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SHE FLUNG HERSELF INTO his arms and, burying her face in his shoulder, drank in his familiar scent. “I am bereft without you. Please say we can now be wed.”
He pushed her from him as he barged into the house. “There are things I must take care of before I marry again.”
“What things?” she cried. “You are free, I am free, what can possibly stand in our way now?”
“Plenty.” He sat down on the stump before the low-burning fire.
“I don’t understand.” She stood before him wringing her hands.
“Benson is making it impossible for me to marry again.”
Catherine sucked in her breath. “How can he do such a thing?”
Noah snorted. “Benson can do anything he pleases.”
Tears sprang to Catherine’s eyes. “But surely you can do something, Noah.”
“Don’t fret, sweeting. We can be together, we just cannot be . . . married.”
“Noah, what are you suggesting? Tell me what’s wrong. Why can we not be married at once?”
He inhaled a long breath and finally spoke. “When Charity and I married, her father promised to deed a hundred and fifty acres of land to me. I was already established as a trader, and Benson could see that my efforts on that head were of benefit to the colony. He never made good on his word about the land.”
“But, why won’t he give it to you now?”
“According to Benson, his daughter’s death puts a different complexion on things. He says if I marry again, he’ll not give me the land at all. He fears when I die, it would pass to my new family, who won’t be in any way connected to him. The only way he’ll deed the land to me now is if I agree to remain unmarried; in other words, if I stay on with them and raise my child, then he can be certain the land will pass in a direct line to Charity’s daughter’s husband. In fact, he says the only person he’ll deed the land to now is Livvy.”
“Livvy?”
“We named the baby Elizabeth, after Charity’s grandmother. They call her Livvy.”
“I’d love to see your daughter.” Catherine’s tone softened. “Does she look like . . .?”
“Yellow hair, blue eyes.”
His words seemed oddly devoid of emotion, but Catherine took it more as a sign of his distress than lack of love for his newborn child, or grief over the death of his wife. Poor Noah, his heart was probably as heavy as hers when she first came here and learned that Noah was married and that her father was also gone. Suddenly she remembered Tamiyah’s dire prediction of a year ago that Charity would have no more babes. She wondered now if what Tamiyah really meant was that Charity would not survive another birthing.
“How did . . . Charity die?” she asked softly.
He shrugged. “It was a hard birth. At first they thought the child was stillborn, then someone heard it whimper, though weakly. Baby’s still not strong. Afterward, Charity never left her bed. Just grew weaker and weaker. Another pregnancy was simply too much for her. The Bensons blame me, of course.” He paused again. “And now they think I’m being cold and calculating by wanting what they promised when we married.”
“But couldn’t you promise not to leave the land to anyone save Livvy?”
“I’ve mentioned that. Benson doesn’t trust me to do it.”
“How dare they mistrust you!”
“How dare Benson not make good on his word and in the same breath say he doesn’t trust me!”
Catherine sank onto the chair opposite him, her head shaking sorrowfully. “We have waited so very long to be together. There must be a way.”
“There is,” he said.
Her head jerked up, her gaze trusting as she regarded the man she loved with all her heart.
“I could continue to come to you whenever I can, just as I have tonight. I could have come sooner, but . . .”
“No!” She drew back in horror. “I refuse to be your mistress, Noah! I want a real home, with children, and you as my husband. I will not settle for stolen moments in the dead of night. I will not!”
He shrugged. “Then I don’t know what to say, Cat.”
“Is possessing your own land that important to you?”
He sprang to his feet and began to pace. “Land is what the New World is all about. I did not come here to be a common laborer, to toil in some field, or to serve another man! God knows I can’t be a trader forever. A man must have a quick wit and be even quicker on his feet to remain alive in my business. I cannot be a trader forever!”
“Oh, Noah.” Catherine also rose and attempted to wind her arms about his neck. But he’d have none of it.
“I suppose Jack is gloating over his elevated status as Adam’s foreman.” The anger in his tone increased.
“They were all here today. We had a nice family dinner.”
“I saw who was here today,” he growled.
“You . . . saw?” She resumed her seat. It was far warmer to stay close to the fire than to stand in the draft with Noah as he paced.
He inhaled a sharp breath. “I’ve learned a few tricks from the Indians. Such as how to ‘see’ without being seen.” He paused to cast an angry glance at the door, as if he thought he could see straight through it. “I’ve seen all the men hanging after you . . . Reed, Fuller, Ed Henley, knocking at your door at all hours, early of a morning, leaving late at night.” He whirled to face her. “What do you do with them?”
“What do you mean what do I do with them? I don’t do anything with them. They have all made their intentions known to me and I suppose I shall have to settle on one of them now, since you won’t . . .”
He hurried to her side. “Catherine, you know I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
“And I want you, Noah.” When he knelt before her, she reached to tenderly hold his handsome face between her hands. “Why is owning a piece of Benson’s land of such importance to you, my darling?”
“Because it is!” He jerked from her grasp and resumed his agitated pacing.
“But why can you not purchase your own land?”
“With what?” He scowled. “Beads? Trade the Indians a few scraps of copper for a little plot of land hidden somewhere deep in the woods?”
She waited, hoping his anger would subside. “I wouldn’t mind where we lived, Noah. I just want to be with you.”
A frustrated sigh escaped him. “And I want to be with you. At least if I married you, I’d have something other men wanted. Right now I have nothing.”
“It doesn’t matter to me what other men want. I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s all that matters.”
He knelt before her again, his eyes hard. “You are mine, Cat. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’ll kill any man who touches you.”
She drew back in horror. “Don’t say that, Noah. Not after Victor . . .”
“Oh, I . . . I don’t mean I would actually . . .”
She smiled shakily. “I know you would never kill anyone. I know you are as distraught as I that we cannot be together now. But surely you have something of value you could trade with the Indians for a piece of land? You must have something.”
“It wouldn’t matter if I did. The king, the governor, the Crown doesn’t recognize that the Indians own this land. The only way for me to get any land is through a bona fide Virginia Company land grant.”
Catherine thought a long moment. She knew about the Virginia Company Headright System; it was how Adam had come by his land. She had paid Nancy’s passage over. Shouldn’t that entitle her to a fifty-acre grant?
“Noah, are women allowed to own land?”
“Of course they are.” He resumed pacing. “Benson is threatening to leave my hundred and fifty acres to my daughter.”
“I paid Nancy’s passage over. Shouldn’t that entitle me to fifty acres?”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “You own fifty acres?”
“Not yet. I’ve told no one I paid her passage. Nancy was a servant in London. So we could begin here on an equal footing, I promised her I would say nothing. But I can’t see why it would matter now.”
His features alight with interest, he sat down again. “Do you have a written record of the transaction?”
“No-o.” She shook her head slowly. “But Nancy would attest to it. And, if Captain Phillips were to sail into Jamestown again, I’m sure he would verify that I gave him a five-pound voucher, and he wrote Nancy’s name in the ship’s log.”
“Fifty acres.” He nodded, apparently considering this new turn.
“Do you not have any money at all, Noah?”
Still deep in thought, he shook his head. “Only a bit.”
“I still have a bit of what I brought with me.”
“You have money?” Again his interest rose. “English pounds?”
She nodded. “Perhaps there would be enough to purchase another fifty acres, or . . .”
“Where is your money? I suppose Adam has it,” he spat out.
“No.” She stood up. “I have it here.” She skirted past him into her bedchamber and quickly returned carrying a small leather pouch.
Noah’s eyes fixed on her delicate hands while she withdrew the two faded five-pound notes and handed them to him. The pouch still jingled with a few coins. “There’s a bit more here. How much land could you buy with ten pounds?”
He threw his head back and laughed aloud. “At least a hundred acres!”
“But how could you work that much alone, Noah? Wouldn’t it be better to buy two indentured contracts? Then you’d not only have the land, you’d also have two men to help you work it.”
He stopped, a sly grin lifting the corners of his mouth. “You are a rare find, Catherine, my girl!” He excitedly reached to pull her to her feet. As he did so, the notes slipped from his grasp and fluttered down, down, down toward the bed of red-hot embers.
Catherine’s sharp eyes saw where the notes landed. She jerked away from him and, dropping to her knees, scooped up the notes mere seconds before they burst into flames.
“I think I’d best keep these!” she declared, waving the slightly scorched papers in the air, then stuffing them back into her pouch.
He continued to laugh. “You have made me a happy man, my love!” He grasped her around the waist and danced her about the dimly lit room, both laughing happily.
Less than a quarter hour later, Noah slipped from her door into the darkened street. Catherine was so thrilled he had come that it didn’t occur to her to ask when they could be married, or even when he’d take her to meet with the reverend to have the banns posted.
She crawled back into bed, realizing only then that if Noah had wanted to make love to her that night she would have willingly let him. They already knew one another in the Biblical sense, so as far as she was concerned, they were indeed already married. But it didn’t matter. They had a lifetime ahead of them to snuggle beneath the bed rug and to fall asleep in one another’s arms. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, for the first time in a long time with a smile on her face.
* * * *
BUT UPON AWAKENING the next morning, she realized she was indeed annoyed over the fact that she still had no idea when she and Noah would be wed. He’d been so pleased that she could give him what he wanted, a hundred and fifty acres of land, that he’d made no definite decision regarding when they could marry. And, as usual, she had no idea when she’d see him again for he’d said nothing further on that head either.
Aware of muffled noises coming from the common room where Lanneika was busy preparing her morning meal, Catherine’s brow furrowed as she dressed. Advancing into that room, she was startled to find Ed Henley seated at the board table, enjoying a hearty portion of Lanneika’s hot corn pudding and fried journey cakes.
“Mornin’, Miss Catherine,” he looked up, a shy smile on his sun-lined face, “ye look lovely today.”
“Thank you, Edward, but . . . what are you doing here, so . . . early?” She recalled Noah’s remark last night regarding her gentleman callers arriving at all hours. “Do you . . . require something?”
“No, ma’am, Miss Lanneika fixed me up right good.” He drove his spoon into the corn pudding again.
“He plow field,” Lanneika said, a grin on her face as she set another trencher down on the table for Catherine.
“What field?”
Ed motioned over his shoulder with his wooden spoon. “Yeste’dey I saw yer little plot was only jes’ barely turned up. Thought I’d finish the job for ye. Brung my ox and plow.”
“Oh, so you mean to till my garden for me?”
“Done it already.”
“Well, thank you kindly, Ed. I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Except now she had to find a way to tell Noah about it, and hope he would not be too terribly jealous, or angry.
* * * *
A FEW DAYS LATER, CATHERINE still hadn’t seen Noah’s handsome face, so she decided she’d plant her field with corn, which would have the effect of obscuring the ruts laid down by Ed Henley’s plow. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to tell Noah who tilled the land up for her after all. If Noah thought it was his place to perform that task, he should have been on hand to do it.
After lessons were over, and the children had gone for the day, Catherine rummaged around in the loft for the kernels of corn she’d set aside for planting. Finding them, she hastened outdoors, set the basket of corn on the ground and was walking back toward the shed for the hoe when Lanneika came running around the corner of the house.
“What you do now, Miss Cat-e-wren?”
“I intend to plant my corn now the ground’s tilled up.”
“No plant now!” Lanneika’s dark head shook vigorously, her black eyes round.
Catherine looked at the girl as if she had taken leave of her senses. “Why must I not plant my corn today?” she demanded, both hands on her hips.
“Snow more come. Must wait.”
One eyebrow lifted. “You are telling me more snow is coming?” She directed a pointed gaze up at the sunny blue sky. The past several days had been quite warm, complete with balmy breezes. “I believe winter is long past, Lanneika, and I mean to plant my corn today.” She turned with decision toward the shed.
“No! Must wait! Come, I show you when time plant.”
Catherine could see the girl would not be put off, so with a sigh, she let Lanneika lead the way into the woods. In moments the girl stopped and pointed overhead to a white oak tree upon whose branches tiny green buds peeked through.
Puzzled, Catherine looked up at the tree then back at her young guide, now shuffling through piles of dead leaves at the base of the tree in search of . . . something. At length, Lanneika snatched up a long stick, dropped to her knees and with the stick drew an outline of . . . something on the ground. When she finished, she gazed up at Catherine, a look of satisfaction on her pretty face.
“See?” Lanneika pointed to the picture she’d drawn, which looked to be some sort of . . . animal.
“A squirrel?” Catherine guessed.
“No!” Lanneika giggled. Using the stick she tapped at the animal’s long, slim tail.
“A mouse?”
Lanneika nodded, her dark eyes twinkling merrily. “Plant corn when . . .” she pointed up at the tree, “leaf big as mo . . . ma . . . mause ear.” She tugged at her own ear. “Snow no more come.”
Catherine began to laugh. Lanneika always managed to find a unique way of getting her point across. “So . . . you are quite certain another snowstorm is on the way, and I simply cannot plant my corn today.”
“No have nammais.”
“Nam-ma-is?” Catherine repeated hesitantly, not at all certain she wanted to know what that was.
As they headed back through the forest, Lanneika did her best to demonstrate the meaning of the new word with hand motions that looked like a fish swimming in water.
By the time they reached the house, the only thing swimming was Catherine’s head. She decided to heed Lanneika’s advice and plant her corn another day.
And was glad she’d done so. Two days later, she awoke to find a blanket of snow had covered the ground during the night. Lanneika didn’t have to say, “I told you so” when she arrived that morning. An impish grin and the twinkle in her black eyes adequately conveyed the sentiment. For three days afterward, icy wind blew the frosty snowflakes inside the house every time Catherine opened the door.
Late one night, she finally flung it open to admit the one person she’d waited all week to see.
“Noah! Come in out of the cold.”
He stepped into the house, stamping snow from his boots before hurrying toward the hearth where a warm fire blazed.
“Where have you been? I’ve so many things to ask you, I . . .”
“I’m here now.” A curt tone cut her off.
She patted a chair for him to sit and sat down on the one opposite. “What’s kept you?” she couldn’t help asking, but willed her voice to sound a trifle less impatient.
“I’d have come sooner, but this freakish snowstorm kept me on the Benson farm the entire week. Benson put me to work covering the tobacco seedlings. Now he fears he may have lost a good many due to the ice.”
“Oh, dear,” Catherine murmured, hoping the same fate hadn’t befallen Adam’s young plants.
“At any rate, I finally managed to escape.”
Catherine was pleased then to see Noah’s familiar easy grin return to his face.
“When are we to marry, Noah?” she asked in a soft voice.
The grin disappeared. “As soon as ye’ve a land grant in your pocket, sweetheart. By my reckoning, that could take a while.” He turned to hold his hands up before the fire.
“Are you saying we must wait until . . .”
“Exactly what I’m saying, my dear. Right now, I’ve only got promises from both you and Benson. As soon as you show me the fifty-acre grant you’re entitled to for Nancy’s passage, we’ll summon the parson.”
“But, Noah, I . . .” Her crestfallen tone matched the supreme disappointment on her face.
“Can’t be helped, sweetheart. I’ll not exchange one promise for another. I need proof. I want the land grant in my hand this time before I say ‘I do.’ ”
Catherine had no choice but to abandon the charged subject. Though she was disappointed, she decided that perhaps Noah was not being unreasonable; after all, he had been disappointed before, so it was understandable for him to be mistrustful now. Later, when he suggested they warm one another beneath the bedcovers, she meekly followed him into her bedchamber.
He took her that night, but Catherine’s heart wasn’t in it. His stubborn refusal to trust her, or to set a date for them to marry, had cut her to the quick.
The following morning it dawned on Catherine that as Victor’s widow she was already in possession of the fifty acres he’d been granted for paying his passage over. He’d shown her the land the day they walked to the glass manufacturing plant. And after they married, he’d also shown her the actual Virginia Company land grant.
Trouble was, she had no idea where he’d put the piece of paper. And, even if and when she had the legal document in her hands, she’d still have to wait until the next time Noah dropped by to show it to him. But surely it would serve to hasten their walk down the aisle. Surely.