Chapter 16

As he entered the library at Sheffield, Adam flinched inwardly at the cold fury in the old man's eyes. Thomas was seated rigidly in a high-backed chair beside the fireplace, his faded green eyes as fierce as those of a threatened osprey, and equally unforgiving.

"Why?" The single word dropped like a stone in the silent room.

There was no stopping the shameful flush that spread up Adam's neck and cheeks. His eyes misted as the full magnitude of what he had done to this grand old gentleman sank in. "I'm sorry," he stammered. He felt sick, as sick as he had been the day he was called into the headmaster's office for leaving cow pies in the chancery when he was ten years old. He'd been severely beaten for that, and he wished a beating would clear his conscience of this transgression as easily as the other had done.

"You're sorry?" The Bradford eyes narrowed in contempt. "You've dishonored my granddaughter and Sheffield, and all you have to say is that you're sorry?" The gnarled hands gripped the edge of the chair. "I trusted you, Adam. I've loved you as much as any man loves a son, and you do this to me and expect to get away with it? By God!" Thomas rose to his feet. "If I were ten years younger, I'd call you out!"

Adam took a deep breath. "She's not to blame, sir. It's all my doing. I take full responsibility."

"You're damned right you do. And you'll take full responsibility for the child, if she has one. You'll do no less than marry the girl, or I'll see you dead and in your grave." He crossed the room to Adam and seized his arms. "You'll be wed at once."

"Marry her?"

"Of course marry her, you young fool! What did you expect? It's only by God's grace that you managed to slip her back into Kentwood without being caught this morning, but it changes nothing. Her disappearance from the ball followed by your own will cause talk. I won't have her reputation sullied further. They already talk of her as though she were a woman of easy virtue."

"But I want to marry Rebecca," Adam said. "I love her. I didn't think you'd consider—"

"Wouldn't consider Martha's son a fit match for Rebecca? A man I've trained myself?" Thomas sniffed loudly and returned to his chair, where he poured himself a glass of brandy from a crystal decanter that stood on the small table alongside. "You do take me for a senile old man." He sipped the brandy slowly, then looked full into Adam's face. "I meant her for you all the time. I was only giving the two of you time to get to know each other. It's better that way. Rebecca's grandmother, God rest her soul, my first wife... she and I were wed after meeting only once, a family alliance. It took us years to come to terms. She had her eyes on another, and I..." He chuckled. "Well, that was long ago. I didn't want the same for you and Rebecca." He took another drink. "You would have saved me many a night's sleep if you'd told me you wanted her."

"But why?" Adam ran a hand through his hair. "Why me? You could have your pick of men, men with wealth and—"

"Damn their wealth! I've enough for both of you. The money means nothing. It's Sheffield I care about! Sheffield and that child's happiness." He smiled faintly. "You'll not mock her for her strange ways or value her less for the years she spent with the savages. I've taught you all I know, and I can die knowing that what I've started here will continue. It's time the Bradfords had some strong new blood. You've got that strength in you, more than my own son had, if the truth be known." Thomas drained the last of the brandy. "I want no early great-grandsons. You'll marry now, today if the parson can be found. I'll not risk leaving Sheffield open for the taking."

"I would have looked after her, no matter what," Adam said. "You should have known that."

"Ha!" Thomas grimaced. "And when the high sheriff came with orders from the court to name a guardian, what would you have done then? Your rights to Sheffield mean nothing in court without Rebecca. They would find a way, mark my words. She would be married off to some favorite, then packed off to England to live out her life in seclusion. An heiress as innocent as Rebecca? What does she know of managing her wealth? What does she know of deceit? What has the law done to protect Isabel's rights? Would it do more for Rebecca?"

"And if we marry?" Adam savored the word: marry. Was it possible she could be his honestly? Without shame? His to care for and cherish?

"Then all of Sheffield is yours by law through her. No man can take it from you, Adam. It will be yours and your children's. Lock, stock, and barrel."

Another doubt rose to dampen Adam's joy. "But will she agree to it? I've asked her to be my wife, and she refused. You said she could—"

"Could go back to the Indians?" Thomas laughed. "Adam, Adam, you are too trusting. Did you think I meant to let her return to—"

"I did!"

Adam turned to see Rebecca standing in the half-open doorway. "Rebecca," he called. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to hear the two of you deciding my fate without consulting me." Head held high, she entered the room and closed the door behind her. There was no need to let the servants know that Adam and her grandfather regarded her as a mindless child.

Her eyes were large in her pale face, her skin almost translucent against the ivory satin dressing gown. She'd been half asleep when she'd heard her grandfather's angry voice echo up the stairs and had wrapped herself in the gown and come down to see what the trouble was. "If you want the land, Adam," she said evenly, "you have only to ask. I do not want it. I told you that, Grandfather. I want only to return to the Shawnee." She threw an accusing look at the old man. "You deceived me. You promised I could go home if I wished, and all along you were planning to marry me off." Unconsciously her body stiffened and her chin went up. "Am I a slave to be treated so?"

"If you were listening at the door," Adam snapped, "then you heard me say that I love you, that I asked for your hand in marriage before and you refused me."

"No." Rebecca shook her head. "No, I did not hear that. I heard you say that I refused you, but I heard no words of love—only of money. Sheffield is what matters to you both! Take it and be damned to your Christian hell. Only let me go!"

"Rebecca." Steel rang in the old man's soft voice. "It is decided. You will marry Adam. If you are angry and hurt now, in time you will understand that I mean only your best. He will be good to you and to your children." He held out his hand to her.

"No," she repeated stubbornly. "I will not have him."

"You should have thought of that before you gave him what should have been saved for your lawful husband," Thomas said.

"Will you tie me hand and foot and drag me to the altar?"

Adam laid a soothing hand on her arm, but she brushed it away.

"If need be."

"No, don't make me do this," she protested.

Thomas's face hardened. "I know you are not of a loose and immoral nature. You aren't to blame for your lack of Christian training, but it is better if you are safely married. Your hotheaded ways will bring you only unhappiness and ruin. Adam loves you, and I know you care for him. If it is not love you feel, then in time it will become love. Whom should a woman love if not the husband provided for her by a loving family? Willy-nilly, walking or carried, miss, you shall wed, and you shall wed Adam. Get you upstairs to your room until you can control your tongue. I'll send Isabel to help you pick a bridal gown and such. That should keep you busy until the parson arrives." He waved to Adam. "See she goes up, and set two men to guard her door and another to watch the window. We'll have no more games of in and out the window."

Rebecca turned toward Adam. "You will not go through with this?"

He sighed. "I would have you willing, Rebecca, but even unwilling, I will have you any way I can get you." It was true. To let her go back and live out her life among the savages now was unthinkable. Surely, when she thought about it, she would agree. She was angry and hurt, but she had said she loved him.

"Would you rather see her go to a bridegroom of the sheriff's choice?" Thomas asked harshly. "She is a woman, Adam. You must begin as you would go. I have been too soft on her, or we would not have this rebellion on our hands." He rose in his place. "You are excused, Rebecca. I will see you at your nuptials."

Adam frowned. "Surely not today, sir. The banns have not even been read. There are rules which must be—"

"There are no rules that cannot be bent with silver coin. Prepare yourself. You will be a husband by sunrise tomorrow, or I will be in my grave."

Rebecca looked from one strained face to the other, then turned and ran from the room and up the stairs. A lump closed her throat and a tight band pressed around her chest until she could hardly breathe. The shock of Adam's betrayal was as great as that of her grandfather's. Thomas Bradford's words were as empty as those of any English man. From the first he had meant to keep her here. Am now, now they would force her to marry a man against he will.

Dry eyed, she flung shut the door to her chamber and threw herself across the bed. Her anguished mind gave no solution. She was a prisoner in the house she was to possess. No, not her; Adam would possess Sheffield. Had not her grandfather said that everything would be Adam's through her? Englishmen treated their women like chattels. Among the Shawnee, none would think to force a woman into marriage! The English were barbarians.

The Shawnee woman was regarded as an equal when it came to choosing a mate. When she chose a man, the suitor offered gifts to her family for the privilege of joining with them. The house and all the household goods would belong to her. The children would belong to her clan, and if she wished a divorce from her husband, she could get one merely by placing his moccasins and weapons outside the wigwam.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light tap at the door. "Rebecca?" It was Aunt Isabel's voice, sounding surprisingly gentle.

Rebecca sat up. "Come in." She didn't know what to think of the older woman. When Adam had brought her back to Kentwood, Isabel had hugged her tightly and told her how frightened she had been before launching into a tirade against Rebecca's outrageous behavior. Her concern had seemed sincere.

Isabel entered the room and crossed to the bed. "Thomas just told me."

"Did he tell you I refused?"

"He said you were being difficult."

"That's not the same thing. I don't want to marry Adam. They can't force me. I will refuse to answer the English godman. They will have to chain me like an animal! I won't do it!"

"Rebecca, listen to me. I know you don't hate Adam, and he's a good man in spite of his background. It's truly the best thing for all of you." Isabel sat on the edge of the bed and took Rebecca's hand. "I have seemed harsh to you at times, I know. Here at Sheffield, I am only an added burden. I am a proud woman." She sighed. "I would much prefer to have my own house and my own servants to order about. But it was not to be." She turned Rebecca's palm up and brushed the skin lightly. "You are young and without the knowledge you need to survive. Take Adam for your husband and thank God for the chance. There are much worse men and much worse fates. A generation ago, you would have been put into a religious house, and that would have been the end of you."

Rebecca pulled her hand back and wrapped her arms around herself. "It's so unfair. No one should be able to put you out of your own house. Among the Indians, possessions belong to the woman."

"Not here," Isabel said bitterly. "And what would women do with them if they had them, all silly chits like yourself? No." She shook her head firmly. "We must take what security we can find."

"I am not an English woman. I do not need to take what I can get. I will go back to my people."

Isabel exhaled sharply. "I did not want to tell you this, but you leave me no choice. There is a more important reason why you must wed Adam, and quickly. Thomas is dying."

"Dying? No," Rebecca protested. "I know that his years are not long, but I do not think—"

"Then argue with his physician. Thomas saw him again in Annapolis. It is his heart; he could go at any moment. He is to have no upset of any kind. The physician has forbidden him to ride or even to walk more than a short distance."

"And if I refuse to go through with the wedding..." Rebecca's voice trailed off.

"Then you may cause his death." Isabel went to the carved chest at the foot of the bed. "Which gown will you choose?"

Rebecca flung herself face down on the bed. She would not cry, despite the crushing sensation of walls closing in around her. The angry words, the wails of utter frustration, died in her throat. She was trapped. She knew it as surely as if a noose lay around her neck.

She closed her eyes and willed her breathing to come more regularly. What was the Shawnee way? She was not an animal to throw herself against a trap until she had broken her own spirit. She would not destroy part of herself to escape. She had a mind, and she would use it.

How to escape the trap and not cause the death of her grandfather? Even if she hadn't loved him, she couldn't do such a thing. For a Shawnee to kill a member of the family, even indirectly, was an unthinkable crime, one that would haunt a soul for lifetimes to come. No, there must be a way to salvage her freedom and still do no harm to her grandfather.

When she had cleared her mind of anger, the answer came, so clear and simple that she laughed out loud. Isabel ceased digging through the clothes chest and turned to see why Rebecca was laughing.

"Have you taken leave of your senses, Rebecca?" she demanded.

"No, Aunt Isabel, I have not." Slowly, almost catlike, Rebecca opened her eyes and rolled onto her back. "I will do as you bid me. I will marry Adam."

"Naturally. Now come and help me pick out something so sweet and dainty that it will make them forget what a scene you caused. It will do you no good to begin your married life as a shrew. Adam will have complete control over you once you are his wife. It is better to please him in little ways so that you may have your own way in the larger ones."

"You choose," Rebecca answered softly.

Why was I so concerned? she asked herself. I don't care about the plantation, only about grandfather. A small voice reminded her that she also had strong feelings for Adam, but she pushed the thought ruthlessly away. She would marry as they ordered her, and she would be the wife Adam wanted. But only for a little while... As soon as her grandfather died, she would turn her back on the Chesapeake and return home to the Shawnee. The ceremony they would force her into would be an English one. It had no meaning for her. Besides, if her conscience troubled her, she would divorce Adam in the Indian way when she left. And if her grandfather saw from the spirit world what was happening, perhaps he would then have the wisdom to understand why.

"I know you." Isabel's chiding voice broke into her thoughts. "You're plotting something." The older woman's brow wrinkled with suspicion. "You must rid yourself of these heathen ideas. Soon you will be a wife and mother. No one will permit you to behave as you have in the past." She shook a plump finger admonishingly. "If you behave decently, people will forget your past and accept you as the mistress of Sheffield. You can help your husband rise in society. You must think now of your children."

"I am, Aunt," Rebecca answered smoothly. "I know I must do what is best for them. I have been foolish." She lowered her thick lashes and tried to look contrite. How easily the English customs of deceit came to her now. "I know that Adam Rourke is a good man, even if there is a stain on his family name." She swallowed a giggle. She could easily repeat their senseless phrases. "My grandfather wants only what is best for me, and he is wise."

"Humph," Isabel grunted, still unconvinced. "There is a servant outside the window and another in the hall. You will go nowhere, my girl, so you may as well make yourself presentable. I'll send up Massie to do your hair. She has a way with it. We'll have no beads or braids tonight. You will look the part of a Bradford woman, whether you feel like one or not."

"As you wish, Aunt." Rebecca offered a faint smile. "And if I am to be truly mistress of Sheffield, you must never question your place here again. This is your home and always will be. I do not have the skill to direct the servants or the knowing to order supplies for the winter or..." She scrambled off the bed and threw herself at Isabel, embracing her with genuine emotion. "I am wise enough to know what I do not know," she admitted. "You must be the real mistress of Sheffield. Promise me."

For an instant, Isabel caught Rebecca to her; then she pushed her away. "And where would I go?" Her voice cracked. "I suppose I owe you something for your mother's sake. I did my duty by her, and I shall do so by you, though God knows why." She wiped at what she tried to convince herself was a bit of dust in her eye. "Enough of this nonsense now. Next you will be weeping like a kitchen maid and have your eyes as red as a barn kitten's."

Rebecca laughed. "No, I shall not. I shall go down and talk with my grandfather again."

"They will not let you through the door," Isabel warned.

"Won't they?"

* * *

Thomas looked up from writing entries in his journal as Rebecca burst into the library. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "I said—"

"I have not come to fight with you, Grandfather," Rebecca said meekly. "I am sorry that I behaved so... so badly. I will do as you say." She bowed her head and looked up at him shyly. "I will marry the man you choose," she murmured softly. "You know what is best for me." She came to the edge of the desk. "Please, do not be angry with me."

"If you do as I bid, we will have no quarrel," Thomas said crisply. "I have only your good at heart. It is not your fault that you don't know your place. Adam and I have both spoiled you." His eyes softened. "You are lucky he'll have you. Another man would beat you black and blue for such tricks."

And I would have his scalp in the highest tree, she thought, or I would have his life. "Adam is a good man."

"Too good at times. It is his only fault," Thomas grumbled. "But that will change with time. A man must be hard if he will hold what is his in these times." He lay down the quill pen. "I have sent the sloop for the minister. There will be no tricks. You two will be wed as soon as he arrives."

"Yes, Grandfather." She moved around the desk. "But there is something I think has not been done. Is it not the custom to have a marriage... a marriage contract between man and wife, to protect my..." She sighed. "I do not remember the words, but you must know what I mean."

He chuckled deep in his throat. "I think you know the words well enough when it suits you, girl. It has already been done. I would not marry you off without such a contract. My solicitor has already drawn one up, and Adam signed it earlier. You may sign now, if you like."

Rebecca's eyes widened in astonishment. "What if I had not agreed, or if Adam hadn't?"

"Another man's name could have been inserted." Thomas pulled a handful of papers from the desk drawer. "It needs only your name and that of a witness. I will call Isabel or one of the manservants. A man who cannot write can still make his mark."

"There is something I want added to your contract," Rebecca said firmly. Her lips hardened in a perfect imitation of her grandfather's expression. "About Aunt Isabel."

"Isabel? What of her?"

"I want it written down on your English paper that she is to have a place here as long as she lives. And she is to have money of her own, money Adam must pay every season."

"Isabel? Did she put you up to this?" Thomas pushed himself back from the desk in disgust. "What place has Isabel's affairs in your marriage contract? She has a home here as long as she wants it. What does she need with her own income?"

"She did not put me up to it, as you say it," Rebecca replied sharply. "It is my own thought. And it is my thought that Adam may not always want her here, and that I do not know all that I should to be the woman of Sheffield. What do I know of entertaining or buying cloth or buying house slaves or bondmaids? I know nothing of these things, and I do not have time to learn. Isabel does all these things very good. She belongs here. Show her you know this is true by giving her honor. The English value silver above all things. If you promise her silver, she will know. All men will know. Besides"—her voice softened—"she will make a better mistress for Sheffield than I will. True?"

"True," Thomas admitted with a chuckle. "Damn you, girl, you do have a bit of sense. Adam will have to agree; he's already signed the contract once, but it can be added to." Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Are you certain you want this? In time to come the old woman may become more difficult. She won't mellow with time, you know."

"I am certain, Grandfather," Rebecca said. Adam will have her to deal with, not me. She lowered her eyes to hide the twinkle in them. "She will not bother me. It will ease my heart to know I need not worry over these things." That, at least, was true. Her grandfather cared about Sheffield, and Isabel would be certain that things were done exactly as they had always been done on the estate—properly.

"Good enough." He dipped the quill into the ink. "There's room on this last sheet to add it. To be paid every season, eh? And how much should I give her?"

Rebecca smiled sweetly. "That I leave to you, Grandfather. You are wise in all things. You know that the amount you set will prove her worth, and the more you give, the happier she will be. Does it not follow that if Aunt Isabel is happy, things will go happy at Sheffield?"

* * *

It was close to midnight when the minister arrived by sloop from Annapolis. His protests at the irregularity of the hasty marriage had been soothed by a large donation in silver and the excuse that Thomas Bradford was near death. As proof of this last, the parson was escorted upstairs to the master bedroom where Thomas lay propped up in his bed.

"It grieves my heart to see you like this," the good parson said. "You looked so hearty at the sailing-day celebration."

"God's will be done," Thomas murmured. "The important thing is to secure my granddaughter's future. I had already given my approval to the union: we would have had a Christmas wedding anyway. Adam was my first choice for her; I've trained him myself, you know."

The minister began to thumb through his Bible for an appropriate prayer. "It's a pity we could not have held the ceremony in Annapolis this morning," he commented. "The sheriff himself would have stood as witness."

"I've summoned my neighbors," Thomas said weakly. "And there is my own household. I'm certain no one will question your authority, sir."

"I should think not—not after a lifetime of serving the Lord," the man said, bristling. "Indeed not. It's just an unfortunate circumstance." He sniffed loudly. "I should hope I could perform a lawful ceremony in this colony."

* * *

The bedchamber was crowded with guests and servants when Adam entered and made his way nervously to the curtained four-poster bed. He murmured something to the minister and signed the parchment the man offered. He would have signed anything they thrust at him. He was still in shock, unable to believe that Thomas was actually having the wedding performed.

Isabel had told Adam Rebecca had agreed to the marriage. Her acceptance had taken away none of the hurt of her earlier refusal. What should have been the happiest day of his life was ruined. She was being forced into the union, and he knew she would never forgive him for it.

He had dressed carefully in his finest clothing, a pale blue coat and breeches and a ruffled shirt of the finest lawn. His hair was drawn back and fastened with a black velvet tie, and his square-toed leather shoes boasted silver buckles. He looked every inch a gentleman, yet he felt like an imposter. In a few minutes he would be a wealthy man, and his mouth tasted of ashes. His stomach turned over, and he swallowed hard. Was he a bigger fool going through with the wedding or worrying about his good fortune?

He wanted Rebecca; he wanted her so badly he could almost taste her. If he didn't stop thinking about her, about the soft silk of her skin, about the lush curves of her body, he would shame himself in front of the guests and the minister. She was young and beautiful and passionate. She was rich. Any man in the colony would give his right arm to take Adam's place and receive Sheffield and Rebecca in one fell swoop. So why did he feel so damned dishonest, as though he had stolen something precious? As though he had betrayed the woman he loved?

Rebecca. Adam straightened. He had to think of her best interests. Despite the charade he'd put on for the parson's benefit, Thomas really was close to death, and the inescapable fact was that Rebecca might be carrying a child. She would be helpless without a protector. And if Adam's best interests and Rebecca's were the same, why then all the anguish he was feeling? He would care for her with all his heart and soul, as he would this plantation. Could anything more be asked of a man? A stir at the door jarred him from his reverie.

The group of whispering servants parted to let Isabel and the bride pass. There was no sound but the rustle of petticoats as Rebecca crossed the room to stand beside Adam. Isabel had chosen the rose gown for Rebecca and had woven a crown of pearls into her dark, flowing hair.

"Proceed," Thomas ordered, a bit sharply for a dying man. "All are here who are coming."

Isabel stepped back to stand beside Thomas, and the minister began to address the couple in loud, dramatic tones. Shyly, Adam reached out to take Rebecca's hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

The look she flashed him was anything but compliant, and he flinched inwardly. Protests rose in his throat but went unuttered. There was still time to put an end to this. He had only to tell the minister that the bride was being forced into marriage against her will. The parson hesitated, then repeated his last utterance.

"Do you, Adam Rourke—"

"I will... I mean, I do," Adam said, too loudly. He gripped Rebecca's cold hand, wondering what he would do if she refused to answer or if she fainted again or tried to run from the room.

But she gave her answers in perfect English and without hesitation. So quickly did the ceremony pass that it was over and the minister was shaking his hand in congratulation before he realized it.

"You may kiss the bride," the parson prompted.

Adam bent and brushed her lips with his. He might as well have been kissing a steel blade for all the human warmth he received. Her eyes were closed and there was no resistance to his kiss, but neither was there a response.

The other people in the room stepped forward to offer their good wishes, anxious to gloss over the awkward moment, and Adam welcomed the diversion. There would be hell to pay for this forced marriage, but better in private than in front of witnesses. He forced a wooden smile and murmured appropriate replies.

Rebecca allowed herself to be kissed and patted, then offered her cheek for her grandfather's kiss of peace. "Grandfather," she said softly, "I have done as you asked."

"Good enough." Thomas raised his voice. "It's late, past time for all of us to be in bed. The servants have prepared rooms for all of you. In the morning we will feast the happy couple. Let us allow them to go to their marriage bed and us to our own beds." He clapped his hands. "God willing, I will be down to share the festivities with you all tomorrow."

Plainly dismissed, the guests and servants began to file out of the chamber. Adam gripped the old man's hand, too full of emotion to speak.

"I've entrusted you with that which I value above my immortal soul," Thomas said. "Don't fail me."

"I won't, sir," Adam managed to say.

Rebecca executed a graceful curtsy. "A good sleep to you, Grandfather, and you, sir." She smiled faintly at the minister. "Husband, let us leave them to their prayers. Morning will come early, and there are guests to see to." She offered Adam her hand and blushed prettily. "Will you come to my room, sir, or I to yours? I believe we must complete this ceremony, must we not?"

Adam flushed to the roots of his hair, caught her around the waist, and hurried her from the room, but not before he heard the minister's gasp of horror and Thomas's hearty chuckle. "Your room," Adam said, pulling her along the hall. "It was hardly the question to bring up in front of them."

"And why not, husband?" she replied. "Have not all your English customs been satisfied? I belong to you, do I not?"

Adam caught a flash of green fire in her eyes as he turned the knob of her chamber door. "God only knows," he said with a sigh. "But I am certain I shall soon find out."