Page 89 of A Treacherous Treasure

And yet, she was a woman who longed to love and to feel loved. But perhaps that was how God intended it. She wasn’t meant to be alone. She was meant to give love. And to receive it. From a human person, not just from God.

“I think you’re right.” She squeezed Caroline’s hand, finding that her tears had dried.

“Of course I’m right. But I also understand that your feelings are probably very close to the surface. That’s how Mother and I felt for months after Father died. And as much as it shocked and wounded us when he died, it must be much worse having your husband murdered. I can hardly imagine it. So be kind to yourself.”

Rebecca nodded, grateful for her friend’s compassionate words.

“And if my brother has said anything amiss to you, I shall go and reprimand him sternly this very minute.”

“No, no, please don’t. I’m afraid I was to blame more than he was. I didn’t want to listen to him. Instead of being offended by his words, I should have thanked him for his concern.”

“I know he can be very opinionated and can take too much upon himself when he should mind his own business. He sometimes goes too far.”

“No, no, he did nothing wrong. Do not trouble yourself.”

“Very well. Shall I send for some warm milk to help you sleep?”

“No, thank you. I am so tired, I shall sleep very soundly, I think.”

They wished each other a good night.

Rebecca considered Caroline’s words, about marriage and about her brother. When she thought about Thomas Westbrook, how kind he’d been to her, the way he spoke, the gentleness in his manner and in his eyes, she just wanted to see more of him, to know him better, to hear his thoughts. She marveled at how quickly she’d forgotten her anger toward him and the way he’d behaved at the ball. Perhaps he had been a bit heavy-handed in continuing to warn her to stay away from Gilbert Heywood, but she had also reacted badly to his advice. If only she could talk with him about it privately.

She said her prayers, thanking God for keeping her safe from Gilbert Heywood. She also asked for guidance and wisdom, before drifting into sleep.

~ ~ ~

Thomas stayed close all morning and was ready when Rebecca told his mother and sister, “Thank you, but I believe I must go home now.”

“I shall ride back with you,” Thomas said, knowing she had ridden her horse there the day before.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him and his heart beat faster.

No one questioned why he would need to ride back with her, thankfully, but at this point he would hardly have cared. He’d been waiting two days to get a few moments alone with her.

When they entered the woods between their two houses, he said, “Do you mind if we stop here a moment?”

“Not at all.”

They stopped their horses and dismounted, letting their horses drink from the spring that bubbled up from the ground here, the origin of the little stream that cut through his own property.

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for plaguing you so at the ball. I should not have been so dogged. I could have waited to tell you of Mr. Pursglove’s note after the ball was over.”

“No, you were perfectly right in warning me. And I have been wanting to say how very sorry I am for allowing myself to be offended when you were only trying to help.”

“The fault is mine, for the truth is, I was jealous, seeing you dancing a second time with Gilbert Heywood.”

Rebecca had been reaching for a leaf on a tree, but she stopped and turned toward him. She was deliciously near. He could see her every eyelash, framing her pretty blue eyes. And her lips were slightly parted as she tilted her head up toward him.

“You were jealous? But you couldn’t think I would have feelings for . . . for anyone besides you.”

“Forgive me.” He took another step toward her, so that he could easily take her hand in his. “I am afraid I’m much too mistrusting. I realize, however, just because I was betrayed by my first love, the woman I chose to marry, as well as my best childhood friend, that doesn’t mean I should never trust anyone again, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Her voice was breathy and soft, and she seemed to lean toward him. “And just because my first marriage was nothing but misery and pain, that doesn’t mean my second marriage would be miserable and painful.”

“No, indeed.” He took her hand and turned it over, staring down at the dark blue bruises on her otherwise perfect skin. He lifted her wrist to his lips and kissed the offending evidence of a cruel man’s fingers, softly brushing his lips against her wrist.

He heard the sound of her breath hitching in her throat. His heart started to beat double time, and he continued to kiss her wrist slowly, letting his mouth linger on her skin.