wouldn’t leave without saying where she’d gone. If Martin decided he did indeed want her after his father’s rejection, he would know where to find her. She would write a letter to him. She couldn’t just leave.
“Very well, sir. Do you have pen and parchment? I would like to leave a letter for Martin.” She had horrid handwriting, but she could leave a short note.
He nodded and then pulled out a few sheets, a quill, and an inkwell. “This is for the best. Thank you.”
She pinched the quill in her shaking hand and scribbled across the parchment.
Martin
I have returned home to Sudhamly to ease my family’s worries.
Jane
Jane stepped down from the Ursus carriage to the muddy street of Sudhamly. The streets bustled with noontime activity. People turned and stared at the black lacquered coach with the emblem barely recognizable on the side. If she had not lived in the Ursus house, she would have thought the symbol a mistake blurred by the mud.
To her, the red and green emblem of a bear print, claws extended, shone clear as day. Bear…. Chills raced her skin, and the marks on her skin burned. With each step she made farther away from Tremarctos and Martin, the marks stung. She walked away from the carriage with reluctance, her heart pounding with unease.
Did the townsfolk know of her fall from grace? She glanced at a few of the locals and smiled, but they stared at her in question of her conveyance.
Nerves shook her hands. Why did being here feel so wrong? She’d wanted the comfort of this place, of her family, but at the moment she wanted to scramble back into the Ursus carriage. She shook her head.
You ninny, you belong here, not there. You feel that way only because of your folly. Go put your parents at ease.
She straightened her shoulders and pushed open the door to her father’s shop. The familiar smell of starch and crisp linen wafted to her nose, and she smiled.
“Be right with you!” her pa yelled from the back of the store. How odd. She had been gone only two nights, but she didn’t know what to do. Should she go into the back? Should she wait here?
The front room of the shop, the largest in their home, felt incredibly small. The steam-thick air, from washing and dying, smothered her. She didn’t belong here…. Yes, she did. She shook her head. She couldn’t wait to see her parents and wipe the worry from their minds. She strode forward, her hands fisted, spine straight, determination pulsing through her. She paused. If they knew of her folly, would they tell her?
Her heart pounded in her throat; she walked behind the counter and pushed open the curtains that led to the back. Her mother stood behind a worktable, cutting cloth, and screeched as Jane caught her gaze.
“Jane! Jane!” She hustled over to her and wrapped her in a huge embrace. “Oh, dear girl, where have you been?”
“Mother.” She squeezed her mother’s fleshy shoulders tight, tears blurring her eyes. “I got caught out in the rain. And…” What should she tell them? She very well could not say she’d rutted with Jonathan and run off because he’d treated her ill. Or that she took shelter in a house filled with nothing but men.
Her mother pulled back and studied her face, a crease between her brows. “Are you well?”
“Quite.” Her lips turned up into a smile.
“Thomas, Thomas, Jane is home. Jane is home!” her mother squealed.
Her father came from the kitchen, his hands blue with dye. “Ah! Jane, you scared us so.” His gaze ran down her length. “But you look well enough. You surely found a place to stay out of the weather. Did you press on to old Mrs. Smithies’?”
“Ah, no…I got lost, but I did find shelter. I’m quite well.”
“I just put on a pot of tea, and you can help your mother with some mending.” He waved them back toward the kitchen.
Her shoulders relaxed, and she and her mother strolled through the door to the family side of the building. It was good to be home. Not once had they pressed her for any explanation. How odd! She’d never hid anything from them in the past. Maybe she should tell them.
No! They would be so ashamed of her, and at the moment she wanted to feel only comfort. Her heart constricted. They trusted her, and she’d done the unforgivable. What would they do if she carried a child? She could not keep from them what had happened. If the gossip leaked out to the township, her father’s business would suffer. But how would she explain?
She sat down to enjoy the comforts she craved, family and home. Tonight she would tell her mother what happened. And tomorrow, everything would change.
The hair on Jane’s neck lifted as Jonathan prowled into her parents’ parlor. What was he doing here?
“Miss Milton, so glad you’re well. Gave us all a scare, lovely.”
Sweet mother! How was she going to get through this? She couldn’t look at him. Heat flushed her face.
He is only here to see your father, you foolish girl. Your father is his friend.
She nodded her head and went back to her mending, not seeing a stitch.
He strode to the chair beside her and sat down with an ungraceful thunk. The needle pricked her finger. Ouch! She grimaced; she refused to let him see her nerves and forced herself to smile.
His dark blond hair was slicked back from his face, and he wore the same white shirt he always wore. She tensed, waiting for the flutter in her heart or the pain she’d felt running through the woods. Neither came. Only her cheeks burned of shame.
He was pale. Had he been ill of late? His blue eyes caught hers, and her stomach clenched. Oh! How odd! She had never experienced that reaction to him before. Her hand shot to her stomach and pressed against the unease.
“Mary, bring us some of those fine rolls you made and a pint,” her father said to her mother. “I think we need to celebrate my baby coming home.”
Her mother scurried to her feet and disappeared into the kitchen. Jane slid the needle back through the tablecloth she mended and held in a burp.
Jonathan leaned toward her. “Gave me a fright, you did, lovely. I’ll be havin’ no more of that.” His eyes were hard as his gaze traveled to her breasts.
Thank goodness he wouldn’t touch them again! She hoped he wouldn’t try to lead her to indiscretion again, but she had given him her virginity, and wasn’t that a good signal she would always be willing?
Now that she had Martin, she couldn’t imagine allowing Jonathan to touch her again.
Did she have Martin? She had left his home. He could consider her gone, never to return. But she didn’t think so.
She, oddly, could feel him. She sensed that he grew near and that he was determined to have her. The possessiveness probably came from his mark. A smile curved her lips as a warm contentedness filled her.
She would one day go back to the Ursuses, if
