Caroline swallowed. Her breathing was shallow, and she wiped her damp palms down the side of her flowered skirt. “Aren’t we taking a coach?” She rarely rode. The once fine stables at Simmons Hall were empty by the time her father moved Ned and her to the country. And the large animals frightened her. But then, nearly everything seemed to.
Spoiled. He should have known. Well, Lady Caroline Simmons was going to have some difficult lessons in reality... starting here and now.
“We’re heading for the frontier, Your Ladyship. The roads are mired with mud in the spring, choked with dust the rest of the year. At no time are they wide enough to accommodate a coach and four.”
“I see.” Caroline glanced back at the animal who pranced impatiently, and she sighed.
“You should go home.”
“I... beg your pardon.” The words were so unexpected, Caroline didn’t know what to think.
The face she angled up toward him was pale. He could plainly see a light dusting of freckles across her nose. Which Wolf told himself was why he offered her an escape. Besides, sending his father’s betrothed packing back to England was almost as effective as taking her to bed... at least that’s what he tried to tell himself.
Wolf folded his arms. “I have no idea what you were told, but Seven Pines is not what you imagine. Life is hard. The frontier doesn’t care that your lineage is pure or your skin soft as down. Return to England while you still can.”
“No!” Caroline sucked in her breath, “I won’t... I can’t return.” She felt childish blinking back tears that sprang to her eyes, but she couldn’t seem to control her emotions. For months she had worried about what was to become of Ned and herself. The chance to come here had been a Godsend. She endured the long weeks alone crossing the stormy ocean, only to have Robert’s son suggest she return... to give up the one chance she and her brother had to avoid debtors prison.
Grabbing the reins, Caroline put her fear into perspective. The ocean voyage had frightened her, but she managed it. She would manage this... and anything else that was necessary.
Wolf arched his brow, then merely shrugged. He’d given the woman her warning. His conscience was clear, he decided, as he cupped his hands to boost her up onto the saddle. But when he saw the expression of determination on her face, he wished she weren’t so adamant about staying.
It didn’t take Caroline long to understand why coach travel was impossible. They were barely out of the town before the roads deteriorated to mere trails. Most of them bordered dark, mysterious swamps. Large turtles sunning themselves on rotting logs glanced around as they passed. Later they traveled, often single file, through never ending forests of tall, stalwart pines.
Only once did they stop, and that was to rest the horses, and let them drink from a wide, slow-moving stream. But Caroline refused to utter one word of discontent. In the back of her mind lay the uneasy feeling that should she complain too much about the conditions, her companion would return her to Charles Town.
Besides, though her back ached and her legs grew stiff, she could bear this. And sooner or later Raff had to grow tired. But as the sun tinged the sky ahead with a splash of mauve, their pace seemed to quicken. Caroline twisted in the saddle, causing the leather to creak beneath her skirts.
Wolf glanced over his shoulder. “We shall be at George Walker’s soon. Then you can rest.”
Relief washed over her, but Caroline refused to let it show. Somewhere on the arduous ride, she decided to prove to this arrogant man that he was wrong about her ability to last on the frontier. “I’m quite all right,” she managed, only to see the ghost of a disbelieving smile tilt his lips as he righted himself in the saddle. With a slap of his reins, he prodded his stallion to a faster pace. Gritting her teeth, Caroline urged her horse to keep up with him.
Dusk was throwing eerie shadows across the trail when Raff led them onto an even narrower path that angled off to the south. Too tired to ask if this was leading toward the George Walker plantation he mentioned earlier, Caroline followed. Here she could see wide swathes of forest cut away to form plowed fields.
Civilization.
When a house came into view, Caroline sighed, obviously louder than she intended, for again Raff MacQuaid twisted to look her way. She kept her eyes focused on the house, refusing to acknowledge his stare.
Two storied, and whitewashed, age and the surrounding canopy of trees gave the whole a shadowed appearance. The dwelling had a wide front porch and shuttered windows. Beyond it and down a long sloping stretch of land, Caroline caught sight of a river. They reined in their horses, and a child of about ten came running from one of the outbuildings. He wore cutoff breeches and his dark bare feet were covered with sandy soil.
“Masta’, he done just come back from de fields.”
“He’s in the house, then?” Wolf asked as he reached up to lift his father’s bride off her horse. She sagged against him when her feet hit the ground, and his arms reached out to steady her. But she immediately righted herself and, with a murmured “thank you,” stepped away.
“Yessah, he’s in there. Gettin’ on close to supper time.” The boy took hold of the reins and led the horses toward the barn.
“That’s what I’m counting on.” Wolf turned and motioned Caroline forward with a wave of his hand.
She passed him, head held high, though her legs felt as if they would buckle beneath her at any moment. And worse, to Caroline’s way of thinking, it wasn’t just the long, unaccustomed ride that made her knees wobbly. Foolish as it was, the brief instant she’d stood in the cocoon of Raff’s embrace had affected her equilibrium. She only hoped her future stepson hadn’t noticed.
The door was partially open to allow the breeze off the river to come through. Wolf stepped inside just as a small dark-haired woman turned the landing of the stairs. She gave an excited yelp and raced down the remaining steps, propelling herself into Wolf’s arms. While Caroline watched, the tall, silent man lifted the woman and twirled her around till she begged for mercy.
“Papa said you might come,” she said when he put her back on the floor. “But we didn’t expect you this soon.” The young woman flashed her dark eyes toward Caroline, before her gaze riveted once more on Raff. “How long are you staying?”
“Only overnight,” Wolf brushed his finger across Rebecca Walker’s pouting bottom lip before turning to Caroline and introducing the beauty that clung to his hand.
This time Rebecca Walker’s attention to Caroline lasted a little longer, but it was as if an invisible string kept pulling her smiling face back toward Raff. “You promised to stay with us longer next time,” she reminded him.
“I said sometime, Rebecca. And that sometime is not now. I need to deliver Lady Caroline to my father.”
“Is that company I hear?” A big booming bear of a man with grey hair and a ruddy complexion came through a door near the back of the hallway. In half a dozen giant strides, he had Raff in a bear hug, repeating that the younger man wasn’t expected this early.
“I was able to have an audience with Governor Lyttleton immediately and saw no reason to delay. Besides, as I just explained to your daughter, I’m escorting Lady Caroline to Seven Pines. She’s to be Robert’s wife.”
Caroline didn’t imagine the slight lift of her host’s bushy white brows when Raff introduced her. But George Walker was extremely considerate and polite.
“You must be tired, my dear,” he said as he took her hand. “Rebecca will show you to your room. As soon as you’ve freshened up, we’ll eat.”
After thanking him, Caroline began to follow an obviously reluctant Rebecca up the stairs. The girl fairly bounced when she walked, and Caroline thought she must look very drab and listless in comparison as she clutched the banister.
Below, in the hallway, George Walker clasped his friend’s shoulder. “ ’Tis glad I am, that you’ve come. And not just because Rebecca wonders constantly when you’ll arrive.”
“I do no such thing,” Rebecca called
back, stopping so abruptly that Caroline almost bumped into her. “Papa, don’t you dare tell such tales on me.”
Rebecca turned, hands akimbo, and glared down at the two men standing shoulder to shoulder below stairs. Her cheeks were flushed and her dark eyes sparkled, and in that instant, Caroline realized why. Rebecca Walker was in love with Raff MacQuaid.
Since she had little experience with romance of any type, Caroline wasn’t certain how she knew. But know, she did. She glanced around, to see if she could discern if Mr. MacQuaid was privy to this tidbit of information, and her breath caught in her throat.
She’d thought of her future stepson as imposing and unmistakably masculine, in turn broodingly quiet and angry, but as she stared at him now, she appreciated how handsome he was. His hand rested on the rounded newel, as he grinned up at Rebecca. Then his piercing stare shifted, meeting Caroline’s, and she felt as if all the air was sucked from her body.
Rebecca flounced about, continuing the climb up the stairs, and Caroline had no choice but to follow.
Dinner that night was delicious; Caroline hadn’t realized how hungry she was. But afterward, when she would have preferred to climb into the soft down-filled bed and sleep, she adjourned to the drawing room with Rebecca while her father and Raff walked outside. Rebecca’s vibrant mood vanished, and she sullenly stared out the window, answering only briefly Caroline’s attempts at conversation.
Finally giving up, Caroline sat ignored and uncomfortable in one of the Queen Anne chairs, wondering when she could politely excuse herself. She’d just about decided she’d endured the woman’s silence long enough when Rebecca turned, her dark head cocked to one side.
“He hates his father, you know.”
“I beg your pardon?” Caroline wasn’t sure if she heard correctly. For the seemingly unsolicited statement made no sense.
“Raff. He can’t tolerate Robert for the way he treated his mother... and the rest of the Cherokee.”
Not knowing how to respond, Caroline studied the hands folded in her lap.
“He’ll hate you, too. I know he will.”
Caroline swallowed. “I don’t think any of this is your concern.”
“Oh, but everything about Raff is my concern.” She smoothed the swaying skirts of her brocaded gown. “I thought you should know that he’ll never care about you... because of his father.”
“ ’Tis very... kind of you to tell me.” Caroline stood, not quite knowing what to say. She smiled, hoping to relieve some of the tension she felt emanating from the girl. “I’m very tired. If you’ll excuse me, I think I shall retire.”
“That’s splendid. And don’t worry, I’ll make your excuses to Raff and my father.”
With a nod of her head, Caroline left the room, closing the door behind her. The hallway was airy, the door leading from the back of the house open, and Caroline couldn’t resist walking toward it. A breath of fresh air might clear her head and help her make some sense of Rebecca’s remarks. It wasn’t until she paused in the doorway that she realized Mr. Walker and Raff were nearby.
She couldn’t see them in the darkness, but though they spoke in hushed tones, she could hear them. Caroline was about to turn back inside when something her host said caught her attention.
“You think there will be war then between the Cherokee and the English?”
But it was Raff’s response that sent a shiver up her spine.
“Lyttleton sends talk of compromise. But I think it is too late.”
Titles by Christine Dorsey
written under the name:
Christine Elliott
The Captain’s Conquest,
written under the name:
Christine Dorsey
The Traitor’s Embrace
Southern Nights
Bold Rebel Love
The Captain’s Captive
The Rebel’s Kiss
Sea Fires
Sea of Desire
Sea of Temptation
Sea of Christmas Miracles (novella)
My Savage Heart
My Seaswept Heart
My Heavenly Heart
Splendor
The Renegade
The Rebel
The Rogue
By the Book
Under His Spell (novella)
The Way to a Man’s Heart (novella)
A Bride’s Desire (novella)
Christine Dorsey
Christine Dorsey lives in Richmond, Virginia with her proof that there are “happily ever afters”, her husband of forty-four years, Chip. She has three grown children, a son and daughter-in-law, and four of the most delightful grandchildren imaginable... just ask her. She also has a Springer Spaniel puppy, Stella, who keeps the household more than lively. Besides her family and friends, reading, writing and love of the sea are her passions. The author of seventeen books and four novellas with more to come, Christine loves to share the stories and characters that had Romantic Times Magazine calling her “one of the most talented authors in the genre.” You can follow her on Facebook, Twitter and her website, www.christinedorsey.com
Table of Contents
Sea of Christmas Miracles
Reader Letter
Excerpt: My Savage Heart
Titles
Christine Dorsey
Sea of Christmas Miracles Page 7