The Rescue

by Tanya Eavenson

  Had Glover seen his feelings for her, as his father said? Trent slowed his steps. “She’s still grieving her mother’s death.”

  “Has she spoken to you about it?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. “No, but I can tell. I’ve always been able to tell when she’s hurting.”

  “I believe she is.” He pointed to the Bunker Hill Monument. “Let’s go.”

  Trent glanced toward the house one final time, praying Glover would truly make her happy.

  “Do you hear me, Rosalind?” Glover whispered against her cheek. “I do not want to see you and Trenton alone again.” His fingers wrapped around Rosalind’s wrist so tightly that the veins in his hand rose to the surface. His knuckles turned white.

  “Please, Glover, you’re hurting me.” She tried to pull away, bumping her arm against a living room chair. “We were childhood friends. We’re still friends but that’s all. I promise.”

  He twisted her arm, and her legs almost buckled. She opened her mouth to plead with him again, but his piercing look stopped her. Tears sprang to her eyes at his expression. He meant to break her spirit, to make her compliant.

  He released her and her legs finally gave way, but he caught her by the elbow. “Stand and look at me,” he said. “I mean no harm, only to teach you what is expected.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she simply stood there, cradling her arm.

  He wiped her tears with a gentle finger, then raised her chin. “I never want to hurt you, but my anger and passion rages for you, Rosalind. I’m not responsible for my actions. This is your father’s doing. I’ve waited much too long to take you as my wife.”

  “Rosalind. Where are you?” Trenton’s mother called.

  His expression grew hard again. He ground his teeth, and she knew—as soon as the Eastons left, what little freedom she now enjoyed would be lost forever. She couldn’t afford to anger him further, but ...

  Rosalind looked up at him. “She’s all I have left of my mother. Please don’t keep me from her. I need the connection.”

  “She’s not the Easton I’m concerned about.” The harsh planes of his face smoothed and were replaced by a practiced smile. “Answer her. It’s all right.” He kissed her cheek.

  She shuddered.

  Another instant switch. How could a man be so violent one moment, so seemingly gentle the next? Rosalind’s heart pounded in her chest. “We’re in Father’s office,” she called. Her voice broke as she tucked her arm against her side.

  “Oh, there you are,” Mrs. Easton said. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”

  Glover cleared his throat. “Not at all, Mrs. Easton. We were discussing ... wedding arrangements.”

  “How nice. Rosalind, when you have a moment, I’d love information about any new shops in town.”

  “I’d be happy to help.” Rosalind slipped past Glover, keeping her attention on Mrs. Easton. “There’s one in particular Sydney loves.” She fled the room, lacing her injured arm through Mrs. Easton’s arm.

  Mr. Easton and Trenton entered the house, discussing something about horses. As they climbed the stairs, Rosalind looked over her shoulder at them.

  Behind her, Glover cleared his throat. Reluctantly she turned. Fear coursed through her at seeing the anger in his eyes.

  Chapter Six

  Trent’s internal clock awoke him to begin his daily chores—chores Matthew would be doing right at that moment.

  With a huff, he threw back his covers and strolled to the window. Darkness shrouded the Bunker Hill Monument in Monument Square. He’d enjoyed spending time with his father yesterday, but it made him eager to leave. He’d never suspected one could hurt so badly while loving another. Trent was beaten down, his heart tattered in ways he never knew he could feel.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. Coffee. He needed coffee.

  Trent dressed in the dark, put on his boots, then headed downstairs to the kitchen. Back home, the cook would have already prepared his coffee. Here, it seemed there was never a cook on hand until supper. Odd. He rubbed his chin, the stubble reminding him he needed to shave before going to buy his ticket home.

  He found a box of matches and struck one. Fire sparked, casting shadows and illuminating a candle on the table. He lit it.

  “Trenton?”

  He turned at Rosalind’s voice. The fire burned up the matchstick, searing his finger. He waved his hand, extinguished the match, then threw it on the table and glanced at his fingers.

  “Were you burned?” Rosalind took his hand in hers and held it near the candlelight.

  “You surprised me is all. I’m fine.” Her breath grazed his cheek. He hadn’t realized how close their faces were, their lips only inches apart. He couldn’t move. Nor did she.

  Then Glover’s hard face flashed across Trent’s mind. He reluctantly pulled his hand away and searched through a cabinet.

  “What are you looking for?” She spoke softly behind him.

  He almost paused at the lovely sound of her voice, her nearness, and the ache to feel her touching him once again only grew. “Coffee. I usually start my day with a cup.” He yanked another cabinet open.

  “We’re out, but I can buy some. I had already planned to shop today after I pick up my sister’s children.” She withdrew a cup from the cabinet.

  Trent turned to leave the kitchen and the house, knowing he couldn’t stay with her any longer.

  “Trenton, is there anything else you need?” she asked.

  He stopped in the doorway and turned to her. “Trent. I go by Trent now.”

  A brow rose. “Trent.” She said his name as if trying it out for the first time. And he loved how it sounded. He wanted her to say it again. Instead she gave him the sweetest of smiles.

  He’d made an idiot of himself by loving a woman who would never love him in return, and if he didn’t leave this house now, he’d say or do something that proved it to Rosalind.

  “Nothing, thank you.” He walked out the door, fighting the urge to go back to the house. Maybe by the time he walked through town, he’d have enough courage to buy his ticket or send a telegram to Texas, forcing himself to leave the woman he loved behind.

  Rosalind leaned against her bedroom door and closed her eyes. In the short moment she’d run her fingers over Trenton’s palm, she’d discovered calluses. Still, that simple touch made her feel ... warm, safe. She’d forgotten what it felt like. “Mother,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Every minute that ticks puts me closer to a marriage prison. I can’t even tell Sydney. I’m keeping secrets from her as you said not to, but what choice do I have? None. Only isolation.”

  She could have been loved and protected.

  She thought about Trenton and how he’d left as a boy, and yes, she’d cared for him then. But now he was all man and—she had to admit—everything about him intrigued her. Trent. Her thoughts turned to his broad shoulders and tanned skin, his callused hands and the scruff along his jaw. He wasn’t clean-shaven as the men in Boston. He was like no one in Boston. Most definitely not. Trent was now a Texan. And he would eventually return with his family to the town and land he loved.

  With a breath, Rosalind righted herself, running a hand down her dress. She collected the money Glover had given her father and stuffed it in her reticule, then rushed out, unable to stand being in the house that was once a home. Sydney’s federal-style house came into view as Rosalind hurried down the cobblestone street. Her sister waited in the doorway.

  She frowned and quickened her steps. “Am I late?”

  “No. I’m just excited to see Joshua.” She smiled. “William and Anna are in the carriage, ready for their walk.” Her sister rushed into the house, then slowly rolled the pram out. They lifted it down the steps. “I’ll be back after a while.” Sydney hugged her quickly and scurried off to her carriage.

  Rosalind glanced down at the infants in the stroller. “Your parents are so blessed to have each other. Come on, you two, before these disobedient tears of mine fall once aga
in.” She ambled down the sidewalk, her fingers flexing on the carriage handle. Children. She wanted them. Had always wanted them.

  Her blood ran cold at the thought, and she almost doubled over with certainty. Glover would want children right away. To further bind her to himself. To own her.

  She reached the general store but didn’t want to enter and risk seeing someone she knew—someone who might see her, recognize her distress, and question her. Possibly report back to Glover. She continued to the post office, to return later.

  Rosalind approached the post office, and just as the door opened, Trent stepped out of the building. “Trent?”

  He met her gaze and smiled. “Rosalind.” He grabbed the door and held it open for her. “I was heading to the general store, but I can wait. Can I keep the children for you while you go in?”

  She glanced down the street toward the entrance of the bank. Although she couldn’t see it from where she stood, she knew Glover would be there. “I won’t be long.” She left him with the carriage and two sleeping babies and hurried inside.

  “Hello, Miss Standford. What can I do for you today?” The older man’s lips rose almost hidden within his graying beard.

  She smiled in return. “Well, hello to you, Mr. Brown.” What would it be like to truly be so happy that a smile could be that contagious? “I came to pick up Father’s mail.”

  “A letter came for Mr. Standford just yesterday.” He pulled an envelope from a slot in the wall and handed it to her.

  “It’s a shame that young fellow, Trenton Easton, is leaving so soon. I remember him when he was waist high and you two were running around here like a bunch of Indians, claiming you were going to skin us alive.” He chuckled.

  Her breath caught. “He’s leaving? When?”

  “Oh, I think the telegram said Tuesday. Yep, if I’m not mistaken, he’d be on the train by Tuesday.”

  He was leaving. And so quickly. Was it because she told him to leave? Now she regretted the words. With the letter in hand, she said goodbye to Mr. Brown and exited the post office. Trent was cooing at the twins when she approached. “Thanks for watching them.” She squeezed the carriage handle, her voice unsteady.

  Trent’s eyes narrowed at her in question.

  She looked away. “Thank you, Trenton,” she said again more controlled. She didn’t want him to leave, leave her, not again, no matter what she said in the garden. She loved him to the depths of her soul. But she wouldn’t beg him to stay. Her life had been bargained away, and her heart had no say in the matter.

  “You on your way to the store?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll walk you then.”

  She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. If Glover saw them...

  Although Glover had meetings today throughout the afternoon and evening, he’d not be visiting her until tomorrow. And she wouldn’t be alone with Trenton. Not exactly. But would it be worth his wrath if he found out? Without accepting or declining his offer, she started walking, and he fell into step beside her. She wouldn’t think about it. Obviously, these moments would be her last with Trenton. With each step they took, her heart sank further to the pit of her stomach.

  “Can I push?”

  She looked at him. “And why would you want to push a baby carriage?”

  “To know what it feels like. I know what it feels like to lasso a wild stallion and pull a calf from its mother, but I’ve never pushed a carriage.” He winked.

  “I’ve never seen those things done. But this has to be much easier. Take over when you’re ready.”

  Without stopping, Trent placed his hands next to hers. “You should come to Texas.”

  She released her hold of the carriage. “So, you’re leaving Tuesday.”

  Trent slowed in front of the general store and nodded. Several children ran across the street. His gaze trailed them as they ran behind the building. “I bought a train ticket for Monday, but my mother told me today that Father is throwing a party in my honor on Monday evening. I purchased another ticket for Tuesday. So, yes, I’m leaving Tuesday morning. I planned to tell you. It’s time for me to head home.”

  The thought of him leaving was still a shock, but knowing she was bound to a loveless marriage with Glover made her shudder. There was no way out. No one to trust. “I’ll take the children.”

  “I’ll get the door.” He held it open so she could enter with the carriage.

  “You need coffee. It’s this way.” She pointed to a tall shelf at the back of the store. “I’ll get the flour and sugar I need.”

  A display of lace-trimmed handkerchiefs caught her attention. She ran her finger along the edge of one, a lovely white linen waiting for a woman’s embroidered initials. Her mother had owned several like these—special, elegant pieces just like Mother. A passage in Psalms her mother often read to her sprang to mind. “Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday.”

  Rosalind gazed at the sleeping babies. Yes, their small forms dwelled in the land and safe pasture. She wanted to believe the words were true for her, but God never answered her prayers. Her noonday sun was never coming. God had left her long ago to be hunted, then captured by a wolf.

  Trent neared, breaking into her whirling thoughts. “I hope you don’t mind. I bought what you needed. I’ll carry the items back to the house. Are you on your way there now, or do you have other things to do in town?”

  It took her a moment to come out of her chaotic reverie. “Uh. No. I need to take the little ones home now.”

  “Shall we?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him no, that she could manage the rest of the way on her own, but the temptation to spend just one last precious hour in his company was more than she could bear. “Yes.”

  Chapter Seven

  How dare he?

  From the window of his rented carriage, Glover eyed Trenton and Rosalind leaving the general store. She pushed her sister’s stroller and smiled and laughed, obviously enjoying herself. Any casual onlooker might assume them a family.

  He’d known Trenton wouldn’t keep his distance from Rosalind. Known Trenton would pounce on the first opportunity to spend time alone with her. Glover had purposely led her to believe he’d be busy elsewhere, just to present the opportunity to watch.

  He nudged the curtain open a little more, following their progress down the street.

  “Driver, back to the bank.” He reclined and folded his arms against his chest. Since the Eastons arrived, Trenton had been an aggravating thorn, possibly influencing Rosalind at every turn. If Roger hadn’t insisted on her being nineteen before marriage, she would already be his wife. Yes, he was almost old enough to be her father, but he wanted her, and he would have her.

  Glover pushed his way through the bank’s heavy double doors. His secretary—the bank president’s babbling idiot son—hurried to his side and followed him down the hallway. “Your one o’clock appointment is here, sir.”

  He stopped abruptly at his office doorway and barely refrained from sneering at the sniveling boy. “Does my one o’clock have a name?”

  The young man stared down at the pad in his quivering hands. “A Mr. Easton. Isn’t his portrait hanging in the foyer? As one of the bank’s founders? My father knows him.”

  “The very same.” What could Easton want? The man had suddenly resigned his position and left Boston under suspicious circumstances. Glover hadn’t ever been able to uncover anything, but something had driven the man west. Of that he was certain. Pity he didn’t know what it was, or he could use it against Easton. “Give me a minute, then send him in.”

  “Yes—”

  Glover entered his office and slammed the door in the young man’s face. Personal files lay on his desk. No do
ubt if he left them out, Mr. Easton would poke his nose where it didn’t belong. He stuffed them in the top drawer just as a knock sounded and his door opened.

  “Mr. Richards.”

  “Mr. Easton.” Glover walked over, shook his hand, and ushered him inside. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you by?” Tell me you and that son of yours are going back to Texas.

  “My son, Trent, has decided to return to Texas. We had planned to throw him a dinner later in the month, but with his change of plans, the dinner will be held on Monday, before he leaves on Tuesday’s train. We would like you to attend.”

  Perfect. “I’d be honored. I’ll tell Rosalind so she may accompany me.”

  “There is another reason I came to see you. I asked Roger about your relationship with Miss Standford.”

  Did he now. “I’m sure he told you we’re betrothed. My feelings for her run deep.”

  “I’m sure they do. As you know, prior to our move to Texas we were rather close with the Standfords. Trent and Rosalind grew up together, so much so that we still consider Rosalind like a daughter. I’ve come to ask your permission to allow Rosalind to dance freely with Trent that night if she so desires. I’m sure you understand.”

  Although it galled him to admit, agreement would further his plan far better than a refusal. Roger must have kept secret how he acquired Rosalind’s hand—good boy—or Easton wouldn’t be here asking permission as a gentleman. After they left, he’d immediately marry Rosalind.

  “Thank you, Mr. Easton. I appreciate your concern for my feelings in this matter. You and your family have my consent.”

  Mr. Easton offered his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Richards. You don’t know how much this means to us.”

  Glover accepted and gave a cordial smile. “Until the party then.”

  He’d monitor Rosalind’s every moment, especially when in Trenton’s company. Any fool could see the man still had feelings for her.