Chelynne (62 page)

Her stay there was short since the cost of caring for her soon stretched their compassion to its limits. They passed her along to a couple traveling through their shire who had lost their daughter and yearned for a replacement. For two years Alicia struggled to fill that empty space for them, but their constant criticisms proved she had failed.

Osmond and Mae, the fourth couple she came to live with, were at least honest about their needs. The miller and his wife had four sons. The sons would work the mill and fields, but alas there was no one to help poor Mae with the household. And so they took Alicia in. And while Mae was kind enough, it was clear Alicia’s position was to work for her food and lodging.

Osmond’s brother, Armand, owned the Ivy Vine and needed help during the demanding summer months. Alicia was sent, and the money she earned helped Osmond manage his mill and feed his sons. She would return one more summer, and then would be either married to a local or told to leave and make her own way.

Marriage to a country farmer did not frighten her, for she thought she needed little to be content in life. Just once she would like to be chosen rather than thrust on someone who had to take care of her, but there was little chance of that, especially in marriage. With no family, no dowry, and, from her point of view, nothing much in the way of looks, she imagined it would not be easy to find herself a husband. And he, whoever this husband would be, would likely beat her soundly when he discovered she was not a virgin.

She had learned her lesson painfully and would never again wager any dreams on the lust of a man. It was the summer before that she learned love could be quick and ruinous. Young Lord Perry, a nobleman recently returned to England, rode through their village on his way to London. His rich clothes, fine horse, and full purse had the immediate attention of all the maids, but his eyes were turned toward Alicia.

“Do the young men tell you that you’re beautiful?” he asked her.

She was taken aback by his question. He had only just arrived at the inn and the other maids were angry that Armand selected Alicia to serve his drinks and food. “No,” she answered truthfully, her voice soft and surprised.

He caught her hand and his eyes were laughing. “They’ve missed you altogether then,” he said. “They must fear marriage or love. You are beautiful.”

His words lunged at her heart, for not only had she never been considered pretty, she was not well liked. Minor kindnesses shown to her were rare, and the people she lived and worked with scorned her, calling her prideful and smug. She had very little to boast—clothes that were worn and did not fit, no time to primp, and no possessions to enhance her appearance—so this man’s flirtations sent her fleeing him without even a thank you.

She was forced to return to bring his food and keep his mug filled, and in a very short time he learned her name and she his; and something that caused her heart to flutter and her mind almost to disfunction had happened between them.

When his meal was finished he caught her hand again. “Will you sit with me for a minute?” he asked her.

“Armand will beat me if I sit,” she confided. “I am here to work, not to talk to our patrons.”

“Beat you?” Lord Perry shuddered. “God’s bones, I’d kill any man that laid a hand to you. You’re too beautiful to strike.”

Alicia only shrugged. Everyone was beaten for unfinished tasks and laziness, not to mention stealing or defiling a person or property.

“When will you talk to me?” he asked her. “I’d like to walk with you and know you better.”

“I cannot leave,” she insisted. “I told you, I’m here to work.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“In the morning after the cleaning I have my own time, but not much.”

“It’s settled then,” he announced. “I’ll stay an extra night, and in the morning you can show me the country.”

She remembered this stroll down country roads and through the woods as being an enchanted time, and remembered only recently that they had talked only about him. She did not blame him for that, since what could interest him about a country girl? When he told her he intended to stay yet another night so that he could be with her again, she was frozen with joy and lost a second night’s sleep.

Visions of passion and love consumed her. She hurried through her morning chores and stole away from the inn before anyone had time to ask her where she was bound. She worried only briefly about being caught and punished. This once, lolling about the countryside with Lord Perry was more important than fearing Armand’s beatings.

“Will you stay in the country and raise up a band of brats for a farmer?” he asked.

“I imagine I will—when you’ve gone.”

“Ah.” He laughed. “Then you think I’ll leave you? You’re so foolish, Alicia, if you can’t see that I love you. You’ve hurt me badly now.”

She stopped abruptly and looked up at him. “You love me?”

“I think I knew at once that I loved you. And what am I to do now that you don’t believe me?”

“Good Lord, I can’t imagine,” she returned in absolute seriousness.

He laughed at her and bent to kiss her forehead. “I shall have to take you to London with me and make you my mistress.”

“London, now!” she shrieked. “And to be your whore?”

His eyes were serious and his smile had faded. “Perhaps you’d be little else in all reality—but you don’t know the city, love. Whores have come to a place of distinction there. The king’s mistress all but rules the country.”

“Culver Perry,” she said in an admonishing tone, “if you love me so much, why would you wish for me to be a mistress to any man? I’m good enough to be a wife.”

“It’s truth, Alicia, you are indeed. But I am not able to marry whom I please. I must marry a nobleman’s daughter for lands to add to my family’s estate; otherwise they would disown me and not give me so much as an acre to farm. But they would not keep me from having you. I could dress you in silk, give you a fine home and all my love. Your comforts would be many.”

“I would be alone. What comfort is that?”

“Refuse if you must, but whatever your answer, I have pledged to marry the earl’s daughter and there’s no help for it. I’ll leave you without a fight. But I’d rather take you with me and find some joy in my life.”

Rich clothes and a fine home intrigued her, and being chosen, regardless of what she was chosen to be, made her heart leap with joy. She had a sense of belonging, rather than feeling thrust on a man and left as his burden for a lifetime.

She answered his pleading on a summer afternoon. On a bed of grass near a stream, the promise was sealed with her virtue and he gave his word to take her away in the morning. He seemed well pleased to discover her virginity; it did not occur to her that he was surprised. She was advised to carry on with her chores as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and before the breakfast meal was served they would be on their way. She had followed his instructions carefully.

Alicia did not bemoan her lost virtue at first, because it had in fact been the first time she had been held and loved. There had not been so much as a kiss from a farmer’s son in her life. And Culver Perry’s strong, lean body against her own sent her common sense sailing off on a breeze. Then there was the pain of the consummation and it was over. He did not hold her once the thing was done but quickly donned his breeches and barked at her to get on her feet.

“Up, wench, we can’t be in the woods all day.”

Alicia had obeyed instantly, something she had been carefully taught to do since early childhood. Though she was longing for him to touch her again, she bit back her request and sought to charm him with her obedience. “Do you love me, Lord Perry?” she asked him.

He covered her breast with his hand, and his bewitching blue eyes glittered. “You’re a good wench,” he replied. For at least a day she thought her question had been answered.

At morning’s first light she awoke and gathered her clothing. She dressed quickly and crept quietly to his room, but heard no answer to her light tapping. Inside she found his empty bed and no evidence that he had ever been there. She went to the common room but there was no one about. With a sickening pain growing in her stomach, she sought out the stable. She found only the stable boy doing his early morning chores.

“Has Lord Perry taken his horse out on some errand?” she asked in a stunned but controlled voice.

“Ay, ‘e ‘as at that,” the boy replied. “An’ ‘is things with ‘im. Without a shilling for Armand. Bloke’s run out on the fare,” he said. He continued to rake hay into one of the stalls.

“Perhaps he’ll return to pay.”

The boy laughed heartily at that. “It’s never a poor man what robs Armand, but those what says they’re rich. Bloody nobles.”

Alicia felt her heart plummet every time she remembered that morning. For a time she actually believed he would return for her and that some noble duty she could not understand had forced him to leave her against his will. But the truth was clear to her before she could delude herself for very long. He had lied so that he could lay with her, and had never intended to fulfill his oaths and promises. She, thankfully, had not confided her troubles to anyone and had not conceived. But something dear had been lost—and it was a great deal more than her maidenhead. She had felt something special and strong; she had trusted and been betrayed. The hope that he would return and attempt to repair the damage done was hard to dispel. But then seldom does a thief return to a debt. More than one debt waited at the Ivy Vine.

Looking back on all this as she waited for sleep to come, Alicia wondered, despairingly, if there would ever be so much as one person in her lifetime who would not use her to his own end.

She turned toward the attic wall and tried to command her thoughts to return to the freckled boy and red cloak. A tear clung to her dark lashes. She strained to think of the gray stone walls and the woman with the pale eyes. Where are they? she wondered. Who are they, and why can’t I remember them—find them? Was it something lived in another life, another time? Her concentration broke, and in the dark, swirling corners of her mind, she could feel and see the walls of the room, and the man’s touch was real, the coarseness of his black hair and the finely honed muscles of his back and arms...his lips and hot breath...the love words and promises that filled her ears and soul as she was brought to exhilarating heights of passion

And in her sleep she released a jagged sob.

BRING ME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS (a Virgin River novel)
coming October 2011

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About the Author

Robyn Carr is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of many novels, including The Virgin River Series. She and her husband, Jim, make their home in Las Vegas. She makes the occasional foray into HumboldtCounty in nearby California, where the Virgin River series is set. She enjoys interacting with her readers via Facebook and her free Robyn Carr mobile phone app. For more info, check out her website at
www.robyncarr.com
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