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? Nathaniel knew not the meaning of the word, let alone possessed one! She had no doubt 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 in two weeks’ time…if, by some miracle Nathaniel did manage to remain celibate. Sighing, she dismissed the thought. Not for one moment did she believe the captain was about to suddenly transform into a pillar of virtue.
“The hour grows late…thanks to your delaying our walk,” Nathaniel said. “As much as I am enjoying being out here alone with you, I fear I must retire.”
“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.”
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 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 pull her head back until she was forced to look 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 hands against the captain’s chest and pushed him away. She then took a few 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, speaking endlessly of 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. It all is 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 and turning a deaf ear to the murmurs of concern that 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 back when I was fourteen…when I chased after an injured deer and lost my way in a snowstorm?”
“How could I possibly forget? We thought for certain you were lying dead in the snow 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 forced us to return home. ‘Twas deemed a miracle when you appeared the next morning, very much alive.” He paused to give her a puzzled look. “But why are you asking me about an event that occurred over six 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. Otherwise, our paths never would have crossed…and I would not have survived.”
Ben’s mouth fell open and his grip tightened on her fingers. “Speak you 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 was naked,” she said softly. She 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 nightmares since that night I have seen him, 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 Rosalind’s 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 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 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. The scandal would bring shame upon our entire family. And what do you suppose our sisters’ chances of ever wedding a 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 ego never would allow him to accept a woman who has lain with another man…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.
“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 his gambling debts. Father spoke not a word of it to anyone, not even to Mother. If I choose not to wed Nathaniel, he has threatened to demand that his father call the debt…by laying claim to all of the Chandler land and possessions.”
Ben gaped at her. “And you believe these lies?”
“Unfortunately, Elias has the evidence in writing, complete with our father’s signature promising to repay the loan. I would like to think that because Elias has yet to call the debt, he has no intent of doing so. But if I decide not to wed his son and as a result, bring humiliation upon the Corwin family, I fear he may change his mind.”
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’s 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, too – 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 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, I will humiliate and upset the Corwins, and 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…would be safe.”
“If the amount is enough to warrant the taking of houses and land, I suspect ‘tis more than either of us 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.”
“I sincerely doubt that. Elias Corwin strikes me as a man who keeps track of every coin and forgets naught.” Ben 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? 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 bed sheet. Though I am not certain what that ‘proof’ might be, I am certain I no longer possess it!”
“Blood,” Ben said, appearing slightly uncomfortable. “The tearing of the maid
enhead 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 disrupt your wedding bed by checking the bed sheet 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 bed 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. A full minute 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 frightens 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.”
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