From This Day Forward (5 page)

Easing onto the stool, she propped her feet on one of its slats. “The quicker I learn how to cook, the better off I shall be.”

He stared at her with a somber expression. “Yes, starving has its disadvantages. And you have Faith to consider.”

She chuckled, something she had missed since leaving her home. Tom had quickly quenched her desire for laughter, and on the sea voyage she’d had her hands full just keeping her food down. “The advantage to not knowing how to cook is that I shall get my figure back sooner.” The moment she made the reference to her body was the moment she regretted her comment. She did not usually speak without choosing her words carefully, but Dr. Stuart had a way of making her relax around him, of making her forget to be cautious when it came to men. In a short time a bond had been forged between them that she could not deny. Without his assistance, Faith probably wouldn’t have made it into this world.

His regard skimmed her length, leaving a heated trail where it traveled. “I don’t think you should worry about that.”

His gaze returned to hers. The intensity in his eyes, all male, stole her breath. She did not have to wonder any longer what it would be like to have him look at her as a man would a woman. She lifted her hand to smooth away from her face a strand of hair that had escaped her cap. Dr. Stuart glanced to the side, and everything returned to normal, as though they hadn’t exchanged a look that affected her pulse, her breathing.

He placed the large bowl on the oak table and began to add ingredients. “You beat six eggs then add a pint of milk, some flour.” He dumped in two spoonfuls. “Next you add a little nutmeg, salt, and sugar.”

She focused on his long fingers grasping the spoon as he stirred the mixture. Those fingers had cradled her daughter, had assisted her to stand when she collapsed to the floor. Goose bumps rose on her skin. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

When he started filling a cloth bag with the pudding, Rachel asked, “Why are you putting it in there?”

“The bag will go into a pot of boiling water for half an hour. Then we can eat the pudding.” He carried out the last step then turned over an hourglass.

Her inadequacies came to the foreground. This would be so different from managing a large household. She was not afraid of hard work but of not knowing what to do. She massaged her forehead, her headache intensifying.

“Do you want more willow bark tea?”

“That would be lovely, please.”

The aroma of nutmeg infused the room, mingling with the smells of burning wood and the clean, fresh scent after the rain yesterday. Rachel sighed, content for the moment, even though her head pounded.

Everything would be fine once she was in her own home. If Dr. Stuart had learned to cook, she would be able to also.

He swung a crane that held a kettle from the fire, then using a rag, lifted the pot off the hook. His movements were efficient, precise, as if he never wasted a gesture. He exuded a quiet strength that appealed to her. Nothing like her deceased husband. Dr. Stuart was a large man, perhaps six feet, with short black hair. The buckskin breeches he wore today appeared primitive, in stark contrast to his attire of tan pantaloons, burgundy tailcoat with velvet trim, a black vest, and boots the day before.

After he poured hot water into a cup with willow bark in it, Rachel took it from him, her hand brushing against his fingers. The touch sent tingles up her arm, and she nearly dropped the tea onto her lap. She clasped the china cup and brought the steaming liquid to her lips.

He laid his palm against her forehead, their gazes bound. “You don’t have a fever, but I imagine you will have a headache for a while. You must have hit your head when you were thrown from the cart. Hence the bump the size of a goose egg.”

When he did not withdraw his hand immediately, she shivered. A sense of peace descended, as though she knew everything would be all right for her and her daughter in South Carolina. He would see to it. His calm aura reached out and encompassed her, and their connection strengthened beyond the mere physical touching of their skin.

She blinked, shattering the surrealistic moment. “It is nothing,” she murmured, averting her gaze.

He lowered his hand and stepped back. “Still, you need to be careful. You shouldn’t do too much too soon.”

As Rachel sipped the tea, Maddy returned to the cabin, carrying a few pieces of the china Rachel had brought over from England.

Chewing on her bottom lip, her servant put them—three cups without handles and four plates with chips in them—on the table. “This is all.”

Rachel’s hand trembled as she inspected what little was left from a place setting for twelve. “We shall make do.”

“I will put them in the chest.” Maddy gathered the dishes and carried them into the bedchamber.

Through the doorway Rachel spied her servant lifting the lid on the second trunk, next to the one that held her clothes.

Rachel finished the tea and rose, swaying into the table. With a grip on its edge, she steadied herself. “I had better lie down.”

“When the pudding is done, I will bring you some.”

Mumbling her thanks, Rachel walked as fast as she could into the bedchamber. Tomorrow she needed to go to Dalton Farm. She lay down next to Faith and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep, calming breath to still her hammering heartbeat. But Dr. Stuart’s scent clung to the bedding, teasing her nostrils as though he were standing next to her. So close she could touch him.

Her weakened state made her react to his nearness.
That is all it is
. She determinedly pushed the man from her thoughts.

Almost instantly memories of Tom filled her mind. She latched onto them rather than shoving them away as was her custom. All his lies paraded through her thoughts—especially the biggest one of all, that he loved her. Then she thought of his brutal manhandling, the slaps that came if she did not do as he said, the cross words like sharp knives thrust into her chest that were meant to belittle her into submission. Never again would she place herself under a man’s control. To strengthen that resolve, all she had to do was recall Tom’s treatment of her.

When Dr. Stuart brought her the pudding topped with melted butter, she had hardened her heart to any thought she needed a man in her life.

She took the offered bowl and said, “Thank you. This smells delicious.” She only let her regard touch him briefly before she concentrated on eating the treat.

“Tomorrow I will let you do the work while I instruct you.”

Her husband’s instruction on how to please him resounded in her mind. Icy tentacles wrapped about her, squeezing. “Tomorrow? I need to leave by then.”

“I will not hear of it. Your head still hurts and you became dizzy a little while ago. You are weak. How are you going to care for Faith and put food on the table? Your maid is as inept as you are.”

Clasping the bowl so tightly her hands hurt, Rachel lifted her chin and stabbed him with her gaze. “I shall manage. I have no choice.”

“How?”

She gritted her teeth. “Somehow.” She could not imagine the farm being so bad that a little work on her part would not take care of it. She had seen the farmhands on her family estate and was not afraid of work. She had to make this succeed.

“I would never forgive myself if I let you leave and something happened to you or Faith.”

“I am not your responsibility.”

“Yes, you are. You became my responsibility when I found you on the road.”

“No!” Anger quivered through her. She would take care of herself and her child.

His eyes narrowed, his arms rigid at his sides. “This does not have to be a contest of wills.”

Faith stirred, but her eyes remained closed. “Then do not make it one,” Rachel said in a lowered tone.

“Why can you not accept my help?”

For a moment she thought she heard hurt in his voice, but when she looked at him, she met a totally neutral expression. “Why can you not accept my answer?”

“Because I know what Dalton Farm looks like. Because I know how hard it would be for a man, let alone a woman with a baby. Because I know that you gave birth just yesterday and were in an accident too.”

“I am not helpless. I know there will be some work involved.” She fought to erect a barrier of polite formality between them.

“Some work? You have no idea, Rachel.”

His use of her given name wiped all her intentions away. The very situation they were in made a mockery of her denying the connection between them. He had possibly saved her life and that of her daughter’s.

He towered over her, his hands balled at his sides, his expression no longer bland but full of frustrated anger. Then suddenly it evened out. “How are you going to get to the farm?”

“I’m going to…” She remembered the broken cart; she remembered her horse running away.

“To what? Walk?” He folded his arms over his chest. “How are you going to get your trunks there?”

She bit her lower lip, set the bowl in her lap, and clenched her hands. “Perhaps you could give me a ride.” The words tasted like bile on her tongue. She hated having to ask any more of him.

He mumbled under his breath something she could not hear. Flexing his hands, he glared at her. “The only help I’m going to give you is the use of my home. At least until you are well enough to be on your own.”

“You cannot force me to stay against my will.”

“I’m not. You can leave at any time, but I will not contribute to putting you in danger.”

“I have to learn to do for myself.”

“Fine, when you are physically up to it.”

Impotency washed through her. She chewed the inside of her cheek. Her hands shook with exasperation. After the last time Tom had taken his pleasure out on her, she had vowed no one would force her to do anything she did not want to do. “You promise you will take me to Dalton Farm when I am better, not one day later?”

“Yes, I will see you settled.” Relief eased the tension etched into his face.

“Then I shall stay.”
As if I really have a choice
.

“Good. Rest. Your lessons begin tomorrow morning bright and early.”

Nathan stormed outside, welcoming the coolness of the pine-scented air in the woods.
That woman is impossible. There is no way she can run the farm with only herself and her maid
.

Visions of all the things that could happen to her berated his thoughts. In town there had been talk of a gang of unsavory men hiding out in the forest north of Charleston. Although they were west, that was still too close. Her farm edged the swampy land near the river. What would she do if she encountered an alligator? In the spring the beasts became more active.

He picked up his ax and positioned a log on the stump to be split. Putting all his energy into it, he struck the piece of wood again and again. One blow after another, until he had a pile of logs for the fireplace. How was she going to chop wood for the fire?

Finally, sweat drenching him, he sat on the stump, his ax resting on the ground near his booted feet. He needed to solicit his sister’s help to persuade Rachel that Dalton Farm was no place for her. If he could not convince Rachel to return to Charleston tomorrow after he showed her a few things she would need to be able to do, he would contact Sarah.

He walked down to the stream that flowed a few hundred feet from his cabin and splashed cold water on his face and neck. Then he headed back up the slope, hoping he could maintain his patience long enough to get the point across to Rachel. She did not belong here. He did not want to be responsible for another human being.

As he approached the cabin, Faith’s cries reverberated through the air. He smiled. She was a hungry baby. He recalled when he brought the beautiful little girl into the world. The excitement and awe he experienced shadowed momentarily the last few years of the war, toiling to save lives. But in the end he had taken a life. He had never before been faced with the decision to kill or be killed. Now the English soldier’s face haunted his sleep. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen.

Very definitely, both Rachel and Faith needed to go home to England.

Four

Looking out the window the next morning, Rachel noticed the bright sunlight bathing the leaves of the trees that surrounded the cabin. It streamed through the glass and warmed the bedchamber. The day promised to be beautiful. And, no doubt, frustrating. As she prepared to go into the main room, the idea of her first cooking lesson tightened her stomach into a knot. Her maid closed the trunk lid behind her and Rachel turned toward her.

“Maddy, when you wash our muddy dresses, also do any clothes that Dr. Stuart needs cleaned.”

“Yes ma’am. He has already set a tub outside for me and built a fire to heat water.” Maddy left the bedchamber with her arms full of dirty clothing from their travels.

From the bedchamber doorway, Rachel spied Nathan standing by the large fireplace, stoking the fire with a poker. He stared into the flames, a faraway look on his face. Sadness lined his features. Her heart twisted at the sight of him, so alone. Again she felt an affinity with him, as though they were kindred souls.