Rebecca

By Jo Ann Ferguson

The British soldier whose life was saved by a young woman during the American Revolution returns to claim her as his bride in the second seductive novel in Jo Ann Ferguson’s captivating Foxbridge Legacy series

About to exchange vows with her fiancé, Rebecca North is stunned when a towering, raven-haired stranger interrupts the ceremony. Five years earlier, at the height of the American Revolution, fourteen-year-old Rebecca rushed to the aid of a wounded English soldier she discovered hiding out in her barn. Although he was an enemy of the Patriots, she saved his life. When he begged her to fulfill his final wish before he rode off to battle, she made a secret vow. Now he has returned to claim his bride.
 
After swearing never to give her heart to Nicholas Wythe, Rebecca reluctantly leaves Connecticut for England. But at legendary Foxbridge Cloister, his sprawling estate on the wild north coast, the new Lady Foxbridge realizes there are those who resent the Yankee in their midst.
 
While a vengeful enemy plots to destroy her, Rebecca makes startling discoveries about her husband. As a relationship forged in the fires of war flames into something deeper, she will risk everything—even her life—for what she never expected to find with Nicholas: a passionate, lasting love.

Rebecca is the 2nd book in the Foxbridge Legacy, but you may enjoy reading the series in any order.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Release date: Dec 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781453240762

Jo Ann Ferguson

Jo Ann Ferguson is a lifelong storyteller and the author of numerous romantic novels. She also writes as Jo Ann Brown and Mary Jo Kim. A former US Army officer, she has served as the president of the national board of the Romance Writers of America and taught creative writing at Brown University. She currently lives in Nevada with her family, which includes one very spoiled cat.

Book preview

Chapter One

The sun was bright off the mountainsides to the north as the young woman adjusted her veil on her dark hair. It would not have mattered to her if it had been the dreariest day of the year, for she could see only the glory of her happiness reflected around her. With a joyous laugh, she twirled about so that her full skirts belled out even wider around her.

She turned once more to view her appearance in the small mirror. The veil did not hide her blue eyes and brilliant smile that were the two most admired features of her lovely face. She smoothed the silk dress along her body. She had never had such a fine gown, so it was appropriate that today she would wear it.

Today Rebecca North would become the wife of Keith Bennett. After their courtship and the thrill of him asking her to marry him, she would this morning take the vows that would make her his wife forever. It was a dream come true. He had proposed marriage several months ago, but had asked her to delay the wedding until he could finish the cabin he was building for them. At last, the day had come.

Her bags were packed and in the front room, ready to go to that new house. When she and Keith returned from their wedding party, her things would be waiting in the house they would share. Her smile softened as her eyes grew distant with thoughts of the life she would have from this day forward with the man she loved.

Rebecca, are you ready? came a voice that jarred her back to the present.

Her smile broadened as she turned to greet her older brother Hart. He would be giving her away, because their father, Major Henry North, had died in service to his country during the battle of Saratoga. The horrors of the war so recently over were forgotten in the midst of her joy. Take Aunt Dena out to the wagon, and I will be with you directly.

He nodded and closed the door. Rebecca looked around her room. Today she was leaving behind everything she had known all her life. Today she was beginning a new life that would incorporate all the love from the old one with a new love that would be the center of her being. Good-bye, she whispered to her room, her home, her self who had lived there for all of her nineteen years.

Cloying thoughts of nostalgia disappeared as she went out to the cart. An ecstatic bounce was in her step as she walked out of the cabin without another backward glance.

Here comes the happiest bride I have ever seen, teased Aunt Dena. She was a spare woman, well wrinkled with time. Laughter and sunshine had etched lines in her face. Her white hair was pulled back beneath the outrageous hat she wore for only the most special occasions. Its feathers and ribbons added six inches to her slight height.

Hart laughed as he helped his sister onto the hard wooden seat of the wagon. Unlike Rebecca, he had the light hair of their mother, but in many ways the Norths were alike. They shared a deep joy in life and a closeness which had strengthened when they had lost both of their parents. Hart was pleased that she would not be moving far from their home. The two of them and Aunt Dena were the total of the surviving North family.

It was a very short ride to the church, but Hart had insisted that they drive. He had not wanted her to walk and to get dust on her new gown. When they reached the white clapboard building, he lifted the older woman down so that she could go in to take her seat of honor in the first pew.

All ready? he asked, jokingly.

I know brides are supposed to be nervous, Rebecca said with a laugh, but I’m not. I know that this is just the beginning of the most wonderful part of my life.

He bent and kissed her check. His voice was very serious as he said, I hope you are right, Rebecca. I hope you are right.

Hart, what is wrong? Her smile faded as she saw the bleakness in his eyes.

A weak smile crossed his lips. I’m the one who is nervous, I guess. It’s hard for me to realize that in a few minutes you will be Keith Bennett’s wife. I’ve been used to you being my little sister.

That does not change, silly! She hugged him. When she heard the music from the church, she said, I think the ceremony is starting.

He held out his arm to her. Then let us make our grand entrance, my lady.

What fancy manners from someone who used to dip my braids in mud puddles!

Rebecca smiled up at her grinning brother as they walked into the church. He had seemed as delighted with this wedding as she was. Keith was his friend, and it had been Hart who had first suggested she take a walk with Keith along the moonlit path home from church services. Soon Keith had come calling on her. She had long admired her brother’s friend, and her admiration became love. She guessed this wedding was the fulfillment of Hart’s dream, as well.

As they walked past the rearmost pew, Rebecca noticed a stranger sitting there. Her eyes were caught by his dark ones, which were narrowing with an emotion she could not read. She wondered who this scowling man was. Something about the strong line of his jaw and his black eyes tugged at her memory, but she could not connect his handsome face with anyone she knew. As she passed him, she shrugged off her concerns and told herself he must be an acquaintance of Keith.

All thoughts of him faded as she looked at her fiance waiting with uncharacteristic formality by the altar. Keith was more comfortable making jokes around their supper table than standing at the front of the church dressed in his stiff collar and knee breeches. When he turned to see her walking toward him, his face split into a grin that made him look much more like the normal Keith.

Rebecca took his hand as she stepped up onto the raised section in front of the altar. He brought it gently to rest on his arm as together they looked at the minister. He glanced down at her as if to share an ecstatic secret while they listened to the clergyman intone the words that would make them one for all eternity.

Hart answered when asked who gave this woman in marriage. In a stage whisper, he warned the groom, She’s grouchy in the morning, Keith. Beware. Along the first few pews, a ripple of laughter sounded as brightly as the blush glowing on Rebecca’s face.

The groom held out his hand to Hart. For a moment, he looked startled, then he shook it seriously. Rebecca glanced from one face to the other, but could not read the emotions on either. Keith was grinning delightedly, but Hart’s face was completely blank.

She forgave her brother his jest when he bent to kiss her cheek and added more softly, Be happy always, Rebecca.

When he was seated, the minister—who had appeared pained at the levity—continued with the rite. He read a blessing on the couple. Before he started the exchanging of vows, he asked, If there is anyone here who has a reason why this marriage should not take place, let that one speak now or forever remain silent.

I have a reason!

Rebecca gasped as she turned to see the stranger on his feet in the pew at the back of the small church. She looked up at Keith and saw the mixture of shock and rage on his usually placid features. Her thought that this was a prank he had devised to tease her disappeared as she saw his furious expression.

The stranger began to walk up the aisle toward the altar. A rumble of whispered comments preceded him like the foam of a wave rushing to embrace the shore. All eyes were on him, but he paid them no attention. His dark ones were riveted steadily on the bride. His lips curled up in a smile as he saw the astonishment in her eyes. The pretty bride clearly had no idea who he was or why he had stopped her wedding.

The minister stated, shortly, Sir, it’s a serious thing to interrupt a holy ceremony in this way. You say you have a reason why this marriage should not take place. What is it?

He grinned coldly, and the pastor had the feeling he was looking into the face of Satan himself. Only the fallen angel would carry such dark malevolence in his black eyebrows and sternly chiseled features. His eyes returned to the bride. There was amusement in their obscure depths.

Why don’t you ask Rebecca? His voice was as mysteriously rich as his sable hair.

Me? she gasped. That this man knew her name was as astounding as the rest of this outrageous situation. His gaze held her eyes as if he was trying to look past them to examine her soul. Lowering her eyes, she said, Sir, as Reverend Poore said, this is no time for such antics. You have disrupted my wedding long enough.

His eyes slowly and with obvious pleasure moved along her slender body. In the gown that flattered her delicate curves, she was the image of the maidenly bride. I admit I wouldn’t have known you, Rebecca, but I had thought you would recognize me. I haven’t changed that much since our last meeting.

Once again memory tried to stir within her, but brought no answers. I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think we have met. You must be mistaken.

Keith stepped between his bride and the stranger. Sir, Rebecca has asked you to desist. I suggest you do so, or you may not like the result. Although he stood several inches shorter than the dark-haired man, he was not afraid to take on the intruder who had ruined their wedding. He had been waiting so long for it to take place, and he would let no one halt it. I don’t know who you are or why you think you have the right to interfere.

Let me introduce myself. He gave a half-bow in their direction. My name is Nicholas Wythe. That woman next to you is my wife.

Immediately the church erupted into chaos. Hart leapt to his feet and over the front of the first pew to join in the confrontation with this man who dared to make such a pronouncement. Keith caught Rebecca as she gave a small cry and swayed against him. He feared she would faint, but she only clutched his arm as her life felt as if it was whirling out of control.

The elusive memory had been so close to her heart. While packing her personal and dower items that morning, she had pulled out from under her bed, the box which contained her most precious mementos and discovered the faded marriage lines that announced she was the wife of one Nicholas Wythe. It was a secret which had been kept for so long that it was no longer worth revealing.

Nearly five years had passed since the day she had discovered a wounded man delirious in their barn. The only thing he had been able to communicate was his need for secrecy. She had smuggled food to him and had cleaned the wound in his side and bound it for him. Around his head had been a bloody turban she had not dared to touch.

For two weeks, he slept in the barn. Each morning she expected to find him dead in his hiding place behind the bags of feed for the animals. Both her brother and her father had been away fighting in the War of Independence from England. It had been just she and Aunt Dena, Father’s spinster sister who had come to live with them when Rebecca’s mother had died before her young daughter’s fourth birthday.

Slowly he recovered enough to escape his delirium. Whenever she had been able to get away from her other duties, Rebecca went to sit in the barn with him. She entertained him with her young impressions of the war, the village she lived near in northern Connecticut, and the world in general. He seemed ancient to her, for he must have been in his early twenties. Soon she learned how to cheer him so he was not so unhappy in his confinement. What little he told her of his own life she had forgotten in the passage of time.

She did not remember exactly when she had discovered that he was not a Continental soldier, but a loyalist. By that time she had come to see him as a person, not as an enemy. When he gave her a crudely written note to carry to a friend, she did not pause to wonder if she was doing something to compromise the ideals of independence she valued so highly. Her friend would never ask her to do something wrong.

Shivers of fear had filled her young body when she had had to face those she knew were enemy soldiers. They were frighteningly close to her home. Only her friend’s name kept her from being shot by the men. She gave them the note and scurried away once they were sure she would not betray them to the Patriots. The next morning, the man who had told her his name was Nicholas was not alone. She recognized one of the men as the person to whom she had delivered the note the day before. The other man had been a stranger.

Clearly she could recall his deep voice as he said, Rebecca, I fear I shall not survive this. I—

No, don’t say that! she gasped. The idea of death was alien to her young heart. Tears filled her eyes. She had come to value his friendship and did not want to think of him dying.

You must do me a favor.

Anything!

He smiled weakly and glanced at his companions as if her answer confirmed something he had said before she entered the barn. Rebecca, you have taken care of me. I owe you something.

No, you don’t!

All right. You can’t disagree that you are my very best friend in Connecticut.

Twisting her hands in her apron, she nodded. That was undoubtedly true. Loyalists were not welcome in villages where Patriots were the majority.

Rebecca, it would make me feel better if I had someone to leave my personal effects to if something does happen to me. For that reason, I’m asking you to marry me.

Marry?

It’ll make it easier.

She looked into his ebony eyes and nodded. At the time, it did not seem odd for a fourteen-year-old to be wedding a dying man nearly a decade her senior simply to be his heir. The stranger had been the chaplain who had witnessed their vows. He gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek before he was secreted away by his comrades. His promise to write he kept well for a few months.

Then after a large battle where many members of the unit to which he belonged were killed, there had been only silence. For twelve long months, she had hoped he survived, but when the first anniversary of the battle came, she knew it was useless to pray any longer. She packed away the three letters he had sent her and the marriage lines which had been kept secret at the bottom of the box. They had been tied with a piece of velvet ribbon which had once belonged to her mother.

The war ended, except for the formalities of signing treaties and exchanging ambassadors. The war had cost her her father and had sent her brother home with a limp from a poorly healed bullet wound to his hip. In those years, she had changed from a child to a woman. She had been courted for the past year by Keith Bennett without anyone knowing that Keith would be her second husband. She had thought that since Nicholas Wythe was dead, there was no reason to bring up the subject. She had planned to tell Keith someday of that secret wedding which had netted her only pleasant memories of a man who had passed through her life so quickly.

As Rebecca stared into the dark eyes which matched the ones from the depths of her memory, she could form no coherent thoughts. When she spoke, the wedding guests fell silent as they waited to hear her reaction. Her voice was rough as she spoke past the lump in her throat. Nicholas Wythe? Captain Wythe? I thought you were dead!

Hart demanded, You know this man, Rebecca?

She could not meet the eyes of the man she loved. She raised her left hand and pulled off the engagement ring Keith had given her. With a half-sob, she placed it in his hand. He glanced from it to her, not knowing what to say. When she stood on tiptoe to kiss him one last time, she squeezed his arms convulsively.

Only then did she turn to answer her brother. I know him, Hart. He is my husband.

A shout came from someone to catch Aunt Dena as she swooned. All shreds of decorum disappeared. Reverend Poore closed his black book and placed it on the altar. It was clear there would be no wedding today.

The dark-haired man reached up and took Rebecca’s hand and drew her down to stand next to him. As if he was the groom, he raised her veil to be able to see her face undistorted by its fine mesh. He bent slightly and kissed her cheek. Hello, Rebecca.

She gazed up into his handsome face which was far above hers, for he was well over six feet tall. Knowing why he had seemed so familiar, she could not believe he was here. In her memory, he had been a faceless entity whose identity had been blurred by the passing of time. I thought you were dead, she repeated in a whisper. She was afraid that if she spoke aloud the vibration of her own voice would shatter her. I thought you had been killed. I waited for a year to hear from you, but there was nothing. I could think only that you were dead.

He chuckled at a joke only he could share. Holding out his hand, he touched the soft skin of her cheek. The unmolded face of the child had matured into beauty. He had not been prepared for the change. In his mind, she had remained the youngster who had risked her life selflessly to save his. Only because he had learned that it was Rebecca North being married in this backwater village had he known that the bride was his wife.

I’m afraid I am very much alive. It was impossible to get mail out of the prison hulks which were my home for the last four years. I have been released with the end of the war. Now that I have found you, my dear wife, we must be on our way home. We have only time for you to pack what you want to take with you, if we want to meet our ship.

Ship? she repeated. She knew she sounded moronic, but just now her mind was unable to function. All she could think of was that this man had come out of her distant past to interrupt her present. Until he had said he meant to take her with him, she had not considered that he would want her. You are taking me away? Where do you live, Captain Wythe?

Nicholas, my dear. We are married, so it would be more normal for you to call me by my given name. Your new home is across the ocean in England. It’s called Foxbridge Cloister, and you, my dear Rebecca, are Lady Foxbridge.

Hart stepped forward and took his sister’s arm. He pulled her away from this man he had already decided he disliked intensely. I have heard enough of this nonsense. You have disrupted my sister’s wedding, and you have so shocked our aunt that she has fainted. I think you have done quite enough. Sir, I ask you—no, I insist one final time that you leave.

I am leaving, he replied calmly. Rebecca and I are leaving. I expected that I might not be believed, so I brought this with me to lay any of your fears to rest. I did not want you to think I was kidnapping this lovely lady from underneath your very noses. He held out a paper which was stained with sweat and rusty discolorings that no one had to be told were blood. Here is my copy of our marriage lines. Do you still have yours, Rebecca?

Hart took the page and scanned it. He recognized his sister’s signature at the bottom. This man was her husband. His hand shook as he handed the page to Keith. The rage on the groom’s face increased as he looked from the stranger to the document. When Wythe held out his hand, he reluctantly placed it back on his palm.

Rebecca watched as the piece of paper that tied her to this unknown man circulated among the men. When she saw the dark-haired man was awaiting her answer to his question, she nodded. I have my copy still, Cap—Nicholas.

Keith was recovering from the shock of realizing that Rebecca would not become his wife. Irately, he turned to her and demanded, This man is telling the truth? You are really married to him?

Yes, Keith, she whispered.

That is ridiculous. Look at the date on that document. That was when the damnable British were running all over the area. Such a marriage under duress would not be sanctioned by any court. He frowned. Did you fear she was pregnant, Wythe, and wanted to give your bastard a name?

The fury which burst forth from Nicholas was as cold as his eyes. I did not seduce Rebecca when she was a child. I can assure you of that, sir. She saved my life. I was a badly injured man in enemy territory. She did nothing for which she should have been ashamed.

When Hart stepped between the two men who looked as if they were set to settle the issue on the altar, he asked Rebecca for her side of this confusing tale. It did not take her long to tell, although he had to ask her to repeat herself several times when her voice became a whisper. Because she could not bear to look at the man she had promised to marry, she did not see Keith’s outraged expression when he learned that she had married of her own free will and had known exactly what she was doing. The fact that she had been only fourteen would have no bearing on its legality. Many lasses were wed not much older than that.

Are you satisfied? asked Nicholas when she had completed the short account which had kept the wedding guests enthralled. Once more he put out a long arm to pull Rebecca close. No one could miss her discomfort as he placed his arm around her shoulders. As I said, we must be leaving, if we are to catch our ship before it sails. Come along, Rebecca.

Now? She could not comprehend what was happening. Her mind had been numb. Her world had turned inside out in one split second. One moment she had been so blissfully planning to wed Keith, the next this man who was a stranger was claiming her rightfully as his wife.

Nicholas’ voice softened for the shortest moment as he gazed at her shattered face. Yes, we must leave now, my dear. Bid your friends and family farewell.

Docilely she did as she was told, for she did not know what else to do. She did not hear what she said or who she said it to as she went from one guest to the next. Only when she turned to Keith did her frozen exterior break. I’m sorry, sweetheart, she whispered. I had no idea that he was alive. I’m so sorry to hurt you like this. I love you, Keith.

Paying no attention to anyone else, he swept her into his arms and kissed her with all his desire for her. Holding her tightly, he whispered in her ear, I will come after you, my love. We will have this marriage annulled. Try to keep him out of your bed, Rebecca.

My bed? she cried. Involuntarily, she turned to look at the dark-haired man who was talking quietly to her brother. Hart nodded his head in resignation. As each second passed, this nightmare was solidifying into reality. She closed her eyes in pain as she saw her brother introduce Nicholas to her aunt, who had recovered her senses. When she saw Aunt Dena smile, Rebecca was sure the whole world had gone mad.

Grimly, Keith said in the same low tone, bringing her attention back to him, He’s your husband, Rebecca. He has a right to sleep with you. Try to keep him away. As soon as I can sell my farm, I’ll come to England and hire an attorney to free you. If the marriage is unconsummated, it will be easier. Just be careful, darling. You know how I love you. I promise you I will see you released from this marriage.

Rebecca?

She sighed as she pulled herself reluctantly from the arms of the man she loved to face the man to whom she was married. Taking her fingers, Nicholas placed them on his arm. Without another word, he led her toward the door at the back of the church. She was startled that there were no shouts of protest, but the others had learned what she knew. Nicholas Wythe was her husband. According to the law, he had done nothing wrong. According to the law, she belonged to him.

The sounds of a multitude of conversations followed them out into the sunshine. In response to his questions, she pointed out which cabin belonged to the North family. He quickly turned in that direction.

My things are all packed, she murmured. Hart was going to take them to Keith’s house after the wedding. The trunk is in the main room of the house.

When they entered the small house, she fought the tears burning behind her eyes. Never again would she see this place that had been home for all her memory. When she had said farewell earlier, it had not been a real good-bye. She had planned to visit often. That would be impossible if she was living on the far side of the ocean.

Nicholas said quietly, Go change, Rebecca.

Change?

You do not want to travel in your lovely dress, do you? It might soil quickly on our trip. It isn’t an easy journey to where our ship is docked in New York City harbor.

For the first time, she heard a hint of sympathy in his voice. Her eyes rose to meet his ebony ones. In the merest of whispers, she asked, Why, Nicholas? Why are you taking me away from Keith?

Keith? Oh, you mean your erstwhile fiance? He chuckled in a tone as black as his hair. My dear Rebecca, you are my wife. I don’t choose to be wed to a bigamist. No, no, there is no reason for you to say it. I don’t plan to let you ask for an annulment. Our wedding was legally and properly done. You are mine, sweetheart.

But you don’t love me! she asserted. How could you love me? You don’t know me! The last time we met I was just a child.

You are right. I didn’t come back for you because of love, but there are many reasons to marry other than love. Perhaps in the shock of our reunion you failed to hear me. You are Lady Foxbridge, my dear, for your husband is, by the unfortunate death of his brother, lord of Foxbridge Cloister. I married you five years ago to give you my share of that estate in gratitude for your kindness. Now, you shall have it all, including the lord. He put his hand to touch the softness of her face. Rebecca Wythe, you have become so beautiful. I never would have guessed such a scrawny child would turn into such a lovely woman.

In horror, she pulled away. Keith’s warnings filled her ears to replay over and over. This man was her husband. Tonight and every night he wished, he could take from her what she wanted to share only with Keith. If he asked her, she should not refuse, for she was his wife. With stern resolve, Rebecca told herself that Captain Nicholas Wythe, Lord Foxbridge of Foxbridge Cloister, whatever that was, would not find it that simple to have her as his lover. She would fight him before she was forced to surrender.

His eyes narrowed as his eyebrows drew close together. On her face, he read the undisguised emotions of obstinacy and disgust. Although it had been many years since he had been in the company of a lady, he had not been accustomed to being repulsed.

Come here, Rebecca, he growled. His hands grasped her shoulders and drew her to him. As one arm wrapped around her, his fingers tipped her chin up so he could view her pretty face. With a satisfied smile, he said, You have yet to welcome your husband back from the cold of the grave, dear wife.

Please, Captain Wythe—

Nicholas, my dear, he corrected, impatiently.

Please, Nicholas, don’t do this.

He chuckled softly and lowered his lips over hers. Gently, but persuasively, he kissed her. His fingers slid along the slippery texture of her silken gown to caress her back.

Rebecca fought her desire to pull away. His kiss brought only feelings of despair as she realized it would be a long time or forever until she felt Keith’s mouth against hers again. The half-forgotten, childish lark which had seemed like such a great adventure was coming back to haunt her.

When he looked down into her eyes, he saw the sorrow in their dark blue depths. He was not surprised that she was so confused. To discover that a spouse who had been mourned so long ago was alive and wanted her would have stunned the most resilient person. Go and change, sweetheart, he whispered in her ear.

I must get a dress out of my bag. Her voice caught on a half-sob as she added, I hadn’t planned on changing until I was at Keith’s house.

Go ahead. I will see your things are loaded. He looked at the small trunk and the battered bag with the words SGT Hart North, Connecticut Militia stenciled on it. Is this everything, Rebecca?

She nodded. Stooping, she pulled out her everyday frock. It would handle the trip best. She continued to be astounded at how her mind seemed able to handle the most minuscule details although she could feel nothing. Not that she was anxious to feel anything. When the numbness wore off, the pain would be so strong it might rip her apart.

In her room, she changed quickly. She pulled the pins from her upswept hair and braided it in its normal style. Wrapping the braids around the crown of her head, she put the hairpins in a pocket of her skirt. Picking up her wedding gown, she went back out into the main room.

Nicholas was standing in the doorway with his profile to her. For a long moment she stared at him. All of her confused perceptions of him came together as she watched him speaking to someone she could not see. He was an incredibly handsome man with his dark coloring and flashing eyes. His clothes were cut in the latest style, and the white of his stockings was unmarred. If she had not hated him so much for laying waste to her life, she would have admired the virile lines of his body so finely accented by his well-made breeches and coat.

The sound of her light step caught his attention. He turned to see the woman who suddenly resembled the child-bride he had left when he had expected to go to his death. In her homespun gown and her hair in braids that did nothing to detract from her beauty, he could see more of the fourteen-year-old Rebecca. Gone were her smile and her joy with his agonizingly slow progress as he had fought the infection of his wound. Holding out his hand to her, he took her slender fingers in his. Come along, darling. Our carriage is waiting. We have many miles to go before nightfall strands us along these desolate back-roads.

She stepped into the sunshine to learn he had been talking to a man who obviously was going to be their driver. Astonishment filled her eyes as she saw the lovely carriage that awaited them in front of her rustic home. Even though she knew it was not Nicholas’, it was impressive. Before now, she always had ridden in a wagon.

Oh, my! she whispered as she stared at the fine paneling on the doors and the curtains that could be drawn across the windows. They were richer than the simple material hanging over the panes of glass in the cabin.

I thought my Lady Foxbridge would enjoy traveling in the style that she will become accustomed to in England. He lifted her fingers to his lips.

Oh, she whispered, unable to think of anything else to say. She glanced at him sharply, wondering if he was jesting, but his dark eyes regarded her evenly.

With a smile, he aided her into the carriage. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the velvet-covered seats and brocade-embellished walls. Tentatively, like a child afraid of touching something forbidden, her fingers stretched out to stroke the material. When she heard her companion’s laugh, she blushed and snatched her hands back to clench her dress. His cruel reminder that she was so unsophisticated compared to those who inhabited his life on the far shores hurt her deeply.

When Nicholas sat next to her on the cushioned seat, he draped his arm along the back of the cushion with his fingertips resting lightly on her shoulder. His other hand slapped the side of the carriage to signal the driver to start.

As the settings of her childhood rolled past them while the vehicle picked up speed, Rebecca tried to keep from looking at the beloved sights she would never see again. She did not want her precious memories tainted by the sorrow of this leavetaking. When they went past the church she had entered so happily less than an hour before, her eyes were caught by those of her beloved Keith as he stood on the steps and watched as they went by.

I’ll be coming for you, Rebecca! he called into the cloud of dust from the wheels. Soon, sweetheart!

She gasped as she felt the tightening of her companion’s fingers into the soft skin of her shoulder. The words which had sent a swelling of hope through her heart clearly filled her husband with rage. Softly, she said, Nicholas, that hurts!

He pulled his hand away and stated gruffly, Excuse me, my dear. I didn’t mean to bruise you.

When she heard the gentleness in his voice, her last bit of composure dissolved into tears which fell in a violent storm of despair. Her whole life had been decimated. Her dreams of being married to Keith were dead, and her nightmares of being bound to a man she did not love were the total of her life. Hiding her face in her hands, she turned away from the man beside her. Her shoulders shook convulsively. When she felt his hands on her arms as he tried to turn her into his embrace, she snarled and ripped herself away from him.

Don’t touch me! she spat.

If that is what you wish, Rebecca, he answered in a taut voice, then you can cry alone. If you don’t want my comfort, you won’t receive it!

Without turning, she sobbed, I don’t want anything from you!

That’s obvious! he snapped back.

She felt the seat shift as he moved to sit on the far side. Crouching against the wall in front of her, she placed her face on her arms and sobbed until there were no more tears left within her. She cried for lost dreams and for the Rebecca who had been left behind. She cried for everyone this cold man had hurt so callously. She cried until her eyes grew heavy with fatigue, and she slipped away into the only world where her love for Keith remained uncompromised.

Chapter Two

Rebecca awoke to the changing rhythm of the carriage. She murmured softly as she drowsily tried to patch together what had happened before she had napped. It was so unusual for her to sleep during the day that she could not comprehend for an eternal minute why she had fallen asleep.

The feeling of lips pressed softly to the top of her head brought a smile to her own. When an arm around her pressed her closer to a warm body, she stretched out her fingers along the rich wool of a man’s coat. Her face was tilted back to be at the perfect angle to meet the mouth of the one who held her. For a moment she was swept along on the sweetness of the tender kiss.

Abruptly, her eyes popped open. This was not Keith who was holding her and caressing her with eager desire. There was laughter in the nighttime-dark eyes of the man who was kissing her. Although she struggled, Nicholas just pulled her tighter to him. Did you have a pleasant nap, my dear? He ran his hand along the loosened strands of hair falling around her face in waves. His eyebrows drew together in the evil expression she was learning to fear. It isn’t so horrid to sleep with your husband, is it?

She could not halt the fire-hot blush which colored her face, but her words were icy cold. You know as well as I do that I can’t stop you if you demand your rights as my husband, Nicholas. Just don’t think that I will come to your bed willingly.

He bent to kiss the smooth skin of her forehead. Against her cheek, he vowed, Someday, you will, Rebecca. Someday, you will come asking that I hold you and make love with you.

Don’t be so sure of that! I hate you! she cried.

Do you? he asked reasonably. That’s a true pity, for you are my wife. I had hoped you would be a bit more willing to accept the situation and see that we don’t have to be unhappy with the circumstances. He looked out the window. Here’s the inn where we will be spending the night.

Silently, she slipped out of his loosened grip to regard the building. The name of the inn was illegible on the wind-scoured sign which hung over the small porch. The whole building was in desperate need of whitewashing, but the yard was free of clutter, and all the windows were intact. The carriage pulled into the stableyard and stopped. When the driver opened the door, Rebecca could see children gathering across the dirt trail to view the outlandish sight of such a fine vehicle, which must be as common in the small settlement as ice in July. She was sure that, hidden behind the open windows and doors of the cabins, their elders were as eagerly awaiting the chance to view the ones who rode in such luxury.

Nicholas stepped out and held up his hand to her. When she stood on the ground next to him, he wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her back gently. She tried not to move away, for she knew such an action would enrage him. She was sure she did not want to face that wrath.

Calling out to one of the children, he said, Lad, come here.

Yes, sir?

Help my man here with the luggage, and then I will give you a few coins to treat your friends to candy at the store.

Yes, sir! he said eagerly.

As Nicholas took Rebecca’s arm and turned to go into the inn, a young child ran up and pulled on his coattails. He squatted down to gaze into the little girl’s face. Yes, miss? he asked with kindness.

Are you King George, mister?

He laughed loudly and tousled her soft, blonde curls. No, young lady, I’m not King George.

Oh, she said, obviously disappointed. I thought when I saw your pretty carriage that only a king would drive in it.

Let me tell you a secret, he said with a smile. See that lady over there. He pointed to Rebecca who was pausing by the front steps of the inn to watch the exchange with a baffled expression. She’s a princess who has been hidden away for many years, and I’m taking her back to her castle in the clouds.

The child gazed at Rebecca, wide-eyed. She had never expected to see a real princess, especially one who was on her way to a palace in the sky. Without another word, she ran toward her home to tell her mother what she had seen.

Rebecca was curious what Nicholas had told the child who had been looking at her so queerly. When he rose and walked over to where she was waiting, there was the remnant of a delighted smile on his face.

Were you like that little girl, Rebecca?

What do you mean? she demanded.

Must you act so suspicious of everything I ask you? he retorted with sudden heat. Maybe you were never like her, believing in lost princesses and magic.

More puzzled, she repeated, What do you mean?

Never mind! he said coldly. Come, and we will go inside. He took her arm and turned her roughly toward the stairs. Sit here, he ordered, pointing to a bench. I will handle the details of getting our accommodations, and then I will take you upstairs so you can ready yourself for dinner.

Chastised, although she did not understand what she had done wrong, she obeyed. She watched as several of the young boys came in with the luggage which had been tied to the top of the carriage. They stopped to speak to the innkeeper, then carried it upstairs. When they returned, Nicholas counted a generous amount of coins into their hands. She could hear the boys whooping in delight as they raced outside to share their largesse.

Rebecca stared at her hands clasped in her lap. It seemed that her husband could be kind to everyone but her. As much as he seemed to enjoy talking to these youngsters, he delighted in being sarcastic to her. When she showed her lack of ease with the luxury he took for granted, he found it cruelly amusing. If she could not comprehend what his strange words meant, he viciously snapped at her. The only time he showed her any compassion was when he was trying to seduce her away from her love for Keith.

She could not help flinching as Nicholas took her arm to lead her up to the second floor. He made no comment, but she could tell he was angry by the tightness of his jawline. Already she was becoming able to read the powerful emotions that he kept so closely restrained.

At the top of the stairs, he opened a door. He motioned for her to precede him. Rebecca took a deep breath and walked into the room. She feared the moment had come when he would force her into bed. Alone in this nondescript, wayside inn partway to New York City, she would have no choice but to submit. Submit she would, but not freely.

She stood in the middle of the worn carpet, her fingers clamped tightly around the strings of her bag. Her eyes surveyed the room. It was a pleasant space, far more opulent than she was accustomed to in her plain home. There was a dressing table and chair to one side by a changing screen. A bench was set near the hearth of the fireplace, which took up one whole wall. This she noticed later. What she saw first and solely