Bessie?”
“She is Mr. Jermain’s aunt. She asked us to call her Aunt Bessie while we are here.”
Clara accepted a glass of milk and asked solemnly, “How long will that be?”
Everyone glanced at Cal. Aware of the tense silence that had descended upon them, he weighed his words carefully. They were, after all, an inconvenience to him and his family. But it seemed unnecessary to spoil the moment.
“I’m sure you will be eager to leave as soon as both Fiona and Clara are strong enough to travel by boat to the mainland.”
“Do you mean Charleston?” Clara asked.
“Yes. That would be the nearest town.”
“But we can’t—”
In a panic, Dulcie passed the plate under the child’s nose and said firmly, “Have a biscuit, Clara.”
Cal saw the worried glances the others exchanged.
The moment passed. Clara nibbled a biscuit and retreated into stony silence. The other children sat, heads bowed, avoiding his eyes. Even Starlight, nervously tracing a finger along the pattern on the quilt, refused to lift her head.
The little scene confirmed Cal’s worst suspicions. This bunch was hiding something. Even innocent children had been coerced into keeping the secret.
He drained his cup without taking the time to taste the delicate spices. Then he placed it on the tray and said abruptly, “I’ll bid you all good morning.”
No one spoke as Cal’s footsteps receded down the hallway.
Minutes later Dulcie gathered the empty glasses and cups and placed them on the silver tray. Turning, she kissed Clara and Fiona, then said to the others, “There’s still time for an hour or more of sleep before the day begins. I suggest we put it to good use”
She lifted the candle and led her little party to their rooms. Then she headed downstairs with the tray. But as she stepped into the kitchen, she realized her mistake.
Cal had not gone back to bed. He was standing by the window, staring out over the moonlit fields. When he turned to her, there was an ominous look in his eyes.
“What is it you and the others are hiding, Miss Trenton?”
Dulcie’s breath backed up in her throat. Setting down the tray, she turned away, intent on leaving without a response. But his hand on her sleeve stopped her.
“I demand an answer, Miss Trenton.”
She lifted her chin in that infuriating way and turned to face him. “What you ask is none of your concern, Mr. Jermain.”
“The fact that you have taken refuge in my home makes it my concern, Miss Trenton. I want no trouble brought to my doorstep. The war has left my family weary beyond belief.”
Her own tone deepened with passion. “I will remind you that yours was not the only family touched by the war. We are all weary. But we must go on if we are to survive.”
Anger made him careless. Without taking time to consider his actions, he dragged her close, until her face was mere inches from his. Hot breath fanned her cheek as he growled, “Woman, you try my patience to the limit. Now tell me what it is that sent you fleeing into the eye of a storm.”
She tried to pull away, but his strength was too great. The fire in his eyes frightened her, but she would never let him know that. Instead, she fought back with haughty indignation. “You go too far, sir. Release me at once.”
“Tell me why you are running.”
Dulcie froze.
Seeing her reaction he said, “If it is in my power, I will help you. But you must be honest with me.”
She struggled to push free of his arms, but he held her fast. “Damn you, woman. Trust me.”
She gave a sound that might have been a harsh laugh. Her throat was so constricted she could barely get the words out. “If the war has taught me one thing, it is not to trust anyone.” Anger darkened her eyes. “Certainly not a man who tries to force his will on me.”
Cal’s eyes narrowed as though he’d been struck. Without a word he turned away and strode from the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.
For long minutes Dulcie stood, listening to the sound of his footfall as he stalked to the barn. If only she was free to confide in him. But she dared not. She had sworn the others to secrecy. She would not be the one to break the vow.
For now, she must live in a prison of her own making. And there was no room in that prison for the embittered Cal Jermain.
As Dulcie and Starlight entered the dining room for the morning meal, they were met by Aunt Bessie.
“Good morning.” The older woman studied them both with a cool, calculating look that had Dulcie’s cheeks blooming. “Are the children still abed?”
“Yes. I thought I would let them sleep awhile.” Dulcie glanced around the table, noting with relief that Cal was missing. “I see they are not the only ones still sleeping.”
Barc gave a short laugh. “If you mean my brother, Miss Trenton, you are mistaken. Cal has been out in the fields since sunup.”
“Oh, dear. We disturbed his sleep, I fear,” Starlight said in dismay.
“Cal?” Barclay shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about him. Since his return from the war, he rarely sleeps more than a few hours a night.”
“Does his wound still pain him?” Starlight asked.
“To which wound do you refer?” Barc sipped hot, strong coffee and watched as the two young women helped themselves to food from the sideboard.
At Dulcie’s urging, Starlight filled her plate. Satisfied that the girl was eating enough to regain her strength, Dulcie helped herself to eggs and a biscuit and took her seat at the table.
Starlight arched a brow. “I don’t understand. How many wounds has your brother suffered?”
“There is the obvious one,” Barc said, “and I suppose the loss of a hand would be enough to do in most men. But Cal carries other, hidden wounds, as well.”
“Hidden?” Starlight said softly.
Beside her, Dulcie went very still.
Barc glanced at his aunt, who was frowning in disapproval.
“It is not proper to discuss such personal matters with strangers,” she protested.
He shrugged. “Aunt Bessie, Cal is not the first man whose beloved refused to wait for him while
