Page 56 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)

FORTY-SIX

Virginia Colony

Mary took out the freshly baked bread and covered it with a muslin cloth to keep the flies away, then looked around the cabin, searching for something more to do.

She’d milked the cow and let her out to pasture, mucked out her stall, washed the crockery from their morning meal, picked some runner beans from the vegetable patch and set them to soak, ground enough corn to bake fresh bread for supper, and swept the floor.

She sank onto the bench and folded her hands in her lap.

She was stalling, she knew that, but it was time to decide.

She could either go to the creek and meet Walker or let him walk out of her life, and she didn’t think she could bear that.

Deep down, she’d known what she would do.

She untied her apron, hung it up on a hook by the door, and left the cabin.

The late-morning sun caressed her flushed face as she hurried toward the creek, hoping Walker would still be there.

What if she’d waited too long? Mary stopped to catch her breath.

The day was truly glorious. The sky was a robin’s-egg blue, the thick canopy of leaves above her head still green and lush, and the babbling of the creek in the distance inviting and soothing.

Birdsong filled the air, and Mary soaked up the peacefulness of the forest, grateful to be away from Travesty’s prying eyes.

What would they see in her face right now—hope, fear, desire, anticipation?

She felt all those things as she rushed into the clearing by the creek and stood still, looking around.

The rag she’d tied to the branch had been removed, but there was no sign of Walker.

He must have come and gone, or maybe he’d changed his mind and never showed at all.

He was handsome and unwed. There had to be plenty of young women he could choose from, women who would make him their priority, tend his home, and bear his children.

Why should he need Mary, a woman who was married to another, and who could never be free to follow her own heart?

She didn’t believe all that nonsense about the deaths of his daughters for a minute.

Children died all the time, not only at birth, but at any time thereafter.

Their deaths had nothing to do with incompatibility of two spirits, but with disease, poverty, and ultimately, God’s will.

Walker might not believe in her God, but surly the Creator he worshipped was no less fickle and vengeful.

Some people lived, some died, some suffered all their lives, while others lived a life of comfort and security, blessed by an accident of birth.

If there were any sensible women in Walker’s village, they’d figure out this simple truth and snap up a good man while he was still free—at least that was what her mind told her.

Her heart, on the other hand, felt sore with disappointment that he hadn’t come.

Mary sank to the ground and stared at the sparkling water of the creek.

The water rose higher than it had at the height of summer and wasn’t as warm.

The nights were cooler now, the days shorter, the winter stealthily approaching.

Mary wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees, staring intently into the trees on the other side of the creek.

She knew she should return to the cabin and put Walker from her mind once and for all, but some internal need to stay kept her rooted to the spot.

She bowed her head, pressed her forehead to her knees, and closed her eyes, allowing the peace of the place to wash over her and fill her with strength.

This wasn’t her first disappointment, and it most certainly wouldn’t be her last. This was for the best.

What made her think she deserved to be happy?

She was alive, fed and clothed, and in good health.

Countless women would change places with her, even if they knew the truth.

They would gladly settle for the security John provided and turn a blind eye to the other aspects of marriage.

Some would probably even be grateful to be spared their husband’s carnal demands.

There had been women in Plymouth who gave birth to one child only to get pregnant with the next within a few weeks or months.

They bore babies every year, children they could ill afford, didn’t want, and were too exhausted to care for.

With John, that’d never be her fate. She had to be thankful for what she had.

She had to accept the hand life had dealt her.

Mary finally pushed to her feet, brushed the grass off her skirts, tucked a stray curl into her cap, and turned to leave.

She cried out in surprise when Walker stepped out from behind the wide-bellied oak.

He had an unnerving way of blending in with his surroundings.

He came toward her, his gaze smoky and serious.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Mary said by way of greeting.

Her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She felt all aflutter, like a bride in love on her wedding day.

Her resolve to have nothing to do with Walker evaporated like morning dew at the sight of him.

“I was here all along.”

“Why didn’t you show yourself?” Mary asked, stung by his admission.

“I wanted to watch you for a while.”

“Why?” Mary exclaimed, hurt boiling over.

“Because I needed to be sure.”

“Sure of me?”

“Sure of myself,” he replied.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I want you to come with me,” Walker replied. He still hadn’t touched her or even smiled at her. His gaze was intense and unrelenting.

“Come where?”

“To the Powhatan village. ”

Mary stared at him. What exactly was he asking her?

“Mary, you will be treated with kindness and respect. You will be accepted as my wife. No one will hurt you.”

Mary shook her head. “I can’t. I’m not one of you.”

“But you can be. My mother learned to be happy again. She married and had children.”

“They called her Sad Eyes,” Mary reminded him.

“Mary, my mother had endured something dreadful. Something she couldn’t bear to speak of, not even to my father. She was sad because she missed her homeland and her friends, and because she knew she’d never see any of them again.”

“But given the choice, she would have returned to England,” Mary argued.

“Perhaps. But there was no choice. She made the best of her situation. You have a choice.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

Mary looked into his opaque eyes, trying to understand what was driving him to suggest this to her. She’d never been one to ask for kindness or reassurance, but she had to know. “Walker, why do you want me to come with you?”

The question seemed to surprise him. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to me.”

“I love you, Mary. I want to care for you and protect you. I want to have a family with you.”

“You love me,” she repeated stupidly.

“Is that so difficult to believe? ”

“No one has loved me,” she said. “Not since my parents died. I’m not sure I even recognize the feeling.”

Walker closed the space between them and drew her into his arms, kissing her hard. This wasn’t a kiss of seduction—his kiss was a brand. He was claiming her as his own, letting her know that if she felt the same, he was hers for the taking.

Mary kissed him back with all her innocent passion.

She had no idea what was expected of her, but she needn’t have worried.

Walker drew her away from the clearing and into a thicket of trees.

No one would see them there, not even if they came looking.

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her, silently asking for permission, and she gave it.

She pulled off her cap, releasing her hair.

It tumbled to her shoulders, framing her face.

Walker ran his hands through the tresses.

His eyes were clouded with desire, and he reached for the laces of her bodice, tugging on them impatiently.

Mary untied her skirt and let it pool around her ankles as Walker pulled her chemise over her head.

She stood in front of him, naked and vulnerable.

No one had ever seen her like this, except him.

The first time, he’d stolen the privilege, but this time she was offering it willingly.

He cupped her breast and lowered his head to flick his tongue over her nipple as he pulled her against his almost-naked body.

He was so warm and solid, so sure of what he was doing.

Mary surrendered herself to him, allowing him to lay her down on a bed of soft earth.

Walker untied his breechclout and lay down next to her.

His skin blended into the colors of the forest, unlike her milky whiteness that was in stark contrast to the green carpet beneath her.

Mary expected him to take her, like John did, but Walker was in no rush.

He kissed and caressed every inch of her, making her cry out as waves of red-hot pleasure washed over her, leaving her trembling with an urgent need.

She clung to him, terrified he’d stop, but he was just getting started.

“Walker!” His name escaped from her lips.

It sounded like a breath on the wind, a prayer to a benevolent deity.

And he responded in kind, worshipping her as if she were a goddess, and doing things that left her weak with desire.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair when his tongue slid inside her, exploring her with an intimacy that heated her cheeks and stirred her blood.

“Walker, please,” she pleaded, unable to stand it any longer.

When Walker finally joined his body to hers, it was nothing like her awkward couplings with John.

It was exquisite. She clung to him and ground her hips against his, desperate to take him in deeper and let him fill the emptiness that had been a part of her for so long.

He answered her need by thrusting harder and faster, making her gasp with every stroke until something inside her uncoiled and burst forth, like a rosebud finally opening to the sun, its petals unfurling in all their scarlet glory.

Her body shuddered around him as he reached his own peak, spilling his seed into her.

His mouth stretched into a sensuous smile as he gazed into her heavy-lidded eyes.

“Come with me,” he whispered. “Let this be our life.”

Mary closed her eyes to block out his seductive invitation.

Her body was damp with perspiration, and her insides still quivered with the aftershocks of their love.

She’d never known anything like this, and she never would again if she allowed Walker to leave her.

Mary’s thoughts swirled in incoherent patterns, the threads escaping as she tried to tie them together.

She wanted to go. She needed to stay. She wanted him to protect her. She needed to protect him.

Mary forced herself to concentrate. She needed to make sense of what she was thinking. “I need a little time,” she finally said, unable to put into words what was in her heart. “Please, give me time.”

Walker kissed her softly, his eyes glowing with love. “Take time, Mary. There’s no rush. I will wait.”

“What would my Indian name be if I came with you?” she asked, allowing herself a moment to fantasize about a life with Walker .

“Man Eater,” he whispered into her ear as he slid into her again. Mary’s eyes flew open in surprise, but Walker was smiling.

“Why?”

“Because you are hungry,” he replied, precluding further questions by feeding her hunger until she was sated.