back. Shadow's expression left her with no doubt that she severely had injured his pride.

"Then I am a fool," he said so softly, Rosalind had to struggle to hear him.

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to end their conversation. "I wish to put on my garments," she said. "Grant me the favor of turning away."

Shadow moved to stand by the fire, his back to her. Rosalind snatched up her scattered clothes from the floor and hastily donned them. When she was fully dressed once again, she glanced at Shadow. He had not bothered to don his shirt, and she felt a brief pang of desire as she stared at his muscular form silhouetted in the firelight. She closed her eyes, hating the part of her that still wanted him. Dear Lord, she wondered, what kind of woman was she? Shadow had deceived her, betrayed her! She felt overcome with shame as she recalled how very near she had come to surrendering her virginity to him...a virginity she had not even known existed until this very eve.

"I am leaving now," Rosalind said flatly, walking toward the door. "I am certain Adam can find a trustworthy person to escort me back to Eastwell."

Shadow turned to frown at her. "Do you think so little of Adam that you would disturb his sleep in the dead of night? Are you so determined to get away from me, you cannot delay your departure until daybreak?" His chin rose slightly. "If you stay the night, you can rest assured I shall keep my distance."

Rosalind eyed him coldly. In truth, she was not eager to make the journey back to Adam's at such a late hour. She felt drained, both in body and spirit. Her only desire was to sleep, to blot out all of the evening's events.

"Nay, I do not wish to bother Adam," she reluctantly confessed. "The man has shown me...us...naught but kindness. The least I can do is afford him the same courtesy. I suppose I can remain here until daybreak."

"Good," Shadow said. "Perhaps a good night's sleep will serve to sweeten your disposition."

* * * * *

It seemed like only minutes before the aroma of food teased Rosalind's senses awake. The sleep she so desperately had craved had eluded her most of the night. She had tossed and turned, unable to find even one comfortable spot in the bed...or to blot out the memory of Shadow's touch. The mere thought of the shameless way she had lain naked beneath him and begged him to remove his breeches had caused her to bury her face in her pillow and pray for the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

"Hungry?" Shadow asked, the moment he noticed she was awake. His tone was expressionless. "I have made bread."

"'Tis barely daybreak." Rosalind groaned, flinging her arm across her eyes.

"I could not sleep," he said.

Rosalind uncovered her eyes and lifted her head. "Why? Because I left you so unsatisfied?" She glared at him.

"In _many_ ways," he said evenly. He turned to remove the pan of bread from the coals in the fireplace. "You really should eat something ere you leave for Adam's." He set the pan on the table. "It is not wise to travel on an empty stomach."

"I am not hungry," she said, rolling onto her side so her back was toward him. She did not wish to weaken her resolve by allowing herself to look at Shadow even one moment longer than necessary. Although her glimpse of him in the dim morning light had been but a brief one, she already had memorized every detail of him, from the leather jerkin he wore over his white shirt, to his ebony hair.

Shadow's mind reeled as he ate a piece of the bread. He had little appetite and the bread stuck in his throat, but he forced himself to finish the portion he had taken. He had hoped that a few hours of sleep might have served to calm Rosalind and allow her time to realize how childish and unreasonable she was acting. Was she too stubborn, he wondered, to look beyond her anger and realize just how much he had done for her of late? Every move he had made, every risk he had taken, had been solely for her. Yesterday he even had allowed himself to believe she truly loved him, and that the differences in their cultures and their beliefs did not matter to her. He felt renewed anger as he reminded himself that the only reason why she had wanted him, by her own admission, was because she had thought herself deserving of no _decent_ man. And now that she knew the truth about her precious virginity, she was eager to cast him aside.

Rosalind sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Shadow turned to look at her. She was still fully clothed in Esther Stoddard's brown dress.

"I must be on my way now," she said. "I wish to get an early start back home."

"You are certain about this...about leaving?" he asked.

She nodded. "I think now that running off with you the way I did was done far too hastily. I thought I knew you well enough to trust my life to you." She paused to look down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. "...Obviously I did not know you at all."

Shadow did not respond. He knew there was nothing he could say to change her opinion of him, not in her current frame of mind.

Rosalind stood, straightened her dress and smoothed the skirts with her hands. She then ran her fingers through her hair, tucked several curls behind her ears and exhaled.

"I guess I am ready," she said. She turned to look at Shadow. "Good-bye, Shadow." Her voice contained no emotion. "Thank you for all you have done for me."

He gave her a brief nod, then quickly looked away.

As the door closed behind her, Shadow whispered, as he so often had heard her people do, "Godspeed."

# CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"What brings you back here, lass?" Adam Stoddard asked, craning his neck to look beyond Rosalind as she stood on his doorstep. "And where is Shadow? Nothing has happened to him, has it?"

"Shadow is fine," she said softly. "Please, may I come in?"

Nodding, his expression puzzled, Adam stepped aside and held open the door. Rosalind entered the familiar house and took a seat, all the while acutely aware of Adam's penetrating gaze as he awaited her explanation.

Sighing deeply, Rosalind nervously fiddled with a lock of her hair. "I am here to ask a favor of you. Might you be able to find a suitable guide for me posthaste? I wish to return to Eastwell...to the Corwins' estate."

Adam's thick brows creased together. "I do not understand."

"Shadow and I have parted company," she said.

"But why?" he made a poor attempt to conceal his surprise.

"'Twas a mistake, us running away so hastily, the way we did. Too soon we realized it could not work."

"But you have not yet given it time to work!" Adam said. "I know love when I see it, and I am positive that what I witnessed between you and Shadow right inside these very walls was genuine."

"I fear you saw something that did not exist," Rosalind said. " I thought I knew Shadow well enough to put my faith and trust in him. 'Tis unfortunate that I was wrong."

"Please, tell me what occurred between the two of you to cause such an abrupt change," Adam said. "Surely you must know by now that I will do all I can to help you."

"The only help I require from you is to secure a guide for my journey!" she snapped, not meaning to sound so harsh.

Narrowing his eyes, Adam stared at her until she began to squirm. "I have known Shadow for many years," he finally said. "And I can assure you that if he has done something to upset you, it was not intentional. Are you going to allow some mere misunderstanding to send you rushing far away from here...away from Shadow...and back to the likes of Nathaniel Corwin?"

"'Twas no mere misunderstanding," Rosalind said, her tone bitter. "And whether Shadow's actions were intentional or not is of little significance now. What is done, is done."

Her lack of emotion greatly disturbed Adam. "When it comes to love and matters of the heart," he said, "nothing is ever final."

Rosalind's silence caused him to inquire one more time, "Are you certain you would not like to discuss the events that led you back to my door?"

Rosalind had no desire whatsoever to discuss with Adam any of the events that had made her decide to flee Shadow. She felt that even a solid month of nothing but prayer would not absolve her from the sins she had committed – and nearly had committed – while with Shadow at Adam's brother's house. "Thank you for your concern, sir. But discussing it will not serve to undo it."

Adam thought better than to pursue the matter any further. He was left to his own imaginings, none of which he was inclined to believe, knowing Shadow the way he did.

"I have a friend named Roger Beckford who I'm certain will be more than pleased to accompany you back to Eastwell," he finally surrendered.

Rosalind lifted her head to stare at him. "And who is this Roger Beckford?"

"He is by no means a young man," Adam said. "But he is so familiar with the trails and forests in these parts, a blindfold could not deter him." He hesitated before adding, "Of course, if you are in a great hurry to return home, you may opt to have Roger take you by dugout."

"No, thank you," she said, shaking her head. "I already have had more than my share of water while traveling with Shadow. I much prefer to keep my feet on dry land during the return trip."

Adam's eyes searched her face. "Are you certain about returning to Eastwell, child? If you harbor any doubts, you are more than welcome to remain here and allow yourself sufficient time to think things through. Please, do not make any hasty decisions you may later come to regret."

"I need no more time," she answered much too quickly to suit him. "I am certain of my decision."

* * * * *

Roger Beckford was a frail-looking man with sparse gray hair and tiny blue eyes that peered out from beneath thick, drooping brows. When he smiled, he revealed a row of yellowed, broken teeth. Rosalind also noticed, with some curiosity, that several of his fingertips were missing. The man's threadbare garments appeared to have been deprived of soap and water for some time, and his well-worn shoes offered little more protection than if he wore none at all. Rosalind wondered just how safe she would be journeying with a man who looked as if a strong gust of wind could blow him away.

Adam immediately sensed her doubts. "Roger is one of the best guides I know," he said, giving the withered man a robust slap on the back. Roger's body was propelled forward by the impact of it. "He will see to your safe return in all possible haste."

Although Rosalind still was uncertain about Roger's abilities, she was not about to pass up any opportunity to leave Portsmouth...and Shadow. "Fine," she responded with a nod. "I am most eager to be on my way." She turned to face Roger. "I shall be unable to compensate you for your time, however, until I reach my destination. I hope you do not mind waiting until then."

"'Tis fine," he said. "I have already purchased everything we shall need for the journey." He indicated a large pack on the floor.

"Fine, then, let us delay our departure no longer." Rosalind moved toward the door.

With a loud grunt, Roger hoisted the heavy pack onto his back, instantly appearing to lose inches in height beneath the weight of it.

Rosalind looked at Adam. "I know not how to thank you for all the help you have given me," she softly said. "I shall never forget you."

Adam studied her face, desperately wishing he could find the right words to make her stay. "You are certain this is what you want?" was all he managed.

Rosalind lowered her eyes so he would not see the tears in them, then stepped forward to give him a brief embrace. "I am certain," she whispered.

* * * * *

By late afternoon, a steady rain had begun to fall. Although the air was warm, Rosalind's sodden garments kept her body encased in a cold, damp cocoon.

Roger Beckford was fond of talking, and he rambled on endlessly about his family and his travels as he and Rosalind walked in a single file through the forest. It did not seem to bother Roger that his traveling companion had long since turned a deaf ear to his lengthy tales. He appeared content to talk to himself. Rosalind might have found Roger's conversation interesting, even amusing, but the events of the past several days had made her long for nothing but silence. Too many conflicting thoughts needed to be sorted out in her mind before she returned to Eastwell...and Nathaniel, yet with Roger's incessant chattering, she could concentrate on little. Rosalind recalled how different her journey with Shadow had been. Although the two of them had walked in silence, not once had she experienced the deep sense of loneliness and isolation she now felt.

"We should think about settling down for the night," Roger suddenly announced.

Rosalind was too immersed in thought to hear him. When she did not respond, the old man halted abruptly and turned to face her, an action that caused Rosalind to bump into him. Startled, she looked up to find Roger's nose within an inch of her own.

"I am sorry," she apologized, backing up several steps. "I was lost in thought."

"Obviously," Roger said tightly, wondering if most of his best-told tales of the day had been wasted on the birds. "I said we should camp here for the night."

"Fine," Rosalind said, not really caring.

Roger located a dry spot beneath a cluster of tall maple trees, then busied himself with unpacking the supplies and, after searching for some dry wood, laying a fire. He hummed as he worked, his cheerful disposition serving only to annoy Rosalind. She attempted to improve her gray mood by thinking about her impending reunion with Ben, her sisters and her mother, but even that did little to lift her spirits.

"Something troubling you, Miss?" Roger asked, startling her. When Rosalind jumped at the sound of his voice, he shook his head and frowned. "You sure are a nervous little thing, aren't you!"

"'I am just tired," Rosalind explained, forcing a weak smile. "I slept very little last night, then rose ere sunrise this morn. It has been a long day, and I am chilled and weary."

"Come, warm yourself by the fire," Roger said. "The rain has let up, so you should be dry in no time. I have a blanket you can wrap yourself in." He handed a well-worn blanket to her. Rosalind put it around her shoulders and then settled herself by the fire.

Staring into the flames, she recalled the blaze of the night before and the way Shadow's rugged features had looked in the light of it. She remembered how his mouth and hands had heated her blood to such a degree, the fire had seemed lukewarm in comparison. Blushing, she tore her gaze from the fire and was taken aback when she saw Roger staring intently at her.

"Hungry?" he asked her. When Rosalind nodded, he said, "I have some venison I can cook for us. 'Twill take but a minute."

"Fine." Rosalind pressed her hand to her stomach. "I have not eaten since yesterday." _Not since the maslin and rabbit with Shadow._

"That is no way to keep up your strength," Roger scolded her. He picked up a slender, fallen branch, then using his knife, began to whittle a point on one end of it.

"I did not purposely deprive myself of food," Rosalind explained. "I merely forgot to eat, that is all."

Roger shook his head, but offered no comment. He slid several pieces of venison onto the stick, then held it out over the fire. All the while, he was acutely aware of Rosalind's curious gaze, which had settled on his fingers.

"A savage got me with a hatchet," he said, forcing Rosalind to look away in embarrassment. He held up his left hand, which was lacking three fingertips, and chuckled. "Never anger a savage. I was fortunate to lose only my fingertips."

When Rosalind made no comment, Roger returned his attention to the venison and turned the stick so the meat would cook evenly.

"So, how did you come to be at Adam's house all the way from Eastwell?" Roger broke the silence. "He told me very little, save for the fact you were most eager to leave Portsmouth."

Rosalind hesitated to answer for she was uncertain whether or not Roger, despite his close friendship with Adam, could be trusted with the truth. She decided not to take the chance. "I was brought to Portsmouth by an Indian who took me hostage after he was accused of murdering one of Magistrate Corwin's workers."

Roger's eyes widened. "You speak the truth? _You_ are the lass everyone has been searching for?"

"I fear I am."

He released a low whistle. "No wonder you are so ill at ease. It must have been terrible for you, being dragged off that way...and by a savage. Did he harm you?"

_Only my heart,_ Rosalind could not help but think.

"I was not harmed in any way," she said. "The Indian abandoned me near Adam's and continued on without me. To be honest, I think he was eager to be rid of me and send me back to the Corwins."

"Are the Corwins family of yours?"

Rosalind's laugh was humorless. "Nay...at least not yet. I work as a companion to Mrs. Corwin...and I am betrothed to their son, Nathaniel."

Roger's surprise was evident. "I am impressed. Even in Portsmouth, we have heard of the young captain's reputation and his reluctance to take a bride. And you have managed to win his heart? You must feel honored. My niece, however, will be greatly disappointed to learn of the news. She has dreamt of making him her husband ever since his ship docked in Portsmouth once, perhaps a year ago now, and she first set eyes on him."

"She is not alone," Rosalind said. "From what I have heard, there are countless young women from as far away as Boston whose fondest desire is to wed Nathaniel Corwin." She slowly shook her head. "I, however, do not see what is so special about the man."

Roger chuckled. "I mean you no insult, but you do not sound much like a woman who is in love with her betrothed and is about to become a wife."

"I once believed in love," Rosalind said, sighing. "I fear I was living in a world of fantasy, just as your niece is. Real life is not at all similar to the life we create in our imaginations, I have had the misfortune of learning."

His smile was faint. "Oh, I predict that once you have had sufficient time to get over this ordeal and put it all behind you, you will feel much differently."

"I very much doubt that, sir."

"You must dwell only on how fortunate you are that you not only survived, you also emerged miraculously unscathed," he said. "Savages have been known to have their way with women and then bash their skulls in! I cannot even begin to imagine how terrified you must have been during these past few days."

A fleeting image of the first kiss she and Shadow had shared – the one she had begged him for – crossed her mind. "Aye, I was frightened nearly to death," she said. "The Indian had black, sinister eyes that seemed to penetrate right through to my very soul."

Roger shuddered. "Most savages are possessed by the devil, I am certain of it. Mark my words, not one of them can be trusted."

"I wholly agree," Rosalind did not hesitate to respond.

* * * * *

Shadow came to Rosalind in her dreams that night as she lay on her blanket beneath the trees. She felt his hands caressing her, his mouth insistent as it sought hers. Vividly, she heard his breathing, deep and passion-incited, filling her ears, louder and louder, until it blotted out all else. Rosalind's eyes flew open. The sound of heavy breathing continued to surround her, even though she was fully awake.

Sitting up, she scanned the darkness, her eyes nervously darting about. Another gasp, louder this time, caused her to snap her head in Roger's direction. Swiftly, she crawled over to his blanket. The fire had dwindled, casting just enough light to enable her to see his face.

He lay there, his mouth open, his eyes large with fear.

"Mr. Beckford!" she cried. "What is wrong?"

"Pain," he whispered hoarsely, his hand clutching the left side of his chest. His breathing was labored, his perspiration-soaked face, ashen.

Rosalind placed her hand on the man's clammy brow. "I know not what to do to help you!" she said, her voice rising.

Roger made an attempt to say something, but was unable to form the words. He stared up at her, his eyes glazed with pain, a rattling sound coming from his throat with each labored breath.

Rosalind clasped Roger's cold hand between both of hers and rubbed it vigorously. Panic flooded through her as his fingers curled around hers, his nails digging into her palm as his pain intensified.

"Try to keep calm, Mr. Beckford," she whispered. "This spell will pass, and you shall be fine." She wanted to believe it was just a severe case of indigestion from the venison, but she was more inclined to think his heart was the problem – that it had been too weak to withstand the rigors of the day's journey, especially with the added burden of the heavy pack. With trembling hands, Rosalind used a corner of Roger's blanket to wipe his forehead.

A long, shuddering gasp slipped from his lips, followed by a frightening silence. The hand that just seconds ago had grasped her hand so fiercely, fell limp, and the eyes that had begged her for help grew glassy and unseeing.

"No!" she shouted, grasping him by the shoulders and shaking him. "You cannot leave me! Not out here...not like this!" Releasing him, Rosalind sat back on her heels and stared at the man as if he were some hideous monster. A sudden urge to retch caused her to cover her mouth with her hand.

She remained there, stiff and unmoving, for what seemed like hours – her heart furiously pounding in her ears as she willed Roger's body return to the living. When it remained still, she, feeling much like a lost, abandoned child, curled into a fetal position with her blanket wrapped around her and sobbed.

The squawking of crows overhead awakened Rosalind. Yawning, she blinked against the rays of sunlight that filtered through the trees. She winced as she rose to a sitting position, her muscles knotting in protest.

"The ground is not very comfortable, especially after having slept in such a soft bed at Mr. Stoddard's," she said to Roger, without looking at him. She stood, stretched and then dropped her right hand to rub her lower back. "I must confess I am eager to return to my featherbed at the Corwins'."

Her gaze shifted to where Roger lay. The sight of the rigid form lying on the blanket caused her to stifle a scream. His skin had taken on a grayish-blue tint and his eyes, still wide open, no longer had any white area visible in them.

Lord help me, it was not a nightmare! He truly is dead! I am out here alone in the middle of the forest, and I have not a clue where to go from here!

She quickly looked away from the disturbing sight of her guide's body and took several deep breaths in a feeble attempt to calm herself. When she did, she inhaled the faint but nauseating stench that already was emanating from the corpse. Her stomach immediately lurched in protest and she violently vomited.

Rosalind used the hem of her apron to wipe her mouth and eyes, and attempted to gather her thoughts. She wanted to give Roger a proper burial, but she had neither the tools nor the strength to do so. The thought of having to leave him where he lay, at the mercy of insects and animals, flooded her with guilt, but she was helpless to do anything to remedy the situation. Sucking in her breath and holding it, she inched her way toward Roger's body and recited a brief prayer over it. Then, eager to leave the nightmarish scene behind her, she quickly gathered the few supplies she thought she would need and set off in what she hoped was an easterly direction. She knew she stood a better chance of making it back to Adam's in Portsmouth rather than trying to continue on to Eastwell, which still lay more than twice the distance ahead and across much rougher terrain.

The temperature climbed as the day wore on, and Rosalind's pace slackened as the heat and her pack steadily drained her energy. She found herself wishing she had not been so deep in thought during the initial journey and had paid better attention to the trails she and Roger had taken, for now she had to rely only on her instincts to help her find her way back to Adam's. Every time she passed through a thick cluster of trees or bushes, she imagined that everything from a band of savages to a pack of hungry wolves might be lurking in them, waiting to pounce on her. She felt for Roger's knife, which she had tucked into the waist of her apron, to give herself a small measure of reassurance.

Rosalind paused to drink from a spring-fed pool and splash cool water over her face and neck. Although she was eager to reach Adam's by nightfall, her desire to keep moving succumbed to an even greater desire to collapse on a patch of soft moss beneath a tall oak and rest for a spell. Leaning back against the tree's broad trunk, her legs stretched out before her, Rosalind nibbled on a piece of bread and scanned her surroundings, hoping to spy some familiar landmark. It seemed to her that she already had walked a greater distance than she and Roger had covered the day before, yet she recognized nothing around her. Nevertheless, she refused to consider the possibility she might be lost. She vowed that by dusk, she would be comfortably seated in front of Adam's hearth. Tonight she would sleep in a soft bed, not outdoors with a chorus of mosquitoes humming in her ears.

Involuntarily, her thoughts drifted back to the last time she had been alone and lost in the woods. Shadow had miraculously appeared in the midst of a blizzard to rescue her. She found herself wishing he once again would appear. She wanted to hate him, to consider herself fortunate to be rid of him, but as reluctant as she was to admit it, she still cared about him...perhaps too much. She had done a good deal of thinking while walking alone in the forest all day, and she slowly had come to regret storming out on Shadow the way she had. He had done so much for her and yet she had turned on him in a moment of anger and accused him of deceiving her – and even worse, had told him the only reason why she had allowed him to touch her was because she'd thought she was soiled goods. But now that she had allowed herself sufficient time to cool down and more calmly consider all that had occurred, she realized how wrong she had been. Shadow had risked his life, sacrificed the respect of his people and condemned himself to the life of a fugitive, all for the sole purpose of protecting her. And what had she done to thank him? Insult him, shout at him and leave him!

Nay, Shadow had not acted selfishly at all, Rosalind was forced to admit. She was the one who had.

"I have been such a fool," she said aloud, lifting her eyes toward a lone patch of blue sky that peeked through the tops of the thick cluster of trees. She wondered where Shadow was and what he was doing at that very moment. She also wondered whether she ever would see him again, or if she ever would have the chance to ask – no _, beg_ – for his forgiveness. She suspected he would not even want to see her, for which she could not blame him, especially after the hurtful words she had spouted at him. But she desperately hoped for just one more opportunity.

Wishing to take advantage of the few remaining hours of sunlight, Rosalind gathered her supplies and with renewed determination, set off in search of Adam's house.

A short time later, she suddenly halted, a smile curving her lips. _The tree!_ Before her stood a broad maple, two of its limbs cracked and hanging down on opposite sides of its trunk. She recalled how Roger had commented that the limbs resembled two thin arms dangling at the sides of a fierce warrior. She and Roger had passed this way!

Rosalind's heartbeat quickened along with her pace as other familiar landmarks began to spring up on either side of her – the stump tunneled with insect holes, the large rock shaped like a bear. Each sighting was more exciting to her than finding clues to a buried treasure. She pushed herself to the point of exhaustion, certain that Portsmouth lay just beyond the next clump of trees or over the next ridge. Her body cried out for rest and her sore muscles craved a long soak in a tub of hot water, but soon, she told herself, she would be comfortable. And, if luck and fate were on her side, she also hoped to be looking into Shadow's eyes once again. Her father often had told her that whatever happened in life, whether good or bad, it all was part of God's plan. Perhaps, she thought, as tragic as Roger's death was, it was God's way of sending her back to Adam's...and to Shadow. Perhaps it was His way of telling her she truly did belong with Shadow.

The sun began its descent, making Rosalind more desperate to reach her destination. For the past half-hour she had been hearing the call of a bird – the same call over and over again. Something about it did not seem quite right to her, did not ring true in her ears. She struggled to suppress the thought that Indians might be nearby, even though for the better part of the last mile she had felt that someone – something – was watching her. Roger's comment about the savages having their way with women and then bashing in their skulls, kept running through her mind.

The tangled maze of trees that loomed before her, its branches beckoning to her like hundreds of long, bony fingers, was, Rosalind felt certain, the last remaining obstacle that stood between her and the cozy safety of Adam's house. She maneuvered her way through the labyrinth of twisted, insect-infested trees and bushes, her determination willing her to keep moving.

When at last she emerged into a small clearing on the other side of the trees, her face scratched and sweaty, her hair peppered with leaves and pine needles, and her breath coming in short gasps, Rosalind spied something that caused her to freeze where she stood.

She screamed and dropped her pack as her hands flew up to her face. "Dear Lord, no!"

Beneath a tall maple only a few feet to the right of where she stood, lay Roger Beckford's body, exactly where she had left it that morning. She had done naught all day but walk in a circle!

Rosalind's head began to spin and her legs suddenly felt too weak to support her. She frantically grabbed for a tree branch in an attempt to steady herself, but her reach fell short and she sank to her knees. The stiffness of death already had contorted Roger's mouth into a hideous, twisted smile that seemed to be mocking her for her failed attempt to leave him behind.

His haunting visage was the last thing she saw before she blacked out.

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

With great effort, Rosalind opened her eyes, but the blinding brightness caused her to abruptly close them again. Her head throbbed and her mouth felt as though someone had stuffed it with lamb's wool.

"She is coming around," a male voice whispered.

"Poor child," a female voice responded sympathetically. "Such an ordeal she has been through. She is fortunate to be alive."

Rosalind rolled her head to the left, an action that caused a searing pain to shoot through her temples. She moaned.

"Rosalind," the male voice, now much closer, softly called. She felt a large, warm hand take hers. "Can you hear me?"

She responded with another moan.

"Fetch another wet cloth for her head," the male voice ordered. "It might take down the swelling."

Rosalind willed herself to open her eyes. She squinted against the light, struggling to focus on her surroundings. Although her vision was fuzzy, she was able to determine she was in a chamber.

"How do you feel?" the male voice asked her.

Cautiously, Rosalind turned toward the voice. The face that came into focus was a familiar one.

"Nathaniel?" she croaked, confused. "Where am I?"

"Back in your chamber, where you belong," he said. He squeezed her hand. "You gave us quite a scare, my darling."

Rosalind lifted a trembling hand to her brow and winced as she lightly touched the swelling there. "What happened to me?"

"We were hoping you might enlighten us," Nathaniel said.

She closed her eyes and attempted to sort through her thoughts, but she was too exhausted, too weak to concentrate. Her only desire was to sleep. Recalling the events that had led her back to Nathaniel, she decided, would have to wait.

"She was awake and speaking," Nathaniel informed Grace as she entered the chamber.

The housekeeper moved to place a wet cloth on Rosalind's forehead. "That horrible savage is to blame for this," Grace muttered. "Lord only knows what vile acts the poor child was forced to endure while his captive." Her expression softened, becoming motherly as her fingers smoothed back Rosalind's hair.

"Aye, the savage is indeed to blame," Nathaniel coldly agreed, his hands clenching into fists. "But at least there is peace in knowing he never will trouble anyone again."

* * * * *

When Rosalind again awoke, the room was dark, save for a single candle that burned on the table at her bedside. The flame cast a glow on Nathaniel, who was seated on the edge of the bed, his hand still clasping hers.

"Water," Rosalind whispered.

Nathaniel leapt to his feet and filled a cup with water from a nearby pitcher. Returning to the bed, he gently lifted Rosalind's head from the pillow and pressed the cup to her lips. She took several sips before collapsing back onto the pillow.

Nathaniel set the cup on the table, then again sat on the bed and stared at her. "How are you feeling?"

"As though I fell off a cliff," she replied. "Please, Nathaniel, tell me how I came to be here. I cannot remember a thing."

He reclaimed her hand and took a deep breath. "When Mr. Stoddard informed me that you had departed without me, I immediately set out to catch up with you and join you on your journey," he explained. "I felt confident it would take little effort to gain on you and your escort, seeing that your lead was but a short one. But to my confusion, my search turned up naught."

Rosalind's memory began to return as Nathaniel spoke. The reason he had been unable to find her was because she had been hiding in Adam's brother's house...with Shadow.

"I kept moving forward," Nathaniel continued, "hoping to pick up your trail, all the while becoming more and more frustrated and concerned. After more than a day's time had passed with still no sighting of either you or your guide, I made the decision to circle back instead of pressing forward, wondering if perchance I had missed some clue to your whereabouts. Call it instinct, but I had a strong feeling something was amiss." He took a deep breath. "'Twas dusk the next day when I heard it...a woman's scream in the distance. I ran in that direction, and the Lord must have guided my path because I arrived just in time."

Rosalind stared unblinkingly at him. "Just in time for what?"

"To save your life. 'Tis fortunate for you that I am an excellent shot."

Rosalind clamped her eyes shut and desperately attempted to recall what had occurred. She remembered Roger's death and how she had attempted to find her way back to Adam's house on her own. She recalled wandering in circles and then stumbling upon Roger's body. She shuddered as she remembered how frightening the corpse had looked, and how she had screamed at the sight of it – the scream that apparently had led Nathaniel to her. "I swooned," she said, mostly to herself. She opened her eyes and looked up at Nathaniel. "But what did you shoot? How did you, as you say, save my life? Was I about to be attacked by an animal?"

He chuckled humorlessly. "You might say that. I spied you, lying lifeless near your dead escort, and there _he_ was, standing over you. I thought for certain I had arrived too late."

" _He?_ "

"The savage, Shadow Runner. Had I not shot him, I have no doubt you would have been murdered, just as your guide had been."

It took several seconds for Rosalind to find her voice. "But my guide, Mr. Beckford, died the night before! 'Twas his heart! I not only witnessed his death, I held his hand as he took his last breath! He was not murdered!"

"You are distraught," Nathaniel said, his tone condescending. "And confused. The savage obviously killed your guide, you swooned, and then the heathen wanted to make certain you never awoke again so you would be unable to return here and provide us with any details that would assist us in his capture. How do you think you came by that bump on your forehead? He must have struck you as you were awakening. Had I not happened upon you when I did, I have no doubt he would have delivered a fatal bash to your head and finished the deed."

When Nathaniel noticed the look of undisguised horror on Rosalind's face, and her wide eyes filling with tears, he thought it best to cease discussing the incident and instead make some attempt to soothe her. "But take comfort in knowing 'tis all over now," he said. "The Indian shall never bother you again." He smiled tightly. "I suppose you could say I sent him to meet his 'Great Spirit.' Now, all you have to concern yourself with is getting strong and well once again...for our wedding and our future together."

Rosalind's throat tightened until she feared she might suffocate. Her fingers closed around Nathaniel's hand, her nails digging so hard into his flesh, he winced.

"What troubles you?" he asked. "Have you pain?"

She heard the scream then, shrill and piercing. It took her several seconds to realize the scream was her own.

Her outburst sent Grace scurrying back into the chamber. Nathaniel tossed a frantic, helpless look at the woman when she entered.

Grace moved to sit on the edge of the bed and then pulled Rosalind into her arms. "There, there, child," she whispered, patting her on the back as if attempting to soothe a crying infant. "You must not upset yourself this way. 'Tis not good for you. You are safe now. You have nothing to fear."

Rosalind sobbed against the plump woman's breast. When she finally was able to catch her breath, she whispered, "I wish to die!"

Grace directed an accusing look at Nathaniel. "What on earth did you say to her to upset her so?"

"She asked how she came to be here and I told her," he responded.

"Obviously you made her relive her terrible ordeal with the savage!" Grace said. She smoothed Rosalind's hair and murmured several comforting words into her ear before turning back to Nathaniel. "Perhaps 'twould be best if you left us alone for a while, sir."

Nathaniel shook his head. "Nay, I wish to remain here by Rosalind's side."

Rosalind lifted her tear-streaked face and choked out, "I mean you no offense, but I truly wish to be left alone at present. I beseech you both to leave."

Grace eyed her, her concern evident. "Are you certain that is what you want, child?"

Biting down on her quivering bottom lip, Rosalind nodded.

"Then we shall take our leave." Grace stood and grasped Nathaniel by the elbow. "Come, Captain."

Nathaniel gazed at Rosalind and hesitated. "If you need anything," he finally said, reluctantly allowing Grace to lead him toward the door, "just call out."

Ignoring him, Rosalind rolled onto her side and turned her face toward the wall.

Once out in the hallway, Grace attempted to calm the distressed captain. "You must have patience, lad," she said. "The girl needs time to heal her mind as well as her body. After all, we have no way of knowing what terrible things the savage did to her ere you found her...and killed him. Please try to get some rest. I fear you are going to make yourself ill." She headed down the stairs and called over her shoulder to him, "Get yourself to bed, Captain."

Nathaniel sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He blamed Rosalind for everything that had occurred since she left Adam's house in Portsmouth. Had she not been so eager to run off with Stoddard's guide in the dead of night, he thought bitterly, the savage never would have been afforded a second opportunity to assault her.

But something occurred to him at that moment that even he could not comprehend. He suddenly realized that Rosalind's purity, which previously had been of the utmost importance to him, no longer mattered. All he desired was for her to get well and strong again and become his bride.

"Lord in heaven," he whispered, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall. "Could it be that I actually _care_ about a woman for the first time in my life?"

Left alone in the silent, dark chamber, Rosalind cried until her pillow was wet and cold against her cheek. Shadow was dead...murdered by the very man to whom she was betrothed. She hated Nathaniel, despised everything about him at that moment, yet try as she might, she could not blame him for killing Shadow. After all, had she not, by her own words, convinced him that the Indian had held a knife to her throat and taken her hostage? Was it any wonder that Nathaniel had feared for her life when he heard her scream and then spied Shadow standing over her? She had no one to blame for Shadow's death but herself.

Fresh tears spilled down Rosalind's cheeks as guilt and remorse consumed her. Shadow had died believing she hated him – that he was not good enough for her. Why, then, she wondered, had he chosen to follow her? And why had he not made his presence known sooner, when she was lost and wandering alone? The feeling she had experienced in the woods – the feeling someone was watching her – must have been Shadow stalking her, she realized.

She did not believe for one second that the bump on her head had been inflicted by his hand. Even if her words had angered Shadow, she still could not imagine him doing something so violent to her. He had been naught but kind and gentle to her, even though she had caused him nothing but trouble ever since their first meeting. In fact, had his path never crossed hers, he still would be alive. And for that, she never would forgive herself.

Rosalind slept restlessly that night, her tears frequently waking her. The pain in her head worsened until every move caused her to grit her teeth. She assumed that the lump above her eye actually had been caused when she had swooned and hit the ground. She could not help but think, with a shiver of revulsion, about Jonathan and what had happened to his head when he had fallen on a rock. At least, she thought bitterly, her own head still was intact.

When Rosalind did manage to doze for a spell, she dreamt of Shadow, holding her hand and smiling as the two of them walked through a great field of wildflowers. Abruptly, the dream transformed into vivid, terrifying images of Roger Beckford's blue, contorted face and Shadow's bloodstained body, each flanking Jonathan's corpse as it lay in a shallow grave. Trembling violently, Rosalind awoke, her body soaked with perspiration, her bottom lip bloody from biting down on it to keep from screaming.

* * * * *

The next morning, Grace visited Rosalind's chamber a number of times. The housekeeper fussed over her, fed her, brushed her hair, washed her and helped her into a fresh nightdress. Her visits never were lengthy, for Grace had far too many other chores to tend to, but Rosalind found herself looking forward to seeing the woman's cheerful, apple-cheeked face in her doorway. She welcomed any diversion that afforded her a respite from lying in bed and dwelling on the deep sense of loss and guilt she was feeling.

Rosalind previously had considered her bedchamber to be cozy and comfortable, but now it seemed cold and depressing. As she lay on her back and stared at the white canopy overhead, she desperately wished she could be a child again...to return to a carefree time of pillow fights, building snow forts, girlish giggling with her sisters, and sitting by the fire and listening to Ben's tall tales before bedtime.

She drew a long breath. Never again would her life be simple, she thought. Her father once had told her, "You can return to a place, but not to a time." Only now was she able to fully comprehend the meaning of his words.

Grace came in to fill Rosalind's water pitcher later that afternoon.

"How fares Abigail?" Rosalind asked her. "No one has made mention of her, nor have I heard her in her chamber since my return."

Grace moved closer to the bed and spoke in a hushed voice. "Truth be told, she did not fare well at all during your absence. She refused to eat or take her medicine, and she fretted constantly. She does seem to be doing slightly better now since your return, however. She is most eager to see you. But both of you will have to get much stronger before that can occur."

"Do you think it might be a good idea to open the door that adjoins Abigail's chamber with mine so that perhaps we may at least share some conversation?" Rosalind asked.

"Now why did I not think of that?" Grace immediately moved to open the heavy door.

As soon as the task had been completed, Rosalind called out a greeting to Abigail. She wished she actually could set eyes upon the woman, but due to the beds in each chamber not being within direct sight of each other, Rosalind knew it was not possible – at least not until she regained her strength and was able to get up and walk once again.

"Rosalind!" came the weak response. "'Tis such a blessing to hear your voice!"

For the first time since her return, Rosalind smiled.

The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly, with Rosalind and Abigail exchanging bits of conversation when one or the other was not napping. The topics were kept light, with neither woman broaching the subject of Shadow. Rosalind also was grateful that Abigail made no mention of any wedding plans. Instead, she seemed content to discuss the weather, the local gossip and the new family from Boston that had moved to town during Rosalind's absence.

During the late afternoon hours, Nathaniel delivered Rosalind's supper. Just the sight of him, _the murderer,_ caused her mood, which had been somewhat lifted by her chat with Abigail, to once again sink.

"Grace tells me you did well with the broth earlier today," he said, "so I thought you might want to try something more nourishing. The sooner you build up your strength, the sooner you and my mother can sit outdoors in the sunlight again."

He helped Rosalind to a sitting position, then placed a second pillow behind her back. Carefully, he set the tray on her lap. It held a bowl of steaming stew and a chunk of thickly buttered bread.

The smell of the stew surprisingly appealed to Rosalind. Grasping the spoon, she eagerly dug in.

Nathaniel, immaculate in a crisp white shirt, white neck cloth, gray breeches and knee-high boots, pulled a stool close to the bed and straddled it, then watched Rosalind eat. "You seem much improved since last I saw you," he said. "Grace advised me not to disturb you today. Perhaps it was wise of her to make me stay away, even though it was nothing short of torture for me."

"Actually, 'twas your mother who lifted my spirits," Rosalind said. She took a bite of the soft, chewy bread.

Nathaniel's eyebrows arched. "Mother was up and about?"

"Nay." She shook her head. "Grace left the door open so we could talk. Although we were unable to set eyes on each other or speak face to face, we still managed to gain comfort from each other's voice."

"I am pleased," he said, his smile displaying his dimples. "I believe both of you soon shall be back to good health, now that you are in the company of each other once again. Mother was beside herself with worry while you were gone."

Rosalind pushed the bowl of stew aside. "I fear I can eat no more."

"You did well, considering," Nathaniel said, rising to remove the tray from her lap. He cleared a space on the bed table and set the tray there, then dropped back onto the stool. Leaning forward, he covered Rosalind's left hand with his. His hazel eyes were troubled as they searched her face. "We must talk," he said.

The seriousness of his tone made Rosalind feel uneasy. She had no desire to subject herself to one of Nathaniel's lengthy discussions.

"It has been a long day and I am weary," she said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the pillows. "Can it not wait?"

"Nay," he said, tightening his fingers over hers. "This matter needs to be settled without further delay."

Rosalind sighed and opened her eyes. "Pray tell, then. What is so urgent?"

"I wish to know how you feel about me...about us."

Rosalind suppressed the urge to groan out loud. She wondered how the captain would feel if she told him the truth – that she could not bear the sight of him because he had murdered the only man she had ever loved...ever would love. Although she had no intention of marrying Nathaniel, she knew she could not confess as much to him, especially not while convalescing under his very roof...nor while he still held the threat of destroying her family. She needed sufficient time to devise a plan in which to convince him to call off the wedding. It was imperative that he be the one to make that decision. That way, he would have no reason to seek revenge and make good on his threats. She knew she needed only to say that yes, Shadow had raped her, and Nathaniel would forever be out of her life, but she hoped she would not have to resort to telling any more lies, especially ones that would cause many people to shun her. She could only pray that given time, another solution would come to her.

"I know not how to answer your question, Nathaniel," she finally said. "I feel naught but numb inside since my...ordeal."

"I do understand," he said, "but I was hoping that now that you have witnessed all I have done of late...my endless search for you and saving your life, you might feel more...fond of me."

Rosalind came very close to laughing. _Fond of him?_ She could not bear the sight of the killer...the blackmailer. He was no better than the 'savages' he was so quick to condemn, yet he had an air about him that led everyone to believe he was the perfect man, practically a living saint.

When Rosalind did not respond, Nathaniel looked into her eyes and softly added, "I just want you to know that even if the savage did...have his way with you, Rosalind...it matters not to me. All I want is to move on from here and forget the past. What is done is done and no one can undo it. Nothing is of concern to me now other than seeing you get strong again and then planning our future together. I need you, my love, just as I feel you need me...whether you realize it or not."

His words rendered Rosalind speechless. He no longer cared about her precious purity? Was this the same Nathaniel who had told her it was imperative that his wife be chaste so he could be the first and last man to ever bed her? She found herself wondering if he also might have endured a head injury during her absence and it somehow had affected his character. The problem now, however, she thought dismally, was that if he truly no longer placed any importance on her virginity, she was left with no means whatsoever in which to cause him to call off the wedding.

A knock at the chamber door postponed any further discussion. Relieved, Rosalind welcomed the interruption.

Elias Corwin, looking thinner and more fatigued than when last she had seen him, entered. He reached the bed in three long strides, then took Rosalind's hand in his, wrapping his thick fingers around her slender ones.

"My dear girl," he said, "I am pleased beyond words to see you looking so well. Pray tell, how are you faring?"

"I am still as weak as a newborn babe," she said, offering him a slight smile. "But I do believe I shall be fine." _Perhaps in body, but never in spirit._

Elias dropped her hand and smiled, but his eyes looked troubled. Rosalind sensed he was trying to gather the courage to ask her something. Her assumption proved to be correct.

"Mistress Chandler," he began somewhat uneasily, "I regret that I must broach a most unpleasant subject...but I am forced to take your deposition."

"Deposition?" she repeated.

"Aye," he responded, absently scratching the back of his neck. "Although it is common knowledge that the Indian was a ruthless murderer who deserved to die, the fact remains that Nathaniel is the one who shot him. For the court's – and my – peace of mind, you must state in writing that your very life was in danger and you would not be alive if Nathaniel had not intervened when he did."

The small amount of stew she had managed to eat began to rise in her throat. "I remember naught," she whispered. "I swooned ere Nathaniel came upon us."

"It matters not," Elias said. "I am certain that a thorough description of the Indian's actions from the time he took you hostage until the day he died will be more than sufficient to convince the court he was a bloodthirsty killer who had to be stopped."

Rosalind could concentrate on naught but the disturbing thought of Shadow lying lifeless on the ground. "What happened to the bodies?" she asked, purposely avoiding Elias's expectant gaze.

"I left the savage and your guide where they lay," Nathaniel said. "My immediate concern was to return you home. I carried you, which slowed me. The journey took just over two days."

Rosalind was stunned to learn she had been unconscious for so long...and concerned that her care solely had been left to Nathaniel during that time.

"Nathaniel should have taken you to Portsmouth to seek help for you there," Elias said, frowning. "'Twas much closer than Eastwell."

Nathaniel turned toward his father. "I wanted her to be in a place where she could heal undisturbed. Had I brought her to Portsmouth, she then still would have had to make the long journey back here afterwards, which would not have aided in her recovery."

"So Roger's and Shadow's bodies still lie in the woods where they died?" Rosalind asked, impatient for an answer.

"Nay," Elias said. "I dispatched several men on horseback to the area the morning after your return. They saw to it that Mr. Beckford was returned to his kin. The savage's body was handed over to Mr. Stoddard to be returned to his people. Nathaniel had informed me that Stoddard was somewhat of an authority on the savages in the area, so I figured 'twas safer for him to venture into their territory than to risk the lives of my own men, especially to deliver one of their tribesmen...dead."

Nathaniel frowned. "Although I strongly felt the Indian should be left as food for the wolves, my father warned me that if he was not properly laid to rest in the Indian way, his spirit would be forced to wander the earth...and the savage would haunt me."

Rosalind was surprised to learn that Elias and Nathaniel were so superstitious. She, however, was pleased they were. At least Shadow had not been left lying in the woods...and he finally would be reunited with his people, where she felt he rightfully belonged.

The thought of never being able to see Shadow again suddenly was too overwhelming for Rosalind to bear. The familiar knot in her stomach returned and she quickly realized, with a good deal of embarrassment, her supper was not going to stay down. She frantically grasped for the bowl of stew Nathaniel had set on the bed table. No longer able to control her stomach's determination to rid itself of what little she had managed to eat, she vomited into the bowl.

Nathaniel rushed to hold the bowl beneath Rosalind's chin just as she retched again. "See what your talk of murder and corpses has accomplished?" he snapped at his father. "I warned you she was not yet strong enough to be subjected to your interrogation! Please, Father, take your leave now."

Elias hesitated, gazing with concern at the pale child who, having emptied her stomach, collapsed back against her pillows, closed her eyes and moaned.

" _Now!"_ Nathaniel glared at his father.

Still hesitating, Elias finally turned on his heel and, muttering an apology, strode out the door.

"I am so sorry," Nathaniel whispered, setting the bowl on the floor. He wet a cloth and wiped Rosalind's face and lips with it. Smoothing her hair from her forehead, he asked, "Feeling a bit better?"

She nodded, not opening her eyes.

"My father can be very inconsiderate at times," Nathaniel said. "He oft allows his duties as magistrate to take priority over all else, including compassion for the victim."

"I shall be all right," Rosalind said, finally meeting his concerned gaze. "The only thing I crave is a good night's rest. It has been a long and trying day."

"Then I shall delay your sleep no longer," Nathaniel obliged. He leaned to kiss her forehead. "Sweet dreams, my love, until the morrow."

The moment the door closed behind him, Rosalind pulled the quilt over her head and sobbed.

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Grace tiptoed into Rosalind's chamber early the next morn and quietly set about her duties, careful not to wake the sleeping girl. The housekeeper placed a clean pitcher of water, a fresh basin, and a tray of biscuits and dried fruits on the bed table, then flitted about the chamber, giving it a light dusting. Before departing, she opened the door to Abigail's chamber, thinking that when Rosalind awoke she might appreciate the opportunity to share some conversation with Abigail again, as she had the day before. Both women had so enjoyed and benefited from their chat, Grace felt certain no physician's medicine could possess as much healing power.

It was late morning when Rosalind awoke. Despite a fairly sound night's sleep brought on by exhaustion, she did not feel rested. Sitting up, she reached for one of the biscuits Grace had set out, and nibbled absently on it. She then drank half a mug of water. Although the morning sun warmed her chamber, a cold, numb feeling still held her in its grasp.

"Enter, Grace," Rosalind called out in response to the light rapping on her door.

"'Tis not Grace," a familiar voice responded. "May I still enter?"

"Ben!" Rosalind cried, just as he opened the door and peeked inside. With tears in her eyes, she extended her arms toward her brother.

He rushed to the bed to embrace her. "Dear sister, I have been beside myself with worry! You cannot imagine how greatly I have missed you!"

"Not nearly as much as I have missed you!" she answered, fiercely clinging to him.

Ben gently extricated himself from her grasp and studied her face. "So, pray tell, how are you feeling?"

"Weak, but mending," she said, sighing. She paused to allow her gaze to sweep over him. "How is Mother? And Nellie and Elizabeth?"

"They are fine...now. The news of your return came as a great relief to us...to the entire town. We wanted to rush over to be by your side the moment we were informed of your return, but the Corwins advised us against it, saying you were too ill for visitors. Today, I finally was sent word I would be allowed to see you, so I hastened over here, posthaste."

"I am so pleased you did. I cannot even begin to describe how much."

"We were so worried about you, especially considering the grim circumstances surrounding your disappearance. And truth be known, despite our strong belief in the power of prayer, there were times when we nearly gave up hope."

"I am so sorry I caused you such needless worry." Rosalind's eyes met her brother's and pleaded for forgiveness. "But truth be told, I never was in any danger."

Ben looked confused. "No danger? You were taken hostage at knifepoint by a murderer!"

Rosalind leaned back against her pillow and sighed. "Ben, get comfortable." She waved a hand in the direction of the stool at her bedside. "If I do not tell someone what really happened, I am likely to go mad."

Ben dropped onto the stool, his blue eyes never leaving his sister's face.

"Promise me," Rosalind said, "that what I am about to tell you shall never go beyond this chamber."

"You have my word on our father's grave," he answered without hesitation.

Rosalind lowered her eyes and fiddled nervously with the edge of her quilt. "Shadow did not murder Jonathan... _I_ did."

Ben stared at her, his eyes wide.

"I killed Jonathan," she repeated. "By no means intentionally, but it was by my hand that he died." She took a deep breath. "He was sotted and tried to force himself upon me, so I struck him. When he fell, he hit his head on a rock and split his skull open."

Ben winced. "Then his death truly was an accident?"

She nodded.

"I-I do not understand, Rosalind. Why have you told no one of this?"

"When I realized Jonathan was dead, I panicked, not knowing what to do or where to turn. 'Twas the Indian, Shadow, who came to my aid. He convinced me to return to my chamber and assured me 'twould be best if everyone believed Jonathan died from a drunken fall. That way, there would be no scandal brought upon the Corwins...or so he thought." She shook her head. "Unfortunately, Matthew spied Shadow near the body and leapt to the wrong conclusion. He and Elias beat him, then bound him and tossed him into the stables. They planned to bring him to the gaol the next morn and then see him hang for murder."

"But the Indian escaped," Ben said.

Rosalind closed her eyes. "Aye, but not until _I_ freed him." When she heard Ben's sharp intake of breath, her eyes flew open. "I could not, not by any means, allow him to die for a crime of which he was innocent, Ben!"

"And the savage showed his gratitude by taking you hostage at knifepoint?" he snapped.

"Nay." Rosalind felt her cheeks grow hot. "I went with him of my own free will."

Her brother stared incredulously at her.

"Someone was approaching," she quickly explained. "Had I not run off with Shadow, my presence in the stables in the middle of the night would have confirmed I had helped him escape. I likely would have been sent to the gallows along with him. And I hate to confess as much, but I was too frightened to remain and attempt to tell the truth, for I was convinced I would not be believed."

Ben silently studied her as he struggled to digest all that she had told him. It seemed like hours to her before he finally spoke. "So, by running off with the Indian, you were made to appear the victim rather than the accomplice," he concluded.

"Precisely," Rosalind answered. "Shadow and I journeyed to Portsmouth together, where we stayed with an English friend of his, Adam Stoddard." Her gaze locked with her brother's. "During my time with Shadow, I...I came to...love him."

Ben looked as though someone had just struck him in the stomach. "Dear Lord," he whispered.

"Shadow confessed that he loved me, also," she hastily added. "I was _so_ happy, Ben. Shadow and I even made plans to build a new life together. I felt certain that as long as Nathaniel believed I had been taken against my will, he would not make good on his threats against my family. The situation seemed perfect."

Ben groaned and shook his head. "I do not believe what I am hearing! A _savage,_ Rosalind? You fell for a savage?"

When his sister offered no response, Ben sighed and asked, "So, pray tell, why did you not stay with this beloved Indian of yours and build a new life together, especially if everything, as you have just described, was so wonderful?"

"Shadow and I had a disagreement," she said, swallowing the lump of guilt that swiftly rose in her throat as she was forced to recall the night she forever would regret. "I was so angry, I left him."

"Oh?" Ben's brows rose. "And what did he do to incite such anger and destroy this great love of which you speak?" A fleeting look of panic crossed his face. "He did not attempt to have his way with you, did he?"

Rosalind laughed bitterly. "Nay...much to my dismay."

Her brother's mouth fell open.

"Yes, Ben," she said evenly. "I _wanted_ him...more than I ever imagined possible."

"Lord in Heaven!" Ben clearly was appalled. He rose to his feet and turned his back to her. "Tell me I am not hearing this! Have you so easily cast aside your morals, your beliefs?" He flung his arms into the air, as if surrendering, then turned to face her once again. "How could you have allowed that heathen to drag you down to his level of depravation?"

"That _heathen_ had the good sense to refuse me!" she shot back. "Though Lord only knows, I would have allowed him anything he wished, my love for him was so strong! And I already believed I was impure and thought I had nothing to lose." She slowly shook her head. "How could I possibly have known how very wrong I was?"

Ben, his eyes not leaving her face, plunked back down on the stool.

"The Indian," she explained, "the one who rescued me in the storm six winters ago...'twas Shadow." Paying no mind to Ben's look of astonishment, she added, "It appears I have spent all these years worrying for naught. Shadow assured me that he never violated me in any way...that my 'rape' had occurred only in my childish imaginings."

Ben's gaze rose heavenward, as if he were praying for strength. "I am finding all of this most difficult to believe," he said.

"I swear on all that is holy that I speak the truth."

"But the savage...I was informed that Nathaniel..."

"Murdered him?" Rosalind's eyes instantly filled with tears. "Aye, 'tis true. And I cannot help but loathe Nathaniel for what he has done. I cannot even bear the sight of the man right now."

"But the word in town is that Nathaniel is a hero because he saved you from within seconds of dying by the savage's hand after he murdered your guide. Everyone is awed by Nathaniel's bravery...and his devotion to you. 'Tis all they can talk about! But if, as you say, none of what we have heard is the truth, and you did not need to be rescued, then pray tell, how did you come to be injured?"

"The guide Adam engaged to see to my safe return, Mr. Beckford, died during the first night of our journey – his heart was weak. I attempted to find my way back to Mr. Stoddard's on my own, but succeeded only in walking in circles. When I came upon Mr. Beckford's body once again, which by then, was contorted from the stiffness of death, I screamed, then swooned and hit my head. There was no _savage_ involved, neither in Mr. Beckford's death, nor in my injury. I suspect Shadow somehow was within earshot of my scream, and that was how he came to be near me when Nathaniel shot him. Believe me, the captain is no hero, even though I am certain he truly is enjoying being referred to as one."

Ben's expression softened slightly. "Then how can you still bear to be under the same roof with the man? Surely, you cannot still mean to wed him after all that has occurred?"

"No...never." She shook her head emphatically. "But there still is Mother's and our sisters' futures to consider."

"And mine," Ben reminded her, frowning. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "But how do you intend to get out of this marriage?"

"I shall think of something...I _must_. Meanwhile, I shall use my injury to delay any wedding plans for as long as possible. Nathaniel is by no means a patient man. Perhaps, given time, he might even give up on me and go searching for another bride...one who is more fit."

"We could not be that fortunate," Ben muttered. "The man seems obsessed with you. Did he not risk his own life to search for you?"

"Aye, and then he wanted to be rewarded for finding me." She closed her eyes in an attempt to shut out the memory of her reunion with the captain at Adam Stoddard's. "In all honesty, at present, I cannot even think beyond today." The tears she had been struggling to hold back finally spilled from her eyes. "When I learned that Shadow was dead, Ben, I died with him. My wounds, though not visible, feel no less mortal than his."

Ben moved to sit on the edge of the bed, then wrapped his sister in a comforting embrace. "My dear, dear sister," he whispered, "you do seem to have a knack for getting yourself into trouble. I wish there were something I could do to help ease your heartache, but I must confess I am at a loss for any solutions at present. Nevertheless, I have every faith you will make it through this nightmare – _if_ you remain strong."

Ben's words forced Rosalind to recall the night Shadow also had told her to be strong...the night he had left to board the ship.

"I shall try," she promised, pressing her cheek against Ben's chest. "But tell me, brother, when will this pain within me ease? 'Tis a thousand times worse than any injury or illness ever could cause."

"In time, it will lessen." He stroked her hair. "In time, little sister."

In the adjoining chamber, Abigail Corwin pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

She had heard every word.

* * * * *

For a long while, Abigail lay silent and unmoving in her bed, her head reeling as she recounted every detail of the conversation she had overheard. Her emotions ranged from anger over Rosalind's deception, which had endangered the welfare of Abigail's sons and husband, to sympathy over the girl's plight. It was indeed a pity that Shadow, an innocent man, had lost his life, Abigail lamented, especially at the hand of her own son, but there was nothing anyone could now say or do to reverse the tragedy. The future was all that mattered, and Abigail was even more determined than ever to see Rosalind and Nathaniel wed. The two youngsters needed each other, she reasoned. Rosalind was in need of a strong shoulder to lean on, and Nathaniel...well, Nathaniel needed a woman like Rosalind to tame his wild ways and transform him into a respectable family man. Ben's advice to his sister had been correct. Time would lessen her pain. And when it did, Rosalind would come to realize that a life with Nathaniel was preferable to one filled with naught but empty nights and barren years. Abigail already considered Rosalind to be her daughter, and she was determined not to lose the girl again. It had been her good fortune to overhear Rosalind's plans to delay the wedding and try to rid herself of Nathaniel because now, Abigal decided, she would see to it that those plans were thwarted at every turn.

After the passing of two hours since Ben had taken his leave, the silence from within Rosalind's chamber led Abigail to suspect the girl had fallen asleep. With great effort, she slid her frail body to the edge of her bed and then struggled to her feet. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, she inched her way toward the door that connected her chamber with Rosalind's. She was breathless and lightheaded by the time she reached her destination. Silently, she eased the door closed.

"There!" Abigail breathed in relief, closing her eyes and sagging against the door's cool wood for support. "Now Rosalind shall never suspect I know the truth."

* * * * *

After Rosalind had supped on soup and bread that evening and was lying in her bed, Elias, accompanied by Nathaniel, visited her in her chamber. With quill and parchment in hand, the magistrate settled himself on a chair facing the bed and informed her in a tone that invited no argument, "I have come to take your deposition."

Rosalind cast a pleading glance at Nathaniel, who stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded, his expression revealing nothing.

"I shall sit here until morning, if necessary," Elias said. "The sooner you tell me all I require, the sooner I shall leave you to your rest." His tiny gray eyes displayed not even a flicker of compassion.

Inhaling deeply, Rosalind clenched her hands into fists and prayed for strength. The moment she had been dreading – the moment when she would be forced to perjure herself – had arrived, and she saw no immediate means in which to avoid it. She knew that if she wished to protect her family's reputation and spare them from being the victims of Nathaniel's wrath, she must desecrate Shadow's memory and paint him as the savage everyone believed him to be. But, she frantically wondered, did she have the ability to do so? Every word she was about to say would be put down in writing, witnessed and filed with the courts, so she knew she had to speak carefully and convincingly. She also had to recollect exactly what she had told Nathaniel when he found her at Adam's, so there would be no discrepancies in her tales.

She momentarily considered feigning a swoon to gain additional time, but she realized it was best if she no longer delayed the inevitable. "I am prepared to tell you all that occurred." She looked directly at Elias. "But I beseech you, sir, to have patience, for this shall not be easy for me."

"Take all the time you need," Elias said with a nod. "I may, however, interrupt you to ask questions."

Rosalind quietly, methodically, began to recite her false tale of being taken hostage at knifepoint, of spending days in the forest with Shadow and finally, of being abandoned near Adam Stoddard's house.

Elias scribbled on the parchment as she spoke, pausing only to dip the quill into the inkpot he had set on her night table. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Tell me more about your journey to Portsmouth. Were your hands bound? Was the Indian's knife constantly at your throat or back? Did he deprive you of food and water? Did he threaten or beat you?" He paused before asking the question Rosalind knew was uppermost in everyone's thoughts. "Did he...force you to surrender your chastity to him?"

Rosalind's head reeled from his many questions. "While in the forest," she carefully explained, "I neither was bound nor beaten, and I never was deprived of food." She suppressed a bittersweet smile as she recalled how Shadow had tried to convince her to eat the raw fish. "I made no attempt to escape him because I knew it would be futile. I had not a clue where I was nor how to get back home, and even if I had tried and succeeded in gaining a small lead on him, I knew he too easily would be able to overtake me."

Elias appeared disappointed with her response. "Did the savage never attempt to assault you in any way?"

_Not until I encouraged him to,_ Rosalind thought.

"I was careful to obey him and not give him any cause for anger," she answered. "I believe that is why he never laid a hand on me with ill intent."

Elias's forehead creased as he absently tapped the point of the quill against the parchment. "Well, we all agree that he murdered Jonathan, and 'tis obvious he did the same to Roger Beckford."

"Nay," Rosalind said. Although she had little recourse other than to remain silent about how Jonathan had died, she was not about to allow Shadow to also shoulder the blame for Roger's death. "As I said before, Mr. Beckford was not murdered. The man had a weak heart. The strain of the journey while carrying a heavy pack proved to be too great for him. I witnessed his last breath and I can assure you, it was not caused by anyone's hand."

"Describe what occurred immediately prior to Beckford's death," Elias said, his eyes boring into hers.

"I was awakened by his gasping for breath. I discovered the poor man clutching at his chest, unable to breathe and suffering great pain. Within minutes, he was dead."

A trace of a smile curved Elias's lips. "The man already was gasping and in pain when you awakened? How can you be certain then, that the savage had not assaulted the man as you slept? Did you check his body for wounds or marks?"

Rosalind shook her head. "Nay, I did not."

"Then for all you know," Elias reasoned, "the Indian very well could have directly caused Roger's death."

The assumption was so absurd, Rosalind found it difficult to hold her tongue and not lash out at Elias.

Elias interpreted her silence as an admission of Shadow's guilt. "Tell me," he persisted, "how you came to get that bump on your head."

"I assume I struck my head when I swooned," she said.

"'Tis it not possible that after you swooned, the Indian attempted to ensure you never awoke again by hitting you with a rock? 'Tis my strong belief that the savage was about to inflict a second, perhaps fatal, blow to silence you forever, so you could not speak to anyone in town about all he had done and incite a war of vengeance against his people. Nathaniel's timely arrival halted that action as well as saved your life."

Rosalind was forced to bite back an angry response. "I do not know what occurred after I swooned," she said tightly. "I know of only what Nathaniel has told me."

Elias gave her a smug look, obviously confident he had gained another small victory in his efforts to portray Shadow as a crazed killer who surely would have murdered her, had the heroic Nathaniel not come to her rescue.

"I am very tired," Rosalind said, closing her eyes. She was eager to be rid of Elias and his ridiculous accusations, which were serving only to agitate her. "Have you all the information you require?"

"For now," the magistrate responded, scanning what he had written. "I shall copy this over more legibly, then return it for your signature. In the meantime, if I have any further questions, I shall let you know." He stood and turned to face his son. "Come, Nathaniel," let us leave the young lady to her sleep."

"I crave a word alone with her first." Nathaniel spoke for the first time all evening. "I shall be along directly."

Elias gave him a brief nod. "Join me downstairs for a drink when you are through."

Rosalind glared at Nathaniel, resenting him for not having had the courtesy to first ask for her permission to remain, especially when he knew how much she needed her rest.

"Rosalind," he began as soon as the chamber door closed behind his father, "earlier today my mother informed me we must set our wedding date as soon as possible." He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand into his.

"Why would Abigail wish us to rush so?" she asked. "Surely she is aware I need to regain my health ere I can even consider becoming a bride?"

"Your health improves daily, so she sees no reason to further delay making plans."

"You speak as though I have been outside running races," Rosalind said tersely. "When in fact, I barely am able to walk. What I need is the courtesy of everyone's patience."

Nathaniel tightened his grasp on her hand and leaned forward until his face was but only inches from hers. "How can I be patient when every part of me aches to possess you?" he breathed. "Have you no idea how difficult it is for me to be so near to you, sleeping beneath the same roof and stealing glimpses of you in your nightdress, when I crave you to the point of distraction?"

"I _do_ understand how you feel," Rosalind said, because for the first time in her life she truly did. Too vividly she recalled how her own aching need for Shadow had caused her to lie awake on more than one occasion, craving his kisses...his touch.

Nathaniel misinterpreted the longing in her eyes. "My love," he whispered. He lifted her hand to his lips and delivered a kiss to her palm. "You feel it also."

His words snapped Rosalind's attention back to the present and sadly, away from her passionate memories of Shadow. "Feel what?"

"The longing. I can tell you are as impatient as I am for us to become one. The desire I just witnessed in your eyes plainly revealed it."

Embarrassed that her private thoughts of Shadow were so transparent, Rosalind clamped her eyes shut and released a long sigh.

"The color in your cheeks is most becoming," Nathaniel said, smiling. "Mother has informed me that if we do not select a wedding date, she will set it for us and proceed with the plans, with or without our approval."

Rosalind groaned and opened her eyes. "Again, I must wonder. Why such haste?"

"She is as eager to make you a Corwin as I am. Perhaps she fears you might be snatched away from us again."

"That is highly unlikely, now that you have killed my captor."

"Even so, I do not plan to let you out of my sight. I think we should set our wedding date for the third Friday in July."

Rosalind's eyes grew wide. "But that is less than six weeks away!"

"Aye, more than sufficient time to prepare for the event. And by then, you should be fully recovered and feeling fine again."

"But I would much prefer an autumn wedding," she said. "The colors are so lovely then, and the air so crisp. July is much too hot and the insects are unbearable."

Nathaniel shook his head. "As much as I would like to grant your wish, my love, I refuse to consider waiting an additional three months to make you my bride. 'Tis out of the question."

"Do you not wish to please me?"

Nathaniel smiled. He released her hand and reached out to twirl a lock of her hair between his fingers. "Oh, indeed, my sweet Rosalind, I wish to please you. And I fully intend to...in ways you cannot even begin to imagine."

Rosalind did not have to imagine. She knew all too well what he had in mind, and she did not appreciate the direction in which he was attempting to lead the conversation.

"Nathaniel, I am desperately craving sleep," she said. "So I pray you will not think me rude if I insist that you take your leave now."

"Not at all," he said. "We shall continue this discussion on the morrow." He fastened his gaze on Rosalind's mouth. "But I do not intend to leave this chamber until you allow me the pleasure of a goodnight kiss."

"'Twould not be proper!"

Nathaniel shrugged. "'Tis not proper for me to be alone with you in your chamber, either, but that has not stopped me."

Before Rosalind could respond, Nathaniel leaned forward and covered her mouth with his, his lips demanding as they crushed hers. Not wishing to give him even the slightest bit of encouragement, she lay as still as a corpse, her eyes wide open and her arms lying limp at her sides.

Nathaniel lifted his head and frowned at her. "Perhaps 'twould have been more satisfying had I kissed the wall," he said dryly.

"You already have demonstrated what occurs when a woman responds to you even slightly," Rosalind said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Or have you so soon forgotten your behavior at Mr. Stoddard's?"

Nathaniel stiffened and sat up straight. "I do apologize for my actions that night. But the blame was not entirely mine. You led me to believe you desired me."

"And when I attempted to stop you, you continued to force your affections upon me!"

"Do not concern yourself any further." Nathaniel's tone suddenly was icy. "I shall make no attempt to kiss you again...until our wedding night." He grasped her hand and squeezed it. "And then, my love, you shall be mine to do with as I please."

Rosalind glared at the door long after Nathaniel's departure. "I shall _never_ be your wife!" she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand to erase his kiss.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"The seamstress I have engaged to make the dresses for the wedding should be arriving from Boston within the hour," Abigail announced as she stood just inside the doorway that connected Rosalind's chamber with hers. "There are sketches and fabric samples she wishes you to choose from."

When Rosalind only nodded, Abigail added, "I also have sent for Nellie and Elizabeth, seeing they are to be your maids at the wedding. There is no reason why they should not look as lovely as their sister."

The latter statement gained Rosalind's attention. "You sent word to my sisters to come here?"

"Why, of course," Abigail responded, acting as if making wedding plans behind the bride's back was perfectly acceptable. "No need to disturb you with such trivial matters."

Rosalind made a poor attempt to look appreciative, for the truth was, she resented Abigail for ignoring her request to delay the wedding until autumn, and for setting the date in July, caring naught about her wishes.

Although Abigail's health had much improved during the two weeks since Rosalind's return, the woman still was so weak, she was forced to grasp the door frame for support as she stood in the doorway. Rosalind, however, had fully recovered from her injury, although she was in no hurry to divulge that information to anyone, most especially to Nathaniel.

"You should have informed me of this sooner," Rosalind said, immediately taking a brush to her hair. "I really am not in the mood for visitors today."

Abigail eyed her knowingly. "Nor will you ever be if the visitors have anything to do with your wedding."

The hand that held the brush froze in mid-air. "What do you mean?"

"I am not blind, child," Abigail said. "You could not possibly care less about this wedding."

Rosalind turned to look at her. "'Tis just that it is difficult for me to share your eagerness to plan my future when the memories of the recent past are still so fresh."

"Perhaps if you would make a genuine effort to accept all that is being offered to you," Abigail's tone turned uncharacteristically cold, "you would not be so inclined to dwell on the past."

"All I require is some time," Rosalind said. "Why must you and Nathaniel insist upon rushing this wedding? You even set the date without consulting me. Is it too much to ask that I first be allowed to heal – not only in body but in mind?"

Had Abigail not overheard Rosalind's conversation with her brother, she might have been inclined to postpone the wedding and allow the lass more time to recover from her ordeal. But Abigail was well aware of Rosalind's plans to delay the wedding and rid herself of Nathaniel, and for that reason, she could ill afford to be accommodating.

"Being surrounded by people who care about you will do wonders to improve your health and spirit," Abigail said. "Weddings are festive occasions that bring people together in love and joy. All of us here, as well as your own family, are elated about the wedding, Rosalind, yet you act as though we are planning your funeral."

Rosalind wanted to tell her she might be happier if they _were_ planning her funeral, but before she could respond, the chamber door burst open and Rosalind's mother and two sisters spilled inside.

"Oh, Rosalind!" Nellie gushed, rushing to embrace her sister. "Is this not exciting? The Corwins are having gowns made for Elizabeth and me to wear at your wedding!"

Rosalind's mother smiled and shook her head. "Where are your manners, Nellie? First you enter without the courtesy of knocking, and now you have not even asked your sister how she is faring."

Nellie hastily assessed Rosalind's appearance and said, "She looks well to me. May I have a blue dress with lace on it?"

"Now, Nellie," Rosalind answered. "You know that such lavish attire is frowned upon by the court."

"Not if you are a Corwin," Abigail, who still was standing in the doorway, said. "I intend to make this wedding the event of the year. Your gowns shall rival those worn by queens and princesses."

Both Nellie and Elizabeth gasped at that announcement, their eyes widening with excitement.

"I assure you, 'tis not necessary to go to such lengths," Rosalind said. "Plain linen dresses shall be just fine."

"Oh, come now," Abigail said with a wave of her hand. "You will be made a bride but once, and it should be a memorable occasion. I intend to spare no expense." She turned to look at Rosalind's mother. "All three of your daughters are so lovely, Mrs. Chandler, they cannot help but make this wedding an event to remember. You must be very proud of them."

"I am," the woman responded without hesitation. "But I must confess that at this moment, I am most proud of Rosalind. She is so strong – a true survivor. Not only did she survive being lost during a severe storm six years ago, she has made it through yet another terrifying ordeal and emerged even stronger for it." She smiled at Rosalind, then added, "I am so looking forward to this wedding, my daughter. You deserve naught but happiness from now on. My own happiness is hampered only by the fact that your beloved father will not be here to share in our joy on your special day."

"On Rosalind's wedding day, I am certain he will be smiling down on us all," Abigail said. "Which is all the more reason why we should strive to make it a day to rival all others!" She looked directly at Rosalind. "Right, my dear?"

Rosalind smiled stiffly and nodded.

"Well, now, if you will excuse me," Abigail said, "I shall take my leave. Unfortunately, I am still not very strong. I have instructed Grace to send Mistress Ross, the seamstress, directly upstairs upon her arrival. She will have drawings and samples of fabric from which you may make your selections. I trust you will choose wisely, Rosalind." She smiled at Rosalind's family. "'Twas so nice to see you again." Slowly, she made her way back into her chamber and closed the door.

"She is such a wonderful woman!" Rosalind's mother said, clasping her hands together. "And 'tis obvious she already considers you to be a part of her family. You are truly blessed, Rosalind."

"Just think!" Elizabeth added. "In only a month's time, you shall be Mrs. Captain Nathaniel Corwin! 'Tis such an honor! Do you think you might be able to encourage Matthew to court me?"

Rosalind's head snapped in her sister's direction. "You are too young for Matthew!"

"Young? I am ten and seven! Matthew is but four years older."

"You barely know the man!" Rosalind said, her tone more harsh than she had intended. "How can you speak of him courting you?"

"Because his brother Nathaniel is so wonderful," she breathed, "so brave, and such a hero! I have met Matthew but once, but I think he is equally as charming."

"Matthew and his brother are as different as the moon and the sun," Rosalind said, thinking that of the two Corwin brothers, Matthew was the lesser of two evils. "Matthew is more scholarly, while Nathaniel is more...adventurous." _And perverted._

"I think a scholarly man would make an interesting suitor," Elizabeth remarked. She smiled wistfully. "Perhaps when Matthew sees me in my elegant gown at your wedding, he will be unable to resist me!" Grasping the skirts of her faded green dress and holding them out, the dark-haired beauty twirled around the room.

Rosalind's mother rolled her eyes. "She has such silly romantic notions. I fear all of these fantasies of hers will lead her to naught but disappointment."

"Aye, for most dreams never come true," Rosalind softly said. She quickly turned the topic. "So how are Faith and Ben?"

"Both are well," her mother answered. She was unable to conceal a proud smile. "Since you last saw Ben, however, there has been a bit of exciting news."

"They think Faith is with child!" Elizabeth cut in, stealing her mother's glory and earning a frown from the woman.

"Are you certain?" Rosalind gasped. "I am to become an aunt?"

"Well, 'tis still a bit too early to tell for certain," her mother said, "but each day that passes, they become more hopeful."

"Oh, I hope she _is_ with child!" Rosalind's eyes sparkled. "They must be so excited!"

"As am I!" her mother added. "I am most eager to be made a grandmother and hold a babe in my arms again. Perhaps within a year's time, Rosalind, you might also bless me with a grandchild. How wonderful it would be to have two little ones so close in age!"

"Please, Mother. 'Tis much too soon to be discussing such matters. I am not even wed yet."

"'Tis never too soon. Your brother was born barely ten months after your father and I were wed."

Rosalind tensed at the mere thought of such and occurrence. Although she had not yet been able to discourage Nathaniel from marrying her, she still clung to the hope she soon would find some means in which to prevent the wedding from taking place. She knew all too well that each passing day brought her one day closer to becoming Nathaniel's bride...and that greatly disturbed her.

"Smile!" Elizabeth's voice sliced into Rosalind's thoughts. "Brides are supposed to look happy!"

"Some brides are much too nervous to be smiling," Rosalind said flatly. "My stomach feels as if it has been filled with live eels."

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "'Tis certainly not the sort of feeling I had anticipated."

* * * * *

Mistress Ross, the seamstress, was a tall woman with straight black hair marbled with gray and, in Rosalind's opinion, a much-too-thin figure. The woman spoke rapidly and moved about the chamber like a nervous bird, her hands punctuating her every word. Rosalind, Elizabeth and especially Nellie, stared wide-eyed at the woman's collection of gown sketches, all of which looked more appropriate for a coronation than for a wedding in Eastwell. The samples of rich silks, brocades and laces were nothing like the girls ever had seen before.

"The deep rose color will look lovely against your dark hair," Mistress Ross said, holding a swatch of fabric against Elizabeth's fair skin. "And Nellie, I do believe blue is your color."

"I told you my gown would be blue!" Nellie cast a smug look at Rosalind.

Rosalind was unable to share her sisters' enthusiasm. "I prefer something more plain," she said. "Have you a simple linen dress?"

The woman appeared genuinely offended by the question. "My dear woman," she said, her chin rising, "I, Penelope Ross, have created exquisite gowns for the finest ladies from London to Boston. A 'simple linen dress' is something best left to the sack makers!"

"Well, 'tis _my_ wedding," Rosalind reminded her. "So I should be allowed the courtesy of choosing whatever I wish to wear."

"Indeed," Mistress Ross said with a faint smirk, "but only from the selections to which Mrs. Corwin already has given her prior approval. After all _she_ is paying for the gowns."

"Aye and she is wasting her money!" Rosalind said. "After the wedding, where do you suggest my sisters and I wear these elaborate gowns of yours? To churn butter?"

"Rosalind!" Her mother cast her a warning glance. "Mind your manners!"

Mistress Ross, her lips tight, turned to Nellie and Elizabeth. "Come, let us choose your fabrics."

The two siblings excitedly pointed out their selections, chattering in unison about ruffled skirts and lace-edged necklines. Rosalind, having not even the slightest interest in their conversation, walked over to the window and gazed out at the sun-bathed summer scenery. The grass seemed greener and the sky more blue than she ever had seen them. Of a sudden, she desperately longed to be outside, far from her suffocating chamber – far from all talk of weddings and fancy gowns.

"And _your_ selection?" Mistress Ross called to her.

Rosalind reluctantly tore her gaze from the window. "Anything you select for me shall be fine," she said, shrugging. "I trust that your decision will be far superior to any I might make."

"Fine!" The seamstress seemed pleased. "I assure you, I shall make you the most magnificent bride this town has ever seen. Now please come here so I may measure you."

* * * * *

"The fresh air feels wonderful," Rosalind said, inhaling deeply as she fell into step at her mother's side. Nellie and Elizabeth had wandered on ahead, searching for wildflowers and berries. The sunlight filtered through the trees, and Rosalind felt the warmth of it on her face. She took another deep breath, allowing the fresh air to fill her lungs.

"Are you certain you feel up to walking?" her mother asked.

"Aye," Rosalind said. "'Tis not as if I intend to accompany you all the way back home...although I must confess I would love to do so. I shall walk only a short distance with you and then turn back. I am strongly craving the feel of the sun."

They walked in silence for several seconds before her mother spoke. "Rosalind," she began, not looking at her, "I found your behavior today with Mistress Ross most disturbing. Is something amiss?"

Rosalind tugged a leaf from a low-hanging maple branch as she walked past it, then twirled its stem between her thumb and forefinger. "I know I appear to be in good health now to everyone," she said, "but I am not yet fully recovered. My head still aches and I suffer from terrible nightmares. How can I be pleased about becoming Nathaniel's wife when I still have so much to overcome?"

"You shall be just fine by the time your wedding day arrives," her mother assured her. "And I am certain the captain fully understands the ordeal you have been through. Surely he will be patient with you after you are wed."

Rosalind swallowed a laugh. Nathaniel? _Patient?_ The man knew not the meaning of the word! "'Tis just that I might enjoy the planning and excitement of the wedding more if I were in better health. I have begged for a delay, but everyone seems bent on hastening the event. Do _my_ wishes count for naught? Everyone seems to have forgotten that I am the bride!"

Her mother halted abruptly and turned to face her. "Please, Rosalind, do whatever the Corwins request of you." Her eyes were imploring. "Do not do anything to ruin this for us. Your betrothal to Nathaniel is the most important thing that has ever happened to our family. Finally, we have been blessed with good fortune. I beg you, my child, for me...for your father's memory...give your full cooperation to the Corwins."

Rosalind stared into her mother's eyes and silently wondered how the woman would feel if she knew the truth – that she was encouraging her daughter to wed a murderer and a blackmailer who, with the snap of his fingers, could take away everything Rosalind's father had worked his entire life to gain. As much as Rosalind ached to tell her mother the truth about Nathaniel, she knew she could not...not if it meant confessing to her that her beloved husband, whose death she still so freshly mourned, had gone to his grave a broken man who owed Elias more money than she ever would see in her lifetime.

"Do not worry, Mother." Rosalind's voice barely was audible. "I shall do naught to discourage this wedding."

Her mother's response was a relieved smile.

* * * * *

Rosalind's walk back to the Corwins' house was deliberately slow-paced. Her first impulse was to leave the trail and walk off into the woods, and then continue to walk until she was far away from everything that was familiar to her. Instead, she strolled to the top of the knoll and looked down at the Corwin's fields. Too vividly she recalled how Shadow had looked clearing the land, his body bared to the waist as he had dug up the roots and stumps.

It all seemed so very long ago.

Rosalind spied Silver Cloud in the distance, toiling next to two other workers she assumed must have been hired to replace Jonathan and Shadow. She was in no mood to speak with any of them, so she quickly disappeared down a path through the trees. Abigail once had mentioned that the path led to a lovely pond. Since then, Rosalind had been eager to see it.

The pond, sparkling silver-blue in the sunlight, was surrounded by a thick barrier of trees, concealing it from those who were not aware of its existence. Rosalind was at first awed by the sight of it. A gentle breeze rippled the pond's otherwise calm surface where two ducks, a drake and a hen, floated lazily about.

Pleased with her discovery, Rosalind removed her shoes and waded in the sun-warmed water, enjoying the feel of it and the mud on the bottom as it squished between her toes. She wanted to doff her garments and jump into the water for a swim, but with Silver Cloud and the other workers nearby, she decided against the idea. When she began to feel fatigued, she collected her shoes and sat in a bed of moss near the shore, allowing herself the luxury of indulging in the beauty and serenity of the spot. It felt wonderful to be alone – completely, blissfully alone, without a Corwin in sight. Later, she decided, she would deal with reality...and the promise she just had made to her mother.

Sighing contentedly, Rosalind lay back, her hands clasped behind her head, and stared at a fluffy white cloud, the shape of which she thought resembled a wolf's head. The sound of the leaves gently rustling in the breeze soon lulled her to sleep.

An eerie animal-like cry suddenly shattered the calm that surrounded the pond. Rosalind's eyes flew open, her heart racing in her chest, as another high-pitched cry jolted her fully awake. She sat up.

Cocking her head, she listened carefully as the squeals grew louder and more frantic. She suspected that some unfortunate animal – one of the Corwins' hogs, judging from the sound of it – lay grievously injured somewhere nearby. An animal desperately needed help, she decided. She could not allow it to suffer.

"So much for my peaceful respite," she muttered, sighing. She rose from her comfortable bed of moss, slipped into her shoes and silently made her way through the woods that lined the pond. Pausing behind a tall clump of bushes, she parted the leaves and peered out at the portion of the shore from where the cries seemed to be originating.

The sight that greeted Rosalind caused her to gasp in horror, her left hand flying up to her mouth

A buxom, red-haired woman lay on her back on a patch of grass near the edge of the pond. Her skirts were hiked well above her waist, her bare legs bent at the knees and splayed wide. Between her legs, Nathaniel, his breeches bunched around his ankles, his buttocks bare and pale in the sunlight, and his face and shirt soaked with perspiration, thrust into the woman with such force, it buffeted her body back and forth with each stroke.

A small, righteous voice from somewhere within Rosalind told her to turn and flee, but she remained glued to the spot, unable to tear her gaze from the lewd performance...especially since it featured the very man to whom she was betrothed.

To Rosalind's amazement, the woman appeared to be enjoying Nathaniel's forceful assault on her body. Her top lip was curled back in a vacant smile, baring her teeth as her head whipped from side to side, her long hair flailing across her face. Each time Nathaniel smacked into her, she lifted her buttocks off the ground and squealed, then released a loud grunt, as if the action had forced the air from her lungs. Nathaniel never had impressed Rosalind as being the type of man who would be gentle with a woman, especially since his kisses nearly had cracked her teeth, and this disgusting scene before her did little to convince her otherwise.

Rosalind winced as the speed and force of Nathaniel's thrusts increased, and a string of the most vile words she had ever heard spewed from his lips. The red-haired wench responded in kind, her voice high-pitched and breathless as she lifted her legs and dug her heels into Nathaniel's thrusting buttocks in an apparent attempt to prevent him from withdrawing from her again.

"Yesssss!" the woman cried, bucking wildly against him. "Harder! Harder!"

Rosalind's stomach churned as she imagined the pain her own virginal body would be forced to endure if Nathaniel bedded her in the same abusive manner he was displaying with this woman. A bull in a field of cows possessed more tenderness than this rutting cur who soon would be her husband, she thought, repulsed. She wondered if the act she was witnessing was what Shadow briefly had alluded to at Adam's when he had mentioned something about seeing Nathaniel at a pond and his lack of respect for women.

Rage raced through Rosalind as she realized she was acting the fool, peering through the bushes at her betrothed's vulgar display and doing naught to stop it. A smile of realization suddenly spread across her face. Nathaniel was presenting her with the perfect opportunity to call off the wedding! She not only would confront him, she would do it so loudly, perhaps she would draw the attention of the workers in the Corwins' field, or even Elias himself...as witnesses!

Straightening, Rosalind inhaled deeply and smoothed her dress and hair, then, careful not to make a sound, moved stealthily toward the oblivious, bucking couple. When she was within a few feet from them, she ran over and delivered a swift kick to Nathaniel's naked buttocks.

"You disgusting cur!" she shouted. "You repulse me!"

Nathaniel froze, still deeply embedded in the wench. He rose on his elbows and turned his head to look up at Rosalind, his eyes wide, his mouth falling open. The color immediately drained from his perspiration-soaked face.

"Did he mention to you that he is betrothed?" Rosalind snapped at the woman.

The redhead gasped and struggled to sit up, but Nathaniel's weight prevented her from doing so. "Get off me!" she screamed at him. Before he could move, she pressed both of her hands against his chest and gave him a mighty shove. Nathaniel fell backwards onto his bare bottom, which, to Rosalind's delight, sank into about four inches of mud.

"Please, ma'am," the woman pleaded as she tugged down her skirts in a frantic attempt to cover herself. "Do not report me for this! If you tell the magistrate, I shall be fined and whipped...or worse!"

Rosalind snapped her head toward Nathaniel, who remained motionless, still seated in the mud. "You mean my darling betrothed's father?" She smirked. "'Twould do me little good to report this and seek punishment for either of you, because his father surely would see to it that the incident was quickly hushed. After all, Nathaniel has the flawless Corwin image to uphold!"

She narrowed her eyes at the captain. "Perhaps, my beloved husband-to-be, this now will relieve that 'ache' you so oft complain to me about!" She lifted her chin. "You make me ill! I never wish to set eyes on you again!" Turning on her heel, she strode off.

"Rosalind!" Nathaniel shouted, struggling to pull up his breeches as he rose and stumbled after her. "Allow me to explain!"

Rosalind quickened her pace, not pausing to look back. She reached the path and hastened up it, eager to get away from the pond...and what she had witnessed there.

Suddenly she felt a cold, wet hand grasp her upper arm. She whirled around to face a soggy, muddy, out-of-breath Nathaniel. Forcefully, she yanked her arm from his grasp. "Do not touch me!" she warned, her glare venomous. "You disgust me!"

"I am truly sorry, Rosalind," he said, looking markedly ill at ease. After all, apologies were not something he was accustomed to offering. "You never should have witnessed what you just saw by the pond. I assure you, the woman means nothing to me. She is merely a convenient means in which to sate my lust until you and I are wed, that is all."

"Oh? And what, pray tell, happened to your vow to remain celibate until our wedding?"

"I tried," he said, shrugging. "I truly did. But I have been feeling anxious of late and I was in urgent need of a...release."

"And what if I were to ease my anxiety in the same manner?" she retaliated. Before Nathaniel could respond, she blurted out, "Do you believe that what I just witnessed is supposed to make me yearn for you to do the same to me? You were so...brutal! And out in broad daylight, no less! Have you no morals whatsoever?"

Nathaniel reached out to place his hands on Rosalind's shoulders, but she backed away. "My sweet, innocent lass," he said softly, shaking his head. "I would never treat you in such a manner. With you, I swear I shall be gentle and caring. 'Tis a totally different matter when the woman is a virgin...and a wife."

"No need to concern yourself about it, Captain," she said, her eyes narrowing at him. "For I shall never allow you to come near me again!" She turned and continued up the path toward the house.

Nathaniel caught up with her. "You have never liked me, have you?" he snapped. "I have sensed from our first meeting that your dislike of me was instant. Tell me, Rosalind, am I that impossible to love...or is it that you are just incapable of loving _any_ man?"

She spun around to face him. "Oh, indeed I am capable of loving!" she said, her voice trembling with anger. "More deeply than the likes of you ever could understand! But you, you selfish, conceited... _ass_...you are undeserving of any decent woman's love, most especially mine!"

Nathaniel once again grasped her arm, this time gripping it so tightly, she could not break free. He yanked her to within an inch of his face. "Well, my sweet," his voice was eerily calm, "despite my apparent list of faults, you _will_ be my wife. I sincerely doubt that you possess the courage to see your mother and sisters...and, oh yes, your dear brother and his wife...all without homes and with not so much as a shilling amongst them! Could you live with the burden of that guilt for the rest of your life?" He released her arm and added, "And do not forget, _you_ also will have no home! Do you think my father still would employ a woman who broke my heart and brought shame upon our family's respected name by not marrying me?"

"I shall tell your father...and your mother...what I just witnessed!" she hissed. "Surely then, they will not blame me for, as you call it, 'breaking your heart.'" She directed an icy glare at him and her jaw rose. "Unfortunately, Nathaniel, you do not possess a heart!"

He laughed then, clearly amused. "My sweet, sweet Rosalind. Do you honestly believe my mother and father are unaware of my private visits to the pond or my reasons for them? Why do you think they are so eager to see me wed...to see me settle down with a woman of virtue? Truth be told, you are the only virtuous woman I ever have felt attracted to. I have always preferred more 'experienced' lasses, for obvious reasons, much to my parents' chagrin. So, by all means, my angel, confess to them what you have just witnessed here and then observe their reaction. Your words will serve only to hasten the wedding plans all the more!"

So violent was Rosalind's rage, she had to clamp her eyes shut and bite down on her tongue to prevent herself from lashing out at him. She also had to quell the strong urge to slap the smug sneer from his face. Only when she began to taste the blood on her tongue was she able to respond.

"You win, Nathaniel." She nearly choked on the words. "We shall be wed."

# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

With the first publishing of the wedding banns, Rosalind began to feel an overwhelming sense of defeat. There was no turning back now, she thought – no way out of this nightmare.

Although most of the townspeople already were aware of the betrothal, the banns made it official, and the upcoming wedding suddenly became the main topic of conversation throughout the town. Nathaniel appeared to thrive on all of the attention, beaming proudly whenever someone congratulated him, and laughing at the men's teasing and raillery about ways in which to pleasure a young bride.

Rosalind, however, grew more withdrawn. She feigned headaches and retreated to her chamber whenever guests arrived. She also went out of her way to avoid Nathaniel. On the rare occasions when she did speak to him, her words were cold and abrupt.

One afternoon two weeks prior to the wedding, Abigail entered Rosalind's chamber and stated, "We must talk."

Rosalind lay curled up on her side in the bed, her face toward the wall. "Whatever you decide for the wedding fare is fine," she muttered, not looking at Abigail.

"'Tis not about the wedding," Abigail said. "'Tis about Nathaniel."

Slowly, Rosalind rolled onto her back and eyed her. "What of him?"

Abigail took the liberty of seating herself on the edge of the bed. "I believe that question can best be answered by you, my child. 'Tis quite obvious you have been taking great pains to avoid my son of late. And there is no mistaking the contempt in your eyes whenever you look at him. Pray tell, what has he done to make you turn against him so?"

Abigail was well aware that Rosalind still was mourning the death of her precious Indian and was likely to never forgive Nathaniel for his murder, but something had dramatically altered the girl's attitude. What concerned Abigail was that if Rosalind continued to behave in her present manner, people would undoubtedly begin to notice and tongues would wag. The joyful, love-filled wedding Abigail had envisioned was destined to become nothing short of a disaster – something unheard of in the long history of the Corwins' social gatherings.

Rosalind remained silent for several moments, her expression indecisive. She wondered how Abigail would react if she confessed the truth to her about Nathaniel's blackmailing scheme. Perhaps, she thought, if she did pour out her heart to Abigail, the woman might take pity on her, cancel the wedding and instruct Elias to write off her father's debt.

And cows might sprout wings and fly to the moon.

Rosalind knew all too well that Abigail was so eager to see her son wed, she was likely to stop at nothing to make that dream a reality...perhaps even help Nathaniel make good on his threats.

"Well, since you have seen fit to inquire," Rosalind finally said, "I shall tell you what is troubling me." She decided to do what Nathaniel had dared her to do...tell his mother about the red-haired wench.

"Indeed, I _have_ been avoiding Nathaniel," Rosalind began, "but with good reason. The day my mother and sisters were here to select their gowns, I took a stroll down by the pond after they departed." She looked away from Abigail's intense stare, her cheeks growing hot.

"Go on," Abigail urged, eager to learn exactly what had occurred to place her son in such disfavor with the girl.

"Nathaniel was there, lying on the shore with a red-haired woman." Hesitantly, she allowed her eyes to meet Abigail's. "They were...fornicating."

Abigail sucked in her breath. Actually, the news came as no surprise to her. After all, she long had been aware of her son's insatiable appetite for women. Nevertheless, she found it appalling that with the wedding so near, he would act so recklessly.

"How awful," Abigail responded sympathetically. "It must have been a disturbing sight for you to behold. But I assure you, child, what Nathaniel did bears no reflection whatsoever on his feelings for you. He simply was sating a strong need that most unwed men have. Once the two of you are wed, he no longer will have any need for other women."

"The fact he was with another woman does not disturb me as much as witnessing the vile manner in which he treated her," Rosalind further explained.

Abigail's eyebrows drew together. "Vile? How so?"

"He was forceful with her, not gentle or caring, pounding into her over and over again. I fear he will treat me in an equally brutish manner."

Abigail placed her hand on Rosalind's arm and smiled gently. "You have naught to fear," she said. "Believe it or not child, some women, such as the one you witnessed with Nathaniel, derive great pleasure from such...vigorous...fornicating. I am certain that Nathaniel is well aware you are not one of those women. He knows that a maiden must be treated tenderly and with patience. I assure you, you are fretting for naught."

Rosalind was not at all convinced. Abigail obviously never had experienced the misfortune of being on the receiving end of Nathaniel's wrath.

Still, knowing that if she could think of no way to prevent this wedding, she inevitably would end up in Nathaniel's bed, Rosalind found herself grasping for any shred of hope. "Do you truly believe he will be gentle with me?"

Abigail nodded. "I do."

Rosalind released a weary sigh. "I pray you are right."

That evening, Nathaniel cornered Rosalind in the hallway as she was returning Abigail's supper tray to the kitchen.

"Everyone is beginning to notice your lack of interest in me," he whispered. "'Tis humiliating. If you do not start treating me in a warmer manner, especially in the presence of guests, I shall have no recourse other than to inform your mother of her late husband's gambling debts."

"You would not dare!" Rosalind gasped, outraged.

"Try me," he said through gritted teeth. "'Twill give the woman something to worry about...until we are wed."

Glaring at him, Rosalind turned on her heel and walked off. He gave her no choice, she raged, other than to begin acting more like the blushing bride-to-be, thrilled to be marrying one of the _wonderful_ Corwin brothers. Because of Nathaniel's threats, she now would be forced to feign interest in Abigail's endless chatter about the upcoming event and cordially greet the guests who stopped by to offer their blessings. And although it would be nothing short of torture, she even would have to make an effort to treat Nathaniel more kindly.

I am living in Hell. I am convinced of it!

* * * * *

"You have changed," Nathaniel commented as he and Rosalind sat on a grassy slope on the Corwins' grounds four days prior to the wedding. The summer sun, swollen and orange, had just begun it descent behind the trees. "You actually have been...warmer...to me of late."

Only because you have forced me to be, you fool!

Rosalind offered him a slight smile. "Seeing we are soon to be bound together until death separates us, I feel 'tis better if I make an effort to be pleasant."

Nathaniel laughed humorlessly. "You make it sound as though it is some form of penance to be nice to me." His eyes settled on her profile. "Despite your misgivings, I sincerely believe we shall have a good life together, Rosalind. You have my word, I shall always do my best to please you...to make you happy. Do not resent me for insisting upon this marriage. Contrary to what you believe, I am not doing it solely to gain favor with my parents. Believe me when I say that from the first moment my eyes met yours, I sensed that you and I were meant to be together...and I always follow my instincts."

Slowly, Rosalind turned to face him. The summer sun had streaked his light-brown hair with golden highlights and deepened the color of his skin to a warm bronze. Try as she might, she could not deny he was handsome. She supposed she should consider it a small blessing she would not have to awaken beside an ugly troll of a man each morning.

"Why are you staring?" Nathaniel asked, appearing somewhat uncomfortable beneath her unblinking perusal.

"I was just thinking I am fortunate to be marrying a handsome man," she said honestly. She refrained from adding that Nathaniel's looks probably were his only redeeming quality.

"Nay, I am the one who is lucky." He reached out to touch her hair. "You are so beautiful and so good for me...and my mother. I have chosen well."

Rosalind's eyes locked with his, and for reasons she did not understand, she suddenly felt powerless to look away.

Nathaniel's hand moved to caress the back of her neck. Gently, he urged her head forward, then leaned to kiss her – a soft, undemanding kiss that, to Rosalind's surprise, was not entirely unpleasant. Perhaps Abigail had been right, she thought. Perhaps the man did possess a tender side after all.

Nathaniel reluctantly pulled away from her. "I do care about you," he breathed.

Rosalind was acutely aware that not once during their betrothal had the word _love_ ever been mentioned. She silently wondered if Nathaniel even knew the meaning of the word.

"Do you think 'tis possible that in time, you might come to gain some affection for me?" he asked.

Rosalind finally found the strength to tear her gaze from his face. "No one, especially not I, can predict what the future might hold," she said, looking down at a cricket as it scurried beneath a leaf on the ground. "I cannot foresee what I might be feeling ten years from now."

"I can," he said, smiling. He covered her hand with his. "You will look back and wonder how you ever thought it possible to live without me!"

* * * * *

The sound of heavy rain against the house awoke Rosalind before dawn the next morning. She resented the early awakening, for she had fallen asleep not even an hour prior. With the wedding a mere three days away, sleep was something that constantly had eluded her of late, and the previous night had been no exception. She had lain awake for hours, desperately trying to think of a means in which to avoid marrying Nathaniel without jeopardizing her family's future.

And at long last, she had come up with a plan.

Granted, she knew it was foolhardy and dangerous, but she was willing to take the risk and carry it out...to rid herself of Nathaniel and his hold over her once and for all.

Her deep thoughts were disturbed by someone rapping at her chamber door. "Mistress Rosalind!" Grace's voice called from the other side. "Your brother is here and craves a word with you!"

"Ben?" Rosalind immediately was concerned. For what purpose, she wondered, would her brother venture out in a rainstorm, and at such an early hour? She leapt to her feet and hurried across the chamber to open the door. Ben, his long cloak dripping puddles on the floor, stood in the hallway.

"Ben!" Rosalind gasped, moving to embrace him in spite of his sogginess. "Come in and dry off."

He entered the chamber, doffed his cloak and wrapped himself in the blanket Rosalind offered him.

"Pray tell," she anxiously asked, "what brings you here?"

"I have come to seek your help," he said. "I would not disturb you so near to your wedding day if I were not so desperate."

Rosalind only stared at him.

"Faith is with child," he said.

"That is wonderful news!" Rosalind cried, then prayed her outburst had not awakened Abigail. "Mother informed me she might be! You are certain?"

Ben smiled and nodded.

"Oh, I am truly delighted!" Her smile suddenly faded, however, as she considered the reason for her brother's unannounced visit and his statement about being desperate for help. "Is something amiss?"

He shook his head. "Nothing serious, hopefully. I knew Faith might feel ill each morning, as is common when with child. But 'tis not even daylight yet this morn and already she has been up for hours, severely ill with vomiting. She collapsed into bed afterwards, too weak to move."

"'I know it must seem terribly concerning to you," Rosalind said, "but do not worry, Ben, 'tis not an unusual occurrence for a woman in her condition."

"I know," he said. "But later this morn, Jacob Whitney and I are journeying to North Ammon to collect a cow I purchased. We shall be gone overnight."

"You purchased a cow?"

"Aye. Jacob's uncle offered it to me for such a pittance, I could not refuse. We shall have butter, milk, cheese and cream right at our doorstep from here on. I must think of my future child now when making these decisions."

Rosalind still did not understand why Ben needed her help. "If you are venturing to North Ammon with Jacob, then what brings you _here,_ and at this hour? What is it you seek from me? To teach you how to milk a cow?"

Ben rolled his eyes. "I am concerned about leaving Faith when she is feeling so poorly. I walked over to Mother's to ask her to check on Faith while I am away, but unfortunately, Nellie and Elizabeth are ill and she does not want to leave them, not even for a moment."

"Nellie and Elizabeth are ill?" Rosalind's expression reflected her concern.

"Aye, but not to worry. It seems they and their friend Rebecca got into some of Rebecca's father's secret supply of drink and..."

"They got sotted?" Rosalind gasped.

"I fear so. Mother was not at all pleased, but said it was a lesson well learned, for she is certain they shall never touch such a drink again."

"So, you would like me to stay with Faith while you are away overnight because you are concerned about her?" Rosalind asked, finally understanding why Ben had come for her.

He nodded. "I will fully understand if you refuse me," he said, "especially since the time is so near to your wedding and I know there is still much to do. But I would feel very much relieved if I knew Faith was with someone during my absence. The prospect of becoming a father has made me overly concerned, I must confess."

"I would love to help," Rosalind said. _And to get away from this godforsaken place for a day._ "But I do not think Abigail would approve of me being away overnight. Not with the wedding so near."

The door to Abigail's chamber creaked open. Both Rosalind and Ben turned to gaze in that direction. Abigail, looking as if she were struggling to fully awaken, appeared in the doorway.

"I thought I heard Ben's voice," she said. "What brings you here at this early hour, lad?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Corwin," Ben said, nodding. "I am here because Faith, Nellie and Elizabeth all are ill and I must go to North Ammon to collect a cow I purchased from Jacob Whitney's uncle. I was hoping Rosalind could stay with Faith until my return on the morrow. I fear my wife will not eat while I am gone, and she needs to keep up her strength."

Abigail immediately appeared fully awake. "They are _all_ ill? Do you think they shall be well in time for the wedding?"

"Aye," Ben said. "I believe Nellie and Elizabeth shall be fine by morning. And Faith's illness is due to the effects of being with child."

Abigail smiled. "Oh, how wonderful, Ben! You are going to be a father!"

He smiled proudly in return. "'Tis why it is so important to me that Faith eats, for she must now eat for two. But I fear she is too weak at the moment to make any effort to prepare meals for herself during my absence. I have frightening visions of her becoming even weaker and falling if she is left on her own. This is why I have journeyed here to seek my sister's help. You, if anyone, should know how skilled Rosalind is at caring for others."

Abigail looked at Rosalind, "Aye, I know very well."

A long period of silence hung over the chamber before Abigail finally spoke again. "Everything is in order for the wedding," she said. "There is naught more for you to do, Rosalind, other than to don your beautiful gown and recite your vows. So yes, you may go take care of Faith. But be certain to return here as early as possible on the morrow, for the guests who are traveling here from Boston for the wedding shall be arriving by evening, and a special supper is being planned to welcome them."

Rosalind nodded, then turned to smile at Ben. "I shall gather some of my belongings and return with you to your house posthaste."

"You are certain you feel up to it?" Ben asked. "I do not wish to cause you to overtire yourself and fall ill ere your wedding."

"I am fine," she assured him.

* * * * *

By the time Ben and Rosalind had covered a quarter of the distance to Ben's house, the soaking rains had dwindled to a fine mist. The mud and slippery rocks along the path slowed their progress, much to Rosalind's frustration.

"I wish we could walk faster," Ben said, as if reading her thoughts. "Jacob shall be over to fetch me in less than an hour for our journey to his uncle's." He looked at Rosalind, hesitating before he spoke again. "So," he said, "it appears this wedding is going to take place?"

"I fear so," she said, not wishing to divulge her secret plan to him. To speak of it aloud, she feared, might curse it and prevent it from succeeding. "Nathaniel knows he can make me do his bidding simply by reminding me of what he will do to Mother...and you. How can I possibly fight that?"

Ben frowned. "The man seems obsessed with wedding you. Do you think 'tis possible he really does love you?"

Rosalind's laugh was bitter. "Hardly. His spoken words tell me he truly 'cares' for me, but his actions tell me he is fond only of my appearance and innocence, nothing more. I could be as intelligent as a tadpole and it would matter naught to him." She stole a sidelong glance at her brother. "You will not believe what I witnessed Nathaniel doing on the day Mother, Nellie and Elizabeth were here to meet with the seamstress."

"I can only imagine, knowing Nathaniel," Ben said.

"I spied the captain and some red-haired wench...fornicating near the Corwins' pond!"

Ben halted abruptly, paying no mind to the fact he was standing in the middle of a muddy puddle. "You jest!" When Rosalind shook her head emphatically, he asked, "Did you...watch them?"

"Aye," she replied, wrinkling her nose. "And it did naught but fill me with disgust! Nathaniel pounded into the woman with such force, the leaves on the nearby trees were shaken from their branches! And the foul words that spewed from his lips were enough to instantly strike me deaf!"

Ben could not help but laugh at his sister's exaggerations. "And how long, pray tell, did you stand there and observe this obscene display?"

"Too long!" She and Ben resumed their walking. "I finally became so angry, I walked right up to them and gave Nathaniel a solid kick on his bare buttocks!"

"You did not!"

"I most certainly did!" Rosalind could not help but giggle at the recollection. "The trollop screamed and gave Nathaniel such a mighty shove, he fell backwards. There he sat, his naked bottom deep in the mud!"

"No!" Ben laughed. "The almighty captain's pride must have been sorely wounded!"

"Among other things!" Rosalind's giggling increased. "He came stumbling after me with his soggy breeches about his ankles! I was so angry, had I a knife at the time, I would have been sorely tempted to geld him!"

Ben's smile suddenly faded. "Your tale is amusing, dear sister, but I cannot help but pity you for being forced to become the wife of such a man."

Rosalind sighed. "I try not to dwell on it, otherwise I shall surely go mad. But ever since that day at the pond, Nathaniel has changed and become...tolerable."

"Tolerable is no way to begin a marriage. Even when there is deep love between a husband and wife, such as the love Faith and I share, marriage is difficult at best."

"Speaking of Faith," Rosalind said, "I hope she is feeling better when I arrive. I am just so pleased for both of you, having a child!"

Ben smiled. "I must confess I am nervous. Already I am fretting about everything that could go wrong."

"Everything shall be just fine," Rosalind assured him. "The birth of this babe will be so easy, you will instantly want a dozen more."

"Poor Faith!" Ben chuckled. He turned to look at Rosalind, his curiosity forcing him to ask. "And what of you and the captain? Surely he will be eager to produce a Corwin heir in all possible haste."

Rosalind's temples throbbed at the mere thought of bearing Nathaniel's child.

"Although I am very fond of children," she said, "the thought of Nathaniel having to bed me to conceive them is reason enough to make me never want any!"

* * * * *

As Ben's house, a sturdy, newly built two-story structure with clapboards on the outside, came into view, Rosalind breathed a sigh of relief. She hated to admit it, but the journey had exhausted her. She prayed her waning energy would not interfere with her ability to help care for Faith.

To her dismay, her brother noticed her weariness. "I do not know if bringing you here was such a good idea, Rosalind," he said, hesitating at the foot of the path that led to his door. "Perhaps I acted too hastily, rushing to fetch you the way I did."

"Do not be foolish," Rosalind said, taking a deep breath and smiling. "I am pleased to help out in any way I can. And, truth be told, being away from the Corwins' house feels wonderful, as if I have been freed from prison."

"But you are wet from the rain and risk catching a chill," he said. "I would never forgive myself if you became ill because of me, especially so near to your wedding."

Rosalind frowned. "If that were the case, and I were too ill to go through with the marriage, I would be grateful to you...although, the Corwins seem so determined to see me become their son's bride, I suspect they even would prop up my stiff corpse and still pronounce Nathaniel and I as husband and wife!"

Ben shook his head and sighed. "I have enough to worry about with Faith being ill. I do not need to also worry about you while I am away."

"Will you please stop fretting? I have been caring for Abigail with no problem, have I not? Now come, let us go inside. You will be leaving for North Ammon soon and should be spending this time with your wife!" She strode toward the house, leaving Ben where he stood.

Rosalind entered the house and looked about. The interior was larger than her mother's house, tidy and uncluttered. Ben had built most of the furniture himself. It was simple but sturdy, and Faith had decorated the chairs and benches with needlepoint pillows. Bowls of fresh spring flowers sat on the tables. Rosalind doffed her damp cloak and warmed her hands in front of the fire.

"Is Faith asleep upstairs?" she asked Ben as he entered. "I do not wish to disturb her if she is."

Ben removed his cloak and tossed it onto the thick oaken table. His eyes did not meet his sister's. "Faith is not upstairs."

Rosalind scanned the sitting room, wondering if she had missed Faith there when she entered. "Then where, pray tell, is she?"

He looked at her, and in his eyes Rosalind clearly saw anxiety.

"Faith is visiting her sister, who gave birth to a daughter yesterday. She will be staying with her for two, perhaps three, days to help out, as this is her sister's third child in as many years."

"Help out?" Rosalind clearly was bewildered. "While she is so ill herself? How did she even manage to make the journey to her sister's? And how are you so certain of her whereabouts when we have only just arrived? I do not understand any of this, Ben."

"Faith is fine," he said. "In fact, she has never felt better. And Nellie and Elizabeth also are in good health."

Rosalind moved closer to her brother and gazed at him with wide, confused eyes. "You are greatly puzzling me. For what purpose would you so desperately convince me to come here by telling me such disturbing falsehoods and worrying me so?"

Ben lowered his gaze and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "I-I..."

"You _what_?" she demanded, fearing her brother might be losing his mind...or she might be losing hers.

"He did it for me," a voice calmly interrupted from the kitchen doorway.

Startled, Rosalind snapped her head in the direction of the voice...and gasped.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Rosalind." The voice now was directly in front of her. She felt two strong arms pull her against a familiar broad chest.

"Dear Lord," she choked through her tears. "Is it really you, Shadow?" She buried her face in the soft leather of his shirt and sobbed out her relief. "I-I thought you were dead!"

"Do not weep," he whispered, his own voice uncharacteristically heavy with emotion. "I am fine." He pulled her more tightly against him and kissed the top of her head. Her hair was still damp from the rain.

For the first time in weeks, Rosalind felt she was where she truly belonged.

After several long moments, she pulled far enough away from Shadow to gaze up at him. In a trembling voice she whispered, "You cannot begin to imagine how desperately I have missed you or how many tears I have shed for you."

"Oh?" A hint of a smile curved his lips. "I thought you hated me." He reached to wipe a tear from her cheek. "You were so angry the last time we were together...when you so abruptly left me."

Fresh tears filled her eyes. "I was so wrong, Shadow. I never should have said the terrible things I said to you." Swallowing a sob, she gathered the courage to add in a breathless whisper, " I do not hate you...I love you, more deeply than ever."

"And I, you," he murmured, leaning to kiss her. The moment their lips touched, Rosalind melted against him, her knees suddenly weak, her heart hammering in her chest.

Ben cleared his throat purposefully. "Remember me?"

Rosalind reluctantly broke away from Shadow and directed her attention to her brother, who offered her a sheepish grin. "Happy?" he asked.

Too overwhelmed to speak, Rosalind smiled through her tears and nodded, then looked up at Shadow. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him.

Rosalind closed her eyes and prayed she was not dreaming. Never had she expected to be in Shadow's arms again, feeling the warmth of him, the strength of him. Her immediate desire was to lead him to some secluded spot and kiss him until her lips ached, but first, she had to satisfy her burning curiosity. Kissing Shadow would have to wait.

Rosalind moved away from him. "We must talk," she said, taking his hand and leading him to a bench near the table. When they both were seated, she turned to Shadow and said, "Please, explain all of this to me! How did you come to be here, at Ben's? And how is it that you are not dead, when I have been assured by more than one person that you were killed by Nathaniel? Elias even informed me, with certainty, that your body had been returned to your people."

Before Shadow could answer, Rosalind cast a panicky look at her brother. "Ben, perhaps you should go wait outside for Jacob Whitney. Heaven help us if he were to come walking in here and see me with Shadow!"

Ben took a seat on a chair facing her. "Um...I fear I also made up the tale about buying a cow," he said. "Did you really believe I could afford one?"

Rosalind shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You are going to have to spend the next month in constant prayer as penance for all of the lies you have told!"

"'Twill be worth it if it means seeing you happy once again, my dear sister," he said. "It truly pained me to see you so sad."

Rosalind swallowed against the lump in her throat and said, "I cannot even begin to find the words that would sufficiently thank you for this."

She then turned to look at Shadow. "Now please, tell me everything! Obviously Nathaniel's shot did not kill you, but have you suffered greatly from it? Are you fully healed?"

Shadow inhaled deeply, his eyes instantly clouding with pain. "Nathaniel did not shoot me. I was not there. I did not follow you."

His words immediately confused Rosalind. They also filled her with a combination of relief – because he had not followed her – and disappointment...for the very same reason. "I do not understand," she said.

"It was Little Bird in the forest that day," Shadow explained. "Nathaniel shot Little Bird."

Rosalind gasped. "Your cousin? The one who tried to steal the Corwins' sheep?"

Shadow nodded.

A pang of remorse stabbed at her. Little Bird's life had been filled with mistakes, according to Shadow...and now, ironically, even his death had been the result of one. "I am so sorry," she whispered, feeling Shadow's pain as deeply as if it were her own. She reached to place her hand on his. "But why – how – could Nathaniel have made such a mistake?"

"Little Bird was shot in the back," Ben interrupted, frowning. "Which means he likely fell face forward. I doubt that in Nathaniel's haste to return you home safely, he bothered to roll the Indian over and examine him. And by the time Elias dispatched his men to fetch his body and Mr. Beckford's days later, they had been feasted on by the insects and animals."

"Also, Little Bird and I were very similar in height and weight," Shadow added.

Rosalind hesitated, contemplating whether or not she should ask the next question. "Forgive me," she finally said, "but is there any possibility Nathaniel might have seen what he claims he saw? Might Little Bird have been about to...harm me?"

"Nay." Shadow shook his head emphatically. "He must have come upon you while out hunting. Ben told me you swooned. If Little Bird saw you lying there, he would have come to you out of curiosity, not violent intent."

"I screamed before I swooned," Rosalind said, mostly to herself. "It may have drawn him to me just ere it did Nathaniel." Her eyes met Shadow's. "I am so sorry, Shadow. I know how fond you were of your cousin."

Shadow bowed his head. "It is a pity it took something as tragic as my cousin's death to reunite me with my family."

Rosalind's hand tightened on his. "You returned to your village?"

"I had to," he said. "Several days after you left me, I returned to Adam Stoddard's. I wanted to know if you had indeed returned to Eastwell and by what means. He then told me about Little Bird's death and how the body had been brought to him so he could see to its return to my people. He said he at first had thought he truly was returning my body – which, by the time it was delivered to him, had little left to recognize – to my village. But when he arrived there, my people informed him it was Little Bird. I could not stay away after that...not after learning my cousin had died in my stead. My guilt was so strong it mattered not to me if my family shunned me or banished me...I felt I had to at least make an attempt to be there during their time of mourning."

"Did you settle your differences with your father...your people?" Rosalind asked, although in her heart, she already knew the answer. Shadow looked every bit the warrior now, from his long, deerskin shirt and fringed leggings, to his moccasins and wide, colorfully decorated belt. Gone were all traces of his English life with the Corwins. Back was the air of importance, of regality, Rosalind had sensed about him on the day Nathaniel first had introduced them.

"For the most part, we made amends," Shadow said. "My father and I spent some much-needed time talking, and I told him everything that had occurred since last I had seen him." He paused to look into Rosalind's eyes. "I told him about you...about us."

Rosalind's heart felt as if it were about to cease its beating. "What was his response?"

"At first, he advised me to forget you – to remain among my own people...marry and raise a family. But as we continued to talk, my father came to realize the depth of my feelings for you. He finally advised me to return here and confront you ere you wed Nathaniel. He said he knew that if I did not, I never would be at peace."

"I am pleased you took his advice," Rosalind said softly.

Shadow afforded her a slight smile before his expression sobered. "Ben has informed me that your wedding is to take place at week's end...and the disturbing reasons for it. Why did you never mention to me during our time together that Nathaniel was blackmailing you? Your betrothal then would have made more sense to me."

Rosalind lowered her gaze. "I did not wish to taint my father's image in your eyes. He was a kind and loving man, Shadow, and a hard worker. That is how I wish him to be remembered."

"At least now I am able to understand why you agreed to wed a cur like Nathaniel," Shadow said. "I must confess that ever since the first day I learned the news of your betrothal, it has puzzled...and greatly upset me." He paused, took a deep breath and added, "I am just relieved and thankful I have arrived here in time to put an end to all of this."

Both Rosalind and Ben only stared at him.

"I intend to kill Nathaniel," he stated evenly.

" _Kill?"_ Rosalind's face paled.

Shadow nodded. "Not only do I wish to avenge my cousin's death, I am determined to make certain Nathaniel never shall have the opportunity to blackmail or attempt to force himself upon any woman ever again." His dark eyes blazed as he added, "The man does not deserve to live. I shall be doing this town a great favor."

"Please, Shadow," Rosalind said, turning pleading eyes in his direction, "no more violence. I have had more than my share of deaths to deal with of late and can bear no more. I believe there is another way to punish Nathaniel for his deeds."

"And what, pray tell, do you suggest?" her brother asked. "That Shadow make him go stand in the corner?"

Rosalind scowled at him, then returned her attention to Shadow. "I know the townspeople here already believe you to be a murderer who deserved your fate...but I beseech you, please do not turn that falsehood into a truth."

Her plea seemingly fell upon deaf ears.

"If I already am believed to be dead," Shadow reasoned, "then I cannot very well become a suspect in Nathaniel's death, can I? No one ever will know who was responsible for the captain's early demise. Can you not see that the situation is perfect for ending all of our problems once and for all?"

"Although I dislike Nathaniel as strongly as you do," Rosalind said, "I still do not wish to spend the rest of my life burdened with the knowledge that his death was caused by your hand."

"Then how do you plan to rid yourself of the man without causing your family to suffer?" Shadow asked. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Please do not tell me you still intend to go through with this wedding!"

"Dear Lord, no!" Rosalind's response came without hesitation. "But I _do_ have a plan – the details of which I do not wish to reveal at present. Please...just trust me. I assure you, Nathaniel will receive the punishment he deserves, and I finally shall be completely free of his hold on me."

Shadow appeared unconvinced. "And why do you wish to keep the details of this plan of yours to yourself?" he asked. "Do you fear we will not approve?"

"'Tis something I wish to do all on my own...without help." she said. "And I feel if I speak of it, I will curse it." She thought it best to change the subject. "Now, please tell me the rest of your tale," she said to Shadow. "How did you come to be here at Ben's?"

"Well, now," Ben responded before Shadow could, "Shadow could not very well walk up to the Corwins' door and ask to see you now, could he?"

"But the two of you were not even previously acquainted," Rosalind said. "How did you come together to carry out this scheme of yours?"

Again, Ben was the one to respond. "Two days past, I was hunting out back when suddenly I had the strong feeling someone was watching me. The feeling lingered, yet I spied no one about. Finally, when I sat down under a tree to rest for a spell and set down my musket, Shadow crept up behind me. The first thing he did was grab my musket!"

Shadow smiled. "I feared that when I explained who I was, and Ben realized I had not been killed, he would make my death a reality. After all, I thought he still believed me to be a murderer who had taken his sister hostage. I had no way of knowing you already had confessed the whole truth to him."

"When Shadow told me who he was," Ben said, "I did not believe him. Like everyone else, I believed him to be dead."

"But I persuaded him to listen to me," Shadow said.

"Aye, by pointing my own musket at me!" Ben said, chuckling.

"I explained the events surrounding Jonathan's death," Shadow said, "and how you and I came to run off together. I did not expect him to believe a word of it, but I felt he needed to know the truth...to enable him to understand why I so urgently wanted...needed...to see you."

"And his story was the same as the one you had told me," Ben said. "I knew then he was speaking the truth...that he indeed was _your_ Indian. He was convinced, however, that you hated him and never wished to see him again. I had to inform him how very wrong he was about that!"

Shadow smiled. "His words made me even more determined to be with you."

Rosalind turned to look at him. "But how did you know Ben was my brother? The two of you never had met before."

"I happened to glimpse him once when he and his wife came to visit you at the Corwins'. The two of you look similar. Also, during the time you and I were together, you oft spoke of your family and of the house the neighbors helped Ben build for his new bride. It was not difficult to track him down. From what you had told me about him, I felt I could trust him to help me. I also needed someone who could enter the Corwins' house and bring you to me without arousing suspicion."

Rosalind smiled and leaned against Shadow's side. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

"As I previously stated, Ben," she said, "I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. I shall be forever grateful. You are indeed a wonderful brother. I am so blessed to have you."

"But what will you do now?" Ben asked. "There is still the matter of Nathaniel's threats to consider. You cannot be meaning to run off with Shadow again and leave me here to deal with the captain's wrath on my own, can you?"

"Do not worry," Rosalind said. "As I told you, I have a plan to rid myself of Nathaniel and prevent him from carrying out his threats. And then I shall be free to be with the man I love." She looked up longingly at Shadow. His eyes immediately locked with hers. "Where my heart truly belongs."

"And then we shall return to my village and be wed," Shadow said.

Rosalind held her breath, wondering if she had heard him correctly. Or had she only imagined his words because she had dreamt of them so often?

"You wish to marry me?" she carefully repeated. Her voice was but a whisper.

Shadow took her hand into his. "More than I ever have wanted anything."

Rosalind still dared not believe her ears. "But your family...will they accept me?"

Shadow smiled gently. "They accepted Adam's daughter, Mary. I hold no doubt my people will come to love you just as much as I do."

# CHAPTER NINETEEN

"You are not staying here tonight?" Rosalind questioned Ben as he bent to put on his shoes later that afternoon.

"Mother feared I would not eat properly while Faith is away at her sister's, so she invited me over for supper," he said. "I felt it was better for me to go over there, given the current situation, than to have her coming over here with food and discovering you and Shadow together. When I said I would be there for supper, Nellie and Elizabeth begged me to stay overnight. They said they miss my tales by the fire every night before bedtime. I agreed, because I suspected you and Shadow would like some time alone, for I am certain you have much to discuss. I would not, however, even consider allowing this if you had not convinced me of the Indian's deep respect for you, Rosalind."

Rosalind walked Ben to the door. He stood in the doorway and looked past her at Shadow, who was busy stoking the fire. "You are certain you will be safe alone here tonight with him?" he whispered. "I shall stay without hesitation if you so desire."

"'Tis Shadow who probably is not safe," Rosalind teased. "For I feel the strong urge to have my way with him!"

Ben's frown told her he did not find any humor in her words.

Rosalind laughed and gave her brother a quick embrace. "I shall be fine, and I promise you I will behave like a proper lady. Believe me, brother, unlike Nathaniel, Shadow can be trusted. Now, be on your way and I shall see you in the morning."

"Take care," Ben said. "Help yourself to anything you find in the kitchen if you get hungry." He called a farewell to Shadow, then departed.

Rosalind closed the door behind him and latched it, then turned to look at Shadow. He had seated himself on a bench, his elbows casually resting on the table behind him, his dark eyes fixed on her.

"Hungry?" she asked, suddenly feeling awkwardly shy.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering.

"I shall see what is in the kitchen and prepare something for us," she said. She moved in that direction, but as she attempted to pass Shadow, he stood and blocked her way. He took each of her hands into his and looked deeply into her eyes.

"You asked me if I thought my family would accept you," he said softly. "But now I must ask you...do you think your family will ever accept me?"

"Well, it seems as if Ben already has," she said. "But my mother truly has her heart set on my marrying the rich son of a magistrate...not some savage heathen!" She smiled at him.

"Ah, but I shall make you so much happier," he said, smiling in return before he leaned to kiss her.

* * * * *

Both the physical and emotional strains of the day proved to be too much for Rosalind, and shortly after she and Shadow finished their supper of corn and boiled potatoes, she found herself struggling to stay awake.

"If you do not mind," she reluctantly said, "I really must get some sleep. I fear I am still not back to my full strength as yet, and this day has been an especially draining one for me." She silently cursed her body for not being healthier and stronger, for she wanted to spend as many hours with Shadow as possible. Too soon she would have to return to Nathaniel and carry out her plan. Although she knew it was something she must do, she could not bear the thought of being separated from Shadow ever again, not even for one night.

"By all means, get some rest," Shadow said, leaning to kiss her forehead. Although it pained him, he added, "I shall sleep down here. Do not hesitate to call out if you need anything."

The moment Rosalind climbed into the cozy bed in the upstairs bedchamber and laid her cheek against the pillow, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

It was well past midnight when she awoke suddenly. The moonlight through the window bathed the chamber in a soft light, casting shadows on the walls. Briefly, Rosalind forgot she was in her brother's house and not in her chamber at the Corwins'.

After blinking several times to clear the sleep from her eyes, she spotted him sitting on a stool in the corner of the room, his arms folded as he casually leaned back against the wall.

"Shadow?" she whispered.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, quickly rising and moving to stand near the bed. "Forgive me, I did not mean to."

"Nay, I awoke on my own." She was acutely aware that he had removed all of his Indian garments and was wearing what appeared to be a pair of her brother's snug knee-length breeches...nothing more.

"Is something amiss?" Rosalind asked. She struggled to sit up.

"I could not sleep," Shadow said, taking the liberty of sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyes caressed her face. "Nor could I bear to be separated from you. We already have spent far too much time apart."

Rosalind remained silent, her eyes locking with his.

"I have been sitting here for nearly an hour watching you sleep," he confessed. "I had intended to stay only but a minute, but you looked so peaceful...so beautiful...lying there, I could not tear my eyes away."

Rosalind flushed at the compliment and silently prayed she had not snored or mumbled something foolish in her sleep. She lowered her gaze to Shadow's chest, her eyes feasting on the smooth, muscular expanse of it. Desire swept through her like a raging fire, a reaction that caught her totally by surprise. Her eyes burned a trail upward, along Shadow's powerful arms to his broad shoulders. She sucked in her breath. _Dear Lord, he is magnificent!_

Shadow slid closer to her. He reached out and lifted her chin so he could read her face. Rosalind saw the undisguised desire in his expression and felt certain her own thoughts were as clear as if she had written them in enormous letters on the chamber wall. She and Shadow stared silently at each other, neither one moving, neither one wishing to break the spell with words. Shadow's eyes contained a question Rosalind knew only she could answer. If she told him to leave the chamber and go back downstairs, she held no doubt that he would...and that would be that. But heaven help her, she did not want him to leave. Frantically, she wrestled with her conscience. No matter how desperately she craved Shadow's touch, she could not ignore the fact it was a sin for a man and woman to be intimate prior to marriage. Nevertheless, painful experience also had taught her that each of life's precious moments should be lived to the fullest. Neither the past nor the future mattered to her...only the present. And at present, she wanted Shadow to make a woman of her...sin or no sin.

Sliding back down until she was lying on her back, Rosalind extended her arms to Shadow in a silent invitation.

Shadow needed no further encouragement. He lowered his body onto hers, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss so passionate, Rosalind felt the heat of it all the way to the soles of her feet. No longer did it concern her that she and Shadow were not husband and wife, nor that she was going against everything her parents and her religion had taught her. She could concentrate on only the feel of his solid, lean body pressed against her soft curves, and the heat of his lips and mouth as he kissed her over and over again.

Casting all of her inhibitions aside, Rosalind clung to Shadow and returned his kisses, parting her lips to welcome his searching tongue. A burning, driving need began to consume her, blotting out all remaining shreds of moral conscience – blotting out all but her fierce desire to ultimately become one with him.

A few short moments later, Shadow abruptly broke away from her and sat up. Rosalind stared up at him, her eyes wide and bewildered as she prayed that a sudden attack of conscience – as had been the case in the past – had not caused him to change his mind. She was certain she would die of humiliation if Shadow refused her now, especially since their last intimate encounter had been such a disaster. Her cheeks still burned whenever she allowed herself to think back to that night at Adam's brother's house.

Shadow witnessed Rosalind's look of concern and knew she feared he might reject her again, but nothing was farther from his thoughts. She was so beautiful, so tempting, he could not wait to see, to caress, every inch of her silky skin. He reached down to lift up her nightdress and began to pull it off over her head. Rosalind assisted him, sitting up so the garment could more easily be removed. She then lay back, naked and unmoving, her eyes fixed on him as his hungry gaze traveled down the length of her, lingering on the triangle of golden curls at the base of her flat belly before sweeping back up to fasten on the full swells of her breasts. Hastily, he tugged off his breeches and kicked them aside, then once again moved to lie on top of her.

Rosalind became keenly aware of Shadow's nakedness as he slid up to capture her mouth in another searing kiss. Unlike that night at Adam's brother's house, there was no leather garment separating them now...only flesh against flesh. Rosalind knew that if she paused to consider...really consider... what she was about to do, she no doubt would panic. But just for tonight, she decided, she would allow herself only to _feel_ , not to think.

Shadow's tongue darted between Rosalind's lips, probing the depths of her sweet, warm mouth as his hand slowly slid down to massage her breast, his fingers paying particular attention to its firm pink nipple, which he gently rolled between his thumb and forefinger. Rosalind gasped into his mouth, her body unconsciously moving against him, silently urging his hand to continue its manipulation.

Only when she felt the hardness of Shadow's arousal against her thigh did she begin to have second thoughts about what she was doing. A frightening vision of Nathaniel mercilessly pounding into the red-haired wench flashed before her. She could not help but wonder, with a great deal of apprehension, if Shadow intended to take her in the same forceful manner. If he did, she held no doubt she would be torn apart.

Shadow felt the sudden tensing of Rosalind's body beneath him and instinctively sensed she was concerned about surrendering her maidenhead to him. Although he was growing almost desperate to enter her, he was determined to hold back. He vowed not to give in to his body's demands until Rosalind's desire for him was so intense, so all-consuming, she would beg him to take her.

Breaking away from the sweetness of Rosalind's mouth, he lowered his head to kiss the soft white column of her neck, his lips like small flames against her skin as they slowly kissed their way down to her breasts. Skillfully, Shadow drew her nipple into his mouth and flicked his tongue across it over and over again. Rosalind shivered as his actions caused one deliciously new and thrilling sensation after another to ripple through her – sensations that no one had seen fit to warn her about – sensations that rendered her incapable of thinking rationally. She wondered if anyone ever had died from the sheer pleasure of them.

Shadow's mouth continued down to Rosalind's navel, his tongue dipping into it as his hand slid between her legs. He massaged the silky softness of her inner thighs, his deftly exploring fingers inching their way upward, where they continued to rub. Rosalind moaned in total abandon, unconsciously parting her legs to allow Shadow easier access. So great was her desire, he easily slid a finger into her, stopping when he reached the barrier of her maidenhead. He moved his finger in small circles inside her, causing Rosalind to rotate her hips beneath him, encouraging him to continue. He could feel her hot, wet, inner walls clasping around his finger as if attempting to pull it in more deeply.

Instead, Shadow broke away from her and rose to his elbows. Gazing down at her, he paused to drink in every feature of her passion-flushed face.

Rosalind cried out in protest. She did not want even one moment to pass when his body was not touching hers. Desperately, she reached up to grasp him around the neck. Then, with a strength born of her passion, she pulled him back down on top of her. Clinging to him, she feverishly covered his face and mouth with kisses.

Shadow suppressed a smile as Rosalind, her breath coming in short, excited gasps, her hips moving in circles beneath him, whispered only one word – the word he had been waiting to hear..."Please."

There was absolutely no doubt in his mind. Rosalind was ready to be made a woman... _his_ woman.

Rosalind wondered how long Shadow would continue to torture her. Was he too blind, she wondered, to see how urgently she wanted to feel him inside her? Did he intend to prolong her suffering until she was forced to actually voice her desires? She felt certain that the "ache" of which her brother and Nathaniel so often had spoken, paled in comparison to what she now was feeling.

Clearly reading Rosalind's thoughts, Shadow at last positioned himself between her legs, his knees urging them farther apart as slowly, carefully, he entered her. Although every fiber of his being was urging him to swiftly take from her what he so urgently craved, his concern for Rosalind forced him to hold back. When he reached the barrier of her maidenhead, he paused.

Rosalind was certain that Shadow's unbearably slow penetration would drive her mad. She wanted him to sink his full length into her – to quickly rid her of her virginity. She could not help but consider the irony of her desires. For years, she had mourned the loss of her precious maidenhead, yet now that she knew she still possessed it, her only desire was to be rid of it in all possible haste.

Shadow sensed Rosalind's impatience, but still he held back. He could feel her internal muscles clenching and unclenching, urging him to break through the thin wall that separated girlhood and womanhood. Still, he fought against it. Rosalind was offering him a gift – one she could give only once – and he did not want her to ever regret choosing him for that honor.

Rosalind bit back a cry of frustration. The time had come, she decided, to be bold – to no longer wait for what she wanted. With fierce determination, she thrust her hips up at Shadow with such force, he plunged into the very depths of her, brutally tearing her maidenhead asunder, his pelvis smacking against her.

Rosalind's eyes grew wide and her mouth flew open in a cry of pain, which Shadow swiftly silenced with a scorching kiss. She pressed her palms against his chest and made a frantic attempt to push him away, to remove the pain. Not wishing to cause her any additional discomfort, Shadow held his body rigid and unmoving, allowing her time to adjust to the feel of him inside her.

At first, Rosalind felt helplessly impaled. She held her breath as the searing pain tore at her insides, and silently cursed herself for having so hastily brought such discomfort upon herself. The feeling was not at all what she had imagined it would be. She was certain she had been irreparably torn apart. What in God's name, she wondered, had she done? Was this her punishment for committing a sin and compromising her morals? As tears of shame and pain spilled from her eyes, she willed the bed to open up and swallow her. Never would she be able to face Shadow again. Never.

Undaunted, Shadow continued to kiss her, his tongue rubbing tantalizingly against hers, his breath hot against her lips. He remained deeply embedded in her, but still he did not move his body, for which Rosalind was grateful. Slowly, Shadow's hand slid down to her right breast, his fingers gently rubbing it as his tongue stroked the inside of her mouth.

Gradually, and much to Rosalind's surprise, her desire began to return. She could not comprehend the tiny chills that began to run along the length of her spine, nor the throbbing sensation she felt between her legs when Shadows fingers rubbed her breast. Cautiously, she moved her hips, fully expecting to experience another stab of pain, but was both relieved and pleased to discover that most of her initial discomfort had subsided. She moved again, this time with less trepidation, and found herself actually deriving some pleasure from the feeling.

Although Rosalind's movement beneath him was slight, Shadow was encouraged by it. He tore his mouth from hers and searched her face expectantly. "Now?" he whispered.

Rosalind's nod was barely perceptible. She reached up with trembling fingers to brush his long, thick hair back over his shoulders, her blue eyes, glazed with a combination of fear and desire, caressing his face. He began to move then, his strokes long and slow. Rosalind held her breath as her body began to respond on its own, as if she no longer possessed control of its actions. Her hips rose to meet each of his thrusts, the pain of only minutes ago now but a distant memory. She clung to Shadow, her breasts rubbing against his chest, her legs moving up to clasp his hips. She closed her eyes, concentrating only of the feel of him inside her, swelling, throbbing, filling her, bridging them together as one. Never did she want it to end.

All too soon, Shadow's slow, sensual movements began to frustrate her. She craved more, much more. In a far corner of her mind she recalled Abigail's words about women who enjoyed forceful men in bed, and she could not help but wonder if she might be one of those women.

"Please," Rosalind swallowed her pride to breathlessly whisper to Shadow, "do not hold back."

Shadow eagerly complied, increasing the speed and force of his thrusts. Rosalind cried out in undisguised pleasure as again and again he sank into the very depths of her. Greedily she met each thrust, arching her back high off the bed in an effort to more easily accommodate the full length of him.

Rosalind did not understand the intense feelings that were building inside her. Everything that was occurring was so new, so unknown to her, her emotions leapt from exhilaration to sheer terror. She feared she might very well explode if the increasing sense of pressure within her was not soon relieved.

Without warning, Rosalind's body suddenly tensed and wave after wave of the most incredible sensations she had ever felt – ever could possibly have imagined – rippled through her. Her long, slender legs jerked, squeezing Shadow between them. Gasping for breath, her eyes glassy and unseeing, as her body spasmed, Rosalind raked her fingernails down the length of Shadow's back. She dug her heels into the hollows of his buttocks and pulled him hard against her, determined to hold him there for as long as possible, not allowing him to withdraw from her again.

Almost immediately, Shadow's body stiffened and he groaned, a low, guttural moan, as he spilled his seed into her. Rosalind felt her inner walls still spasming, as if hungrily attempting to squeeze every last drop from him.

Exhausted from the tension of having held back his release for so long, Shadow collapsed on top of Rosalind, his heart pounding wildly against her breast. The two of them lay there for several minutes, neither one speaking or moving, their breathing labored, until Shadow rolled onto his back, drawing Rosalind with him. She snuggled against him, her head resting on his chest.

"I am sorry if I hurt you, little one," he murmured, smoothing her damp hair from her face. "Believe me, it will be much better, much easier for you, after this."

Rosalind shook her head. "I have no one to blame for my pain but myself. You were wonderful, Shadow... _it_ was wonderful." Her hand traveled down the flat, solid plane of his stomach as she added in a somewhat awed whisper. "We are truly one now, in every sense of the word...and no one ever can take that away from us."

* * * * *

Rosalind awoke early the next morn and for a moment, thought everything that had occurred the night before had been a dream. She turned her head and saw Shadow lying beside her, his arm flung across her waist, his thick ebony hair spread out across the pillow, his long lashes resting on his high cheekbones as he slept. He had not covered himself with the quilt, and Rosalind's eyes swept over his naked body.

"Dear Lord!" she whispered, pulling up the quilt to cover her naked breasts. "I did not dream it! It really did happen!" She clamped her eyes shut in an attempt to blot out the memory of the intimacy she and Shadow had shared only a few hours before. How, she wondered, could she have behaved so wantonly with a man to whom she was not even wed? And how could she possibly bear to face him in the daylight after the shameless way she had encouraged him to bed her?

I am no better than one of Nathaniel's trollops!

Shadow stirred, causing Rosalind to freeze in panic. She prayed he would not awaken – not yet. She was not prepared to face him...and perhaps never would be.

Shadow's eyelids flickered open and his sleepy gaze immediately settled on her. "Good morning, my love," he whispered, rolling over onto his side so he could deliver a kiss to her bare shoulder. "Did you sleep well?"

"Quite." She tugged at the quilt until it was up to her chin. She wanted to prevent him from kissing her shoulder, or anything else, again.

Shadow rose up onto one elbow and gazed down at her. "Rosalind, what is wrong? Have you pain this morning?"

"I am fine," she said. She turned her head away from him.

Shadow's hand reached over to grasp her chin and force her to look at him. "Tell me what troubles you," he demanded.

Rosalind closed her eyes so she would not have to look at him as she choked out, "I-I am ashamed of what occurred...of what we did together...in this bed last night. Please, grant me the favor of going downstairs posthaste, for I do not wish to face you now...perhaps not ever."

When Shadow neither moved nor responded, she hesitantly opened her eyes. The anger she witnessed in his expression startled her.

He leaned close to her face, his hand still gripping her. "What we did last night was an act of love, not lust," he said evenly. "And our love is nothing of which we should be ashamed." His eyes narrowed. "Or _is_ it?"

"Of course not!" Rosalind responded. "I love you, Shadow, more than I ever believed was possible!" With trembling fingers, she gently touched the strong hand that held her chin. "But what we did last night was a sin...a sin that cannot be undone."

"It is a sin only if you make it so," he said. "Please, do not attempt to turn something that was so right into something ugly. I know that deep in your heart you do not regret anything that occurred between us." His hand dropped from her chin.

Rosalind stared at him with wide, uncertain eyes. He was right. She could not deny that what they had shared had been wonderful, nor could she deny she had wanted Shadow as much as he had wanted her. The act had been tender and loving, and he had been patient, unlike her own brother, who had admitted he had leapt right onto poor Faith on their wedding night without allowing her any time to prepare for him to enter her. Rosalind winced at the thought. She had been more than prepared when Shadow tore her maidenhead, yet it still had been painful. Poor Faith, she thought. No wonder she had not been eager to be touched again the morning after the wedding.

Rosalind spared Shadow a shaky smile. "You speak the truth," she said. "Our love is so strong, how can anything we share...anything we _both_ want, be wrong? Truth be told, what occurred between us last night was something I have longed for since our very first kiss."

Shadow's serious expression transformed into a slight smile, his eyes suddenly teasing. "I suspected as much, Mistress Chandler, even _before_ our first kiss...the day that Nathaniel first introduced us and you so boldly eyed my naked chest!"

Rosalind's mouth fell open in feigned outrage. Chuckling, Shadow leaned to kiss her, but just as their lips were about to meet, Rosalind abruptly pulled away. "Ben!" she gasped. "He will be arriving home at any moment! He cannot find us up here together... like this!" She sat up, unintentionally allowing the quilt to fall to her waist. Shadow's dark gaze instantly dropped to appreciatively eye her breasts.

"If you insist upon tempting me with your naked charms," he said huskily, his index finger moving up to trace a circle around her nipple, "I fear your brother shall be in for an unexpected surprise when he arrives home."

Shadow's taunting fingertip caused Rosalind to suck in her breath as her nipple hardened beneath his touch. Scowling at him, she threw back the quilt and climbed out of bed. Shadow lay back, his hands clasped behind his head, and watched her in amusement as she hastily donned her garments. She presented her back to him, allowing him an enticing view of her shapely backside. The mere sight of her smooth, flawless skin in the golden light of the early morn, caused his loins to ache with desire. If it were possible, he thought, he would be content to spend the entire day locked in this chamber with her – no food, no drink – only their lovemaking to sate him.

After Rosalind had slipped into a shapeless blue dress, tied a white apron around her waist and tucked her hair beneath a white cap, she turned to face Shadow. "There! Now I look presentable!"

"Not in my opinion." He shook his head. "I much prefer you wearing nothing at all."

Unable to contain her smile, Rosalind moved toward the bed, fully intending to grab one of the pillows and playfully hit him with it. But as she leaned to reach for the pillow, she gasped, her eyes widening in horror.

Shadow sat up. "What is it?"

"There is blood on the bed!" she answered, pointing at the stain. "How on earth will I explain this to my brother? There is no time to wash the bedding and dry it ere his return!"

Sighing with obvious relief, Shadow lay back against the pillow and smiled at her. " _Now_ do you believe I did not have my way with you six years ago?"

Rosalind frowned at him. 'Why are you smiling? This is serious, Shadow! How do you propose I explain this to Ben? What will he think of me? Of us? He is certain to disown me as his sister!"

Shadow folded his arms across his chest and sighed. "My sweet Rosalind," he said, "are you not like other women?"

She only stared at him.

"Do you not bleed with each cycle of the moon?"

Rosalind's cheeks colored at his bold question. "Aye...of course I do." Her puzzled expression lingered only a moment before a look of sudden realization crossed her face. "Why did I not think of that? That is how I shall explain the blood!"

"You may thank me," Shadow teased, looking smug, "with a kiss."

Giggling with relief, Rosalind climbed onto the bed and threw her arms around Shadow's neck. She intended to give him no more than an appreciative peck, but Shadow drew her to him, his mouth hungrily covering hers in a kiss so passionate, the heat of it nearly scorched her lips. Breathless, Rosalind broke away from him and stood up.

"You must get dressed!" she said, though in truth, she longed to shed her own garments and spend the day in bed with him. She could not bear the thought of being away from Shadow, not for even a second.

Shadow yawned and stretched, the muscles on his arms and chest bulging tantalizingly as he did. "I suppose I have little choice other than to get up and play the innocent," he said. "I also do not want Ben to suspect what took place here last night. My untimely death might then become fact!"

Casting him a look of mock annoyance, Rosalind announced, "I shall be downstairs preparing breakfast. When may I expect you?"

"Directly," he responded. He got out of bed and stood, exposing the full length of his naked body to her. Rosalind's eyes inadvertently dropped to the part of his anatomy that had given her so much pain...but oh, so much pleasure...the night before. "Do not be too long," she said, looking away from him. She then disappeared down the stairs.

Chuckling, Shadow scratched his head. Sweet Rosalind, he thought...so unpredictable. One moment she was as shy and innocent as a young girl, and the next, as passionate and fiery as a worldly woman. It was no wonder he loved her so intensely.

* * * * *

When Ben returned home later that morning, he found Shadow and Rosalind eating flummery at the table.

"Hello, Ben," Rosalind greeted him cheerfully. "Join us for breakfast?" She pointed at the thick porridge mixed with dried fruit.

Ben smiled and shook his head, then plunked down next to his sister on the bench. "Mother fed me enough food for six men." He rubbed his stomach and exhaled. "I may never eat again."

"And how is everyone?" she asked.

"Everyone is fine," he answered. He frowned as he added, "But all are very much eager for the wedding. 'Tis all they spoke about. Nellie and Elizabeth must have shown me their gowns a hundred times. They cannot wait to wear them."

Rosalind sighed and set down her spoon. Her appetite suddenly had vanished. "It pains me to have to disappoint them so, but perhaps after I go through with my plan and they see Nathaniel for what he truly is, they will not feel so disappointed that the wedding did not occur."

Shadow stared at her. "Do you still not wish to share this plan of yours with us...in the event something goes wrong and it fails?"

Rosalind shook her head. "You must trust me with this."

"Well, when do you wish to make the journey back to the Corwins'?" Ben asked. "I shall have to escort you there."

"There is no need," Rosalind said. "I am quite capable of making the journey on my own."

"Do not be foolish," Ben said. "You are not yet strong enough. And 'tis not safe for _any_ woman to go wandering about unescorted."

"Ben is right," Shadow said. "Were I not at risk of being seen, I would accompany you myself."

"I wish to leave as soon as possible, then," Rosalind said. "I am most eager to get this matter with Nathaniel settled so I may get on with my life...with Shadow." She smiled lovingly, almost seductively, at Shadow, an action that did not escape Ben's notice.

"I trust you both slept well?" Ben inquired. His blue eyes cut toward Shadow, then back at his sister.

"I was so weary," Rosalind said, "I retired upstairs immediately after supper and was asleep within seconds." Her face grew warm as she gathered the courage to add, "But I must apologize to you, Ben. I fear that when I awoke this morn, I discovered an unexpected occurrence – one that only _women_ are blessed with – had stained your bed."

"Rosalind!" Ben clearly was aghast. "Something of such a personal nature need not be discussed at breakfast! And certainly not in the presence of our guest!"

Shadow lowered his head and feigned great interest in his breakfast as he struggled to conceal his amusement.

"'Tis no big secret, Ben. All women experience it," Rosalind said. She paused to smile at her brother. "That is, with the exception of Faith of late, considering she is with child!" Her gaze shifted toward Shadow. "And I am quite certain that Shadow knows of such matters."

"Enough said," Ben surrendered with a wave of his hand, dismissing any further discussion of the subject. "If you are as eager to return to the Corwins' house as you profess, then I suggest you prepare to leave posthaste. I _do_ have other matters to attend to today."

"I shall get ready as soon as I tidy your kitchen," Rosalind said. "I fear I have made a mess of it. And 'tis only fair of me to launder your bedding also."

"Leave it," Ben said. "I shall take care of it later. Now gather your belongings and meet me outside when you are ready."

Rosalind was grateful her brother had sensed her need to spend a few moments alone with Shadow before she had to depart.

"Where will you go?" she asked Shadow, after she had collected the few garments she had brought with her. He still was seated at the table.

"I will camp out in the woods behind the Corwins' stables," he said. "Come to me there when this matter with Nathaniel has been settled." His eyes fastened on her face. "Or if you need help in any way." He stood and moved toward her. "I still believe it would be much swifter to settle all of this if I just kill Nathaniel. I can accomplish the deed quickly and silently in no time at all, and then you and I shall be free to move forward with our life together."

"Do not worry," Rosalind said. "By morning, I shall be rid of Nathaniel once and for all."

"Let us hope so," he said. "Were it up to me, the captain long would have been lying dead and you already would be my wife."

"Tomorrow." Rosalind's tone was reassuring. "Tomorrow we shall begin our new life together." She slipped her arms around his neck. "Until then, do not forget for one single moment that I love you and shall miss you desperately until we are together once again. Although our separation will be but a brief one, it will seem like a hundred years to me."

Shadow's arms wrapped around her and he pulled her to him. "Be careful tonight," he whispered. "You know where to find me. I shall be waiting for you."

Before Rosalind was able to respond, Shadow's lips met hers, and all thoughts of anything other than his kiss vanished.

* * * * *

The air was humid and the temperature unbearably hot as Rosalind and Ben descended the trail.

"I think I prefer the rain," Rosalind muttered, using the back of her hand to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. "I feel as if I am about to melt."

Ben swatted at a mosquito on his arm. "I suggest you have a nap this afternoon. I suspect you will need to be alert to carry out whatever this plan of yours for Nathaniel involves."

"Aye, I suppose I shall," she said. Her voice was heavy with dread.

Ben stared at her profile. "You are certain you wish to go through with this?"

"I have little choice in the matter, Ben. I have only one day left ere I am supposed to wed the captain. My plan _has_ to work."

"And if it fails?"

Rosalind shook her head. "I do not know. I do not wish to see you, our mother and sisters punished for my deeds if I back out of the wedding, but neither do I want to see Nathaniel murdered by Shadow's hand. But more than ever now, I know I cannot possibly go through with marrying Nathaniel, no matter what the reason. Shadow is alive, and God has granted me this miracle for a reason. It has served only to increase my love for Shadow, to the point where I fear my heart might burst from it."

"Then you are certain you want to spend the rest of your life with the Indian?"

"There is not a doubt in my mind." She turned to look at her brother. "Do you not like Shadow, Ben?"

He shrugged. "He seems all right, I suppose. I mean, he is not hard on the eyes, and his love for you seems genuine. But that does not erase the fact he is a savage. Have you _really_ thought things through, Rosalind? Does it not concern you that he is of a different race and faith, and his way of life is nothing short of barbaric? Do you not care that your children will be neither full-blooded white nor Indian? Nor that they will be raised in some primitive village where their baby rattles are likely to be fashioned from an animal's testicles?"

Rosalind could not suppress a giggle. "None of that matters to me as long as I am with Shadow. I have every faith he will make a wonderful husband and father. The differences in our cultures matter not. _Love_ is what is important."

Ben sighed and shook his head. "Dear Lord, you really _have_ fallen for the Indian."

They paused to rest beneath the shady branches of a broad maple tree. Ben stretched out on his back, his hands clasped behind his head, while Rosalind sat with her legs tucked beneath her, her back leaning against the tree's thick trunk.

"A swim in the Corwins' pond that you mentioned would be nice right now," Ben said. "I feel as though I have been hanging on a spit over a roaring fire all morn."

"I dare not return to that pond," Rosalind said, fanning herself with her hand. "Nathaniel and his doxy might be there, and I sincerely doubt my stomach could tolerate another of his lewd performances."

"Well, take heart," Ben said. "After this eve, you may never have to set eyes on Nathaniel again. That is if your scheme, whatever it might be, succeeds."

"It must," she said softly. "It must."

# CHAPTER TWENTY

"You both look hot and weary," Grace commented as Ben and Rosalind entered the Corwins' kitchen. "Have a seat and I shall fetch you some cool water."

"Appreciate it." Ben nodded and seated himself. "But I know not whether to drink it or pour it over my head."

"Perhaps I shall do both," Rosalind said, frowning at the perspiration stains on her dress. "The sun is hot enough to pop the corn in the fields."

"You ought to be working near the hearth, cooking all morn as I have," Grace said. "Guests, relatives of the Corwins, already have arrived in anticipation of the wedding, and I must feed them all." The smell of freshly baked bread filled the room. Grace lifted a pitcher and poured water into two cups, then handed one to Rosalind and one to Ben. Ben drained his cup in one gulp and immediately extended it for a refill.

"Do not be so hasty," Grace scolded. "You will cramp your stomach." She refilled Ben's cup. "So how is your wife faring? Mrs. Corwin will be surprised to see your sister back so soon."

"Faith is much better," Ben said, praying he sounded convincing. "In fact, she was the one who insisted Rosalind return here, assuring her there was no need to remain. What Faith claims is commonplace for a woman who is with child, I seem to think is something to fret about. She was upset that I brought Rosalind home for what she assured me was naught."

Grace smiled. "Your second babe will be much easier, you shall see."

"If I live through this one," Ben said.

Rosalind wiped her face with a corner of her apron, then inquired, struggling to sound casual. "So, is my beloved future husband about?"

"Not at the moment," Grace said. "He is out on an errand. He said he has much to do ere the wedding. But he will return in time to sup with you and the guests. He will be so pleased to see you, lass. He missed you so much, he nearly took the horse and went to visit you early this morn to surprise you."

Ben and Rosalind cast sideways glances at each other. Talk about surprises, Rosalind thought. She dared not imagine what Nathaniel's reaction would have been had he shown up at Ben's and found her eating breakfast with the Indian he believed he had murdered.

"That is good then, that Nathaniel is not currently within," Rosalind said. "'Twill give me time to bathe and look fresh for him. If he saw me at the moment, he probably would change his mind about wedding me."

"No worries about that!" Grace said. "The captain is so eager to wed you, I doubt there is anything you could say or do that would change his mind."

Her words filled Rosalind with a sudden sense of panic. Would she really be able to rid herself of Nathaniel, she wondered? Would her plan actually succeed? She silently scolded herself. She could not – would not – allow any doubts to creep in and unsettle her.

"Well, if you kind ladies will excuse me," Ben said rising. "I must head home now. My chores have been neglected, I fear."

He turned to look at Rosalind and felt a lump form in his throat, for he knew that if her plan succeeded, she would run off with Shadow and he would not see her again for a long time...if ever. The thought nearly was unbearable to him.

Rosalind stood and he moved to embrace her. "Best of luck, my dear sister," he whispered.

"Goodness!" Grace commented, smiling. "You act as though you will not see her again! The wedding is the day after tomorrow. You shall see her then!"

Ben made an effort to compose himself as he broke away from Rosalind. "And I cannot wait to see how beautiful she will look as a bride!" he said, smiling. "I also am honored she has chosen me as the one to present her hand to Nathaniel at the ceremony, in my late father's stead."

As he spoke the words, he could not help but think it was more likely that on Rosalind's wedding day, she would be wearing a deerskin dress somewhere in a wigwam in the wilderness, with a half-naked painted heathen performing the rite. Although Ben knew that love should take priority over all else, he was more inclined to believe that marrying into the Corwin family would be a far safer and wiser choice for Rosalind, even with the likes of Nathaniel for a husband.

* * * * *

There was no lull in conversation at the supper table early that evening. Even Abigail graced the family with her presence. The woman looked truly happy as she listened with rapt attention to everything being said, adding her own comments and smiling frequently. Rosalind was introduced to the Corwins' guests: Elias's brother, his wife and daughter, and Abigail's widowed sister and her two sons, but she paid little attention to their names or what was being said about them. She believed there was no need, for after this eve, she anticipated she never would have reason to see them again.

Nathaniel sat directly across from Rosalind at the table, and more than once, his eyes locked with hers and he smiled at her. Each time, Rosalind returned his smile. Several times, she also winked at him and deliberately stared at his mouth, her eyes lingering on his lips...as the tip of her tongue flicked out to lick her own.

She could tell by the look of desire in Nathaniel's eyes that her deliberate, calculated perusal of him was having the effect she had hoped it would. She was counting on his weakness for women...his weakness for her...to lead him to her chamber later that evening.

She also was counting on him to attempt to rape her.

While the men drank another round of ale, Abigail, looking fatigued, excused herself to her chamber. Rosalind leapt up to assist her upstairs. Once there, she helped Abigail get ready for bed and then made certain she took her medicine.

"You are so good for me, Rosalind," Abigail said, sighing contentedly as she snuggled down beneath the quilt Rosalind had placed over her. "I have always longed for a daughter, and now I shall have one. God truly has blessed me."

Rosalind smiled at her. "Sleep well, Abigail," she said softly. "The next two days are going to be very hectic."

Once back in the privacy of her own chamber, Rosalind nervously paced back and forth. She was certain that as soon as everyone retired for the evening, Nathaniel would hasten to her chamber. She sat on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm, but the moment she envisioned Nathaniel's hands pawing at her, her nervousness increased tenfold.

She knew all too well how the slightest bit of encouragement transformed Nathaniel into a lust-driven animal, and she was counting on that weakness to help her carry out her plan. She intended to tempt Nathaniel to the point where he would remove his garments and climb on top of her...and then she would scream...loudly enough to waken Elias and the guests – loudly enough to cause someone to burst into the chamber...and witness his attempted rape of her. According to the laws, the act carried severe penalties, oft times even death. What, she wondered, would Elias do to uphold the law when the offender was his own son? She was certain he never would allow his precious Nathaniel to be punished for the crime, but instead would see to it that he somehow "disappeared" – as far away from Eastwell as possible.

And that was exactly what she wanted.

She also hoped Elias would be willing to do anything to ensure her silence, first and foremost, forgiving her father's debt.

Long minutes passed – minutes that stretched into hours – but still Nathaniel did not come to her. Rosalind's throat grew dry and she felt a burning pain in the pit of her stomach. He _had_ to come, she thought.

After another half-hour passed, Rosalind finally surrendered to her body's need for sleep. There still was one more day until her wedding, she told herself as she slipped into her nightdress and crawled into bed. She knew she would have to be even more tempting, more enticing on the morrow, making certain Nathaniel would be unable to resist her. Even with the wedding night so near, she sensed he still would not be patient enough to wait...not if given the proper encouragement. The most unbearable part would be a longer separation from Shadow than anticipated. To her, that was an even greater torture than having to endure Nathaniel's touch.

It was near the midnight hour when Rosalind was awakened by a hand gently shaking her shoulder.

"Rosalind." She recognized Nathaniel's husky whisper. "I had to wait until everyone was asleep so I would not be seen entering your chamber. I was beginning to think my father _never_ would retire."

Rosalind stiffened. Nathaniel was sitting on the edge of her bed! Fear immediately erased all lingering remnants of sleep. She had to think clearly, she told herself. She took a deep, calming breath and prayed for strength. This might be her only opportunity to carry out her plan, and she could not allow it to fail. She noticed that Nathaniel had set a lit candle on her night table. No doubt, she thought, because he wanted to see her when he removed her garments. A wave of nausea overtook her, but she took another deep breath and fought against it.

"Nathaniel," she breathed, sitting up and wrapping her arms around him. "I am so pleased you came. In truth, I had given up hope."

"I was hoping," he said, pulling just far enough away from her to search her face, "by your actions at the table this eve, that I had not mistaken your message."

"You were not mistaken," she said softly. "You have been so kind and caring to me of late, I have found myself craving you, dreaming about you. I do not wish to wait until our wedding night. I shall be able to relax and enjoy our wedding day festivities so much more if I no longer have to concern myself about losing my virginity. No one shall know the difference if I give myself to you now...or then." She slowly walked her fingers up his chest and smiled in what she hoped was a seductive manner. "It shall be our sinful little secret."

"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse.

"I am," she whispered, dreading what she knew was about to occur. The thought of being in Shadow's arms again and seeing her family still dwelling safely in their homes, however, gave her the courage to go through with her plan.

In one swift move, Nathaniel pushed her back against the pillow, rolled on top of her and planted a hand on either side of her shoulders. The eyes that gazed down at her resembled those of a starving man who suddenly had stumbled upon a banquet. Although his upper body was bare, Rosalind was relieved to feel the soft cloth of his breeches against her leg.

He lowered his head to kiss her, while Rosalind prayed for the strength to endure it. The kiss began softly, teasingly, then became more demanding, to the point of causing her lips to feel bruised. Nathaniel, she realized, did not know the meaning of gentle when it came to women. She even suspected he was unable to become aroused unless he was being forceful and controlling.

Rosalind returned his kiss with feigned passion, her tongue meeting his when it invaded her mouth. She briefly thought of what her brother and Shadow would have said – how appalled they would have been – had she divulged her plan to them...which was precisely why she had not.

Fear and revulsion began to overtake her as Nathaniel's hand dropped to her right breast and he began to forcefully squeeze it through the thin material of her nightdress. She moaned from the pain of it, which Nathaniel mistook for a moan of passion. He pressed his body more tightly to hers, his tongue frantically scouring the inside of her mouth, his breath coming in short gasps. He continued to hold her mouth captive as his hand boldly slid down to grasp her nightdress and jerk it up above her thighs.

Rosalind knew the time was nearing when he would doff his breeches...and she would scream and put an abrupt end to his passion...and the wedding. She, however, was beginning to fear she would not be able tolerate him very much longer.

She broke away from his kiss and breathed, "Please, Nathaniel, I wish to...see you."

Without any hesitation, he rose to his knees and pulled down his breeches, leaving them bunched around his knees. He remained still for a moment, affording Rosalind the opportunity to look at him in the candlelight.

"It would greatly pleasure me if you would touch me...to stroke me," he said.

Rosalind was certain her acting skills were not nearly good enough to allow her to grant his request and appear to be enjoying it. She could not...would not. The thought suddenly occurred to her, with some regret, that she had not yet touched Shadow so intimately, not even during their night of passion.

"Come, kiss me," she said, raising her arms toward him, hoping to entice him.

"Touch me first," he said, his tone becoming more demanding. "I want to feel your soft hands on me."

Rosalind once again had to swallow her nausea. She shook her head. "I am not yet ready to do something so bold. Please, do not try to force me to do something I do not wish to do. You must remember I am not one of your wenches...you must be patient with me."

"Oh, my dear innocent girl, I no longer can be patient," he said, leaning forward. With his index finger, he traced a path down the smooth column of her neck. "I am here, feeling the warmth of your body beneath mine. I am made of flesh and blood, not granite. I have gone beyond the point of being patient."

He suddenly dropped his full weight onto her, causing her breath to escape from her lungs. His mouth covered hers in another forceful kiss. With his loins now naked and his arousal obvious, moving against her leg, she knew that no one who came into her chamber would be able to deny his intentions. The time had come to scream...ere it was too late.

Rosalind attempted to break away from Nathaniel's crushing kiss, but the more she tried, the more tightly he grasped her and the deeper he thrust his tongue into her mouth, until she swore she could feel it touching her tonsils. She could bear no more, not without gagging. And she would not – could not – allow him any opportunity to penetrate her. Panic began to flood through her as she realized Nathaniel was not affording her any opportunity to scream. She felt as if she were being suffocated – being held captive by his mouth and body. Desperate, and without pausing to think, she sank her teeth into his tongue.

Nathaniel emitted a muffled yelp and abruptly sat up. When Rosalind spied the rage in his eyes, she held her breath. Too frozen with fear to move, she silently watched him draw back his hand. She clamped her eyes shut just as she felt the sting of his palm against her cheek.

"You taunting little whore!" he growled.

Rosalind's eyes flew open as she pressed her hand to her cheek. He leaned close to her face and said in a voice so cold, it sent a chill down her spine. "You will learn not to defy me!" He grasped a handful of her blond curls and jerked her head up to within an inch of his face. "I am a Corwin! _No_ woman denies me anything...do you understand?"

Rosalind managed to nod despite his fierce grip on her. Nathaniel released her and shoved her head back onto the pillow. She noticed a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, apparently from the bite she had delivered to his tongue. He used the back of his hand to wipe it.

"'Twould be to your advantage to relax and attempt to enjoy this," he rasped, forcing her legs apart with his knees. He reached out to clamp both of her slender wrists in one hand and then held them pinned above her head.

_Scream!_ _Scream for help!_ She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Nathaniel noticed her attempt. The anger in his eyes intensified, making him appear more terrifying, more sinister, than Satan himself. "All this time, I have been feeling guilty for hitting you when I found you lying in the forest next to your dead guide," he fiercely whispered. "I meant only to leave a mark on you...to blame on the Indian so I could justify my reason for shooting him...in the back." He leaned closer to her and added through gritted teeth, "But now you are making me wish I had crushed your skull and left you to die with the savage!"

Ignoring Rosalind's shocked gasp, he raged, "You women are all alike – whining, demanding sluts who believe they can make men do their bidding by flaunting themselves and teasing. Not one of you is better than the other – nay, not even you, my _sweet_ Rosalind – and I was a damned fool to ever believe you were!"

Rosalind desperately tried to shut out his words. No longer was being raped her only fear. She feared for her life.

Nathaniel's knees forced her aching legs even farther apart as he prepared to violate her. The action jolted her back to the present. She was powerless against Nathaniel's strength, especially in his enraged state, and she knew it was useless to try to reason with him.

_Scream!_ she again willed herself, tearfully praying she would be able to find her voice before it was too late. She took a deep breath, then released it in a loud wail – a terrifying cry that shattered the stillness of the silent house.

Cursing, Nathaniel abruptly released her wrists so he could silence her in the way he knew best...by slamming his fist into her jaw. Rosalind's head fell limp to one side.

Within seconds, the door flew open and the light of a lantern illuminated the chamber.

"Nathaniel!" Elias Corwin shouted, his eyes wide with horror as he gaped at his naked son, who still held his fist above Rosalind's face. "What in God's name is going on here!"

From the other doorway came a loud gasp. Elias snapped his head in that direction just as his wife crumpled to the floor in a swoon. His gaze traveled from his wife to Nathaniel, then back to his wife. His urge to beat some sense into his stupid, lecherous son suddenly became second in importance to his need to attend to his wife. Shouting for Matthew, Elias set down the lantern and hastened to aid Abigail.

"Are you happy, Nathaniel?" the magistrate cried, his round face scarlet, the veins on his forehead bulging. "See what you have done?" Dropping to his knees, he cradled Abigail in his arms.

Nathaniel was so stunned by all that was occurring, he moved not a muscle – not even to conceal his nudity – not even when his brother burst into the chamber.

"What the...?" Matthew, breathless from having ascended the stairs so rapidly, gasped.

"Go out and tell the guests, whom I am certain are awake and curious by now," Elias ordered, "to return to their beds – that Rosalind has just suffered a bad nightmare."

Matthew obeyed. Several minutes later, he returned to the chamber and closed the door behind him.

"Tend to the girl," Elias ordered him. "I fear your animal of a brother has killed her."

Matthew's mouth fell open as he directed his gaze toward the bed where his naked brother still knelt, as if frozen in the position. Matthew moved to take a closer look at Rosalind, who lay as still as death. A swollen, rapidly darkening bruise extended down the length of her jaw, and a red welt marked her pale cheek.

"Get off her!" Matthew snapped, grasping his brother by the arm and tugging him away from Rosalind. Defiantly, Nathaniel yanked his arm away and glared at him.

Matthew dug his fingernails into his brother's naked shoulder. "Get off her," he repeated in a voice that invited no argument, "or so help me, you will not live long enough to ever do this to another woman." The two brothers locked angry gazes until reluctantly, Nathaniel finally moved from the bed, stood, and pulled up his breeches.

After tugging down Rosalind's immodestly bunched-up nightdress, Matthew located a cloth near her basin, hastily wet it and pressed it to her forehead. He detected a faint moan when he touched her.

"You are fortunate," he said to his brother, who had seated himself on a stool in the corner. "She is alive."

Nathaniel stared down at his feet and did not respond.

"She is likely to go above me to the General Court and file charges against you," Elias added, scowling. His hand gently stroked his wife's hair. "Did you purposely set out to destroy our family's good name? Dear Lord, Nathaniel, could you not have waited one more day until your wedding? I am a magistrate! If word of this gets out, I shall never be able to show my face again!"

Nathaniel remained silent, his eyes still downcast.

Matthew wet another cloth and handed it to his father, who immediately placed it on Abigail's forehead. "How is she?" Matthew asked.

"Your mother merely swooned." Elias's eyes cut toward Nathaniel. "And with good reason."

"Perhaps we should send for Doctor Tuthill," Matthew said. "After all, Rosalind is still recovering from a head injury. Nathaniel may have caused her further damage."

"Oh, and what explanation do you suggest we offer the good doctor when he spies the girl's swelling and bruises?" Elias's voice was heavy with disgust. "That she fell down the stairs...on her face? I am certain he will be able to tell that someone beat her."

Sighing, Matthew removed the cloth from Rosalind's forehead, dipped it into the water and replaced it. Again, she moaned. "Rosalind," Matthew whispered, "can you hear me?"

Slowly, she opened her eyes and struggled to focus on Matthew's face.

"Rosalind, how are you faring?" he asked.

She tried to speak, but winced in pain. "Matthew?" she finally managed to whisper.

"Aye," he responded, his relief obvious. "Do not try to move, just rest."

Cautiously, Rosalind tested her jaw. Although it was stiff and sore, it seemed otherwise undamaged. As the fuzziness in her head began to clear, she remembered what had occurred just prior to the blackness. She sucked in her breath. "Nathaniel...did he...?"

"Nay," Nathaniel's expressionless voice came from the corner as he spoke for the first time. "I did not."

"Only because I interrupted you," Elias angrily interjected. "Your intent was sickeningly obvious when I entered this chamber! I have managed to protect you and save your sorry neck from a noose in the past when you did this to a woman, but you may have gone too far this time!"

Rosalind closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks that she had escaped the ordeal with only a few bruises. She now realized just how foolish and dangerous her plan had been. But nevertheless, it had worked. She finally had the almighty Nathaniel Corwin exactly where she wanted him. She was surprised to hear Elias speak so openly about his son's disturbing behavior and his past misdeeds, making no effort whatsoever to mask them. Perhaps, she thought, the magistrate's ire was so strong at that moment, it rendered him incapable of thinking rationally.

"Please, remove Nathaniel from my sight," Rosalind said weakly, her jaw throbbing as she spoke. She opened her eyes and looked at Matthew. "I do not ever wish to see his face again."

"You heard her," Matthew said, narrowing his eyes at his brother. "Get out."

Nathaniel hesitated. He looked at his mother, who was beginning to stir, and then lifted his gaze to his father, who turned away in disgust.

"Wait for me downstairs," Elias said to him, his tone frigid. "There is much to be discussed."

Remaining silent, Nathaniel stood, took a lingering look at Rosalind and then turned and left the chamber.

"Matthew," Elias said, "Help me get your mother back to her bed."

"Will you be all right?" Matthew asked Rosalind before he moved to assist his father.

She nodded and closed her eyes. Of a sudden, she felt very, very tired.

* * * * *

She could not breathe.

Rosalind's eyes flew open as a hand, strong and warm, completely covered her mouth. Her chamber still was dark, so she could not immediately see to whom the hand belonged, but she could feel the weight of someone sitting on her bed. Frightened, she lashed out with her fists and legs, kicking at the air and wildly swinging her arms until she connected with what felt like a solid chest.

"Rosalind," a husky male voice whispered, "do not fear."

She recognized the voice and ceased her struggling. When she did, the hand lifted from her mouth. "Shadow!" she breathed.

Two familiar arms encircled her. She sat up and flung her arms around his neck, clinging to him. Her lips sought his for a lingering kiss.

Gathering her wits, Rosalind pulled away from him and breathlessly asked. "How did you come to be here? If the Corwins discover you, they will kill you!"

"I could not bear to be apart from you any longer," he said. "I had to see you. And earlier, my sleep was disturbed by what I thought was a woman's scream. I had to make certain you were safe. Fortunately, this house is not difficult to gain entry to."

"I am fine," she said, clinging to him again. "Especially now that you are here."

"Did you go through with your plan?" he asked, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Aye, and it worked fine," she said. "There is just the matter of my father's debt to settle come morning and then I shall be leaving here."

Shadow lowered his head, intending to kiss her again. The clouds that had been blocking the moon began to disperse, allowing a shaft of light to illuminate the bed. He spied it then – a dark, ugly bruise on the side of Rosalind's face. He traced its length with his fingertip, his eyes angrily narrowing.

"What happened to your face?"

Rosalind's hand instinctively flew up to conceal the mark. "I-I..."

"Nathaniel?" His voice, his eyes, suddenly contained so much anger, Rosalind held her breath.

Slowly, she nodded.

"He is a dead man."

# CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Shadow already had reached the chamber door before Rosalind found her voice.

"No!" she screamed, no longer caring who heard. "Please, Shadow, do not do this!"

Paying no mind to Rosalind's cries, Shadow bolted down the stairs. During the time he had worked for the Corwins, he had come to know the house and in which chambers the family members slept. Enraged, he burst into the sleeping captain's chamber. The shutters were open, allowing the moonlight to give Shadow a clear view of the room. Before Nathaniel even was able to open his eyes, the Indian dragged him from the bed and slammed him against the wall.

Nathaniel squinted at his attacker, struggling to focus on his face. When he did, he gasped, his eyes widening in shock.

"Surprised to see me alive?" Shadow's hand tightened around his throat as he pressed him to the wall. "Perhaps I should have crept in and slit your throat as you slept. Is that not the way you would have done it?"

"You were a fool to return here!" Nathaniel rasped. "You will not leave here alive."

Shadow's knife replaced his hand against Nathaniel's throat. "It will be worth it."

"Drop the knife!" Elias's voice boomed from the doorway.

Moving only his head, Shadow looked over his shoulder and found himself staring down the barrel of the magistrate's musket.

Elias's expression registered his stunned surprise when he recognized Shadow, but he swiftly recovered his composure. "Drop the knife," he repeated.

Shadow allowed the blade to fall from his hand.

Furious, a visibly shaken Nathaniel moved away from the wall and rubbed his neck. "Shoot him, Father! For God's sake, he just tried to kill me! You are my witness!"

Elias shook his head. "Although it would give me great pleasure to shoot him, the Indian shall have his day in court...and then be hanged. It would be selfish of me to deprive the people of Eastwell the pleasure of witnessing his execution."

"Then allow me to do it!" Nathaniel leapt at his father and wrenched the musket from his grasp, then took aim at Shadow's forehead. "This time, you damned savage, I shall see to it that you remain dead!" He drew back the hammer.

"No!" A woman's shout abruptly halted Nathaniel. He turned to see Rosalind making her way through the group of guests whose curiosity had lured them to the doorway of Nathaniel's chamber. When she reached Shadow, she threw her arms around him and clung to him.

"Rosalind!" Nathaniel cried, lowering the musket. "What in God's name are you doing? Move, at once!"

Shadow attempted to pull Rosalind's arms from his neck, but she hung on to him with a strength he never imagined she possessed.

She turned defiant, tear-filled eyes toward Nathaniel. "If your intent is to kill Shadow, then I beg you, kill me also...for without him, I do not wish to live!"

A chorus of shocked gasps echoed from the doorway as Nathaniel's mouth fell open in disbelief. "You are distraught! You know not of what you speak! Return to your chamber, at once!"

Rosalind released her grip on Shadow and took several steps toward Nathaniel. "I know _exactly_ what I am saying! Shadow is guilty of naught! He did not kill Jonathan...I did!" Her statement incited a second round of gasps and murmurs.

"Rosalind, do not do this," Shadow warned. "There is no need. Please, say no more."

"Jonathan's death was not intentional, I assure you," she continued, ignoring Shadow. "The man was intoxicated and attempted to force himself upon me. I had little choice other than to defend myself." She turned to look at Elias, then added, "And Shadow did not take me hostage. I helped him to escape because I knew he was innocent. I went with him of my own free will!"

"You are insane!" Nathaniel shouted. "For what purpose would you utter such falsehoods?"

"I am perfectly sane!" she shot back. "The only insane thing I have done of late is allow you to blackmail me into marrying you! 'Tis Shadow I love! He may be naught but a savage in your eyes, but I assure you, dear Captain, he is more civilized than you could _ever_ be!" Her eyes filled with hatred. "Unlike you, he has never smashed my head with a rock nor beaten me for denying him pleasure!" Unconsciously, her hand reached up to touch the rapidly darkening bruise on her face.

Her words caused Shadow's anger to increase to such an intensity, had Nathaniel not still been holding the musket, he would not have hesitated to lunge at him and choke him with his bare hands.

Elias glanced at Nathaniel, whose face clearly displayed his guilt. The magistrate released a long, exasperated breath and looked up at the ceiling. He then focused his gaze on Rosalind. "You spoke of blackmail?"

"Aye," she said. "Nathaniel informed me of the large debt my father owed to you upon his death, and he threatened to take away all of my family's property as payment for it...if I did not wed him."

Elias's head snapped in Nathaniel's direction. "There is no such debt!" he said. "Andrew Chandler owed me no money! Why would you invent such a tale?"

Nathaniel stared at the floor and remained silent.

Never had Rosalind felt such all-consuming rage. _No debt?_ Nathaniel had been lying to her all along and had put her through hell for naught? So strong was her urge to grasp the musket and use it on him, she had to clench her hands into fists and take several deep breaths to calm herself ere she did something she feared would send her straight to the gallows.

"How do I know you now are speaking the truth about the Indian?" Elias asked Rosalind. "In your deposition, you swore he took you at knifepoint after he murdered Jonathan. It could very well be you are speaking of his innocence now because he has threatened you in some way."

"I speak the truth," Rosalind said. "I gave a false deposition because I feared Nathaniel would make good on his threats to my family if he knew I had gone with Shadow of my own free will."

"'Tis against the law to falsify a deposition," Elias said, frowning at her, "and to aid a prisoner. I could bring you up on charges."

"Fine," Shadow calmly interrupted. "And seeing you are suddenly so determined to uphold the law, may I suggest that you arrest your own son?" He narrowed his eyes at Nathaniel. "Or is assaulting a woman in her bedchamber not considered a breach of the law if you are a Corwin?"

Yet another wave of shocked murmurs filled the chamber. Nathaniel, Rosalind thought, with a small measure of satisfaction, finally was being exposed for the monster he truly was.

"Why are we standing here listening to this heathen?" Nathaniel exploded, visibly distressed by the turn in which the conversation was taking. "I did not even know he could _speak_ ere tonight! He is evil! Inhuman! Is not the fact he has risen from the grave proof enough?" He once again aimed the musket at Shadow, his fingers twitching nervously on the barrel. "Step aside, Rosalind!"

"Do as he says, Rosalind," Shadow ordered. "His battle is with me, not you."

"There would _be_ no battle if it were not for me," Rosalind asserted, stubbornly maintaining her stance. "If you are so eager to shoot someone, Nathaniel, then you are welcome to take aim at me. After all, I am naught but a murderer!"

"Stop it!" Nathaniel demanded. "Why do you insist upon protecting this savage? For God's sake, Rosalind, speak the truth!"

"She _is_ speaking the truth." Abigail's voice came from behind him. Both Elias and Nathaniel turned to stare at the woman as she slowly came forward. "Shadow is innocent of the crimes of which you have accused him," she said.

"Good Lord, woman!" Elias said. "What are you babbling about?"

"When Rosalind was recovering from her injuries," Abigail explained, avoiding Rosalind's bewildered gaze, "I overheard a conversation she had with her brother in her chamber. She told Ben, in some detail, how Jonathan had come to die, and how the Indian had gone to great lengths to protect her...and our family...from scandal." Hesitantly, she turned to look at Rosalind. "She also confessed to her brother that she and the Indian had fallen in love."

Elias's expression was one of outraged disbelief. "Why have you never spoken of this before, Abigail?"

"Shadow was dead...or believed to be," she said. "What purpose would it have served to reveal the truth then? Furthermore, the truth might have hindered my efforts to see Nathaniel and Rosalind wed. I truly believed Nathaniel needed her...just as much as I needed her." Her eyes begged for understanding as she looked at Rosalind. "Forgive me, child. I knew the pain you were suffering over the reported death of your beloved Shadow, yet I hastened the wedding plans for my own selfish reasons, caring naught about your feelings."

"I do not understand." Elias looked directly at Shadow. "My men reported they had delivered your body to Adam Stoddard, to be returned to your people. For what purpose would they lie to me?"

"Oh, indeed a body was returned," Shadow said tersely. "But it was not mine, it was my cousin's." His steely gaze settled on Nathaniel. "I suppose it is not difficult to mistake one 'savage' for another if you look only at his back."

Nathaniel's eyes flashed, but he remained silent.

Abigail turned to her husband. "So, pray tell, what do you intend to do now?"

Elias slowly shook his head. He looked at his wife, who stared unblinkingly at him, and then at Rosalind, whose pale, bruised face was filled with such innocent hope, he had to look away. Several long moments passed before he finally spoke. "In light of all I have just heard," he said, rubbing his chin, "I see no reason to hold the Indian." He turned to look at Shadow. "But heed my advice and leave here posthaste...ere I change my mind."

Nathaniel's head snapped in his father's direction. "You cannot allow him to go free!" he protested. "He tried to kill me! You yourself witnessed it!" Defiantly, he lifted the musket and took aim at Shadow.

"I shall take that," Elias calmly stated, as if he were speaking to a small child. He clamped his hand over the barrel of the weapon and jerked it free from Nathaniel's grasp. "Now do as I say, Shadow, and be on your way."

"Gather your things, Rosalind," Shadow instructed her, his eyes still fastened on Nathaniel. "You are coming with me."

Without hesitation, Rosalind obeyed, brushing past Elias, Abigail and Nathaniel. Shadow walked behind her.

"You lying whore!" Nathaniel lashed out at her back as she disappeared through the crowded doorway. "You worthless, conniving little bitch! Mark my words, you will pay for doing this to me, even if I have to rot in Hell for it!"

Shadow halted and turned around to face Nathaniel.

The captain smirked at him and said, his tone mocking, "You are welcome to have her...she deserves nothing better than filth like you!"

The flame of anger that had been steadily burning within Shadow for weeks, suddenly exploded into a roaring inferno. He lunged forward, knocking Nathaniel onto his back on the floor. He then roughly grasped a handful of Nathaniel's hair and jerked his head up. Nathaniel caught a frightening glimpse of the murderous look in Shadow's eyes before the Indian's fist slammed into his face.

Shadow felt certain he would be yanked from Nathaniel and dragged off to face the gallows for assaulting the captain, but, he thought, at least he would die feeling a small sense of satisfaction. When no one moved, however, Shadow slowly stood and looked down at the unconscious Nathaniel.

"Now you know how Rosalind felt when you did the same to her tonight!" he said through gritted teeth. He then walked out of the chamber.

* * * * *

Carrying a sack of her belongings, Rosalind swiftly descended the stairs. Heavy silence hung over the Corwins' house as the guests who were gathered in the sitting room parted to allow her to make her way to the front door, where Shadow stood waiting for her. When she reached him, he took the sack from her, then slipped a protective arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

Rosalind turned to face the Corwins' guests – her wedding guests. "Please believe that I am truly sorry for all that has occurred here this eve," she said.

Her apology was met with closed expressions and continued silence.

Heaving a sigh, Rosalind grasped Shadow's arm and turned to leave.

"Godspeed, child," Abigail's voice broke the silence. She walked toward Rosalind and embraced her. "I shall never forget you or all you have done for me. Be happy, Rosalind. That is all I wish."

Tears sprang to Rosalind's eyes as she returned the embrace. "Farewell, Abigail. I shall never forget you, either."

Hand in hand, Shadow and Rosalind silently walked down the path that led away from the Corwins' property. When they reached the edge of the woods, Rosalind turned to look back at the house. The sun was just beginning to rise from behind it and the faint buzz of voices could be heard from inside. She knew that tongues would be wagging about this night's shocking turn of events for weeks to come.

Taking a deep breath, she tore her gaze from the house. From this moment on, she thought, her life, as she had known it, no longer would exist. She was about to enter an entirely new world – Shadow's world – where nothing would be familiar to her – where she might always feel like a stranger.

First, however, Rosalind decided, it was imperative that she and Shadow visit her mother and explain everything that had occurred – most especially that her wedding to Nathaniel was not going to take place – before she learned the news from someone else. Rosalind also was eager for her mother and sisters to meet the man who had won her heart.

She felt Shadow's hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. "Having second thoughts?" he softly inquired.

Rosalind's eyes swept over his dark, inquiring eyes and his perfectly formed mouth. Her heart thumped in her chest and her pulse quickened as a wave of the most intense love and desire she had ever felt coursed through her.

She smiled up at him. "None whatsoever."

\- END -

NOW AVAILABLE – THE SEQUELS!

TOO NEAR TO MY HEART

The story begins on the same day the first book ends. Rosalind is thrust into an entirely new world, one where she wonders if she ever will fit in. She has given up everything dear to her just to be with Shadow, but his way of life and his people's primitive customs cause her to realize just how vastly different she and Shadow are.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, banished from Eastwell, plots his revenge.

TOO MANY SECRETS

The conclusion of the trilogy – 18 years later.

QUESTIONS? COMMENTS?

Contact the author at ariannaeastland2@aol.com

