“Then what, Rebecca? Do you want me to reach back and change the past? Do you think I should beg for forgiveness? I don’t know what to do! I can’t make it up to you. I did it. I admit it. I ordered a bride and as a result I have trapped you here. I cannot change that.” He buried his face in his hands, his elbows on the table, in total frustration and humiliation.
“Timothy,” Rebecca took a very deep breath and steadied herself against the table. “I know you ordered a bride because it was me. I am R. Fagan.” Rebecca felt faint.
He lifted his face from his hands and stared at her.
“What?” he choked.
“R. Fagan, Rebecca Fagan. I am the woman you ordered to care for your son. There was no mistake. I got the tickets. I answered the ad. I was on the train to St. Peter. I am the one who brought this all about.”
“Rebecca, no. How is that possible?” Timothy studied her weary face.
“Timothy,” the young woman sighed. “My husband was murdered. I had nothing and the servants had the missive with the ads. Your ad was so clear, so absent of empty promises. I was, I am destitute. I’m ashamed enough of the fact that I answered your ad, but I told no one. I never told Mark, and I did not tell you. As time went on I was more mortified. When Octavia pointed out that man, and his ‘picture bride’ at the party, I fainted.”
Timothy Elgerson stared at the girl in shock.
“You were so kind to me,” she swallowed hard. “Stavewood is so perfect, so beautiful. I couldn’t admit my shame to the sheriff or to you. I didn’t want anyone to know about me.
“The day Octavia visited, you were away. She told me about the bet the man had lost, and the men who ordered him a wife. I was sure that was what had happened for me. For the life of me I never heard your full name. I never heard ‘Elgerson’ until Octavia said it that afternoon. When I realized it was you I became even more ashamed. I thought someone had sent for me as a joke and I couldn’t tell you. How could I? What would you think of me? She said that the women who answered those ads were not thought of as anything more than common prostitutes and I believed her.
“Then Mark was lost, the horse was killed and now Finn is dead. All because I was too proud to say anything. This is not your fault, Timothy.”
He studied her pale face and saw the pain in her deep, emerald eyes. He could not conceive of any reason she would even consider answering such an ad. Rebecca was unmistakably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was intelligent and refined and there was not a man alive with two eyes in his head that could miss that. He could not believe that she would ever imagine herself unable to find any number of men who would do anything she pleased.
Why would she admit to answering his ad when it was so apparent to him she’d have no need for such a thing? Yet, everything she said fit the truth perfectly. In fact, it should have occurred to him before. If she had said something earlier, so many things would have gone differently. He understood her reasoning perfectly. He was embarrassed himself when he placed the ad, giving it all to Finn because he thought the man too simple to understand what it meant.
Rebecca stood terrified, waiting for the man to respond to her admission, but he just stared at her strangely. If only he would say something. Even if he were to hit her as David would have done, it would be some reaction. She begged him silently to say or do anything at all.
He continued to look at her, piecing everything together. He recalled every look, and all the times she had made no sense, and every time he had looked at her and tried to understand.
It all made perfect sense. She had been telling him the truth. She had not invented some story to make him feel less responsible. If anything, the blame had become worse. Instead of a stranger, she was exactly the woman he had sent for and the danger remained the same. It had become so complicated and overwhelming he could not put together a response.
Timothy sighed and walked heavily to the chair and slumped down, his head in his hands.
“Oh, Rebecca,” he finally moaned.
She turned to him and cried softly. “Timothy, I’m so sorry. I tried to bring myself to say something, but every time I refrained it got worse. And with each terrible turn it became more impossible to tell you. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I hoped that you would never know who I really was, what I really am. I kept hoping that, if you never found out what a desperate and shameless thing I had done answering the ad, believing after time it was only a joke, and thinking about what everyone here thought about picture brides, you’d accept me somehow. It made sense to me that it was a joke. I could never imagine anyone like you would order a bride. You are rich and handsome and so very dear.” Rebecca sat down before him.
“You had Octavia,” she continued. “Why on earth would you possibly want me? Even that night we spent together…” Rebecca stopped short and Timothy looked up suddenly.
“That night? The night I got so drunk?” The big man stood up, overturning the chair.
Rebecca hid her face in her hands, too overwrought to have thought about what she was saying.
He pulled her up and stood her upright to face him.
“What happened that night, Rebecca?”
She began to shake violently.
“It wasn’t a dream! What happened, Rebecca?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she cried, pulling from him. “I let it happen because of how I felt about you. I never meant to trick you into being with me, I didn’t. I just wanted you.”
She fled to the stairs and he followed her close behind. As she turned to slam the door he burst in and demanded she describe what he had come to believe was only a dream.
“I can’t,” she cried as he grabbed her arms and forced her to face him.
“Rebecca, tell me! Did I force you that night? I have to know!”
“Force me? No, you forced me to do nothing.”
Timothy relaxed his grip.
“Then, what?”
“There was no pressure on your part,” Rebecca turned from him in complete embarrassment.
He sat on the bed, as Rebecca closed the door quietly. “I thought it was all a dream. All day I thought about it, that it was the most incredible dream. But it was not a dream. You were in my bed that night, and here. It was here too, right here in this room.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Right here.”
“But you never said anything.”
“The next morning you were so angry, and you didn’t remember.” She sobbed quietly.
Timothy groaned, “Oh, God…”
“It’s alright, Tim. It happened. I wanted it to happen. You were drinking and I did nothing to stop it. It happened and you should not be sorry.”
“Are you?” He looked up at her breathing hard and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
“Sorry? That I mislead you? Yes, terribly. Sorry that you were so perfectly wonderful? Never!” She looked into his tormented eyes wishing everything had been different.
“If I had told the truth all along then there might have been hope that everything was as perfect as that night. But I didn’t. I kept the truth from you and everyone else. I had no right to be with you that night. I am sorrier for that than anything.” She stood before him crying softly, hoping with all of her being that he could just forget it all. Forget she had come, forgive her lie and, if possible, in some way forget what she was.
“I’ll leave immediately, Tim. I can’t undo any of it, but I will never forget that night.”
“Leave? Is that what you want, Rebecca? Do you want to leave Stavewood?”
“No,” she cried hard. “More than anything I want to stay, but I know I cannot.”
“Rebecca, tell me.” He held her shoulders powerfully and stared into her eyes. “If this could all be resolved, if none of it mattered, Rebecca, what would you want?”
“You,” she whispered.
Chapter Forty-One
Timothy Elgerson whisked Rebecca swiftly up into his arms and carried her through the hall.
She clung to him, afraid that none of what was happening existed, and just as quickly as it happened it would all disappear again.
He expected, in his state of exhaustion, there would be little performance on his part, but he wanted her close to him, safe in his bed.
He placed her gently onto the bed, covering her carefully with the downy quilts. Then he walked around, undressed and climbed in next to her.
He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her face seriously.
“Stay right here!” he commanded her and fell back onto the bed.
Rebecca lay listening to his breathing. In a few seconds she heard a soft sigh and smiled. Snuggling beside his safe warmth, she drifted off to sleep.
Timothy Elgerson lay awake in the soft light of early morning with Rebecca Fagan beside him, breathing softly, close to his side.
Her slender leg was thrown across his bare thigh and he knew instantly that a good night’s sleep had done wonders as he stirred beneath her.
He turned to face her and found her smiling at him invitingly.
“Mister Elgerson, it appears that at least part of you has decided to begin the day,” Rebecca giggled.
Timothy chuckled deeply and pulled her towards him, smothering her with his kisses and leaving her panting for breath.
“Rebecca,” he whispered as she slipped away from him. She stood beside the bed, allowing her gown to fall from her shoulders into soft folds about her ankles.
Her body was perfectly shaped, her shoulders pale and silken in the soft morning light. He felt her warmth, enticing and compliant as she slid back in beside him and he struggled for control. He had foggy memories of their first time and he feared had performed badly. He did not want that to happen again.
He touched her slowly and carefully and in his hunger for her he struggled to take his time. He kissed her softly on the nape of her neck and he felt her shudder, begging for more. As his warm lips touched her breast she arched her back and pulled him closer.
Her trim waist encircled in his firm hands, he lifted her gently while kissing her belly softly and Rebecca feared she could stand no more. As he lowered his kisses, she caught her breath, unsure of how she should behave, but her craving for whatever he had planned for her overcame her apprehension and she allowed herself to accept his advances.
As his kisses reached their destination Rebecca gasped and lifted herself to him without restraint, the warmth of more pleasure than she had imagined washing over her. She pulled his broad muscular shoulders up to face her and as he entered her, the pleasure engulfed her even more.
Timothy held back, watching her panting, immersed in fulfillment, feeling every vibration of her soft moans. His name escaped her lips in a soft whisper as every inch of her flawless body blended perfectly with his own.
“Rebecca, I was such a fool,” his voice deep and low, as in ragged breaths he whispered heavily against her lips. He drew her to him suddenly, thrusting deeply and pulling her powerfully against him, fiercely trembling as she rose to meet his passion.
Rebecca’s fingers felt the immense strength of his muscles rising against her as she seized the firm flesh in his straining release, the imposing tightness of his broad powerful shoulders exploding as they expanded against her craving grasp.
The depth of his passion filled her entirely as they joined together in a perfect bond, the unreserved fulfillment of desire they could both no longer deny.
He moved slowly as he shifted his weight from her, and pulled her to him, and she buried her flushed face against this throat.
“Rebecca,” he whispered, her tender face pressed against him. He looked down, her soft eyes met his own and he knew instantly what he had seen in the depths of her passionate gaze for so long, afraid to acknowledge.
“Marry me, Rebecca.”
She choked and her eyes filled with tears.
“Nothing else matters, none of it ever has. Marry me and I will stop at nothing to make you happy. I promise.”
“You already have,” she whispered. “Yes, Timothy. I will marry you.”
Chapter Forty-Two
As she rose from the bed, gathering her robe in one hand and trailing it behind her, she smiled provocatively and walked towards the bath.
“If you continue in that manner, woman, I fear you will find yourself back in my bed!” He scowled and made a move to get up after her.
Rebecca giggled and scampered into the adjoining room, closing the door behind her.
Timothy lay back in the bed. The pleasure of the morning and Rebecca’s return of his love had changed his world, but he knew there were problems he would have to address.
He would have to explain this amazing turn of events to Ben and many others as well. He decided he ought to speak to Rebecca about it before revealing the full story to just anyone and worried that word of their relationship might make some things worse. If Dianna was pursuing Rebecca, this could provoke her and the thought worried him.
When she returned, clothed in her robe, he sat up on the bed and approached the subject.
“This changes everything you know.” He studied her face, awaiting her reaction.
“Does it really matter, Timothy?” she asked, curling her feet beneath her robe on the bed beside him. “If you want me, no matter what, then no other opinions really matter. I was ashamed of answering your ad. I was so ashamed that I kept it hidden. But I never have been ashamed of what I feel for you.”
“When word gets out it might make you more vulnerable to Dianna and Octavia. I’m worried about that risk.”
“Is that your worry?” Rebecca was afraid there might be something more.
“Yes.” He pulled her to face him, looking openly into her eyes. “Rebecca, I love you. I think I have since that day I pulled you from the mare in the woods. Through all of this that hasn’t changed. I only worry that something might happen to you.”
“You deserved that kick in the woods,” she smiled through her welling tears, and put her head against his wide chest.
“It was Stavewood,” she whispered, tracing a delicate finger along his ribs.
“Stavewood?”
“The day I arrived, I saw the look in your eyes that day. I knew then, it was as if I had always belonged here. I knew then.”
“You have always belonged here, Rebecca. I built Stavewood for a dream I thought I had found. But I was mistaken. The day we arrived and I looked at you I knew I had built it for you.”
He held her close to him, their thoughts and fears intertwined until they heard activity downstairs and Rebecca’s head shot up.
“How will I get back to my room like this without anyone seeing me?”
“This is your room now. Stay here.”
“Timothy,” she scolded. “If Mark knew I was sleeping in here what would he think?”
“He’d probably be thrilled! Anyway I think after the sounds that have been coming from this room, the whole household probably knows!” He smiled devilishly.
“Oh!” she huffed. “You’re just as impossible as you were before I told you that I love you.”
“No, you said you loved Stavewood.”
“I was wrong,” she pouted. “You’re even more impossible! Now how am I going to get back to my room?”
“Alright, I’ll be a lookout. How would that be?”
She smiled at him sweetly, “I love you, Timothy,” and gave him a shove with her tiny foot.
“Ach!” He fell back on the bed.
Before he could execute his furtive plan Birget appeared at the door, unable to find Rebecca and flustered with worry.
“Rebecca’s here,” he informed the cook, after jumping into his pants and answering the door, unable to have the poor woman worried about the girl.
Rebecca stood behind the door glaring at him as he smiled.
“Ah,” the cook replied. “Then she is safe.”
“I suppose that would be a matter of opinion, Birget.”
Rebecca was stomping her fe
et silently behind the door, showing claws and mouthing threats.
“Very well, sir. I will serve breakfast.” Birget turned away puzzled as Timothy closed the door.
“You!” Rebecca dashed at him, beating him soundly on the chest, her frustrated voice a rushed whisper. “How dare you, you shameless rogue!”
“See Rebecca?” he announced proudly as she battered his solid chest. “I don’t care who knows!”
“Stop tormenting me and see if I can get back to my room!”
He peered out into the hall, making an exaggerated display of looking up and down the corridor several times and pushed Rebecca out, his big hand on her soft backside.
Forgetting to mention the sheriff’s arrival, Birget turned on the stairs in time to see Rebecca being thrust playfully into the hall and scolding Timothy. Birget waited until she heard Rebecca’s door softly close, and climbed the stairs to make her notice to her employer, smiling broadly.
Timothy appeared in the dining room, carefully shaved and smartly dressed. He had checked Mark, and, finding the boy was chipper and eager to be out of bed, told him to come down for breakfast.
The boy felt that something had changed, but when Rebecca arrived in his room, her cheeks rosy and smiling broadly, he was certain something was going on.
“Rebecca?” he asked as she combed the boy’s hair. “Are you still going to leave?”
“No, Mark, I think not. Things are different now. Your father and I will explain it to you soon.”
She turned him to face her and to check his appearance.
“Is it because you’re in love?”
Rebecca nearly choked. “What?”
“I know you are both in love. I can tell.” He announced devilishly.
“But, how?” Rebecca was terrified that her and Timothy’s love making may actually have been heard all through the house. Rebecca blushed deeply.
“I dunno, I just can. I see how you look at each other. I watched you dance and stuff. I think you and my father are in love, but you’re both chicken.” He smiled proudly.
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