Too Far to Whisper (26 page)

“You shall be just fine by the time your wedding day arrives,” her mother assured her. “And I am certain the captain fully understands the ordeal you have been through. Surely he will be patient with you after you are wed.”

Rosalind swallowed a laugh. Nathaniel?
Patient?
The man knew not the meaning of the word! “’Tis just that I might enjoy the planning and excitement of the wedding more if I were in better health. I have begged for a delay, but everyone seems bent on hastening the event. Do
my
wishes count for naught?”

Her mother halted abruptly and turned to face her. “Please, Rosalind, do whatever the Corwins request of you.” Her eyes were imploring. “Do not do anything to ruin this for us. Your betrothal to Nathaniel is the most important thing that has ever happened to our family. Finally, we have been blessed with good fortune.  I beg you my child, for me…for your father’s memory…give your full cooperation to the Corwins.”

Rosalind stared into her mother’s eyes and silently wondered how the woman would feel if she knew she was encouraging her daughter to wed a murderer and a blackmailer who, with the snap of his fingers, could take away everything Rosalind’s father had worked his entire life to gain. As much as Rosalind ached to tell her mother the truth about Nathaniel, she knew she could not…not if it meant confessing to her that her beloved husband, whose death she still so freshly mourned, had gone to his grave a broken man who owed Elias more money than she ever would see in her lifetime.

“Do not worry, Mother.” Rosalind’s voice barely was audible. “I shall do naught to spoil this wedding.”

Her mother’s response was a relieved smile.

* * * * *

Rosalind’s walk back to the Corwins’ house was deliberately slow paced. Her first impulse was to leave the trail and walk off into the woods, and then continue to walk until she was far away from everything that was familiar to her. Instead, she strolled to the top of the knoll and looked down at the Corwin’s fields. Too vividly she recalled how Shadow had looked clearing the land, his body bared to the waist as he had dug up a stump.

It all seemed so very long ago.

Rosalind spied Silver Cloud in the distance, toiling next to two other workers she assumed must have been hired to replace Jonathan and Shadow. She was in no mood to speak with any of them, so she quickly disappeared down a path through the trees. Abigail once had mentioned that the path led to a lovely pond. Since then, Rosalind had been eager to see it.

The pond, sparkling silver-blue in the sunlight, was surrounded by a thick barrier of trees, concealing it from those who did not know of its existence. Rosalind was at first awed by the sight of it. A gentle breeze rippled the pond’s otherwise calm surface where two ducks, a drake and a hen, floated lazily about.

Pleased with her discovery, Rosalind removed her shoes and waded in the sun-warmed water, enjoying the feel of it and even the mud on the bottom as it squished between her toes. She wanted to doff her garments and jump into the water for a swim, but with Silver Cloud and the other workers nearby, she decided against the idea. When she began to feel fatigued, she collected her shoes and sat in a bed of moss near the shore, allowing herself the luxury of indulging in the beauty and serenity of the spot. It felt wonderful to be alone – completely, blissfully alone, without a Corwin in sight. Later, she decided, she would deal with reality…and the promise she just had made to her mother.

Sighing contentedly, Rosalind lay back, her hands clasped behind her head, and stared at a fluffy white cloud, the shape of which she thought resembled a dog’s head. The sound of the leaves gently rustling in the breeze soon lulled her to sleep.

An eerie animal-like cry suddenly shattered the calm that surrounded the pond. Rosalind’s eyes flew open, her heart racing in her chest, as another high-pitched cry jolted her fully awake. She sat up.

Cocking her head, she listened carefully as the squeals grew louder and more frantic. She suspected that some unfortunate animals – one of the Corwins’ hogs, judging from the sound of it – lay grievously injured somewhere nearby. An animal desperately needed help, she decided. She could not allow it to suffer.

“So much for my peaceful respite,” she muttered, sighing. She rose from her comfortable bed of moss, slipped into her shoes and silently made her way through the woods that lined the pond. Pausing behind a tall clump of bushes, she parted the leaves and peered out at the portion of the shore from where the cries seemed to be originating.

The sight that greeted Rosalind caused her to gasp in horror, her left hand flying up to her mouth

A buxom, red-haired woman lay on her back on a patch of grass near the edge of the pond. Her skirts were hiked well above her waist, her bare legs bent at the knees and splayed wide. Between her legs, Nathaniel, his breeches bunched around his ankles, his buttocks bare and pale in the sunlight, and his face and shirt soaked with perspiration, thrust into the woman with such force, it buffeted her body back and forth with each stroke.

A small, righteous voice from somewhere within Rosalind told her to turn and flee, but she remained glued to the spot, unable to tear her gaze from the lewd performance…especially since it featured the very man to whom she soon would be wed.

To Rosalind’s amazement, the woman appeared to be enjoying Nathaniel’s forceful assault on her body. Her top lip was curled back in a vacant smile, baring her teeth as her head whipped from side to side, her long hair flailing across her face. Each time Nathaniel smacked into her, she lifted her buttocks off the ground and squealed, then released a loud grunt, as if the action had forced the air from her lungs. Nathaniel never had impressed Rosalind as being the type of man who would be gentle with a woman, especially since his kisses nearly had cracked her teeth, and this disgusting scene before her did little to convince her otherwise.

Rosalind winced as the speed and force of Nathaniel’s thrusts increased, and a string of the most vile words she had ever heard spewed from his lips. The red-haired wench responded in kind, her voice high-pitched and breathless as she lifted her legs and dug her heels into Nathaniel’s thrusting buttocks in an apparent attempt to prevent him from withdrawing from her again.

“Yesssss!” the woman cried, bucking wildly against him. “Harder! Harder!”

Rosalind’s stomach churned as she imagined the pain her own virginal body would be forced to endure if Nathaniel bedded her in the same abusive manner he was displaying with this woman. A bull in a field of cows possessed more tenderness than this rutting cur who soon would be her husband, she thought, repulsed. She wondered if the act she was witnessing was what Shadow briefly had alluded to at Adam’s when he had mentioned something about seeing Nathaniel at a pond and his lack of respect for women.

Rage raced through Rosalind as she realized she was acting the fool, peering through the bushes at her betrothed’s vulgar display and doing naught to stop it. A smile of realization suddenly spread across her face. Nathaniel was presenting her with the perfect opportunity to call off the wedding!  She not only would confront him, she would do it so loudly, perhaps she would draw the workers in the Corwins’ field…as witnesses!

Straightening, Rosalind inhaled deeply and smoothed her dress and hair, then, careful not to make a sound, moved stealthily toward the oblivious, bucking couple. When she was within a few feet from them, she rushed up and delivered a swift kick to Nathaniel’s buttocks.

“You disgusting cur!” she shouted. “You repulse me!”

Nathaniel froze, still deeply imbedded in the wench. He rose on his elbows and turned his head to look up at Rosalind, his eyes wide, his mouth open. The color immediately drained from his perspiration-soaked face.

“Did he mention to you that he is betrothed?” Rosalind snapped at the woman.

The redhead gasped and struggled to sit up, but Nathaniel’s weight prevented her from doing so. “Get off me!” she screamed at him. Before he could move, she pressed both of her hands against his chest and gave him a mighty shove. Nathaniel fell backwards onto his bare bottom, which, to Rosalind’s delight, sank into about four inches of mud.

“Please, ma’am,” the woman pleaded as she tugged at her skirts in a frantic attempt to cover herself. “Do not report me for this! If you tell the magistrate, I shall be fined and whipped!”

Rosalind snapped her head toward Nathaniel, who remained motionless, still seated in the mud. “You mean my darling betrothed’s father?” She smirked. “’Twould do me little good to report this and seek punishment for either of you because his father surely would see to it that the incident was quickly hushed. After all, Nathaniel has the flawless Corwin image to uphold!”

She narrowed her eyes at the captain. “Perhaps, my beloved husband-to-be, this now will relieve that ‘ache’ you so oft complain to me about!” She lifted her chin. “You make me ill! I never wish to set eyes on you again!” Turning on her heel, she strode off.

“Rosalind!” Nathaniel shouted, struggling to pull up his breeches as he rose and stumbled after her. “Allow me to explain!”

Rosalind quickened her pace, not pausing to look back. She reached the path and hastened up it, eager to get away from the pond…and what she had witnessed there.

Suddenly she felt a cold, wet hand grasp her upper arm. She whirled around to face a soggy, muddy, out-of-breath Nathaniel. Forcefully, she yanked her arm from his grasp. “Do not touch me!” she warned, her glare venomous. “You disgust me!”

“I am truly sorry, Rosalind,” he said, looking markedly ill at ease. After all, apologies were not something he was accustomed to offering. “You never should have witnessed what you just saw by the pond. I assure you, the woman means nothing to me. She is merely a convenient means in which to sate my lust until you and I are wed, that is all.”

“Oh? And what, pray tell, happened to your vow to remain celibate until our wedding?”

“I tried,” he said, shrugging. “I truly did. But I have been feeling anxious of late and I was in urgent need of a…release.”

“And what if I were to ease my anxiety in the same manner?” she retaliated. Before Nathaniel could respond, she blurted out, “Do you believe that what I just witnessed is supposed to make me long for you to do the same to me? You were so…brutal! And out in broad daylight, no less! Have you no morals whatsoever?”

Nathaniel reached out to place his hands on Rosalind’s shoulders, but she backed away. “My sweet, innocent lass,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I would never treat you in such a manner. With you, I swear I shall be gentle and caring. ‘Tis a totally different matter when the woman if a virgin…and a wife.”

“No need to concern yourself about it, Captain,” she said, her eyes narrowing at him. “For you shall never touch me!” She turned and continued up the path toward the house.

Nathaniel caught up with her. “You have never liked me, have you?” he asked. “I have sensed from our first meeting that your dislike was instant. Tell me, Rosalind, am I that impossible to love…or is it that you are just incapable of loving
any
man?”

She spun around to face him. “Oh, indeed I am capable of loving!” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “More deeply than the likes of you ever could understand! But you, you selfish, conceited…
ass
…you are undeserving of any decent woman’s love, most especially mine!”

Nathaniel once again grasped her arm, this time gripping it so tightly, she could not break free. He yanked her to within an inch of his face. “Well, my sweet,” his voice was eerily calm, “despite my apparent list of faults, you
will
be my wife. I sincerely doubt that you possess the courage to see your mother and sisters…and, oh yes, your dear brother and his wife…all without homes and with not so much as a shilling amongst them! Could you live with the burden of that guilt for the rest of your life?” He released her arm and added, “And do not forget,
you
also will have no home! Do you think my father still would employ a woman who broke my heart by not marrying me?”

So violent was Rosalind’s rage, she had to clamp her eyes shut and bite down on her tongue to prevent herself from lashing out at him. She also had to quell the strong urge to slap the sneer from his face. Only when she began to taste blood on her tongue was she able to respond. “You win, Nathaniel.” She nearly choked on the words. “We shall be wed.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

With the first publishing of the wedding banns, Rosalind began to feel an overwhelming sense of defeat. There was no turning back now, she thought – no way out of this nightmare.

Although most of the townspeople already were aware of the betrothal, the banns made it official, and the upcoming wedding suddenly became the main topic of conversation throughout the town. Nathaniel appeared to thrive on all of the attention, beaming proudly whenever someone congratulated him, and laughing at the men’s teasing and raillery about ways in which to pleasure a young bride.

Rosalind, however, grew more withdrawn. She feigned headaches and retreated to her chamber whenever guests arrived. She also went out of her way to avoid Nathaniel. On the rare occasions when she did speak to him, her words were cold and abrupt.

One afternoon two weeks prior to the wedding, Abigail entered Rosalind’s chamber and stated, “We must talk.”

Rosalind lay curled up on her side in the bed, her face toward the wall. “Whatever you decide for the wedding fare is fine,” she muttered, not looking at Abigail.

“’Tis not about the wedding,” Abigail said. “’Tis about Nathaniel.”

Slowly, Rosalind rolled onto her back and eyed her. “What of him?”

Abigail took the liberty of seating herself on the edge of the bed. “I believe that question can best be answered by you. ‘Tis quite obvious you have been taking great pains to avoid my son of late. And there is no mistaking the contempt in your eyes when you look at him. Pray tell, what has he done to make you turn against him so?”

Abigail was well aware that Rosalind still was mourning the death of her heroic Indian and was likely to never forgive Nathaniel for his murder, but something had dramatically altered the girl’s attitude. What concerned Abigail was that if Rosalind continued to behave in her present manner, the wedding was destined to be nothing short of a disaster – something unheard of in the long history of the Corwins’ social gatherings.

Rosalind remained silent for several moments, her expression indecisive. She wondered how Abigail would react if she confessed the truth to her about Nathaniel’s blackmailing scheme. Perhaps, she thought, if she did pour out her heart to Abigail, the woman might take pity on her, cancel the wedding and instruct Elias to write off her father’s debt.

And cows might sprout wings and fly to the moon.

Rosalind knew all too well that Abigail was so eager to see her son wed, she was likely to stop at nothing to make that dream a reality…perhaps even help Nathaniel make good on his threats.

“Well, since you have seen fit to inquire,” Rosalind finally said, “I shall tell you what is troubling me.” It was due time, she thought, to lessen Abigail’s inflated opinion of her “perfect” son…by telling her about the red-haired wench.

“Indeed, I
have
been avoiding Nathaniel,” Rosalind began, “but with good reason. The day my mother and sisters were here to select their gowns, I took a stroll down by the pond after they departed.” She looked away from Abigail’s intense stare, her cheeks growing hot.

“Go on,” Abigail urged, eager to learn exactly what had occurred to place her son in such disfavor with the girl.

“Nathaniel was there, lying on the shore with a red-haired woman.” Hesitantly, she allowed her eyes to meet Abigail’s. “They were…fornicating.”

Abigail sucked in her breath. Actually, the news came as no surprise to her. After all, she long had been aware of her son’s insatiable appetite for women. Nevertheless, she found it appalling that with the wedding so near, he would act so recklessly.

“How awful,” Abigail responded sympathetically. “It must have been a disturbing sight for you to behold. But I assure you, child, what Nathaniel did bears no reflection whatsoever on his feelings for you. He simply was sating a strong need that most unwed men have. Once the two of you are wed, he no longer will have any need for other women.”

“The fact he was with another woman does not disturb me as much as witnessing the vile manner in which he treated her,” Rosalind further explained.

Abigail’s eyebrows drew together. “Vile? How so?”

“He was forceful with her, not gentle or caring, pounding into her over and over again.  I fear he will treat me in an equally brutish manner.”

Abigail placed her hand on Rosalind’s arm and smiled gently. “You have naught to fear,” she said. “Believe it or not child, some women, such as the one with Nathaniel, derive great pleasure from such…vigorous…fornicating. I am certain that Nathaniel is well aware you are not one of those women. He knows that a maiden must be treated tenderly and with patience. I assure you, you are fretting for naught.”

Rosalind was not entirely convinced. “Do you truly believe so?”

“I do.”

Rosalind released a weary sigh. “I pray you are right.”

That evening, Nathaniel cornered Rosalind in the hallway as she was returning Abigail’s supper tray to the kitchen.

“Everyone is beginning to notice your lack of interest in me,” he whispered. “’Tis humiliating. If you do not start treating me in a warmer manner, especially in the presence of guests, I shall have no recourse other than to inform your mother of her late husband’s gambling debts.”

“You would not dare!” Rosalind gasped, outraged.

“Try me,” he said through gritted teeth. “’Twill give the woman something to worry about…until we are wed.”

Glaring at him, Rosalind turned on her heel and walked off.  He gave her no choice, she raged, other than to begin acting more like the blushing bride-to-be, thrilled to be marrying one of the
wonderful
Corwin brothers. Because of Nathaniel’s threats, she would be forced to feign interest in Abigail’s endless chatter about the upcoming event and cordially greet the guests who stopped by to offer their blessings. And although unbearably difficult, she even would have to make an effort to treat Nathaniel more kindly.

* * * * *

“You have changed,” Nathaniel commented as he and Rosalind sat on a grassy slope on the Corwins’ grounds four days before the wedding.  The summer sun, swollen and orange, had just begun it descent behind the trees. “You actually have been…warmer…to me of late.”

Only because you have forced me to be, you fool!

Rosalind offered him a slight smile. “Seeing we are soon to be bound together until death separates us, I feel ‘tis better if I make an effort to be pleasant.”

Nathaniel laughed humorlessly. “You make it sound as though it is some form of penance to be nice to me.” His eyes settled on her profile. “Despite your misgivings, I sincerely believe we shall have a good life together, Rosalind. You have my word, I shall always do my best to please you…to make you happy. Do not resent me for insisting upon this marriage. ‘Tis just that my heart told me from our first meeting that you and I were meant to be together…and I always follow my instincts.”

Slowly, Rosalind turned to face him. The summer sun had streaked his light-brown hair with golden highlights and deepened the color of his skin to a warm bronze. Try as she might, she could not deny he was handsome. She supposed she should consider it a small blessing she would not have to awaken beside an ugly troll of a man each morning.

“Why are you staring?” Nathaniel asked, appearing somewhat uncomfortable beneath her unblinking perusal.

“I was just thinking I am fortunate to be marrying a handsome man,” she said honestly. She refrained from adding that Nathaniel’s looks probably were his only redeeming quality.

“Nay, I am the one who is lucky.” He reached out to touch her hair. “You are so beautiful and so good for me…and my mother. I have chosen well.”

Rosalind’s eyes locked with his, and for reasons she did not understand, she suddenly felt powerless to look away.

Nathaniel’s hand moved to caress the back of her neck. Gently, he urged her head forward, then leaned to kiss her – a soft, undemanding kiss that, to Rosalind’s surprise, was not entirely unpleasant. Perhaps Abigail had been right, she thought. Perhaps the man did possess a tender side after all.

Nathaniel reluctantly pulled away from her. “I do care about you,” he breathed.

Rosalind was acutely aware that not once during their betrothal had the word
love
ever been mentioned. She silently wondered if Nathaniel even knew the meaning of the word.

“Do you think ‘tis possible that in time, you might come to gain some affection for me?” he asked.

Rosalind finally found the strength to tear her gaze from his face. “No one, especially I, can predict what the future may hold,” she said, looking down at a cricket as it scurried beneath a leaf on the ground. “I know not what I might be feeling ten years from now.”

“I do,” he said, smiling. He covered her hand with his. “You will look back and wonder how you ever thought it possible to live without me!”

* * * * *

The sound of rain against the house awoke Rosalind at dawn the next morning, although she had not been sleeping soundly. With the wedding only three days away, sleep was something that constantly eluded her.  The night before, she had lain awake for hours, desperately trying to think of a means in which to avoid wedding Nathaniel without jeopardizing her family.

And at long last, she had come up with a plan. Granted, it was dangerous, but she was willing to take the risk and carry it out…and rid herself of Nathaniel and his hold on her once and for all.

Her plotting was disturbed by someone rapping at her chamber door. “Mistress Rosalind!” Grace’s voice called from the other side. “Your brother is here and craves a word with you!”

“Ben?” Rosalind immediately was concerned. For what purpose, she wondered, would her brother venture out in a rainstorm, and at such an early hour? She leapt to her feet and hurried across the chamber to open to door. Ben, his long cloak dripping puddles on the floor, stood in the hallway.

“Ben!” Rosalind gasped, moving to embrace him in spite of his sogginess. “Come in and dry off.”

He entered the chamber, doffed his cloak and wrapped himself in the blanket Rosalind offered him.

“Pray tell,” she anxiously asked, “what brings you here?”

“I have come to seek your help,” he said. “I would not disturb you so near to your wedding day if I were not desperate.”

Rosalind only stared at him.

“Faith is with child,” he said. 

“Oh, I am so delighted!” Rosalind responded. “You both must be thrilled!”

“Aye, we are,” he said, smiling. “And we knew Faith might feel ill each morning, as is common. But this morn she was severely ill and took to her bed afterwards, too weak to get up.”

“’I know it must seem terrible to you,” Rosalind said, “but do not worry, Ben, ‘tis not an unusual occurrence for a woman who is with child.”

“I know,” he said. “But later this morn, Jacob Whitney and I are journeying to North Ammon to collect a cow I purchased. We shall be gone overnight.”

“You purchased a cow?”

“Aye. Jacob’s uncle offered it to me for such a pittance, I could not pass it up. We shall have butter, milk, cheese and cream right at our doorstep from here on. I must think of my future child now when making decisions.”

Rosalind still did not understand why Ben needed her help. “What is that you want from me?  To teach you how to milk a cow?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “I am concerned about leaving Faith when she is feeling so poorly. I walked over to Mother’s to ask her to check on Faith, but unfortunately, Nellie and Elizabeth are ill and she does not want to leave them.”

“Nellie and Elizabeth are ill?” Rosalind’s expression reflected her concern.

“Aye, but not to worry.  It seems they and their friend Rebecca got into some of Rebecca’s father’s secret supply of drink and…”

“They got sotted?” Rosalind gasped.

“I fear so.  Mother was not at all pleased, but said it was a lesson well learned, for she is certain they shall never touch such a drink again.”

“So you would like me to stay with Faith while you are away overnight because you are concerned about her?” Rosalind asked, finally understanding why Ben had come for her.

He nodded. “I will fully understand if you refuse me,” he said, “especially since the time is so near to your wedding and I know there is still much to do. But I would feel very much relieved if I knew Faith was with someone during my absence. The prospect of becoming a father has made me overly concerned, I must confess.”

“I would love to help,” Rosalind said.
And to get away from this godforsaken place for a day.
“But I do not think Abigail would approve of me being away overnight. Not with the wedding so near.”

The door to Abigail’s door creaked open. Both Rosalind and Ben turned to look in that direction. Abigail, looking as if she were struggling to wake up, appeared in the doorway.

“I thought I heard Ben’s voice,” she said. “What brings you here at his early hour, lad?”

“Faith, Nellie and Elizabeth all are ill and I must go to North Ammon to collect a cow I purchased from Jacob Whitney’s uncle. I was hoping Rosalind could stay with Faith until my return on the morrow. I fear my wife will not eat while I am gone, and she needs to keep up her strength.”