Juliet met icy eyes glittering with retribution, and then everything happened all at once. Caroline gasped. Chest lifting, Bethany sputtered and tromped to the door. James opened it. Crims applauded and whistled. Like a sheep dog marshaling sheep, Maybelle cut in front of Bethany, repeatedly blocking her passage to the carriage. The dog circled her, barking and nipping at her heels. In a flurry of skirts, Bethany screamed every time Maybelle pitched and turned, obstructing her path. She kicked at the dog but the canine was too swift.
The odd theatrics between horse, dog and harridan made the children laugh. And Juliet couldn’t help but laugh, too. Had Crims trained the horse with his whistle?
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t let her abuse the girl—” Juliet said.
“You’ve done a service that is long overdue,” said Caroline. “I’m ashamed I didn’t say something myself.”
Joshua beamed with approval and, for one moment her breath halted and the rest of the world melted away. Naked hunger and longing swam in the depths of his brilliant blue eyes. He reached out…stroked her cheek.
Her heartbeat quickened even more. Had she uncovered a tiny crack in his armor? She would chisel it apart, chink by chink.
Chapter Thirty-Two
A wind blew, kicking up her skirts. Scudding dark clouds strutted across the sky. Sheets flapped like seagull wings as Juliet pinned the last of the laundry to the line. An air of unreality choked Juliet, thinking on the wild, tumultuous events leading her from England. The life-altering nightmare blurred with the consequences of her recent impulsive actions, casting her in a direction she feared—irrevocably back to England.
Despite the moments of hope, the gulf between her and Joshua had grown as large as the ocean. Yet in the dark entrails of despair, the remembrance of what had been left unsaid between them, of distant echoes of emotion, of silent flashes in his tormented eyes, remained…a tenuous filament between them. A bond that couldn’t be denied.
Juliet numbered the many startling contrasts of Lord Joshua Rutland, the highly intelligent, principled, and tenacious man. Honorable to a fault, he adhered to a code of ethics seeking out truth and knowledge beyond his advocacy of the Revolution. It would be a part of his legacy.
What others might find pushy or callous, Juliet viewed through a different lens. She observed a man whose inner strength and integrity created trust and respect among his peers in the Colonies. Through discomfort and pain, he never gave up, assessing problems and coming up with solutions, taunting the face of impossibility that kept them safe during their escapes. And to Joshua, there was nothing more powerful than his promise. He would choose death before breaking his word.
A smile came to her face, how her warrior played with the Bell children, wrestling the entire brood to the ground. How every single one of them piled on top of him, and then booming with the mighty roar of a bear, he lifted, and they fled screaming to return moments later to start their play again.
Oh, how she understood his other side. Self-righteous? Relentless? Merciless? At the Hayes’ farm he’d defended her…taken on Horace and Orpha at jeopardy to his trade. Hadn’t he taken on Onontio, defeating the brave in front of the whole tribe? In a room full of British officers, and surrounded by the thick walls of his enemy at Fort Oswego, hadn’t he gambled with the dangerous act of espionage?
Yet his need for control…to send her to England…that judgmental decision of his seemingly made for her safety. No. His decision came from a darker place—of fear and shame and it had to do with Sarah.
His pack had been carelessly deposited near a stump while he went up on the mountain to chop trees with James and Thomas. The question remained. What made Joshua so angry and cold? Why did he feel compelled to send her back to England?
Unchained ends dangled, mysteries shouted, contradictions swarmed and remained unanswered. She inched closer to Joshua’s pack, scanning to see if anyone was near. The younger Bell children were taking a nap and the older girls studied their lessons. The steady sounds of an ax echoing from the woods up above indicated the men were busy.
She bit her lip. Not once had she snooped in her life. Joshua was taking her to Albany. This was her one opportunity. She sat on the stump, rearranging her skirts. Opening the bag, she reached inside and drew out a handkerchief. She fingered the lace-edged handkerchief soiled from so much handling. How many times had she witnessed Joshua inhaling its scent when he was unaware of her watching him?
She drew out a letter and unfolded it. The number of wrinkles in the missive indicated how many times the note had been opened and reopened. Globules of red-brown stained the paper. She drew back. Blood?
A burning sensation rose in her chest and she pushed it away. Above the cloud cover remained. A fissure opened, and rays of sunlight poured from the sky. The letter was the key to healing Joshua’s wounds.She bent her head and commenced reading.
Joshua hummed a tune. Two trees had been felled and five cords of wood chopped, putting the Bells well ahead of their winter labors. As he made his way down the mountain he thought of Juliet.
Juliet was different. Her wild heart saw blessings where most experienced millstones round the neck, and if one thing was for certain; her smile took on the same radiance as a whole tree of apple blossoms.
How brave she was when confronted with treachery. The enslavement she suffered sold into indenture, and consequent cruelty of Orpha and Horace. Witnessing a massacre, she did not think of herself. She cared for Mary, helping her get through the punishing ordeal of Onontio.
He recalled her humiliation when he arrived at Tionnontigo, tied to a stake, suffering the cruel barbs and punishment of the village women. How she endangered her own life to bring the chief’s son into the world. He remembered how hard he pushed her through the wilderness at a brutal pace. How she saved his life, helping him escape death from Fort Oswego. Without a doubt, she was loyal to those she cared about.
But most of all, he recalled her bravery the night she made solemn vows to become a complete stranger’s wife—his wife.
He ceased humming. It was not the real reason for the twinge of guilt causing his chest to tighten, and that fact bothered him. She’d be leaving him soon. She’d be gone as soon as they traveled to Albany. He’d arrange reliable passage to Boston and authorize his uncle to secure her passage to England.
This was exactly what he had planned. He should be grateful. The whole ordeal would soon be over. She’d be protected. He’d have his life back. Just the way he wanted it.
Except he wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore.
With his ax on his shoulder, he passed the last copse of trees, leading into the clearing of the Bells’ home. He expected to see Juliet playing with the children. Instead, in her linen day dress, she sat on a stump…a letter in her hands. His heart stalled. His blood boiled. He stomped to her side and snatched the letter. “You dare to read my private correspondence?”
“I dare.”
She shot to her feet, defiance thundering in every bone of her body. A second later, her eyes softened. “I know. I understand your fear and your shame.”
