"You have my money," she said as Samuel disappeared. "Leave me alone."
"And deny myself the pleasure of our wedding night? I don't think so."
Her stomach constricted. "There's not going to be a wedding night."
"We're married, Kit. And tonight I'm going to bed you."
Eve's Shame. If she hadn't been so exhausted, she might have argued with him, but she had no words left. All she could think about was running.
Lights shone in the darkness from Magnus's house at the edge of the orchard. She picked up her skirts and began to run toward it.
"Kit! Come back here!"
She ran faster. Trying to outrace him. Trying to out-race her own vindictiveness.
"Magnus!" she screamed.
"Kit, stop! It's dark. You're going to hurt yourself."
She raced into the orchard, jumping over the jutting roots that were as familiar to her as her own palm. Behind her, he cursed as he tripped over one of those same roots. Nevertheless, he gained on her.
"Magnus!" Again she screamed.
And then it was all over. From the corner of her eye she saw Cain hurl himself through the air. He tackled her from behind.
She cried out as they both fell to the ground.
He pinioned her with his body.
She lifted her head and sank her teeth into the muscled flesh of his shoulder.
"Damn it!" He pulled her to her feet with a growl.
"What's going on here?"
Kit gave a sob of relief at the sound of Magnus's voice. She broke away and ran toward him. "Magnus! Let me stay at your house tonight."
He put his hand gently on her arm and turned to Cain. "What are you doin' to her?"
"Trying to keep her from killing herself. Or me. Right now, I don't know which one of us is in more danger."
Magnus looked at her questioningly.
"She's my wife," Cain said. "I married her not an hour ago."
"He forced me into it!" Kit exclaimed. "I want to stay at your house tonight."
Magnus frowned. "You can't do that. You belong to him now."
"I belong to myself! And both of you can go to hell."
She turned to run away, but Cain was too quick for her. Before she could move, he caught her and tossed her over his shoulder.
The blood rushed to her head. His grip tightened on her thighs. He began to stalk toward the house.
She punched him in the back and got a smack on her bottom for her efforts. "Stop that before I drop you."
Magnus's feet came into view walking beside them. "Major, that's a fine woman you've got there, and you're handling her a little rough. Maybe you'd better give yourself some time to cool down."
"That'd take the rest of my life." Cain turned the corner to the front of the house, his boots crunching on the gravel drive.
Magnus's next words sent Kit's already uneasy stomach pitching. "If you ruin her tonight, you're goin' to regret it the rest of your life. Remember what happens to a horse that gets broke too fast."
For a moment, stars swirled behind her eyelids. Then she heard the welcome sound of feet rushing down the front steps.
"Kit! Sweet Jesus, what's happened?"
"Sophronia!" Kit tried to jerk upright. At the same time, Sophronia grabbed Cain's arm.
"Put her down!"
Cain pushed Sophronia toward Magnus. "Keep her out of the house tonight." With that, he carried Kit up the steps and through the door.
Sophronia struggled inside the circle of Magnus's arms. "Let me go! I have to help her. You don't know what a man like that can do to a woman. White man. Thinks he owns the world. Thinks he owns her."
"He does." Magnus held her to him and stroked her. "They're married now, honey."
"Married!"
In calm, soothing tones, he told her what he'd just heard. "We can't interfere with what takes place between a man and his wife. He won't hurt her."
As he said it, he hoped she wouldn't hear the faint thread of doubt in his voice. Cain was the most just man he knew, but tonight there had been something violent in his eyes. Despite this, he continued to comfort her as he led her across the dark orchard.
Only when they reached his house did she grow aware of their destination. Her head shot up. "Where do you think you're taking me?"
"Home with me," he said calmly. "We're goin' to go inside and have a little bite to eat. Then, if you feel like it, we'll sit in the kitchen and talk for a spell. Or if you're tired, you can go in the bedroom and sleep. I'll get myself a blanket and make a bed right out here on the porch with Merlin, where it's nice and cool."
Sophronia said nothing. She simply gazed at him. He waited, letting her take her time. Finally she nodded and went into his house.
Cain slouched in the wing chair that rested near the open window of his bedroom. His shirt was open to the waist to catch the breeze; his ankles were crossed on a footstool in front of him. A glass of brandy dangled from the hand that hung over the arm of the chair.
He liked this room. It was comfortable, with enough furniture to be functional but not enough to crowd him. The bed was large enough to accommodate his tall frame. Next to it was a washstand and across the room were a chest and a bookcase. In the winter the polished floorboards were covered with braided rugs for warmth, but now they were bare, the way he liked them.
He heard splashing from the copper tub behind the screen in a corner of the room, and his mouth tightened. He hadn't told Sophronia that the bath he'd asked her to have ready upon his return was for Kit, not himself. Kit had ordered him out of the room; then, when she'd seen he wasn't going, she'd stuck her nose in the air and disappeared behind the screen. Despite the fact that the water could no longer be warm, she wasn't in any hurry to get out.
Even without seeing her, he knew how she'd look when she rose from that tub. Her skin would glow golden in the light from the lamp, and her hair would curl over her shoulders, its inky blackness stark against the pale cream of her skin.
He thought about the trust fund he'd married her for. Marrying for money was something he would have despised another man for doing, yet it didn't bother him. He wondered why. And then he stopped wondering, because he didn't want to know the answer. He didn't want to acknowledge that this marriage had little to do with money or rebuilding the cotton mill. Instead, it was about that single moment of vulnerability when he'd abandoned the caution of a lifetime and decided to open his heart to a woman. For one moment, his thoughts had been tender, foolish, and ultimately more dangerous to him than all the battles of the war.
In the end it wouldn't be the cotton mill he was going to make her pay for, but that moment of vulnerability. Tonight, the antagonism between them would be sealed forever. Then he'd be able to go on with his life without being tantalized by phantom hopes for the future.
He raised the brandy to his lips, took a sip, then set the glass on the floor. He wanted to be stone-cold sober for what was about to happen.
From behind the screen, Kit heard the scrape of wooden legs across the bare floor and knew he'd grown impatient with waiting. She grabbed for a towel and, while she wrapped it around herself, wished she had something more substantial to cover her. But her own clothing was gone. Cain had disposed of her ruined garments after she'd taken them off.
Her head shot up as he pushed back one end of the folding screen. He stood resting one hand on top of the wooden frame.
"I'm not finished yet," she managed to say.
"You've had enough time."
"I don't know why you forced me to take my bath in your room."
"Yes, you do."
She clutched the towel more tightly. Once again she searched for some escape from what lay ahead, but there was an awful sense of inevitability about it. He was her husband now. If she tried to run, he'd catch her. If she fought him, he'd overpower her. Her only course lay in submission, just as Mrs. Templeton had advised in that distant life Kit had lived only a little more than a month ago. But submission had never been an easy course for her.