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R EBECCA

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, in this kingdom by the sea)...

Annabel Lee

ANNABEL’S LIGHTHOUSE SPRING, 1874

SHE WAS SHIVERING UNCONTROLLABLY as morning dawned and light enveloped the shack. Mercer had long since removed himself from his seat atop her, but Rebecca still writhed from the violation of his weight, even though he’d done nothing to take advantage of her otherwise.

Bear snored in the corner of the cabin, and somehow Mercer did as well. Both men were oblivious to the chill of the room, the dampness of their clothes, and the fact that Rebecca’s wrists dripped blood on the floor as she worked to loosen her bindings.

She had been able to wriggle enough space between the ropes around her wrists that she could finally pull her hands free of them. Still, the action was painful, her skin raw. Rebecca bit down on her lip to distract her from the pain of her hands as she tugged her right hand free. When it came loose, she shook off the rope with her left hand and then paused.

Both men still slept, so sure they were that she was subdued by their domination. And in a way, she was. She was terrified by every sniff and grunt they made in their sleep. Now, as she pulled her arms around to her front, she caught her breath as her muscles cramped from being held back for hours. Rebecca’s breaths came in little gasps as she forced herself to relax and let her muscles cease screaming at their new position. She buried her wrists in the damp fabric of her dress, taking small comfort from the coolness found there against the abrasions on her skin.

The bindings around her ankles were looser, and after Rebecca watched Mercer and Bear for long seconds to be sure they still slept, she leaned forward and worked at the ropes until her feet were free.

Desperate to scramble to her feet and run toward freedom, Rebecca forced herself to remain still. If she moved too quickly, she risked startling them awake. Assuming she was lucky enough to get out of the shack, Rebecca had no idea which direction to run to for safety, and she believed she could not outrun either man.

Rebecca shuddered to think what Mercer would do were he to catch her. The hatred in his eyes was the kind that pleased a man to feel wicked, and no pleading or begging would sway him toward mercy. Mercer’s intoxication with hating her would drive him to abuse her more thoroughly, more violently.

For the babe, she could not risk it.

No. To escape, she would need to move quietly in a methodical fashion so as not to awaken the men. And then, once out of the shack, she would need to quickly decide which direction to run.

Listen for the waves .

Keep the sun to your east.

Look for the mountains.

Rebecca silently recited her three points of reference in hopes they would make sense once she was free.

She eased onto her feet, every nerve in her body on fire from being bound. Glancing down, Rebecca made sure her toes were securely engaged with her slippers so that she wouldn’t stumble. She stealthily tiptoed toward the door of the shack.

Bear snorted, and she froze, staring at him as he leaned against the wall, his chin tucked into his chest and his hairy face just shy of appearing fully beast with no sign of man. Assured he was still asleep, Rebecca focused on Mercer. His eyes were narrow slits, and he was watching her with a thin smile of pure enjoyment.

“Going somewhere?” His voice sliced through the stillness.

Rebecca lunged for the door.

Mercer leaped to his feet, but Rebecca managed to evade his first grab at her, slamming her hand against his face and connecting with his nose harder than she had even intended. Mercer growled as blood spurt from his nose.

Rebecca ran. She forgot about the east, about looking for the Porcupines’ ridgeline. Instead, she sprinted toward the sound of the lake. The waves. She plunged through the woods, her feet trampling ferns and sticks, hopping over a downed tree, a branch catching her dress. It ripped at her waist, but Rebecca continued to flee, hearing the shouts of Mercer and Bear behind her.

A glimpse of the water through the trees beckoned her. She surged ahead, breaking free from the forest. Her feet connected with the sand of the shore, crunching over driftwood and stones. Boulders and a cliff outcropping were to her right, so Rebecca veered to the left, seeing only shoreline, more driftwood and rocks. She heard the endless cadence of wave after wave coming ashore.

The water. If she ran into the lake, she could let it take her away, for drowning would be preferable to Mercer and Bear.

Delirious, Rebecca cried out as she twisted to see Mercer breaking free from the woods mere yards behind her. She had no time. The sand sucked at her feet like shackles holding her back. The only sand that would be firm enough to run on was the wet sand.

Rebecca raced toward the water, her slippers peeling off as she ran, and now the tender skin of her feet met the freezing cold of the lake.

Mercer was gaining fast, but Rebecca pushed forward, splashing at the edge of the lake as she sprinted along the shoreline. An outcropping rose up ahead, and without thinking it through, Rebecca veered toward it, seconds later stumbling to a slippery halt on the black basalt.

This was it. She’d been here before.

The outcropping.

You are a chilling reminder...

“Ha!” Mercer’s laugh filled the air. He stood on the shore, and Rebecca realized she had allowed herself to be cornered by him. The lake was at her back, her body balanced precariously on the slick rock.

Mercer stood on the shore and waved his fingers. “Come on now. You’ve nowhere to go.”

Rebecca looked over her shoulder at the lake. It wasn’t horribly deep here, but if she were to jump in, the water would still swallow her with its numbing temperatures and insistent waves.

Concern flickered on Mercer’s face as he read her thoughts. He glanced past her to the lake and then back again. “Come here, Rebecca.”

She considered.

You are a chilling reminder... The words repeated again in her mind. The man’s voice wasn’t Mercer’s, and in her soul she knew it didn’t belong to her brother, Aaron, either. What should she do now? If she obeyed Mercer, she would return to captivity and perhaps endanger Aaron even more, if she couldn’t produce whatever it was Mercer demanded. But if she leapt into the lake ... would she join Annabel permanently?

What about her baby?

Rebecca stared at the water.

“No!” Mercer’s shout was muffled behind her.

Rebecca wasted no time. Flinging herself into a wave, she dove underwater. Her breath was stolen in an instant. The frigid cold locked her lungs, and she could not inhale either air or water. Tiny spears attacked her nerve endings, which protested the inhuman coldness of the lake.

She no longer worried about Mercer or Bear. When her feet hit the sandy bottom, she pushed off with all her strength, rising to the top of the waves and standing. The water was chest-high, and even as her face broke into the air, Rebecca’s mouth was still open, still gasping to take in the blessed oxygen that would allow her mind to clear.

A wave careened into her, pulling her under with a force that sent her to the bottom of the lake. Rocks grazed her legs, and she couldn’t find her footing, as the rocks were slippery and cut into her feet. She was deep enough that the force of the insistent waves continued to hold her under just as her nose and mouth broke the water’s surface for air.

She was going to die.

She was going to drown.

She was—

Arms hooked under hers and hauled her upward. Rebecca clawed at the air and at the hands holding her. She was able to suck in small amounts of oxygen even as the cold syphoned the remaining energy from her body.

Her shoulders collided with wood, which scraped her back as she was yanked from the lake. The edge of a flat-bottomed skiff bruised her as she fell into the boat, a sodden and breathless pile.

Oars lifted over her head as someone lowered them into the lake and began a steady but urgent rowing, keeping parallel to the shoreline.

Rebecca managed to look up at the silhouette of the man. It was neither Mercer nor Bear. She noticed the grim set to his face. When he glanced down at her, she saw the man was Abel. There was murder in his eyes, and Rebecca knew in that moment he would kill for her.

“Get blankets.” Abel’s command was a distant echo in Rebecca’s ears. Her body was jostled as he carried her into the lighthouse after hefting her from the skiff. “Lock the doors. Set a watch.”

Edgar’s voice muttered something in return, and for a brief second, Rebecca felt the lightkeeper’s gentle hand on her cheek.

“God help her.” His words brushed over her as Abel carried her through the house. It was tricky getting up the narrow stairway. Rebecca tried to open her eyes, tried to lift her arms to wrap around Abel’s neck, but her body refused to cooperate.

Abel was in Edgar’s room and seemed to have no intention to go farther. Maneuvering up the spiral stairs of the lighthouse to the attic was out of the question. He didn’t bother to ask permission as he laid her on Edgar’s cot. His fingers found the buttons of her wet dress, and he hurried to remove it.

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca heard him breathe as he finished stripping her of her wet garments, doing his best to cover her with a blanket as he did so.

Garments removed, Abel tucked another quilt around her body, leaving her feet exposed. He sat on the end of the cot and rubbed them vigorously with his hands, inspiring her blood to flow and bring warmth to her toes.

“S-so c-cold,” Rebecca struggled to tell him.

“I know.” Abel wrapped the quilt around her feet and climbed onto the cot next to her, pulling her blanket-clad body into his arms. He held her for several minutes, the warmth of his body enveloping her.

Once her teeth began to chatter less, he lifted his face to peer into her eyes. “I’m going to go heat some rocks for the bed warmer. Stay here.”

All she could do was nod. She had no intention of going anywhere. For the first time in what seemed like days, warmth was beginning to spread through her extremities. Exhaustion pulled at her, but fear was awakening again, and Rebecca struggled to sit up. There was a window at the head of the lightkeeper’s cot, and one to the left of her, with the cot pushed into the corner. When Edgar slept here, it would provide him with a perfect view of the lake and the light from the lantern, as well as ships in the distance. Now it gave Rebecca a clear view of the shore. If Mercer and Bear were coming...

No.

She saw no one. No one but Edgar, who was standing in the midmorning sun, a rifle propped in his elbow, his stooped shoulders as straight as he could make them. No longer did Edgar look like a weathered old lightkeeper. Instead, he appeared to have summoned the man of his youth, a fierce defender ready to go to battle.

To battle for her.

Footsteps alerted Rebecca to Abel’s return. He entered, a steaming mug of tea in one hand and a long-handled copper bed warmer in the other. He slid the warmer beneath the blankets and then helped to prop pillows behind Rebecca so she could receive the mug of tea.

“Do you have much pain?” Abel’s eyes were gentle, but as he took inventory of her raw wrists, they darkened.

Rebecca allowed the sip of hot tea to soothe its way down her throat and warm her insides. “My body is sore, bruised,” she answered.

“But is there pain...?” Abel stuttered to a halt. He met her eyes. “In your ... where the babe is.”

It was a tender subject, but Rebecca was startled to realize she’d forgotten her pregnancy for the moment. Escape had been foremost on her mind, followed by the acceptance of death. The baby fled her thoughts in the traumatic moments of earlier.

“I-I think I’m all right. I think the baby’s all right too.” She didn’t know, of course, not really. And she didn’t know what she should feel on a normal day of being an expectant mother when the child inside her kicked or squirmed.

“Who did this?” Abel’s voice was grave. He hadn’t released her hand, and his thumb brushed over her knuckles in a possessive sort of way she didn’t understand or expect.

“Two men.” Rebecca was thankful that at least this time her mind had not erased the abuse. “A man named Mercer, and another who goes by the name Bear.”

Abel’s jaw tightened. “All right.”

She knew then there was no law in the area, no real authority Abel could seek out on her behalf. She also knew that on hearing their names, it had confirmed whatever information Abel possessed and had not shared with her.

“Who are they?” She drew her hand away from Abel’s.

Abel swallowed, clearing his throat. “Did they tell you what they wanted—why they took you?”

“They asked me to tell them where I’d put the papers.”

Abel frowned. “The papers?”

Rebecca shook her head, thankful that the bed warmer had ceased the involuntary shivers. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. They thought I was lying.”

“But you weren’t?” Abel looked sheepish the minute he asked.

“I wasn’t lying.” Rebecca gritted through her teeth, hurt and suddenly irritated that Abel would even raise the question she might be pretending her memory was lost. “But I—do I have a brother?”

Abel froze.

Rebecca held the tea between her palms, and a protectiveness washed over her. She did. She could see on Abel’s face that he knew him too. “Aaron,” Rebecca supplied.

Abel stared at her.

“If they hurt Aaron, it will be all my fault.” Rebecca set the mug on a side table and struggled to free herself from the blankets.

“Rebecca.” Abel pressed gently on her shoulders to push her back against the pillows. “You’re in no condition to help him.”

“But you knew I had a brother,” she accused, unable to quench the ferocity that filled her. A ferocity she would have expected to feel for her unborn child but was so raw and visceral when it came to Aaron, the young man she could barely see in her mind.

Abel raked his hand through his hair, agitated, his breath expelling shakily. “We’re trying to keep you safe, Rebecca. And I don’t know what happened. The attack you suffered was horrific and—”

“What are the papers they’re asking for?” Rebecca demanded.

Abel looked bewildered. “I don’t know.”

“And my brother, where is he?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know that either.”

“What do you know? Tell me!” Rebecca slammed her fists against the mattress, glaring at the man who eyed her with caution and not a little wariness. Something had awakened in her, and while it wasn’t all clear, she knew. She knew what she had to say. Leaning toward Abel, she clenched her teeth. “You loved your sister. We both loved Kjersti. So why should I have any less devotion to my own brother? Why would you keep him from me?”

Abel’s face darkened. He blinked repeatedly, and Rebecca thought she saw tears for a moment, and then they dissolved. “I’m not keeping Aaron from you. I’m keeping you from Aaron. To keep you safe.” He took a step back and said, “Stay here. Edgar will watch over you. I’ve no doubt that if Mercer or Bear show their faces around here again, they’re dead men.”

Rebecca was stunned that Abel would refuse to tell her more, and stunned that he would leave her here, separated from her family. “Where are you going?” she demanded.

Abel hesitated before giving a reply. “I’m going to fetch my mother. You need her.”

It was a half-truth, Rebecca knew. Abel was going to fetch Niina, yes, but he was on a mission to do something else as well.

“Abel?” Rebecca stopped him, and he turned in the doorway to look at her. “Who am I?”

She knew that he knew.

“Get some rest, Rebecca,” Abel said, then disappeared into the hall.