Sybill (53 page)

“Rebecca?”

She sighed as she pulled herself reluctantly from the arms of the man she loved to face the man to whom she was married. Taking her fingers, Nicholas placed them on his arm. Without another word, he led her toward the door at the back of the church. She was startled that there were no shouts of protest, but the others had learned what she knew. Nicholas Wythe was her husband. According to the law, he had done nothing wrong. According to the law, she belonged to him.

The sounds of a multitude of conversations followed them out into the sunshine. In response to his questions, she pointed out which cabin belonged to the North family. He quickly turned in that direction.

“My things are all packed,” she murmured. “Hart was going to take them to Keith's house after the wedding. The trunk is in the main room of the house.”

When they entered the small house, she fought the tears burning behind her eyes. Never again would she see this place that had been home for all her memory. When she had said farewell earlier, it had not been a real good-bye. She had planned to visit often. That would be impossible if she was living on the far side of the ocean.

Nicholas said quietly, “Go change, Rebecca.”

“Change?”

“You do not want to travel in your lovely dress, do you? It might soil quickly on our trip. It isn't an easy journey to where our ship is docked in New York City harbor.”

For the first time, she heard a hint of sympathy in his voice. Her eyes rose to meet his ebony ones. In the merest of whispers, she asked, “Why, Nicholas? Why are you taking me away from Keith?”

“Keith? Oh, you mean your erstwhile fiance?” He chuckled in a tone as black as his hair. “My dear Rebecca, you are my wife. I don't choose to be wed to a bigamist. No, no, there is no reason for you to say it. I don't plan to let you ask for an annulment. Our wedding was legally and properly done. You are mine, sweetheart.”

“But you don't love me!” she asserted. “How could you love me? You don't know me! The last time we met I was just a child.”

“You are right. I didn't come back for you because of love, but there are many reasons to marry other than love. Perhaps in the shock of our reunion you failed to hear me. You are Lady Foxbridge, my dear, for your husband is, by the unfortunate death of his brother, lord of Foxbridge Cloister. I married you five years ago to give you my share of that estate in gratitude for your kindness. Now, you shall have it all, including the lord.” He put his hand to touch the softness of her face. “Rebecca Wythe, you have become so beautiful. I never would have guessed such a scrawny child would turn into such a lovely woman.”

In horror, she pulled away. Keith's warnings filled her ears to replay over and over. This man was her husband. Tonight and every night he wished, he could take from her what she wanted to share only with Keith. If he asked her, she should not refuse, for she was his wife. With stern resolve, Rebecca told herself that Captain Nicholas Wythe, Lord Foxbridge of Foxbridge Cloister, whatever that was, would not find it that simple to have her as his lover. She would fight him before she was forced to surrender.

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.”