The Condemned (Echoes from the Past Book 6)

by Shapiro, Irina

  Mary sank to the ground and stared at the sparkling water of the creek. The water rose higher than it had at the height of summer and wasn’t as warm. The nights were cooler now, the days shorter, the winter stealthily approaching. Mary wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees, staring intently into the trees on the other side of the creek. She knew she should return to the cabin and put Walker from her mind once and for all, but some internal need to stay kept her rooted to the spot. She bowed her head, pressed her forehead to her knees, and closed her eyes, allowing the peace of the place to wash over her and fill her with strength. This wasn’t her first disappointment, and it most certainly wouldn’t be her last. This was for the best.

  What made her think she deserved to be happy? She was alive, fed and clothed, and in good health. Countless women would change places with her, even if they knew the truth. They would gladly settle for the security John provided and turn a blind eye to the other aspects of marriage. Some would probably even be grateful to be spared their husband’s carnal demands. There had been women in Plymouth who gave birth to one child only to get pregnant with the next within a few weeks or months. They bore babies every year, children they could ill afford, didn’t want, and were too exhausted to care for. With John, that’d never be her fate. She had to be thankful for what she had. She had to accept the hand life had dealt her.

  Mary finally pushed to her feet, brushed the grass off her skirts, tucked a stray curl into her cap, and turned to leave. She cried out in surprise when Walker stepped out from behind the wide-bellied oak. He had an unnerving way of blending in with his surroundings. He came toward her, his gaze smoky and serious.

  “I didn’t think you were coming,” Mary said by way of greeting. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She felt all aflutter, like a bride in love on her wedding day. Her resolve to have nothing to do with Walker evaporated like morning dew at the sight of him.

  “I was here all along.”

  “Why didn’t you show yourself?” Mary asked, stung by his admission.

  “I wanted to watch you for a while.”

  “Why?” Mary exclaimed, hurt boiling over.

  “Because I needed to be sure.”

  “Sure of me?”

  “Sure of myself,” he replied.

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means I want you to come with me,” Walker replied. He still hadn’t touched her or even smiled at her. His gaze was intense and unrelenting.

  “Come where?”

  “To the Powhatan village.”

  Mary stared at him. What exactly was he asking her?

  “Mary, you will be treated with kindness and respect. You will be accepted as my wife. No one will hurt you.”

  Mary shook her head. “I can’t. I’m not one of you.”

  “But you can be. My mother learned to be happy again. She married and had children.”

  “They called her Sad Eyes,” Mary reminded him.

  “Mary, my mother had endured something dreadful. Something she couldn’t bear to speak of, not even to my father. She was sad because she missed her homeland and her friends, and because she knew she’d never see any of them again.”

  “But given the choice, she would have returned to England,” Mary argued.

  “Perhaps. But there was no choice. She made the best of her situation. You have a choice.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes.”

  Mary looked into his opaque eyes, trying to understand what was driving him to suggest this to her. She’d never been one to ask for kindness or reassurance, but she had to know. “Walker, why do you want me to come with you?”

  The question seemed to surprise him. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not to me.”

  “I love you, Mary. I want to care for you and protect you. I want to have a family with you.”

  “You love me,” she repeated stupidly.

  “Is that so difficult to believe?”

  “No one has loved me,” she said. “Not since my parents died. I’m not sure I even recognize the feeling.”

  Walker closed the space between them and drew her into his arms, kissing her hard. This wasn’t a kiss of seduction—his kiss was a brand. He was claiming her as his own, letting her know that if she felt the same, he was hers for the taking.

  Mary kissed him back with all her innocent passion. She had no idea what was expected of her, but she needn’t have worried. Walker drew her away from the clearing and into a thicket of trees. No one would see them there, not even if they came looking. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her, silently asking for permission, and she gave it. She pulled off her cap, releasing her hair. It tumbled to her shoulders, framing her face. Walker ran his hands through the tresses. His eyes were clouded with desire and he reached for the laces of her bodice, tugging on them impatiently. Mary untied her skirt and let it pool around her ankles as Walker pulled her chemise over her head.

  She stood in front of him, naked and vulnerable. No one had ever seen her like this, except him. The first time, he’d stolen the privilege, but this time she was offering it willingly. He cupped her breast and lowered his head to flick his tongue over her nipple as he pulled her against his almost-naked body. He was so warm and solid, so sure of what he was doing. Mary surrendered herself to him, allowing him to lay her down on a bed of soft earth.

  Walker untied his breechclout and lay down next to her. His skin blended into the colors of the forest, unlike her milky whiteness that was in stark contrast to the green carpet beneath her. Mary expected him to take her, like John did, but Walker was in no rush. He kissed and caressed every inch of her, making her cry out as waves of red-hot pleasure washed over her, leaving her trembling with an urgent need. She clung to him, terrified he’d stop, but he was just getting started.

  “Walker!” His name escaped from her lips. It sounded like a breath on the wind, a prayer to a benevolent deity. And he responded in kind, worshipping her as if she were a goddess, and doing things that left her weak with desire. She grabbed a fistful of his hair when his tongue slid inside her, exploring her with an intimacy that heated her cheeks and stirred her blood.

  “Walker, please,” she pleaded, unable to stand it any longer.

  When Walker finally joined his body to hers, it was nothing like her awkward couplings with John. It was exquisite. She clung to him and ground her hips against his, desperate to take him in deeper and let him fill the emptiness that had been a part of her for so long. He answered her need by thrusting harder and faster, making her gasp with every stroke until something inside her uncoiled and burst forth, like a rosebud finally opening to the sun, its petals unfurling in all their scarlet glory. Her body shuddered around him as he reached his own peak, spilling his seed into her. His mouth stretched into a sensuous smile as he gazed into her heavy-lidded eyes.

  “Come with me,” he whispered. “Let this be our life.”

  Mary closed her eyes to block out his seductive invitation. Her body was damp with perspiration and her insides still quivered with the aftershocks of their love. She’d never known anything like this, and she never would again if she allowed Walker to leave her. Mary’s thoughts swirled in incoherent patterns, the threads escaping as she tried to tie them together. She wanted to go. She needed to stay. She wanted him to protect her. She needed to protect him.

  Mary forced herself to concentrate. She needed to make sense of what she was thinking. “I need a little time,” she finally said, unable to put into words what was in her heart. “Please, give me time.”

  Walker kissed her softly, his eyes glowing with love. “Take time, Mary. There’s no rush. I will wait.”

  “What would my Indian name be if I came with you?” she asked, allowing herself a moment to fantasize about a life with Walker.

  “Man Eater,” he whispered into her ear as he slid into her again. Mary’s eyes flew o
pen in surprise, but Walker was smiling.

  “Why?”

  “Because you are hungry,” he replied, precluding further questions by feeding her hunger until she was sated.

  Chapter 47

  Mary returned to the cabin just in time to get started on supper. John, Simon, and Travesty would be back from the fields soon, and they’d be hungry and tired. Mary went about her tasks, her hands moving of their own accord, unconnected to her jumbled thoughts. The hours she’d spent with Walker were the happiest she’d ever known. He hadn’t pressed her to give him an answer or spoken of what their life together might be like. He’d simply gloried in spending time with her.

  After making love for a third time, Walker pulled her to her feet and helped her dress. Her hands trembled and she couldn’t manage to tie her laces. He gently moved her hands aside and laced up her bodice, as if she were a little girl, then ran his fingers through her tangled tresses and expertly braided her hair, pinning it up so she could put her cap back on.

  “I want to show you something,” he said. “Come.”

  They followed the creek until Walker spotted a fallen log. He lifted it easily, held it up and allowed it to fall across the creek, forming a crossing. The log wasn’t thick, but big enough to hold their weight if they crossed one by one. Walker went first, then turned and beckoned for Mary to join him on the other side. She followed.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They walked for about a mile toward the Kirby plantation, then Walker took a sharp turn and pulled Mary deeper into the woods. There, nestled among the trees, was a small shack. The roof was covered with pine boughs and the walls green with moss, making the tiny dwelling almost impossible to spot.

  “What is this place?” Mary asked as she followed Walked toward the narrow door.

  “I came across it some time ago while setting traps. Some Englishman built this years ago, but it’s been abandoned for a long time.”

  Walker pushed open the door and invited Mary to come inside. The interior of the shack wasn’t nearly as ramshackle as the outside. There was an old wooden cot covered with a blanket of fur, along with other signs of habitation.

  “Do you sleep here?”

  “I did once, when I got caught in a terrible storm while hunting with two others. We were here for two days. I’ve never seen a storm like it before or since.”

  “So, why did you bring me here?” Mary asked.

  “It’s not safe for us to meet by the creek. Once the harvest is in, your husband and his servant will spend more time at home. And the woman, she is not to be trusted. She sees more than you think. We can meet here. And you can come here if you ever need a safe place.”

  Mary nodded. “All right. But I must go back now. I have supper to prepare.”

  “I went to see the physician yesterday,” Walker said as he walked Mary back to the spot where they’d met earlier.

  Mary’s eyes flew to Walker’s face. “Are you ill?”

  He flashed her a grin. “I am well.”

  “Why did you go, then?”

  “My mother was mistrustful of tribal medicine. She said the English knew more about healing. I want to learn about English ways.”

  “And did you?” Mary asked.

  “Dr. Paulson was happy to show me his medical tools and some of his potions. He was amused by my interest. He spoke to me like I was a curious child,” Walker said, chuckling. “His tools seem more appropriate to butchering meat. He showed me a saw for cutting off limbs.”

  “Sometimes it’s necessary to remove a limb to save a life.”

  Walker shrugged. “It’s barbaric. A body should not be desecrated. There are other ways.”

  Mary would have liked to know what those ways were, but they’d reached the turnoff toward the plantation.

  Walker gathered her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. He held her face in both his hands and smiled into her eyes. “I will wait for you.”

  “I will come,” Mary replied.

  That night, when John slipped out of bed, Mary didn’t care. Her body still thrummed with desire and she could hardly wait to see Walker again.

  Chapter 48

  February 2015

  London, England

  Quinn threw some clothes into a suitcase, then took half out and added several warm jumpers. She had no idea what she’d need, or how long she’d be staying, but it was sure to be cold. Her insides quivered every time she imagined her first meeting with Jo. What would it be like to finally meet her face to face?

  Quinn sat down heavily on the bed and stared out the window. Even after all these months, she knew next to nothing about her sister and had no idea what to expect. Would they have something in common? Would there be an instant spark of recognition between their souls, or would it be like meeting a complete stranger? Would Jo be welcoming or wary of her, resentful that Quinn had forgiven their parents for abandoning her? Would Jo want to be a part of Quinn’s life?

  All these questions would get answered soon enough, but Quinn couldn’t leave for Germany without making sure Gabe and the children would be all right. Gabe would take a few days off work, but he’d have his hands full. Emma went from being sweet and cuddly to bristling with defiance at the drop of a hat, and Alex drooled incessantly, his gums red and swollen with incoming teeth. He didn’t seem to be suffering too badly at the moment, but the pediatrician had warned that Alex might run a low-grade fever and experience periods of severe pain when the teeth cut through. Gabe was a hands-on dad, who didn’t shy away from any task, but he might need a helping hand all the same.

  Quinn picked up her mobile and selected Jill’s number. She hadn’t spoken to Jill since shortly after the New Year, when Jill was in the midst of running her post-holiday/going-out-of-business sale. Her cousin put on a brave face about closing her vintage clothing shop, but Quinn knew she was bitterly disappointed. The shop had been a cherished dream, a mad gamble for a person who, having trained as a forensic accountant, did not easily leap into the unknown. Jill wasn’t a risk taker, she was someone who liked lists and balance sheets, a person for whom every column had to add up. And now she was walking away from something that had been important to her and planning her return to the world of corporate accounting. Quinn didn’t expect her to be in good spirits and felt a twinge of guilt for not calling sooner.

  “Hey there, Quinny,” Jill exclaimed when she answered the call. “How’s the new year treating you?”

  “Not too badly. You sound surprisingly chipper,” Quinn replied with an amused smile.

  “No wallowing in self-pity for me. What’s done is done. I’ve given it my all and failed miserably, but I was wise enough to admit it and make the decision to move on. I embrace this experience and see it as a learning opportunity.”

  “That’s a very healthy way of looking at it.”

  “Not really. I’m just trying to sound like a New Age guru and talk myself into seeing this as a positive experience. I’m utterly gutted and want to drown myself in a vat of Malbec.”

  “Now that’s the Jill I know and love,” Quinn said with a chuckle.

  “Yeah, New Age positivity lasts for about thirty seconds before I remember that I have to start interviewing for a new job come March. How are things with you?”

  “Rhys has found Jo,” Quinn said, a catch in her voice.

  “Blimey. Where is she?”

  “She’s in a military hospital in Germany. She was hurt in an explosion while on assignment in Kabul. She was lucky enough to be picked up by some passing Americans. They saved her life.”

  “Oh, Quinn, will she be all right?”

  “According to Rhys, she’s on the road to recovery. I’m flying out to Germany tomorrow morning. I would have gone today, but Jude’s overdosed. He’s still unconscious. Logan’s with him. I feel awful about leaving at such a difficult time. Logan needs me,” Quinn said. “And so does Sylvia.”

  “Quinn, you can’t be in two places at o
nce. Jude has his mother and brother to look after him. Jo has no one. She hardly knows Rhys.”

  “She doesn’t know me at all,” Quinn replied, her anxiety returning. “She might not want me there.”

  “She might not know you, but you are her sister. You should be by her side whether she wants you there or not.”

  “Thanks, Jill. I needed to hear that.”

  “How will Gabe cope on his own while you’re gone?” Jill asked, her practical nature making itself known.

  “Actually, that’s why I called,” Quinn admitted. “Purely selfish reasons. Is there any way you can give Gabe a hand while I’m away? I’ve weaned Alex, so he’s on the bottle now, but he’s teething, poor mite. And Emma’s been a right little madam. Sometimes I forget she’s only five.”

  “No problem. I’m a free agent till the end of the month. The shop’s closed, the inventory has been disposed of, and I have nothing to occupy my time besides updating my CV and fretting about what comes next. I can even take the children for a night or two if that will make things easier for Gabe.”

  “Will Brian not mind?” Quinn asked. Jill and Brian had just moved in together at the beginning of January, a marked step toward formalizing their relationship, according to Jill.

  “The way I see it, Brian will either get on board or run for the hills and stay at his brother’s flat until it’s safe to come home. It will make for an interesting experiment.”

  “I’m glad you see my children as a means to an end,” Quinn joked.

  “I don’t. It’s just that Brian seems to be on the ten-year plan when it comes to starting a family. I wish he were more like Gabe.”

  “Gabe was on a ten-year plan as well. I just wasn’t aware of it,” Quinn replied. Gabe had waited eight years for her while she wasted her time with Luke.