Rebecca (3 page)

His eyes narrowed as his eyebrows drew close together. On her face, he read the undisguised emotions of obstinacy and disgust. Although it had been many years since he had been in the company of a lady, he had not been accustomed to being repulsed.

“Come here, Rebecca,” he growled. His hands grasped her shoulders and drew her to him. As one arm wrapped around her, his fingers tipped her chin up so he could view her pretty face. With a satisfied smile, he said, “You have yet to welcome your husband back from the cold of the grave, dear wife.”

“Please, Captain Wythe—”

“Nicholas, my dear,” he corrected, impatiently.

“Please, Nicholas, don't do this.”

He chuckled softly and lowered his lips over hers. Gently, but persuasively, he kissed her. His fingers slid along the slippery texture of her silken gown to caress her back.

Rebecca fought her desire to pull away. His kiss brought only feelings of despair as she realized it would be a long time or forever until she felt Keith's mouth against hers again. The half-forgotten, childish lark which had seemed like such a great adventure was coming back to haunt her.

When he looked down into her eyes, he saw the sorrow in their dark blue depths. He was not surprised that she was so confused. To discover that a spouse who had been mourned so long ago was alive and wanted her would have stunned the most resilient person. “Go and change, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear.

“I must get a dress out of my bag.” Her voice caught on a half-sob as she added, “I hadn't planned on changing until I was at Keith's house.”

“Go ahead. I will see your things are loaded.” He looked at the small trunk and the battered bag with the words “SGT Hart North, Connecticut Militia” stenciled on it. “Is this everything, Rebecca?”

She nodded. Stooping, she pulled out her everyday frock. It would handle the trip best. She continued to be astounded at how her mind seemed able to handle the most minuscule details although she could feel nothing. Not that she was anxious to feel anything. When the numbness wore off, the pain would be so strong it might rip her apart.

In her room, she changed quickly. She pulled the pins from her upswept hair and braided it in its normal style. Wrapping the braids around the crown of her head, she put the hairpins in a pocket of her skirt. Picking up her wedding gown, she went back out into the main room.

Nicholas was standing in the doorway with his profile to her. For a long moment she stared at him. All of her confused perceptions of him came together as she watched him speaking to someone she could not see. He was an incredibly handsome man with his dark coloring and flashing eyes. His clothes were cut in the latest style, and the white of his stockings was unmarred. If she had not hated him so much for laying waste to her life, she would have admired the virile lines of his body so finely accented by his well-made breeches and coat.

The sound of her light step caught his attention. He turned to see the woman who suddenly resembled the child-bride he had left when he had expected to go to his death. In her homespun gown and her hair in braids that did nothing to detract from her beauty, he could see more of the fourteen-year-old Rebecca. Gone were her smile and her joy with his agonizingly slow progress as he had fought the infection of his wound. Holding out his hand to her, he took her slender fingers in his. “Come along, darling. Our carriage is waiting. We have many miles to go before nightfall strands us along these desolate back-roads.”

She stepped into the sunshine to learn he had been talking to a man who obviously was going to be their driver. Astonishment filled her eyes as she saw the lovely carriage that awaited them in front of her rustic home. Even though she knew it was not Nicholas', it was impressive. Before now, she always had ridden in a wagon.

“Oh, my!” she whispered as she stared at the fine paneling on the doors and the curtains that could be drawn across the windows. They were richer than the simple material hanging over the panes of glass in the cabin.

“I thought my Lady Foxbridge would enjoy traveling in the style that she will become accustomed to in England.” He lifted her fingers to his lips.

“Oh,” she whispered, unable to think of anything else to say. She glanced at him sharply, wondering if he was jesting, but his dark eyes regarded her evenly.

With a smile, he aided her into the carriage. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the velvet-covered seats and brocade-embellished walls. Tentatively, like a child afraid of touching something forbidden, her fingers stretched out to stroke the material. When she heard her companion's laugh, she blushed and snatched her hands back to clench her dress. His cruel reminder that she was so unsophisticated compared to those who inhabited his life on the far shores hurt her deeply.

When Nicholas sat next to her on the cushioned seat, he draped his arm along the back of the cushion with his fingertips resting lightly on her shoulder. His other hand slapped the side of the carriage to signal the driver to start.

As the settings of her childhood rolled past them while the vehicle picked up speed, Rebecca tried to keep from looking at the beloved sights she would never see again. She did not want her precious memories tainted by the sorrow of this leavetaking. When they went past the church she had entered so happily less than an hour before, her eyes were caught by those of her beloved Keith as he stood on the steps and watched as they went by.

“I'll be coming for you, Rebecca!” he called into the cloud of dust from the wheels. “Soon, sweetheart!”

She gasped as she felt the tightening of her companion's fingers into the soft skin of her shoulder. The words which had sent a swelling of hope through her heart clearly filled her husband with rage. Softly, she said, “Nicholas, that hurts!”

He pulled his hand away and stated gruffly, “Excuse me, my dear. I didn't mean to bruise you.”

When she heard the gentleness in his voice, her last bit of composure dissolved into tears which fell in a violent storm of despair. Her whole life had been decimated. Her dreams of being married to Keith were dead, and her nightmares of being bound to a man she did not love were the total of her life. Hiding her face in her hands, she turned away from the man beside her. Her shoulders shook convulsively. When she felt his hands on her arms as he tried to turn her into his embrace, she snarled and ripped herself away from him.

“Don't touch me!” she spat.

“If that is what you wish, Rebecca,” he answered in a taut voice, “then you can cry alone. If you don't want my comfort, you won't receive it!”

Without turning, she sobbed, “I don't want anything from you!”

“That's obvious!” he snapped back.

She felt the seat shift as he moved to sit on the far side. Crouching against the wall in front of her, she placed her face on her arms and sobbed until there were no more tears left within her. She cried for lost dreams and for the Rebecca who had been left behind. She cried for everyone this cold man had hurt so callously. She cried until her eyes grew heavy with fatigue, and she slipped away into the only world where her love for Keith remained uncompromised.

Chapter Two

Rebecca awoke to the changing rhythm of the carriage. She murmured softly as she drowsily tried to patch together what had happened before she had napped. It was so unusual for her to sleep during the day that she could not comprehend for an eternal minute why she had fallen asleep.

The feeling of lips pressed softly to the top of her head brought a smile to her own. When an arm around her pressed her closer to a warm body, she stretched out her fingers along the rich wool of a man's coat. Her face was tilted back to be at the perfect angle to meet the mouth of the one who held her. For a moment she was swept along on the sweetness of the tender kiss.

Abruptly, her eyes popped open. This was not Keith who was holding her and caressing her with eager desire. There was laughter in the nighttime-dark eyes of the man who was kissing her. Although she struggled, Nicholas just pulled her tighter to him. “Did you have a pleasant nap, my dear?” He ran his hand along the loosened strands of hair falling around her face in waves. His eyebrows drew together in the evil expression she was learning to fear. “It isn't so horrid to sleep with your husband, is it?”

She could not halt the fire-hot blush which colored her face, but her words were icy cold. “You know as well as I do that I can't stop you if you demand your rights as my husband, Nicholas. Just don't think that I will come to your bed willingly.”

He bent to kiss the smooth skin of her forehead. Against her cheek, he vowed, “Someday, you will, Rebecca. Someday, you will come asking that I hold you and make love with you.”

“Don't be so sure of that! I hate you!” she cried.

“Do you?” he asked reasonably. “That's a true pity, for you are my wife. I had hoped you would be a bit more willing to accept the situation and see that we don't have to be unhappy with the circumstances.” He looked out the window. “Here's the inn where we will be spending the night.”

Silently, she slipped out of his loosened grip to regard the building. The name of the inn was illegible on the wind-scoured sign which hung over the small porch. The whole building was in desperate need of whitewashing, but the yard was free of clutter, and all the windows were intact. The carriage pulled into the stableyard and stopped. When the driver opened the door, Rebecca could see children gathering across the dirt trail to view the outlandish sight of such a fine vehicle, which must be as common in the small settlement as ice in July. She was sure that, hidden behind the open windows and doors of the cabins, their elders were as eagerly awaiting the chance to view the ones who rode in such luxury.

Nicholas stepped out and held up his hand to her. When she stood on the ground next to him, he wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her back gently. She tried not to move away, for she knew such an action would enrage him. She was sure she did not want to face that wrath.

Calling out to one of the children, he said, “Lad, come here.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Help my man here with the luggage, and then I will give you a few coins to treat your friends to candy at the store.”

“Yes, sir!” he said eagerly.

As Nicholas took Rebecca's arm and turned to go into the inn, a young child ran up and pulled on his coattails. He squatted down to gaze into the little girl's face. “Yes, miss?” he asked with kindness.

“Are you King George, mister?”

He laughed loudly and tousled her soft, blonde curls. “No, young lady, I'm not King George.”

“Oh,” she said, obviously disappointed. “I thought when I saw your pretty carriage that only a king would drive in it.”

“Let me tell you a secret,” he said with a smile. “See that lady over there.” He pointed to Rebecca who was pausing by the front steps of the inn to watch the exchange with a baffled expression. “She's a princess who has been hidden away for many years, and I'm taking her back to her castle in the clouds.”

The child gazed at Rebecca, wide-eyed. She had never expected to see a real princess, especially one who was on her way to a palace in the sky. Without another word, she ran toward her home to tell her mother what she had seen.

Rebecca was curious what Nicholas had told the child who had been looking at her so queerly. When he rose and walked over to where she was waiting, there was the remnant of a delighted smile on his face.

“Were you like that little girl, Rebecca?”

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“Must you act so suspicious of everything I ask you?” he retorted with sudden heat. “Maybe you were never like her, believing in lost princesses and magic.”

More puzzled, she repeated, “What do you mean?”

“Never mind!” he said coldly. “Come, and we will go inside.” He took her arm and turned her roughly toward the stairs. “Sit here,” he ordered, pointing to a bench. “I will handle the details of getting our accommodations, and then I will take you upstairs so you can ready yourself for dinner.”

Chastised, although she did not understand what she had done wrong, she obeyed. She watched as several of the young boys came in with the luggage which had been tied to the top of the carriage. They stopped to speak to the innkeeper, then carried it upstairs. When they returned, Nicholas counted a generous amount of coins into their hands. She could hear the boys whooping in delight as they raced outside to share their largesse.

Rebecca stared at her hands clasped in her lap. It seemed that her husband could be kind to everyone but her. As much as he seemed to enjoy talking to these youngsters, he delighted in being sarcastic to her. When she showed her lack of ease with the luxury he took for granted, he found it cruelly amusing. If she could not comprehend what his strange words meant, he viciously snapped at her. The only time he showed her any compassion was when he was trying to seduce her away from her love for Keith.

She could not help flinching as Nicholas took her arm to lead her up to the second floor. He made no comment, but she could tell he was angry by the tightness of his jawline. Already she was becoming able to read the powerful emotions that he kept so closely restrained.

At the top of the stairs, he opened a door. He motioned for her to precede him. Rebecca took a deep breath and walked into the room. She feared the moment had come when he would force her into bed. Alone in this nondescript, wayside inn partway to New York City, she would have no choice but to submit. Submit she would, but not freely.

She stood in the middle of the worn carpet, her fingers clamped tightly around the strings of her bag. Her eyes surveyed the room. It was a pleasant space, far more opulent than she was accustomed to in her plain home. There was a dressing table and chair to one side by a changing screen. A bench was set near the hearth of the fireplace, which took up one whole wall. This she noticed later. What she saw first and solely was the large featherbed which dominated the room.