"I had a daughter once," said Maria, her voice steady, but her eyes glistening suddenly. "Her name was Catherine. She was around the same age as your mother.”
Maria cleared her throat and took a sip of tea.
“She was sixteen when she caught the eye of the squire's son. He promised her marriage, promised her the world, and she believed him. Why wouldn't she? She was young and in love and thought the best of everyone."
"Oh, Maria..." Hanna felt her heart twist, knowing already what was coming.
"When her belly started to show, he claimed he'd never touched her. Called her a liar and worse. My husband, may God rest him, tried to make the boy do right, but what is a tenant farmer against the gentry?"
Maria's hands trembled slightly. "I still say the shame killed my Tom, in the end. His heart gave out from the rage and grief."
"And Catherine?" Hanna whispered, though she already knew.
"Fever took her in the birthing. The babe, too."
Maria reached across and took Hanna’s hand. "So you see, child, when I look at you and sweet little James, I see the chance I never got to give my Catherine. The chance to help a young mother survive what my daughter couldn't."
Tears streamed down Hanna's face. "I'm so sorry."
"It was a long time ago now," Maria straightened, brushing at her own eyes.
"Now, about this gamekeeper of yours. If he approached your father, he is surely serious in his intentions."
"But what if he changes his mind? What if he grows to resent me, or James, or…"
"And what if he doesn't?" Maria interrupted gently. "What if he's exactly as he presents himself, a man who wants to protect you?”
Hanna looked down at James, who had fallen asleep against her breast. Her beautiful boy, innocent of the circumstances of his birth.
"I'm afraid," Hanna admitted softly. "I trusted once before, and look where it got me."
"Fear is sensible," said Maria with a firm nod. "But don't let it rob you of a chance at security. At least consider his offer seriously."
Hanna nodded slowly.
Maria was right, she owed it to herself and to James to at least think about the possibility.
HANNA
The next day, Hanna was walking the main road, lost in thought about precisely why she had denied Alaric Wolff’s suit.
She had said nothing to her father when she returned home after the interlude in the hunter's shelter, and he had ignored her as usual.
She supposed her father assumed she would comply with the arrangement.
And why hadn’t she agreed?
There was a chance she could have her babe with her, acknowledge him openly, and have the security of Wolff’s name.
The kiss had scared her.That was the root of it.
Hanna had never thought of the possibility of giving herself to a man after… It had been a shock to discover that she could enjoy a kiss. That she would press closer for more.
Never did she want another to have that kind of power over her again.
Love was a poison, a lure that led you smiling over the cliff into ruin. Nothing good could come of it.
Alaric wanted her, it was clear. But men always wanted, more and more. They nevergave.
