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THE NEXT MORNING, WHEN Catherine awoke, she was thrilled to discover her menses had come during the night. She was unsure if the fall had brought on her flow, or if she had indeed been with child and the fall had caused her to miscarry. If she had been pregnant, a part of her regretted losing the only part of Noah Colton she might ever possess. Yet she felt vastly relieved that she would not now have to deceive Victor when they married.
A few evenings later, both she and Nancy were below stairs when a rap sounded at the door. A cold wind had been blowing hard for several days, and both girls had been glad to stay indoors in the evenings where it was considerably warmer. When Catherine opened the door, swirling red and gold leaves accompanied Noah Colton inside. She hurried to shut out the cold wind and turned toward him.
“I suppose you’ve come for your package.”
He nodded, flicking a sullen gaze toward Nancy, seated before the fire stitching patches onto one of Lad’s old shirts. The boy had torn it nearly to shreds that day whilst up on the roof attempting to add another layer of rushes before the harsh winter months set in. Worn out from his exertion, he was already fast asleep in the loft, it being too cold now to sleep in the open-air lean-to.
Still with no greeting or attempt at polite conversation, Noah merely advanced toward the ladder but stopped abruptly when he saw that it did not look the same as he remembered.
Glancing up, Nancy said, “Victor built us a new ladder . . . with a nice, sturdy railing.”
“Your things are right here, Noah,” Catherine said. “Lad’s already asleep in the loft.”
Noah glanced at Catherine as she walked toward one of the board tables no longer in use since her school sessions had ceased.
“You brought it down here?” Disapproval marred his handsome features.
Catherine was not the least bit frightened of an angry outburst from him; in fact, she fully expected one when he learned not all of his items were there.
“I was in the loft a few days ago and quite by accident discovered where’d you put your package. As you can see, Nancy needed some rags to patch Lad’s shirt and I required some myself.” She didn’t elaborate on why she required rags; he was a married man, he knew about a woman’s monthly needs.
He snatched the package up. And apparently thinking it didn’t feel quite right, set it down again. Flinging angry glances at Catherine, he yanked the loose ends apart. “Where are the . . .?”
“Beads? I accidentally dropped your bundle on my way back down. Unfortunately the beads rolled all over the . . . ” Her gaze dropped to the straw-strewn floor. “Nancy and I managed to find a few, but I’m afraid the bulk of them disappeared beneath the straw. It was an accident, Noah.”
He jammed the bundle beneath his doublet. “I should have known I could no longer trust you. I suppose you’ve told your new friend Victor about this.”
She was taken aback. “I haven’t said a word to anyone. Only Nancy and I know what was there. She helped me pick up the things I dropped. Lad, of course, knows you left a bundle here since he was here the night you brought it.” She went on. “I hardly see why it would matter to anyone what’s in your package, everyone in Jamestown knows you’re a trader.”
Because he kept flinging irritable glances at Nancy, it occurred to Catherine he did not want to say anything further whilst she was in the room.
Angry strides carried him to the door. “When you change the rushes, I’d appreciate it if ye’d gather up the beads and return them to me. They’re mine.”
“They appear to be only worthless glass.”
“Worthless to you, perhaps, but as you pointed out, I’m a trader. I don’t own hundreds of acres of land like your brother. To the Indians, those worthless pieces of glass are money, and they belong to me!”
Her lips pursed. “Very well, Noah. I’ll be sure to save them for you. In future, I’d rather you didn’t . . . ”
“No matter.” He yanked open the door. “I have no intention of returning. You are free of me, Mistress Fielding, or should I say Goodwife Covington?”
“I am not yet Goodwife Covington,” she replied evenly.
“But I expect ye soon will be.”
“If Victor asks me to become his wife, I intend to say yes.”
* * * *
ON AN UNSEASONABLY warm November day, puffy white clouds dotted the blue sky, and a slight breeze wafted through the treetops, now completely bare of leaves. Victor came for Catherine early that morning, and the two walked to the river’s edge and climbed into the small dugout bobbing in the blue-green water. It was the first time Catherine had been on the river since she’d disembarked from the ship that brought her to Jamestown some seven months earlier.
Today, Victor was taking her upriver to see her brother and his wife and their newborn baby. Jack and Victor had relayed the good news to the girls a few days ago that Adam was now the proud father of a healthy baby boy. Catherine was elated for she knew her brother had always wanted a son.
“Has he named the baby yet?” she asked Victor as he helped her into the small shallop where she sat down on one of the backless wooden benches.
Having shrugged off his doublet, Victor was now rolling up his shirtsleeves. The sun also warm on her back, Catherine let her shawl drop to her waist.
“Elijah,” he said, picking up the oars and plunging them into the water. “After your father. They call the little fellow Eli.”
Smiling her pleasure, Catherine noted the corners of Victor’s eyes crinkling in his sun-browned face as he grinned back at her.
“Ye look beautiful today, Catherine, but, then . . . ye always do. If all goes as I plan,” he murmured, “there’s something I mean to ask ye later.”
Catherine gazed into his adoring blue eyes, the color of which matched the sky. She fully expected he meant to ask Adam for her hand in marriage today. This was the first time Victor had even remotely broached the topic, although she knew it had been on his mind of late, for she’d caught him looking longingly at her a number of times the past month. Although he had squeezed her hand warmly on several occasions when they parted, he’d never attempted to kiss her.
Once they reached the pier that jutted into the water only yards from the new clapboard house where Adam and his family now lived, Victor clambered out of the boat and tied it to a post. He helped Catherine step onto the wide-planked pier, which teetered a bit in the water as they made their way to shore.
“My,” she exclaimed as they stepped onto solid ground and she gazed up at the two-story house perched on a small rise overlooking the water, “Adam’s new home is lovely. Much bigger than I expected.”
“You’ve not been here before?”
“No.” Catherine shook her head. The sun glancing off her long auburn hair, hanging loose down her back, gleamed with splashes of red and gold.
Walking beside her, apparently Victor couldn’t resist touching a wavy lock. “Your hair feels like silk,” he said, feasting his eyes on the thick mass that swayed sensuously when she walked.
A smile on her lips, Catherine slanted a look up at him. “I washed it in lavender water.”
Lifting a curl, he brought it to his nose and drank in the glorious scent, which made Catherine laugh.
Thusly engaged, they didn’t see Abigail watching them from the wide verandah that fronted the house.
“Hallo!” she called as they drew nearer. “Welcome to Harvest Hill.”
“You’ve named the plantation!” Catherine gaily called back. “Harvest Hill is beautiful.”
Her plain face beaming, Abby held the door open for them. “There’s someone I’m dying for you to meet.”
In moments, Catherine and Victor were gazing down into a small wooden crib, admiring the new baby. Gurgling happily, it stretched one tiny hand upward.
“With that red hair, he looks just like Adam!” Catherine gushed.
They all laughed as Abigail reached to tuck a small piecework quilt firmly about the baby’s plump body. She carried the crib into the parlor at the front of the house where she could keep an eye on the infant while they visited.
The spacious house was bright and airy. Though plainly furnished, it had a real wooden floor, and the windows had shutters that could be closed to keep out the cold wind in winter. The furniture was all new and more finely made than the coarse pieces in their old home in Jamestown. In the last weeks of her pregnancy, Abigail had industriously stitched cushions for the chairs and even made knotted rag rugs for the floors.
“Everything looks beautiful, Abigail,” Catherine enthused.
“We mean to paint the clapboards both inside and out come spring. In back, I’ve a real kitchen attached to the house and a room for eating that’s separate from the kitchen,” she added proudly.
“Oh, my!” Catherine gazed at the many wonders. “You must be very comfortable here.”
“Indeed, we are. The Morgans have a cozy cottage on the plantation as well. Margaret helped me these last weeks, but since she has her own home to look after, Adam found a nice Indian woman to help me every day. She does most of the cooking and the hard labor.”
“How nice,” Catherine murmured.
“On the whole, my lying-in was quite restful. It feels secluded and peaceful this far out from town.”
Catherine could see how happy her sister-in-law was, and it pleased her that her brother had married such a good woman, and they now had a fine home and a beautiful baby.
Later, when Adam came into the house, they all sat down to a sumptuous feast of roasted venison, steamed turnips, and ears of corn dripping with butter. The meal was topped off with blackberry pie and scoops of fresh clotted cream. Everyone remarked on how delicious everything tasted.
Adam was glad to see Catherine and, as they ate, told her what was going on at the plantation, that the men were now pressing the dried tobacco leaves into hogsheads, which he explained were wooden casks about four feet high and two feet wide.
“A hogshead stuffed full of dried tobacco leaves can weigh as much as thirteen hundred pounds,” he said. “When the casks are full, we merely roll them down to the pier and load ’em onto one of the tobacco ships en-route for England. Considerably easier than in years past when we had to get the cumbersome things from here to Jamestown.”
“On the rolling roads,” Catherine said with a grin. “I remember you telling me about that.”
“Every planter needs his own pier,” Adam said with conviction.
“What will you do once tobacco season ends?” Catherine asked with interest.
“Oh, there’s always plenty to do.” He laughed. “Firewood to cut, fences to build, trees to girdle.”
“Girdle? What’s that?” Catherine asked, grinning. She had never heard of such a thing.
“Well, first you cut notches in the bark all around the tree, then when you pull the bark off, it gives it the look of a girdle . . . hence the name. After that, the tree will no longer sprout, and in a year or two, when the treetops decay, sunlight can more easily filter through the withered branches. You can then plant beneath the tree without having to dig out the stump. ’Tis a far quicker method of clearing a field than the old way.”
“How clever you are!” Catherine exclaimed.
“We’ll soon be slaughtering hogs,” Abigail put in. “And you know the saying: we use every part of the pig except the squeal.”
“How’s that?” asked Victor. “I thought you just ate the pork and threw the rest away.”
“No.” Abigail laughed. “Nothing goes to waste. Intestines are good for sausage skin, the bladder for holding lard, and, of course, the hair from the tail, being stiff and strong, is perfect for sewing buckskin.”
“Ah.” Victor nodded appreciatively.
“Meat from four good-sized hogs can carry a family through the winter,” Adam said. “We’ll be drying hundreds of pounds of peas and corn. I’ll also kill as many deer as I can, then we’ll smoke the meat.”
Catherine seized the moment. “You haven’t forgotten your promise to me.”
“I remember. I’m to provide provisions to see you and Nancy through the winter,” Adam replied good-naturedly.
“And the next one,” Catherine reminded him.
“She drove a hard bargain,” he told Victor.
They all laughed, and when the meal concluded, the men headed outdoors while Catherine stayed inside with Abigail and the baby. They visited while Abigail nursed the infant, and when the men returned, Catherine couldn’t help noticing both were wearing secretive smiles, which told her her name had likely come up in their conversation.
When the afternoon shadows lengthened, Victor said he thought they should be heading back. The four made their way to the verandah, and when Adam put an arm about Catherine’s shoulders, she fell into step beside him as they all strolled down to the water’s edge.
“Victor Covington is a fine man, Cat,” he said speaking quietly to her. “He’s honest and hardworking. I know how ye feel about Noah, but ye’d be wise to settle your affections elsewhere.”
Catherine looked up at him. “I do agree with you, and I care for Victor, but . . .”
She was interrupted by Victor’s voice hailing her from the pier. “Sun’s beginning to set, Catherine. We’d best head back.”
Catherine hurried to join him. She thanked Abigail and her brother for the delightful day and let Victor assist her into the dugout. On the way downriver, they both remarked on the beautiful sunset unfolding before them. Catherine watched as long fingers of gold, pink, and purple spread across the sky, then silently become a soothing panorama of dusky rose.
“The setting sun from this aspect is beautiful,” she exclaimed. “We rarely see the sun set from the house. The trees are far too thick inland.”
“Jack and I watch the sun rise every morning. We generally row back about now every evening. We’ve seen a good many things of interest from here.” He grinned at Catherine. “One night last week, we saw four or five Indians on horseback in that clearing over there.” He motioned toward shore with his head as both arms were engaged with the oars.
“Indians on horseback?” Catherine turned to gaze that direction. “I’ve never heard of Indians riding horses before.”
“Herds of wild horses roam hereabouts. Jack and I could hardly believe our eyes the day we saw twenty or thirty horses galloping across that clearing. Folks say white men can’t catch ’em, but appears the Indians can. They tame ’em, too.”
“I wonder how the Indians catch them?” Catherine mused, still gazing across the glassy water toward the pretty meadow surrounded by tall trees.
“I wonder how the Indians do a lot of things,” Victor said. “They’re smart, I’ll give ’em that.”
Catherine turned back around. “I often wonder how long they’ve lived on this land. I think it rather sad that we English are so bent on disrupting their simple way of life. They seem so peaceful just as they are.”
“You have a tender heart, Catherine. I don’t know a great deal about the Indians. I didn’t even know when I came here how close they live to the English.” With darkness closing in on them, he began to row a bit faster. “I’m loath to admit it, but it makes me a tad bit nervous. I don’t know how far an Indian’s arrow flies, but I sure don’t want one of ’em using me for target practice.”
Catherine laughed softly. “We’ve nothing to fear, Victor. We’re just rowing down the river. I don’t believe the Indians would view that as threatening.”
“Perhaps.” But he didn’t slow his pace any.
“Adam said there was trouble between the Indians and the English in the early years, but we’ve lived peacefully together for some time now.”
“You’re not the least bit afraid of them, are you?”
“No. All the Indians I’ve met, save one, have been gentle and kind.”
“Well, it only takes one bad apple to spoil the bunch.”
“I don’t believe we have anything to fear,” she said again, a serene smile on her lips.
The fort of Jamestown soon came into view, and Victor headed the small boat toward the shoreline fronting the men’s bark hut. Once he tied up the boat, they set out to walk to Catherine’s home.
The night air being cool, she drew her shawl closer about her. Victor edged a bit closer, and when he did so, she became aware of the warmth emanating from his strong body. Neither had said much since they began walking. Catherine wondered if he meant to propose to her tonight?
“It was a lovely day, Victor.” She looked up at him. “Thank you for taking me.”
“Was kind of Adam to grant me freedom for the day. Rather like being on holiday.”
“It did seem like a holiday.” Catherine smiled.
They fell silent. The smell of smoke rising up the chimneys swirled about them on the cool night air. Walking past the tidy houses, Catherine could see lights flickering through cracks in the window coverings and chinks in the walls. She imagined folks sitting by the hearth or moving about indoors by candlelight. She imagined herself and Victor snug inside on a cold winter night, eating their supper or just talking together as they warmed themselves before the fire.
“Jamestown always seems peaceful to me at night,” she murmured.
“I’m more content here than I ever expected to be,” Victor said.
Catherine heard him inhale a long breath and wondered if he meant now to say something to her and was simply trying to pluck up the courage.
She waited, and when he said nothing, she attempted to help him along. “Did you and Adam talk about . . . anything particular?”
He cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, we did.”
Still, he didn’t elaborate.
Catherine began softly, “Adam thinks you are an honest and hardworking man. I’m glad he likes you.”
After a pause, Victor asked, “What about you, Catherine. Do you like me?”
She cast a sidelong look up at his rugged profile, which looked quite appealing in the shadows. He had a high brow, straight nose, and a strong, square jaw. His lips were thin, though well-shaped. “I like you a great deal, Victor.” It pleased her that not a single word she’d said was untrue.
“I like you as well, Catherine. Very much.”
He paused again. Catherine feared he was growing more nervous and flustered than ever, though she couldn’t imagine why. She’d given him no reason to doubt what her answer would be when he finally posed the question.
At length, he said, “In all my life, I’ve never met a woman more beautiful than you, Catherine. To be sure, ye put every female in Jamestown to shame. You could have your pick of any man in the New World.”
She waited, then when she realized he did not mean to say anything more, she said, “Thank you, Victor. I think you are a handsome man, as well.” She almost said she thought they’d make beautiful children together but caught herself before the words flew out of her mouth. He hadn’t yet asked her to become his wife. To mention children at this juncture would likely frighten him for good and all.
“Damme, Catherine.” He stopped and, turning toward her, gathered both her hands in his large, square ones. “What I’m trying to say and making such a muddle of is . . . will ye marry me? Will ye become my wife? Your brother gave his blessing. So, will ye?”
Catherine could not help smiling both at the length of his proposal when he finally got it out, but from relief over the fact that he had. “Yes, Victor. I will marry you. I will be happy to become your wife . . . and to bear your children.” Well, it was on her mind. Having just spent the better part of the day gazing into the cherubic face of Adam’s precious newborn had made her want one of her own. She may not yet love Victor Covington, but she knew she would love their child with all her heart.
That he did not take her into his arms did not surprise her. He merely nodded and, with determined satisfaction and a wide grin on his face, linked her arm through his and covered her slim fingers, curled over the crook of his arm, with his callused ones.
“When shall we do it?” he asked as they commenced to walk. “The sooner the better, I’m persuaded.”
* * * *
BY WEEK’S END, THE banns had been posted on the meetinghouse door, which merely stated a couple’s intent to marry and allowed anyone with reason to protest the match ample time in which to do so.
No one came forward to protest the marriage between Victor Covington and Catherine Fielding, publicly, that is. But Noah Colton managed to make his protest known to one of the pair.
Catherine was surprised to meet up with him one cold afternoon in the forest where she’d gone to gather nuts. The walnuts, pecans, and chestnuts that blanketed some parts of the forest floor were delicious in apple crisps, custards, and bread. She and Nancy also enjoyed roasting them on a cold winter night before the fire.
Catherine had just about filled her bucket when she glanced up to find Noah striding toward her. As usual, the mere sight of him caused her breath to quicken. He looked especially appealing today wearing buckskin breeches and tall leather boots. His hair had grown long; his golden curls now grazed his shoulders. In an effort to stay calm, she inhaled a deep breath but that merely filled her nostrils with the fresh outdoorsy scent of the handsome man headed toward her. She worked to tamp down her reaction to him; after all, she was soon to become a married woman, and the only man for whom she wished her pulse to quicken was her husband.
As if reading her thoughts, Noah said by way of greeting, “So, ye’re to be married, or perhaps ye’ve already repeated your vows?”
Flustered, she looked down. “The banns were only published last week. We’ve a bit longer to wait before we meet with the reverend.”
“Well, for whatever difference it makes, I heartily protest the match.”
Thinking his tone sounded decidedly cool, her head jerked up. “Don’t be that way, Noah. Don’t begrudge me the happiness you’ve found in marriage.”
He pulled a face. “Who says I’ve found happiness in marriage? Why do ye think I kept comin’ to see you?”
Her heart thumped in her breast. “I . . . wondered why you persisted in coming around.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “Because ye belong to me, pea-goose. Ye always have, ye always will. Ye were willing to marry me once.”
Her gaze softened. “I thought you’d forgotten the promise we made to one another as children.”
“I remember how lovely I thought you were. But I’ll not stand in yer way now.”
“I’m a woman alone now, Noah. I need help. I expected that help to come from you once I arrived in Jamestown.”
He shrugged. “I also expected things would be different when I came here. We’ve no choice now but to play the hand we’re dealt.”
An anguished look dimmed the light in Catherine’s eyes. “I’ll always love you, Noah,” she murmured.
He grinned. “I know.”
She fought the urge to fling her arms around his neck, but instead reminded herself that all she and Noah could share now was the past.
“We shall always be friends,” she said, doing nothing to conceal the longing in her eyes as she gazed up at the one man she’d loved for as long as she could remember.
He nodded, but the odd look she saw in his eyes was unfathomable.
At length, Catherine dropped her gaze. When she glanced back up, she noticed that he was carrying a bow and peeking over his shoulder was a quiver full of arrows.
“Where did you get that?” Her gaze indicated the bow. “And what do you intend doing with it?”
“Traded an ax blade for it. Been practicing m’ aim this afternoon. Would ya’ like to see?” Raising the bow into position, he reached over his shoulder and skillfully slid an arrow from the quiver.
“No!” Still, she edged closer. “I’ve never seen a real arrow before.” She reached to touch the sharp point. “It’s so small.”
“It’s a Powhatan arrow. Every tribe’s arrowheads are different. Powhatan arrowheads are small and sharp. Chickahominies are large and wide, though every bit as lethal.”
“Please tell me you’ve not killed anything with that!”
“Nothing of consequence, save this hare.” He let the bow fall slack and reached behind his back for the dead rabbit attached to his belt with a leather tong. “Here.” He extended it toward her. “You take it. You and Nancy can have a nice rabbit stew.”
Though Catherine hated to think of any living thing being felled by an arrow, she knew the Indians lived off what they hunted and killed in the forest. She reached for the hare, then drew her hand back. “I’d rather you give it to Nancy yourself.”
Grinning at her squeamishness, he glanced toward her bucket on the ground, it nearly full of nuts. “Are you ready to go?”
When she nodded, he gallantly picked up the heavy bucket, and they set out, their footfalls crunching on the dry leaves as they trekked back through the tangled woods.
“Nancy and Jack are also to wed,” she remarked in a conversational tone.
“Do the four of you plan to share the house, then?”
“For a while. Quite a number of families share homes, you know.”
“Charity and I live with her parents. She has no objection to the arrangement.”
“But you do?”
“I wasn’t consulted. Benson home is plenty large and . . . with a babe on the way . . . ” his voice trailed off.
Catherine willed a bright smile to her face. “I think it’s wonderful that you will soon be a father again, Noah. I predict when the baby comes, you will be very happy,” she concluded sweetly.
He made no reply at once, then, in a low tone, said, “I hoped I’d got a babe on you.”
“Noah!” Catherine’s eyes widened. “You mustn’t say such a thing!” She flung a wild gaze over her shoulder as if she feared the forest had ears.
“We could try again,” he teased.
“Absolutely not! What we did was wrong, and none but the two of us must ever know of it.” She ducked her head, fearful even of speaking about such things in broad daylight. “We sinned against God and the Church, and you broke your marriage vows.”
He grinned. “I’ve broken nearly all the Lord’s commandments.”
“I don’t believe that.” She directed an alarmed gaze up at him. “I daresay you are lying even now.”
“There, I’ve broken them all!”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Well, at any rate, you mustn’t ever say a word about . . . what we did. Promise me you won’t.”
“I promise, Catherine; on my honor, which . . .” His tone turned teasing. “Isn’t worth a damn.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are incorrigible.”
“So,” he began afresh, “the four of you mean to share the house?”
“Yes; as I was saying, I don’t know how long Nancy and Jack will remain in town. Adam has asked Jack to become his foreman, and I expect they will remove to Harvest Hill once he and Nan marry.”
She heard his snort of derision. “Adam’s taken to calling his swampland Harvest Hill, has he? Sounds rather pretentious to me.”
Catherine frowned. “Adam is quite proud of all he’s accomplished. You’ll have a turn one day at managing a large estate.”
“Not until Charity’s father is dead and gone.”
“No-ah! I’m sure you were all very thankful when your father-in-law survived the fever this past summer.”
“Strong as an old ox, that one.”
“I would expect he’d want you beside him now. To learn about things, and . . . whatnot.”
“Benson says I’m more valuable to the colony as a trader. Jamestown’s future is of paramount importance to him. He’s refused to relinquish his seat on the council a number of times, despite my mother-in-law’s protests.”
“Perhaps you’ll take a seat on the council yourself one day,” Catherine suggested brightly.
He grimaced. “Not likely. Truth to tell, my father-in-law thinks I’m a bit of a ne’er-do-well.”
“You just said he thinks you’re a successful trader.”
“I strongly suspect he allowed his only daughter to marry me because she’s the apple of his eye, and he can deny her nothing.”
They trudged on in silence for a spell, each lost in their own thoughts. Again, Catherine marveled over how easily she and Noah talked, as if there’d been no harsh words or recent animosity between them. They seemed to easily put it all aside and pick back up in a friendly manner.
Presently, she said, “You’re too hard on yourself, Noah. I think you are very talented.”
He flashed an impish grin. “Still sweet on me, eh, love?”
She laughed. “You’re a charming rogue, Noah Colton, I’ll give you that.”
He winked at her. “Ye’d give me more than that, ye saucy wench, if ye weren’t about to wed another man!”
“You reprobate!” she said, laughing
Reaching home, Nancy was tickled to death to get the hare and declared she’d make a delicious rabbit pie for their supper the following evening.
“I’ll invite Jack and Victor over!” she declared to Catherine, who winced when she saw the hurt look on Noah’s handsome face. But he merely tipped his cap and sauntered off.
Later that night, as Catherine lay abed reflecting on her unexpected encounter with Noah in the forest, she relished the warm feeling his teasing banter had brought forth within her. She hated quarreling with him. Noah had been a part of her life for so very long, it hurt her deeply when they were at odds. Though loath to admit it, she still longed to lie with him again, to feel his arms wrapped around her and his lips pressed to hers. It warmed her to know that, despite her plans to marry another, he still cared for her. She only hoped that once she and Victor were wed and he’d bedded her, she could at long last put away her craving for Noah. She must. For how else could she make a go of her marriage to Victor? She would always cherish her shared past with Noah, but the harsh truth was, there was no future for them, and she had no choice but to accept that. With a sigh, she resolved afresh to put all thoughts of her handsome, loveable rogue from mind. Still, she could not quiet the niggling fear beneath her resolve that told her she was attempting the impossible, that her deep hunger for Noah Colton would never go away. And that fact troubled her deeply.