by Isabel Morin
Had all of it been an act, every word and deed calculated to help solve her father’s murder? Had she married him only to skulk about, looking for evidence against his family?
But no, that wasn’t right. Not really. He’d pursued her from the beginning, even against her wishes. Her character had been consistently sweet and generous, though there were times when she’d seemed remote or uneasy.
Her father had died in her arms. Would not he have gone to the ends of the earth under the same circumstances? But what made her think his family had anything to do with it? Was she so desperate at the loss of her father that she would cast about for villains in the homes of strangers? No one in his family was capable of such a thing. The idea was absurd.
And then he recalled what she’d said about Nathan and his blood ran cold.
Nathan’s behavior surrounding the farm had always been odd, and he’d declined precipitously since February, the time of her father’s death. His father’s letter’s had said as much, and the dates corresponded.
Rose was telling the truth. Nathan had killed her father and she’d been too scared to tell him. But why? Hadn’t he shown her how he cared, earned her trust? He had no love for Nathan, so why had she not confided in him, either before or after their marriage?
Had she really been trying to tell him the day he left?
The image of her sitting so still in the circle of her skirts, heedless of the rain, came back to him. Wheeling his horse around he headed back toward the farm. Back to Rose.
He’d gone just a quarter of a mile when he saw someone coming toward him on horseback.
“Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Fletcher!” The rider was coming at breakneck speed, slowing down only when he was nearly upon him. Fear shot through Luke as he saw that it was Jeremy, bruised and bloody and covered in mud. He was pale and shaking, barely able to sit his horse.
“What’s happened?”
“It’s Mrs. Fletcher, sir. Mr. Byrne’s taken her away. I ran at him, I did try to stop him, but he kicked me something awful and then I couldn’t do nothing, even when he hit her.”
A fear so desperate and dark swept over Luke, he nearly missed what the boy said next. But he made himself focus, knowing he had to stay clear-headed if he was to help Rose.
“I got up just as they was heading into the trees on the north side of the lower field. I’m so sorry, sir. I couldn’t help her.”
The boy was crying now, tears streaking his grimed cheeks.
“When?”
“An hour ago, no more. I started out after you right away, and it took that long to catch you.”
Luke was worried about the boy, but more worried about what Nathan might do to Rose.
“Are you well enough to show me where you last saw them?”
Jeremy nodded, his eyes big in his face at the responsibility.
“There’s a good lad. Lead on.”
***
Rain came down in a drizzle punctuated by stronger bursts. Rose was soaked through and chilled to the bone, but what was worse was being in such close proximity to Nathan, who kept one arm around her waist so that she was pulled against him. Her skin crawled at the unwanted contact, but she focused instead on her surroundings so she would know where she was at all times. She knew this land better than Nathan and would use that to her advantage at the first opportunity.
They had been riding for thirty minutes, perhaps a little longer. But instead of heading through one of the nearby towns, or at least past the farm of someone she knew, Nathan kept to the lesser used trails, those used more for hunting than travel. At times he veered off the trail completely and occasionally seemed to lose his way.
Eventually they came in sight of an abandoned house. The forest, as if waiting for the chance, had swiftly retaken the land and rutted road, and now one had to be nearly on top of it to know it was there. It was dingy and peeling, the windows all broken. The sagging roof had large gaps in the shingling and looked as if one more snowfall would cave it in entirely.
Nathan dismounted and pulled her down beside him. Taking her arm he forced her into step with him, pushing her through the front door.
It was a small house – a kitchen, parlor and two tiny bedchambers, all of it on one floor. Rose had been in it once or twice when the family was still here. They stood now in the main room and she saw that the stove had been torn out and the wet floor was strewn with glass, leaves and branches. A smattering of raindrops fell through the gaps in the roof.
She forced herself to think, to shut her mind to all the horrible possibilities that lay before her and instead concentrate on how to get away. The Henry homestead lay about four miles north. If she could just get into the woods without Nathan seeing her, she had a chance. He was faster on horseback, but if he never saw her it wouldn’t matter. The trees provided less cover this time of year, but still grew close together, with a good deal of evergreens in between the deciduous trees.
“I didn’t want it to be this way, Rose,” Nathan said, breaking into her thoughts. “If only you didn’t make things so difficult. But I know if I give you time you’ll understand how it has to be. We’re connected now, you and I. Your father’s death has brought us closer than ever. In time you’ll come to see it.”
“What is it you plan to do? Keep me here until I fall in love with you?”
“This is no place for us to stay. In the morning we’ll move on. But you needn’t concern yourself with those matters. You’ll soon see how reasonable, how constant I am. Luke would never be as indulgent as I’m prepared to be.”
Rose said nothing. What did one say to a madman? She would simply cooperate until she could get away.
Nathan smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything better tonight, but I’ll risk a small fire in order for us to dry off.”
Rose looked down and saw that her clothes clung to her skin and her hair, entirely loosed from its pins during her struggle with Nathan, fell in wet strands to her waist. Nathan had faired even worse than she, as Jeremy’s attack had sent him rolling around the muddy ground.
Gathering broken branches from the floor, Nathan lit the kindling from a box of matches he pulled from his jacket. A few tiny flames flickered to life and he added bigger pieces until it gave off a steady heat. Shivering uncontrollably, Rose moved closer and knelt down to hold out her hands.
Despite the extremity of the circumstances, she found herself instantly comforted by the warmth. Gradually the desperate tension left her. In her depleted state she fell into a near trance as she watched the orange and blue flames. She was not aware of Nathan near her until she felt him stroking her hair.
“So beautiful, like silk,” he said dreamily.
Rose leapt to her feet and backed away from him, too disgusted to pretend otherwise.
“Is this how I’m to be repaid for my kindness?” he asked, a dangerous new look in his eye.
“I’m not ready. I need more time.”
“Perhaps I’m not as patient as I thought,” he said, eyes narrowed as he considered her.
“Given that you’re a lunatic and you murdered my father, no amount of time will be enough.”
Nathan’s equanimity vanished. His face paled before turning deep red.
“I see. Then I’m afraid you leave me with no choice.”
Rose backed away from him, measuring the distance to the door and wondering if she could make it. But she got only a few feet before he hauled her back against him and spun her around.
“I’ll always love you, Rose,” he said, his hands encircling her throat.
Grabbing at his wrists she struggled to loosen his grip. Desperately she kicked and twisted, succeeding only in sending the two of them to the rotten floorboards. He was on top of her, his weight holding her helpless as her vision grayed. Her strength gave out and her mind narrowed to a small pinpoint of light. Her hand fell limply to the floor and she felt a sharp sting as something cut her.
A shard of glass.
Nathan was
but a shadow above her, his hands relentlessly crushing her neck, but she drove the glass into his side with as much force as she could at such an awkward angle. Nathan screamed and reared backwards, falling to the floor. Gasping for breath, she rolled over and scrambled to her feet, dizzy and nauseated as she ran out the door toward his horse.
Her left foot was in the stirrup, her hands pulling herself up when she heard him behind her. Then his hands were on her waist dragging her off. The horse shied and reared, knocking both of them to the ground. Once again Nathan was on top of her, only now she was too weak to fight him.
I’m sorry, Pa, she thought, a terrible sorrow opening up in her as she felt her strength give out. I’m sorry, Luke.
A bellow of rage sounded, as if from far away, and then her throat was released. Wheezing for breath she rolled over, her chest heaving with the effort. Gradually her vision cleared and she saw Luke, his face contorted with rage as he stood over Nathan, pummeling him mercilessly. Nathan was curled into a ball and begging him to stop, but his pleas had no effect. Luke said not a word but continued to hit him until Nathan went limp. For a moment Rose wondered, without caring, whether Nathan was dead, but the rise and fall of his chest indicated he was only unconscious.
Then Luke was kneeling beside her, gently helping her to sit up, crooning soft words of comfort. His touch, which she had thought never to feel again, instantly warmed her, and when he drew her into his arms, she luxuriated in his strong embrace. His big hand stroked her hair as he pressed kisses over her cheeks.
“It’s all right, you’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”
His feather-light fingers stroked the bruises on her cheek and neck, as if he might erase them. Noticing the cut in her right hand, he stood up to retrieve a clean handkerchief from his saddlebag, his hands trembling as he bound the wound.
“Rose, I’m so sorry…” he began, his voice hoarse with feeling.
Rose tried to tell him it was okay, but so sore was her throat, she could not get out any words. Instead she smiled and kissed him, telling him with her body what she couldn’t say aloud.
“I had better get you someplace warm,” he said. “Wait here and let me deal with Nathan.”
Getting up, Luke hauled him onto his shoulder and then slung Nathan over his own horse, tying him down with rope from his saddlebag. Nathan roused as Luke was tightening the knots, and Luke calmly punched him, knocking him unconscious again.
Coming back over to Rose, Luke removed his coat and pulled it around her shoulders. She tried to stand, but she was so weak her legs couldn’t support her. Picking her up, Luke looked down at her with an expression of such tenderness and gravity, it was as if no harsh words had passed between them.
Effortlessly he lifted her onto his horse and then swung up behind her, and she was pleasantly reminded of the night they rode together through the streets of Boston. He’d rescued her from Nathan then, too. This time at least she knew it would be the last time Nathan would threaten her. The nightmare was finally ending.
But did Luke’s attentions mean he’d forgiven her? Would he want her back in his home, in his life? Too weary and fragile to ask, she was content for the moment to bask in his presence.
Luke led Nathan’s horse behind them as they made their way back to the farm. Aunt Olivia flew out the door as they rode into the yard, crying at the sight of Rose. It was with relief that Rose saw Jeremy standing in the yard, bandages covering his face and arms, but otherwise well. Several local men, hearing of her disappearance from Olivia and the farmhands, had come to the house, and they removed Nathan to a stall where they proposed to guard him until the sheriff came.
Exhausted by the effort it took to stay on the horse, Rose swayed as soon as she was on her feet. Luke carried her into the house with Aunt Olivia following anxiously behind. Gently Luke laid Rose on her bed.
She tried to thank him but he wouldn’t hear of it.
“Hush now. If you only knew what it does to me to see you like this, you would not thank me for doing so little. If I hadn’t arrived when I did…” he stopped, and Rose watched with wonder as he struggled to compose himself, tears in his eyes. His voice was rough with emotion when he finally went on. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Rose stared at him in shock. “Forgive you? But it was I who drove you to it by deceiving you. I could never blame you for how you felt.”
“I ask forgiveness for what my family has done to yours. That’s something I can never repair or make up to you, though I would do anything to undo what’s been done.”
Rose clasped his strong hand in hers as she gathered her thoughts.
“When I first came to Cider Hill, I was so angry, so full of hatred and the need to avenge my father’s murder,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “But hatred is too simple for what I found at your father’s house. I found love there, and kindness. No one but Nathan is to blame for what happened, least of all you.”
He leaned over and kissed her, and all her aches and pains seemed to fade away.
“As I forgive you and you forgive me, I suppose we ought to forgive ourselves as well,” she said.
“Yes, my wise and lovely wife, I suppose it does,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then he glanced out the window. “It looks as if the sheriff has arrived. I’ll go speak to him. If he needs to see you, he can do so tomorrow when you’re rested. I won’t be long.”
***
Speaking to the sheriff didn’t take long, especially as Nathan, unhinged by the turn of events, raged at everyone who came near him and all but confessed to killing Rose’s father. The sheriff listened grimly to Luke’s account and agreed he would come by and speak to Rose the next day. He had enough evidence already to take Nathan to Becket where they would deal with him.
Luke watched as Nathan, riding astride between two armed men on horses, was led away. He didn’t care to think what effect this would have on his father and Charlotte, but there was nothing to be done about it. He just hoped they would understand why Rose acted as she had. Surely Nathan’s guilt would convince at least his father that she’d done nothing wrong. But whatever happened, nothing would come between him and Rose again. He’d see to that.
With Nathan safely gone, Luke headed back to Rose, anxious to be near her and assure himself of her wellbeing. But even knowing she was safe didn’t entirely vanquish the knot in his stomach. Never would he forget the all-encompassing fear as he tracked them into the woods, or the sight of Rose fighting for her life against his own stepbrother.
When he arrived at her room her aunt had just brought up a tub. Rose looked bone tired as she sat on the bed, her face pale, her bruises standing out in sharp relief. She looked as if she might fall asleep where she sat, but she was covered in dried mud and cuts that needed tending.
He made several trips to the well and stood awkwardly in the kitchen with Rose’s aunt as she heated several large pots over the stove. He could see that she was taking his measure, but she didn’t seem to resent his presence. All in all, he thought she was taking the situation much better than could be expected.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what my family has put you through, Mrs. Harris. If I’d had any idea…” Luke stopped, the destruction his family had wrought on them overwhelming him. He cleared his throat.
Mrs. Harris looked at him and smiled wearily. “You’re forgiven, Mr. Fletcher. From what Rose tells me, your stepbrother acted entirely on his own. What I want more than anything is to put this behind us so she can start to heal. I’m counting on you not to cause her more hurt. You’ve got a rare woman in Rose. I only hope you know that.”
“I do know it, and you have my word I’ll not hurt her.”
She looked at him appraisingly before nodding her head. “Go on up then and take care of your wife.”
Rose had fallen asleep on top of the counterpane, but she woke as he was pouring the last pot of steaming water into the tub.
“That’s going to be heavenl
y,” Rose said, smiling shyly at him.
She looked so frail, though she’d proven she had a will of iron and wasn’t nearly as fragile as she looked. But strong or not, she’d endured more hurt the past few months than anyone should have borne.
Walking over to her he sat on the bed, reaching for the buttons down the back of her dress. One by one he released them until the material fell open. Standing up, Rose pushed the sleeves off and let the dress drop to the floor. He untied the laces of her corset and felt her breath release on a relieved sigh.
It was so like all the other times he’d undressed her, and yet so unlike them, for though his desire for her was undiminished, his primary feeling was of tenderness. He was bemused by the rush of feeling he felt in putting aside his own needs for hers. Or rather, her needs had become his own.
He held her hand as she stepped out of her chemise and petticoats and into the tub, blushing like an innocent at his attentions. Though they had been intensely intimate during their brief marriage, somehow this felt even more so. Perhaps it was because it was not about making love but about caring for her.
She sank with a moan of contentment into the hot water, her head falling back to expose fully the ugly bruises Nathan had left, the sight of them like a punch in his gut. The bruise on her cheekbone was turning purple and she had other myriad scratches and bruises over the rest of her. He could have killed Nathan with each newly revealed injury.
Luckily Rose was past noticing his reactions. Her eyes were closed and she looked too tired to even pick up the soap. He took it upon himself, though he worried his calloused hands would be too rough for such skin. She deserved better, silk and soft sheets, nothing harsh or threatening ever again.
She gave a low hum of approval and sank deeper into the water as his hands slid over her. The candle he’d set on the chest of drawers flickered on the walls and burnished the length of her hair. He washed that as well, the rush of warm water and his massaging hands coaxing a soft moan from her. At last he sat next to the tub, glad just to be near her as she soaked.