Saving Marina Page 17

  Silent except for insects and the ruffling of leaves, there was no sign of anyone. Being idle had never been her way, so she hurried back downstairs.

  “Richard needs my help.” Knowing Uncle William would protest, she added, “It’s extremely quiet out there. You two need to make noise. Not so loud it wakes Grace, but talk loud enough for your voices to carry out the window.” She pointed at the cups of cider she’d already set on the table. “Ask me to get you more cider or something.”

  “Now, girl—”

  “Laugh and carry on about the cards.” She waved a hand. “Now.”

  John, eyes still swollen shut, took her at her word. “I think ye beat me again, William.”

  Her uncle eyed her coldly but answered loudly, “Aye, I did. One more game, lad, and Marina, get us some cider.”

  “Tell me thank you, too,” she said, while hurrying down the hall to gather her cloak from the kitchen. She tied the hood beneath her chin and made sure her hair was tucked behind her ears. It was then she realized she hadn’t put on her cap this morning. She’d never worn one at home but hadn’t been allowed to enter the Salem Village without one, and so she had tried to make a habit of donning one each morning.

  Another sign of her true being. Witches never abided by society rules or laws. She grinned as she entered Uncle William’s room. Witches didn’t mind very well, and that part was a bit exciting.

  Marina climbed out the window, and once on the ground, she gathered up one of the three dummies still lying there. Staying low to the ground, she made her way across the yard. The tree Richard had chosen had long dangling branches covered with leaves that stretched clear to the ground.

  Her heart was pounding and echoing in her ears by the time she crawled beneath the branches. She was cautious to make sure they didn’t shake or quiver. Near the base of the tree, she set down the doll, which was far heavier than it looked, and listened for any movement.

  The faint sounds of Uncle William’s and John’s voices floated in the air, but nothing more. She looked upward and kept staring until her eyes adjusted, at which point she made out a foreign shape high in the branches.

  A moment later, Richard dropped down, dangling on a rope that was twisted around one hand and one foot. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

  “Helping. I brought a dummy.”

  “Mar—”

  “Hush.”

  Silence surrounded them for several long moments before William and John could be heard again. She then smiled up at Richard.

  He shook his head. “I’ll drop a rope for you to tie the dummy on, but if you hear someone coming—”

  “They won’t.”

  Richard refrained from saying anything more, though she figured he wanted to. He scampered back up the rope and she watched his dark shape move from branch to branch with the ease and confidence of a squirrel gathering winter food. A short time later, a long rope dropped to the ground. She quickly attached the doll and gave the rope a single tug. Excitement grew as the doll silently slipped up into the branches and then disappeared, but shortly afterward, waiting beneath the tree became worse than it had been in the house. She sat still and watched, but couldn’t see anything.

  When the long branches on the other side of the tree fluttered slightly, she held her breath, praying it was a breeze.

  It wasn’t, but she let the air out of her lungs as Richard appeared. “How?”

  He crawled closer. “I climbed to the next tree to attach the other end. Why are William and John being so loud?”

  “I told them to make noise so you wouldn’t be heard.”

  His kiss upon her cheek was swift but sweet. “Good thinking. Come on.”

  They crawled out of the branches and remained on their hands and knees until the house hid them. When he took her hand to help her stand, she whispered, “I’m not going back inside, so don’t ask.”

  “I won’t. I’ll need you to get the other dummies in the trees.”

  She grinned.

  So did he.

  The next trees were near the outhouse. The trunks weren’t hidden by branches, but the base of the first one was wide and branched out in several directions, giving her, along with the dummy, a place to hide. The wind had picked up, which caused her concern for Richard’s safety, but the rustling of leaves hid any noises he might make. Marina got the doll ready for when he dropped the rope to pull it up and kept one eye on the hedge across the road. They were far more likely to be seen this time, and that not only heightened her anxiety—it gave her the tiniest thrill.

  She’d never been part of such things, sneaking around at night, laying traps. Having Richard as a partner made it all the more exciting. Marina found that as unsettling as his kisses. Her life had changed in many ways when her family died. She’d had to become the one others depended upon instead of the way it had always been. Richard had changed that again, flipped things back to how they used to be, and she found such comfort in that. Or maybe it was relief. Burdens were lighter when shared—more fun, too.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what her life would have been like if she’d met Richard before the Indian attack, when she’d have been free to pursue happiness, a family of her own.

  A rustle had her glancing up, and she reached out to catch the end of the rope as it fell beside her. Quietly and quickly she attached the large doll and gave the rope a tug. As soon as the dummy disappeared among the branches, she stretched to see between the deep V in the base of the tree. There was no movement from the hedge, yet small pieces of the man’s white shirt glowed behind the foliage in the same places they had before.

  Once again noise had her looking up. Her heart quickened as Richard scampered down the tree, and it thudded wildly when he crouched down beside her. If they had met way back when, she’d have done everything in her power to remain at his side forever.

  “Any movement?”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shook her head.

  He gestured toward the next tree over. “I have to attach the other ends.”

  Forcing aside thoughts she should never have conjured up, she asked, “Where’s the rope?”

  He gestured to a tree a distance away. “I tossed it over there.”

  “You’ll be seen.”

  His hand was on the center of her back, heating her skin right through her cloak and dress, especially when he moved it in a wide circle. It made her want to close her eyes and bask in the pleasures of his touch, his nearness. Images of his strong, powerful body merging with hers flashed inside her head, and they were far more sensual than she’d ever have imagined. The witch in her was certainly wicked.

  “No, I won’t,” he whispered into her ear. “Stay here.”

  Too lost in her own thoughts to protest, she turned his way. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, their lips met. Marina lost whatever control she may have had. Her arms twisted around his neck and she kissed him, long and repeatedly.

  He was the one to pull away, and by the time she opened her eyes, he was gone. Spinning about, she saw him crawling through the tall grass, and a glance toward the hedge said the watchman was none the wiser.

  Richard soon scaled the tree and Marina let out the air she’d been holding. Her body was thudding in ways it never had, and her thoughts shifted slightly...to Sarah. Had Richard loved his wife? He’d said the marriage just happened, but he wasn’t the kind of man who let things just happen. Men like him made things happen.

  She held no disillusions when it came to marriage. Very few people began their lives together loving one another. Her own parents had been bestowed to one another at birth. That was how it was in the old country, her mother had said. Marriages were arranged to unify families or lands or businesses, or at times, countries. Even here, in the New World, arrangements were common. Girls far younger than her were wed to older men in order to strengthen communities and families, and to populate, as was the case in Salem Village.

  Richard had clearly sho
wn his disgust of that, yet he’d participated in it. Freely. Whether he’d been younger back then or not, she couldn’t imagine him being forced into doing anything he truly didn’t want to. Yet if that had been the case, he’d have left the sea for his wife and child, because when he committed to something, he did so wholly.

  Marina had to wonder how Sarah had reacted to his leaving. The few times she’d seen the woman, she’d kept her head down, following in her mother’s footsteps and dragging little Gracie by the hand. Had that been because Richard had broken her heart by never returning? Would she have gladly sat at home while he went to sea, content to wait for his return?

  There was no way to know, but Marina solemnly concluded, if put in that same predicament, she wouldn’t have. Whether a marriage was arranged or not, it was a commitment that should not be broken. Nor should the couple be separated. Nessa had been sold to her brother Ole for a cow and its calf, and the two of them barely looked at each other for weeks. Yet by the time little Gunther had been born, they’d grown to love each other very much.

  The same was true with Hans. Rachel’s first husband had died on the voyage to Maine, and their mother had invited Rachel to live with them when the ship landed, Rachel being ill and all. Being one of the only marriageable women in the area, a line of men had visited the house, begging for Rachel’s hand. Hans had put a stop to it by claiming he’d marry her. Marina still remembered how Rachel had cried, but before long, her tears had stopped and Rachel and Hans were barely apart from each other. It hadn’t been until after Gunther had been born that Marina learned the reason Rachel had cried so hard had been because her illness had stolen her unborn baby and left her barren—something Marina could now fully relate to. Rachel had cried again when she’d said that was why she hadn’t wanted to marry anyone, especially Hans. Because she couldn’t give him the babies he deserved. Rachel had smiled afterward, though, ending her story by claiming she’d never have believed a man could love a woman who couldn’t have babies and that Hans had to be the only man that wonderful.

  “Any movement?”

  Marina spun at Richard’s voice and shot a glance across the road. “No.” She hoped she was telling the truth. Lost in the past, she hadn’t been keeping a vigil on the hedge.

  “The next one will be easier,” Richard whispered. “That’s why I saved it for last.”

  “Where will that be?” When in truth, she wanted to know if he could ever love a barren woman.

  “Up the road a piece,” he whispered. “Before the curve. The first two are to scare them away from the house. This last one is so they don’t follow when we leave.”

  Marina pinched her lips together and crawled along beside him, moving as slowly as earthworms to keep the tall grass from swaying. The witch part of her seemed to be taking over more and more of her thoughts. Wasn’t it enough she’d become one and accepted her fate? Did she really need to be tormented by things that could never be?

  Once behind the barn, they stood and hurried around the garden fence, but crawled again from there to the edge of the house, where she was glad to once again stand. She’d knotted her skirt between her legs before crawling to the first tree and her knees were starting to chafe, but she refused to complain.

  “If I’d been thinking,” Richard said, picking up the final coils of rope, “we’d have taken everything with us the last trip and hid it behind the barn.”

  “I doubt we’d have been able to haul it all. Not safely.”

  “I suspect you’re right,” he said. “We’ll go back the same way.”

  Marina gathered up the doll and followed. Given the choice, she’d follow him around the world. To all the places he talked about full of colorful birds and swinging monkeys.

  This time, rather than sneaking behind the barn, they entered the woods and carefully picked a pathway that ended on the road, a fair distance from where the watchman sat behind his hedge.

  “I have to figure out which trees to use,” Richard said. “They were too far from the house to examine without notice. Keep an eye on the road.”

  She kept her mind out of the past and off the future while standing near the edge of the woods, watching the hedge and the road. The only time she moved was to fasten the doll to the rope when Richard required it. He made several trips back and forth across the road. Each one strained her nerves, and she almost ran into the woods when he proclaimed they were done.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marina may never have been so happy to be inside. Not even in the dead of winter when icicles had clung to her eyelashes and she’d been unable to feel her face. It hadn’t been until she’d climbed through the window and stood upon the solid wood floor that she realized her heart had been in her throat the past hour. Moving aside so Richard could enter, she flipped the hood off her head and ran her hands through her hair, chasing away the tingles that had been covering her scalp.

  Something bad was going to happen on that road. She could feel it.

  “If I ever need a night stalker again, I’ll choose you,” Richard said, removing his hood.

  Although the opportunity would never appear again, she bowed her head. “Thank you. I have the same sentiments.”

  His hands settled on her hips and he pulled her closer. “Do you?”

  The sparks that erupted inside her chased away all thoughts but him. Good heavens, but she had grown wicked practically overnight. She’d been kissed today for the first time and then several additional times, and that was exactly what she wanted again. Along with the excitement came boldness. She reached up and rested her hands on his shoulders. “Yes, I do.”

  * * *

  Richard relied on sheer will, which was hard. He wanted to kiss her again, a long leisurely kiss, but William could enter the room at any time. Instead, he pulled Marina close enough for a fast hug and then let her go.

  “We need to tell those two they can stop shouting now,” he said. She was looking at him with such startled disappointment he couldn’t hold back a grin. He also needed an escape. The ability to control his desires was slipping. “I hope they didn’t wake Grace.”

  Worry flashed across her face, and with a single, graceful move, she removed her cape. “I’ll go check.”

  “I’ll see to William and John.”

  Her blond hair floated in her wake as she hurried toward the doorway. Richard watched and bit the inside of his bottom lip in an attempt to deter the desire to run his fingers through the long locks. He wanted to touch far more than her hair.

  He thought she’d been disappointed he hadn’t kissed her again. So had he, but he found a sweet sense of solace in knowing she’d wanted him to kiss her.

  Richard pulled his eyes off the doorway. Why was he tolerating such thoughts? Or even thinking them? Tasting her, touching her made him want more, and that couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t apologize for already kissing her—he’d never been an apologetic man, and what was done was done. Tomorrow night, once he’d retrieved the wagon from John’s farm, they’d head to Boston, where he’d find a ship to plant them all on. He didn’t even care where it was headed. Except for Grace. He’d see she was taken care of on his ship until this fiasco was settled, because he would return to Salem and see to the downfall of Hickman.

  He could hear Marina talking with William and John in her charming, graceful way, and his heart grew heavy. Grace would be sad—she was as enchanted by Marina as he—but that couldn’t be helped. The child would soon forget, as children did. Adults did, too, over time.

  If things were different, if William and John were more of a help than a hindrance, he’d send Grace and Marina with them and stay behind, but neither man would be any form of protection if the wagon came upon highwaymen. Both William and John were proud, and neither would surrender, which would cause far more harm than good. Alone, he’d have already brought Hickman to his knees, but he wasn’t alone, and therefore getting the woman, child and injured to safety had to be his first and foremost matter of business, and where hi
s thoughts should lie.

  Before leaving the room, Richard removed the outer tunic he’d need again tomorrow night. Marina was nowhere to be seen and he approached the men at the table.

  “All set?” William asked quietly.

  “Except the snare lines. I’ll set them tomorrow night,” Richard said. The older man’s injuries from this morning seemed to have no lasting effects. John, however, looked as if he might slide off his chair at any given moment. Laying a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, Richard said, “I’ll help you to bed.”

  “I fear I can’t make the stairs.”

  “I’ll make you a pallet right here on the floor.”

  Richard spun around at the sound of Marina’s voice.

  “He can take my bed,” William offered.

  “No,” John said. “The floor will be fine.”

  “He’s exhausted,” Marina said. “Just give me a moment.”

  She disappeared down the hall and Richard turned back to John. His stomach coiled at the beating the boy had taken. There could easily be more extensive injuries that none of them knew how to treat. If anyone was responsible for that, it was him. He’d been the one to cut down John’s mother and bury her.

  Back in no time, Marina used the furs and the material he’d hauled downstairs earlier, and after topping them off with a quilt and pillow, she gestured the pallet was ready. Richard lifted John from the chair and gingerly laid him on the makeshift bed.

  “I’ve never hurt so,” John said with a wince. “Never.”

  “I’ll make you some more tea,” Marina offered.

  Already fading, John said, “No. Sleep. Just sleep.”

  “I’ll stay out here tonight, too,” William said. “In case the lad needs anything.”

  “No,” Marina whispered while covering John with another quilt. “I will.”

  Richard took a moment to level a glare on each of them. “You,” he said to Marina, “will sleep upstairs with Grace.” Turning to William, he said, “And you in your own bed.”