Daddy's Girl

By Nona M. Johnson

Copyright July 1994

Rachel Samson has studied at a ladies' business school in Le Havre, France for eight long years. Withstanding brow-beatings from her classmates and instructors has caused her to mature into a hardened, embittered twenty-two year old woman who knows her own power and the way to get what she desired. However, when she arrives home she discovers that in her father's eyes she is still a child.

Domineering and set in his ways, Henry Samson has carefully chosen each path Rachel was to take, including the delicate choice of whom she marries in order to benefit the business. The man's name: Robert Trent. Son of Henry's lifelong friend. The hate and distrust is evident the moment the words are spoken and an unbreakable obstacle is erected between Rachel and her father. A barrier Robert Trent is determined to overcome.

Through the initial distrust and angry resentment, Robert firmly yet gently worked to prove his genuine affection for her. Even against her father's continued abuse of authority, Robert is able to demonstrate his own trustworthiness and patiently work at the incredible task of softening her hardened heart. Through arguments, depression, fits of rage, and hauntings from her not too distant past. Across a continent of water and over that which he fears the most Robert is able to woo her heart and win her for his wife in name, body, and soul.

1882

One

Intent green eyes studied the countryside as a delicate hand absently toyed with a silky ringlet of blonde hair. The woman's finely chiseled features were accentuated by skin the mild color of fresh cream and her rose-colored lips were turned downward in a preoccupied frown. Rachel Samson was slim, elegant, and exquisitely lovely. She was the epitome of every man's dream and the common girl's nightmare.

But Rachel Samson's thoughts were not occupied with her outward appearance as she stared out the window of the extravagantly furnished train car. In fact, her rare beauty had never occupied but a fleeting notion in her head. Instead, she was absorbed with how long it had been since she her days at home. Now, no matter how much she dreaded the fact, the train she had boarded was carrying her closer to a father she hadn't seen in years. A father that hadn't allowed her to leave the school for her mother's funeral. A father that had never answered her letters. A father that had slowly become a shadow in a nearly forgotten memory of happy times.

Rachel sighed. How her father had changed. Was he truly the same man she had once thought would lead someone down a path with a gentle hand and soft-spoken words? She had obviously been a child then and naive to the ways of ambitious businessmen. What else could have explained the things she had sacrificed to please him? She had sacrificed her childhood to make him proud.

'Will I be good enough,' she asked.

Rachel took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. She had accomplished feats that hadn't been expected of her and yet she still doubted her worth? Did she believe her father to be a monster? Rachel shook her head and gazed out the window once more, her eyes darkening in hidden agony. 'Please don't be at the station when I arrive,' she silently told her father. She had no desire to face him until she had been given a chance to prepare what she would say. She had loved him so much and to have him now be a stranger… She knew their first meeting would be awkward at best.

To think she had once believed she had outgrown the awkward years when she had been caught sneaking out to play games with the boys of the orphanage. Those times when she had found herself in a myriad of boyish mischief, her mother had still seen her womanly worth. Would her father see it now? 'I have changed so much.' Yet, a part of her flinched away from the memory of how she had changed. She had matured in such a way that independence was now her forte. Forced to grow up without a family, she had become self-sufficient at a tremendous cost to her own gentle nature.

She no longer needed anyone.

Rachel shook her head and stared down at the silken kerchief in her gloved hands. 'I am oh so tired of taking care of myself. Tired of being required to think of the business my father has trained me to continue.' She didn't want to talk of stocks, shares, dividends, and other topics important for business. She wanted to laugh over needlepoint, flip through the pages of the latest edition of Ladies Home Journal, and have disagreements with the chef. Speaking with the ladies at quilting bees and bake sales was impossible for her for she knew that it was too late to become interested in things that did not challenge her mind. The frills, giggles, and meaningless conversations with rich aristocrats would no longer satisfy her hunger for knowledge and desire for the ultimate thrill of control. She was intrigued with the world of business and could never return to the land of lace and fans.

'No, my path has been chosen for me and I cannot go back.' Rachel unfolded the dog-eared pages of her most recent copy of the New York Times and turned to the financial pages with a frown when that thought irritated her.

"The social pages could not possibly be the cause of such annoyance."

She lowered the paper to reveal the handsome face of a well-dressed gentleman with laughing brown eyes. Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, sir?"

The laughter flooded to his smile. "May I sit?"

She hesitated a moment. "By all means."

He sat in the plush chair across from her. "I'm sorry, miss, but the sight of a frown on such a lovely face urged me to try for a smile. Please don't think me impertinent." The stranger pulled off his light gray traveling gloves and set them on the oak stand beside him. "May I ask what has happened to cause such…." He waved a hand in the air as if grasping for the appropriate term. "Vexation," he finished.

Rachel pressed her lips together and carefully folded the paper, placing it beside her as she changed her glance to the window. If she had not been so tired she would have been grateful for his company, but it had been a long trip and she was repulsed at the thought of being considered a pretty face eager for compliments and meaningless conversation.

"Now it seems that I have offended, but why?" His voice softened. "Please tell me."

Rachel turned to face him and cocked her head as she examined his face. "You have not offended me, sir." She turned back to the window. "It has been a long trip and I do not wish to be coddled." The gentleman chuckled and Rachel glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I do not wish to coddle you, miss, of that you can be assured." He examined her face for a long moment. "You say it has been a long trip? May I ask where you are bound?"

"I am returning to my father."

"Have you been away for long?"

Rachel looked away and absently fingered her Parisian fan. "I have been abroad since I was a young girl."

"Shouldn't you be delighted to see him after so many years?"

"Under normal circumstances I would be more than delighted at the expectation of seeing my father. However, I'm returning to finish my intensive training and this makes the concept less than appealing."

"This training you refer to…"

"To take over the business," she said quietly.

"Yes. Why does this bother you so?"

Rachel felt the confusion in the silence that settled over them and turned her head slightly to view his face. "Never mind," she said. "Do not trouble yourself."

"You have intrigued me, miss." He smiled softly. "Perhaps I have missed a point. Are you not eager to acquire the boutique?"

Rachel looked over at him sharply. "Why do you instantly suppose the business involves dresses?" Her sharp reply arched his dark eyebrows and Rachel tightened her grip on her fan. His reaction was typical.

"What other business could a young lady, like yourself, ever wish to assume?"

"My father is one of the major shareholders of a railroad. In fact, he's chairman of the board. When my father deems me ready, I shall take his place." She unfolded the dog-eared paper and turned back to the financial page. "Sir, I take great insult at your instant supposition. If you'll excuse me."

Silence fell like a blanket and the gentleman stood after a slight pause.

"I can assure you, miss," he said softly, "I had no intention of insulting you. Please accept my humblest of apologies as well as my solemn assurance that it shall never happen again. Good morning."

He bowed curtly and left the car.

Rachel watched him close the door to her private coach and set the paper aside. She snapped open her fan. 'Will my father react the same? Will he suppose that I have the mind of a pampered princess? Have I spent all this time for nothing?' She lowered her chin and brought a hand up to rub her forehead.

"Everything seems to be against me," she said through clenched teeth.

Rachel lifted her head and watched the passing scenery. She'd been gone too long.

* * *

Rachel stepped down from the Pullman car with a yawn hidden behind her fan. She tried her best to shake the wrinkles from her traveling suit of heavyweight blue corduroy and pressed her lips together. She was ready for the dreary autumn day to end. 'And it appears my prayers have been answered.' Rachel scanned the crowd once more, determined that her father was not among them, and then handed her luggage tickets to a young man. 'Thank God. I have time yet to ready myself.'

"Karen?"

She heard the soft voice and turned slightly to look into the gentle blue eyes of a large man. The stranger blinked once as if trying to bring his mind back from far away, and then he touched the brim of his hat.

"Sorry, ma'am. I thought you were someone else."

He turned to go and Rachel's heart sunk as she watched him. There had been something in his eyes. Perhaps it had been the dull look of loneliness and loss? Were they mirrored in her own eyes? The eyes that looked onto the endless prairies vainly trying to see the land that she had once called home. Almost desperately, she attempted to hear the sweet voice of her mother, the laughter of her father, and the giggles of her childhood friends.

Her head lowered a moment and then she straightened sharply, accepting the young porter's hand as she stepped up into one of her father's carriages. She looked out the glass window a moment, then pulled down the shade. Resting her pounding head against the velvet covered seat; she closed her eyes tight and tried to ignore the pain of that one thought. Like her father, the stranger had wanted her to be someone else. Why could no one around her be happy with whom and what she had been? She had changed everything about herself and doubted that her mother would approve of the woman she had become.

'Dear God,' she prayed. 'I'm so scared of what's down this road. I'm scared of my own father and what he's made me become.'

She held back a sob and offered up her silent prayer. But what was she praying for? The return of the childhood she had lost when sent to Europe? Or the appearance of someone who would not demand that she act as anyone but who she truly was? 'How can I allow someone so close? Look what my father had done. He sent me away.'

The tears ran down her face and she sighed. She wished she could have found the good-looking gentleman who had attempted a conversation with her on the train. He had deserved an apology. She turned her head to the side and slowly opened her eyes as she brought the silken kerchief to her damp face. How she wished she could see him again and beg his forgiveness. 'If only I could search him out instead of meeting my father. Perhaps the gentleman would be willing to listen, as before, and help me sort out my life.'

The carriage creaked to a halt and Rachel's heart sunk with dread. How could she run her father's share of a large railroad if she couldn't even face him? She set her jaw and clenched her reticule and gloves tighter before carefully stepping down from the carriage. She raised her chin to stare up at the massive three-level mansion. It was still as she remembered, albeit a section larger. Log by log the mansion was her father's testament to his determination to be the best. It was now her legacy from the carefully laid cedar floors to the tightly mortared stone of the chimney.

'My legacy.'

Rachel sighed and lowered her eyes as she made her way up the steps leading to the large veranda. It hadn't yet been finished when she had gone abroad. They had just begun extending the roof when she had been taken to the train station that was to take her to the port of her Europe bound ship. Rachel nodded to the butler who greeted her at the door before she headed for the flight of stairs leading to her room in the center of the second story. 'I wonder if they've changed anything,' she speculated as she paused at the foot of the stairs, her hand resting on the banister.

"Excuse me, miss."

She turned to face the butler and gave him a small smile. "Yes, Oliver?"

"The master has requested your presence in the library as soon as you've freshened yourself from the trip. I'll have Maggie come to help you."

"Maggie?" Rachel's eyes brightened at the mention of the name. "Father kept her even after I left?"

Oliver nodded and turned for the kitchen towards the back of the house as Rachel began up the stairs. Terribly flighty and bashful in the presence of anyone but her parents, Rachel's father had decided that a 'bosom friend' was the order of the day. So, at the age of ten, Rachel had acquired her first maid. The two had seemed cut of the same cloth and did everything together. They had gone shopping, had pretend tea parties at the Whitehouse, held fancy balls with imaginary princes, been abducted by dashing highwayman.... The two girls had done it all. In fact, Maggie had first introduced Rachel to the boys and girls at the orphanage in town. Rachel had met a young man who could have changed her life because of Maggie.

"Hello, miss."

Rachel heard the soft voice behind her and turned to face the smiling eyes of her childhood friend. "Since when did you call me anything but Rachel," she said as she pulled the tall and slender woman into a hug. "It's so good to see you. Now I really do feel at home." Rachel heard a sniff and pulled back to look into the tear filled green eyes with a watery smile. "You'll never know how much I missed you, Mags. I didn't have anyone to play hooky with on sunny days."

Maggie opened the door to Rachel's room. "I've missed you too. The place hasn't been the same without you."

Rachel turned to the doorway of her old room with a sad smile that faded when she looked in. It was like staring into a dark past long since given up as lost forever.

"Nothing has changed," Rachel whispered in a tight voice. "I'm still his little girl. He hasn't let me grow up."

She shook her head and turned away from the room to lean against the doorframe with a choked sob. Rachel felt an arm around her and fought to keep back the tears.

"I can't do this, Mags," Rachel cried. "I can't pretend nothing's changed between the two of us. How can he still believe that I am the child who left so many years ago?"

"He doesn't know what to think, Rachel, just as you don't. You're both starting over and that is always a terrifying prospect."

"But he's on familiar ground, Maggie," Rachel whispered in a choked voice. "I've been away too long. My home is Europe, in a school filled with wealthy girls. I can see he didn't even notice the years passing by. What kind of life will I have here if he believes this is still who I am," Rachel said. She shook her head and straightened.

"You'll be all right, Rachel. You'll see. Don't lose heart."

Rachel sent Maggie a small smile and then the two women turned to the room of the young girl who had not come home.

* * *

"What's it been like, Mags." Rachel asked this as she soaked in the sunken tub. "Has it really been all that different?"

Maggie was silent a moment as she diligently unpacked the scattering of trunks, then glanced over at Rachel with a strange look. "Well things were different for the first several months. The place seemed empty, almost like a tomb. The mister and missus didn't talk or laugh hardly at all. Your mamma, she just shut herself in her room and stared out the window. Wouldn't eat or drink nothing until your papa said it would hurt you to see her like that."

Rachel laid her head back on the counter of the sunken tub and swallowed hard. "Go on," she whispered.

"Well," Maggie continued with a shrug, "everything seemed to get as normal as it could after that. There was still very seldom any music or laughter in the house and they almost never went to parties." Maggie closed the empty trunk and then made her way to a smaller one. "It made me want to cry the way they missed you, but then something changed...."

Maggie's voice drifted and Rachel brought her head up with a raised eyebrow. "Something changed? What do you mean?" Maggie didn't answer and Rachel stood, wrapping herself in a white robe before stepping toward the young woman. "Maggie, tell me what changed."

Maggie stared down at the linens and toiletries in the trunk without a word while Rachel clenched her fist around the collar of her robe. Maggie finally looked up and gave Rachel a slight shake of her head before turning to pull out a lightweight frock of cotton chintz.

"We shouldn't be talking about this, miss. You're supposed to be getting ready to meet your father."

Rachel's eyes darkened with hurt. "What's happened between us, Maggie? Am I just 'Miss Rachel' to you now? Are we no longer friends?"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's just…" Maggie bit her lip and finally turned to lay the cream colored frock across the coverlet of misty pink. "Will you be needing help?"

Rachel watched Maggie a moment and then turned away as she shook her head. "No, you may go."

Rachel heard the large door shut softly and brought a hand up to her mouth to try and hold back the sobs. Now she felt even more alone. More out of place. Who could she talk with now? A darkly handsome face flashed through her mind and Rachel turned sharply. She needed to get ready to meet her father. 'What will we talk about? Business, I assume,' she told herself bitterly. She discarded her robe and began to dress. That was all she ever discussed with anyone. Either business or the future of business. Truly it was fascinating and she loved the intense discussions and debates, but at what cost?

Rachel put the finishing touches on the hair piled on the crown of her head and turned to exit her room. She knew she was intimidating because she intimidated herself, but what could she do other than follow the plans made for her? What else could she do with her life? Teach? Rachel chuckled under her breath as she made her way downstairs. She imagine the look of shock and horror on her father's face if she told him that she was bypassing his plans for her simply because she wished to teach at a local school. He would banish her from his life longer than he had before.

Rachel paused at the bottom of the steps before she slowly made her way to the dark wood door of her father's library. She reached out for the brass handle and paused again. Did she really believe he had sent her away as punishment? She pushed the thought into the far back of her mind. 'It won't do to think on that now,' she told herself as she raised her chin. Her eyes darkened with a touch of fear as she pushed open the door and stepped gracefully into the well-lit room.

She could tell right away that the room was where her father spent most his time. Directly off the main hallway by the upper story stairs, it was decorated as a businessman would decorate his office. Almost the entire wall to her right was covered with bookcases filled to capacity with law books, economic nonfiction, and histories of past successful tycoons, along with biographies from every imaginable walk of life. To her left were letters from prominent businessmen and board members framed to be set carefully on the wall beside surprisingly clear photographs of these same people with her father.

It was definitely her father's room.

Rachel took a deep breath and moved toward the center, her eyes quickly raking the dark leather chairs that circled it, in addition to the dark burgundy oriental rug on the black walnut hardwood floor. Everything made the room look dark and evil. The room seemed to swallow light, as well as strength and will, and the drawn velvet curtains of deep burgundy served to heighten the effect. It reminded her of so many times as a child when she would live in dread of this room. So afraid that her father would never reappear upon entering. To her active imagination, the dark had hidden dragons and serpents that preyed on little children and loving fathers.

'You're beginning to sound like a frightened child,' she chided herself. 'Remember you're a woman now.'

"Hello, father."

The man with the peppery gray hair looked up, his eyes widening in shock as he stood. "Rachel? How you've grown!"

Henry William Samson came around the desk and opened his arms to pull her into a hug. Rachel stiffened, but didn't fight the embrace. She took in the scent of the gourmet coffee and tobacco that he seemed to wear as cologne and closed her eyes as her arms slowly went around him. Eight years was a long time to be away, but the familiar scent of him took her back to the happy months before she had discovered that he had wanted her to become someone else.

Then, at the age of fourteen, her life had crashed around her.

At the memory, Rachel's arms went to her sides and her father hesitantly pulled back, his steel blue eyes holding a spark of uncertainty. Rachel ignored it and stepped past him to sit in one of the leather chairs positioned in front of his large desk.

"Of course I've grown, father," she said softly as she stared down at her clenched hands. "It has been eight years. People change."

"Yes, yes. Of course, of course." He waved the statement aside as he sat on the edge of his desk. "Did you have a pleasant trip?"

"Yes. It was fine. Thank you." Rachel noticed him pulling his pocket watch from his vest pocket and arched an eyebrow. "Is something wrong, father?"

He looked over at her and frowned. "Oh, no, no. Everything's fine. I was expecting someone an hour ago and he hasn't arrived as of yet. I was becoming a bit concerned."

"Perhaps his train was late?"

"No, that couldn't be it," he said as he stood with a sharp movement. "He was on your train."

Rachel blinked in shock and clenched the arm of her chair. "My train, father? Why would you schedule an appointment with a client for the same day as my arrival?"

"Robert isn't a client, Rachel. Our relationship is a bit more complicated."

"Complicated, father? What do you mean?" Her other eyebrow raised as she watched him. "I hope you don't intend to hide anything from me," she said with a touch of coldness creeping into her voice.

He cleared his throat and pulled his pipe from his pocket. "I hadn't had a chance to inform you of all my plans yet, Rachel," he said gruffly. He packed the tobacco into his pipe and lit it. "I was planning on having the two of you meet tonight over dinner. Then he and I were intending to discuss it with you."

'Plans are being made behind my back? Have I proved nothing to him by going to Europe when he asked it of me?'

"Father, you're being vague and secretive. Partners do not make that a policy." Her chin rose in the air and she slowly stood. "I will be in my room writing letters of my safe arrival to my friends if you decide to confide in me. If not, perhaps I should find a room in town for the night and return to Europe."

Mr. Samson's head shot up just as she turned and strode out of the library, shutting the door behind her with a softness that seemed to make the walls crumble.

She hurried up the stairs and closed the door to her room, clenching her fists as she moved her dark gaze around the lush furnishings. Filled with antiques for a child, it made her angry. The ruffled bedskirt and canopy of the lightest pink made her stomp her foot in irritation before she strode to the window seat that overlooked her father's vast estate in Massachusetts. She pushed aside her large collection of porcelain faced, French dolls and stared out with her arms crossed. Rachel sat stiffly. In addition to everything else, her father was hiding something from her.

This was not the way to start a new business partnership, to say nothing of their father/daughter relationship. Rachel's eyes narrowed. 'Who is this Robert,' she asked herself as she turned her back to the window. 'What kind of complicated relationship could father possibly have with this mysterious man?' She shook her head and stood to make her way to the French Provincial dresser. She picked up the blue reticule she'd carried on the train that morning and hesitantly opened the corduroy bag to retrieve a pair of gray traveling gloves. Why had she kept them?

She stared down at them a moment, then turned sharply toward her closet where she quickly pulled out one of her walking dresses. Thoughts chased themselves around in her head as she changed and grabbed the matching parasol from the closet. She strode from her room and down the stairs, pausing only at the front door when Oliver entered the hallway from her mother's old sewing room.

"Oliver, I'd like a carriage brought around please." Oliver nodded in mute shock as Rachel placed a lightweight hat on her head and carefully tied a gauzy scarf across the crown to tie it off under her chin. "And have Maggie accompany me. I'm going to town."

Oliver nodded again and sent a passing young man hurrying toward the stables.

"Rachel, lunch will be served soon."

She heard her father's voice approach and absently gripped the gray gloves tighter before she answered. "I have some errands to attend to, father," she replied without turning.

Henry came to stand beside her and helplessly watched the carriage approach. "I was hoping we could talk." He paused and Rachel checked the position of her hat as Maggie rushed to her side. "We need to discuss things, Rachel," he said.

She passed him a brief look and then started down the front steps with Maggie behind her. "I may not be back for dinner, father."

Two

Henry watched the carriage lumber away and turned back to the house with a shake of his head. "Andrew, get me a drink."

The young man leaped up the steps and paused by Henry's side. "Water, sir?"

Henry rubbed at his chest and nodded. "Hurry, Andrew."

"Yes, sir."

He made his way to the Library and closed the door behind him. The years had been kind to her. She had grown into a lovely young lady who was assured, resolute, and firmly set in her ways. Rachel would be a force to reckon with. Henry smiled and carefully lowered himself in his chair. 'I was right. She did have the spunk to make it. I was right.' Somehow, though, that certainty no longer quieted his spirit and a type of fear rested there. He pushed it aside. 'Rachel will understand. She always did. There is a brain on those straight shoulders of hers and she knows how to use it. She'll see the wisdom of it and relent.'

Andrew scurried into the room with a tall glass of water. "Here you be, sir. Cook wanted to know if you was going to be having some lunch."

"Maybe in a little while. I'm not particularly hungry just now."

"Yes, sir. I'll tell him."

He left the room and Henry changed his troubled gaze to his desktop. 'Robert should have arrived by now. What could be keeping him?' He fumbled with a tiny, gold pillbox and swallowed a couple tablets, chasing them down with the entire glass of water before standing and making his way to the window. His plans were dependent upon timing and he wasn't about to watch the entire structure topple because of an irresponsible youth. Henry pressed his lips together and rubbed at his chest again.

"She'll understand," he mumbled under his breath.

* * *

"Was that really necessary," Maggie asked.

"I'm not a child, Maggie."

"I realize that, miss, but your father isn't as young as he used to be either. Things hit him hard." Maggie gave her a mildly reproachful glance and then looked forward, clasping her hands in her lap.

Rachel clenched the stranger's gloves as she continued to stare forward. "Thank you for your concern, Maggie."

Maggie turned to her with a sigh. "Rachel, I'm sorry about this morning. I had no choice. Your father told me, specifically, not to talk to you about the time that passed while you were gone."

"But why," Rachel insisted with a frown in Maggie's direction. "We've never kept secrets from each other."

"This is different," Maggie said softly as her head lowered. "Your father didn't have to keep me on after you left, but he did and I'm beholden to him."

Rachel sighed and turned to look out the small window. "Fine, Maggie. You two can keep your little secret."

"Rachel, it's not my place to tell you what I'm not even supposed to know."

Rachel turned toward her sharply. Maggie looked away. "What do you mean? Father is hiding something from me, isn't he?"

Maggie raised her hands in a helpless gesture. "I've already said more than I ought."

"I should know, Maggie. Shouldn't I?"

"I'm not the one to decide. It's his choice."

"I suppose," Rachel admitted reluctantly. The carriage pulled up outside the town's large restaurant/hotel and Rachel stepped down before making a motion to Maggie. "If you have some shopping to do, or would like to browse in the millenary shops, by all means do so."

Maggie stepped from the carriage with an uncertain nod. "What time would you need me back?"

"If you get tired, Maggie, you may go on home."

"Without you?" Maggie's eyes widened and she stared after Rachel who headed into the hotel. "What are you saying," she asked in disbelief as she hurried after her.

Rachel proceeded to the front desk. "I haven't seen this town in eight years. I thought I'd spend my first night here in the hotel and attempt to reacquaint myself with the people." Rachel paused. "Please persuade father to prepare me a different room."

"You don't wish to sleep in your room?"

Rachel's eyes sparked but she only nodded. "I'm no longer fourteen and the sooner father realizes the fact, the sooner we'll be able to survive under the same roof."

Maggie nodded before she turned and left the building. Rachel watched her for a moment, then turned back to the front desk.

"May I help you?"

"Yes. I need to find out if a gentleman is registered here."

The young man's eyes showed uncertainty and he shuffled his feet as he looked away. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're not allowed to divulge the information of our guest's rooms."

"No, you misunderstand. I don't wish to know his room, I would like to leave something for him." She set the gloves on the desk. "He left these on the nine o'clock train and I had hoped to return them to him."

The gentleman smiled easily and took up a piece of paper. "Would you care to leave a message? I know of the gentleman in question," he replied.

"Good. Yes, I wish to leave a short message." The young man nodded and slipped a pencil from his pocket. "I'd like to tell him---"

Rachel cut off and looked to her right when a familiar black-haired gentleman leaned his arm against the high counter.

"I see you've found my traveling gloves," he said. "I was beginning to think I had lost them forever."

Rachel looked away and put a hand to her hair. The motion caused her reticule to slip from her fingers and land on the hardwood floor with a soft thud. The gentleman retrieved it and handed it to her with a twinkle in his eyes and a gentle smile. Rachel hesitantly returned his smile.

"You didn't need to go to all the trouble, miss. I could have simply purchased another pair." He took the gloves from the counter and caught her eyes. "However, these have been with me long enough to have become accustomed to my hands. It would have been a pity to attempt to break in another pair."

Rachel felt the smile dance on her lips as she watched the twinkle of laughter in his eyes and wondered at the strange, light feeling. "I am only glad that I was able to reunite them with you."

He bowed. "Again, I thank you." When he straightened he gestured toward the restaurant with an easy smile. "Would you care for some lunch? Or have you eaten?"

"No, not at all. If you're sure I wouldn't be intruding."

"Oh, most certainly not. I would be delighted for the company."

He motioned her forward and she allowed herself to be guided to the glass enclosed restaurant that was adjacent to the lobby of the hotel. The two proceeded through the archway that connected them, and made their way to the back corner of the quiet restaurant. He pulled a chair out for her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He nodded and sat across from her. "So we meet again."

"I was hoping we would." Rachel said it with such an air of detachment that it surprised her. The gentleman's eyebrows raised and Rachel lowered her gaze to the fresh glass of water in front of her. "How else could I apologize for being so rude?"

"You were being proper, miss." He paused briefly. "Being proper becomes so dull, don't you think?"

She raised her eyes, meeting his of chocolate brown, then turned to stare out the window. All the thoughts and feelings that chased themselves in her head were quite frightening. Never before had she wanted to have a gentleman approve of her or believe she was witty and charming. It was quite a nuisance. 'I've only barely met him,' she reasoned. 'Why should it matter one way or the other what he thinks of me?' But she couldn't help feeling that he would make an admirable friend. Perhaps it was the way he had attempted to understand her on the train. Perhaps it was the fact that he was talking to her now, even through her disagreeable and insulting behavior.

Some part of her wanted to trust him.

"You had so much to say earlier this morning," he commented.

Rachel gazed into his dark brown eyes in silence.

"I wonder," he continued quietly, "if I've said or done something to upset you again."

"No. I was simply thinking."

Their gazes held.

"About what, may I ask?" He leaned forward slightly.

Rachel forced herself to look away. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to be bothered by it. My thoughts are hardly of interest to anyone other than myself." She paused and passed him a quick look from the corner of her eye. "I'm just being an emotional woman." She heard a soft chuckle and turned her head to face him, her chin rising. "Have I said something to amuse you?"

He composed himself and slightly shook his head. "I'm sorry, miss, it's the statement you made about being an emotional woman."

"Yes?"

His tone softened. "A phrase I would not have chosen. You're complex, intelligent, and very sensitive I would imagine." Her gaze fluttered to her hands and he smiled. "You're not emotional in the common sense of the word."

"I was thinking that you would be a good friend," she admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? I've gone from stranger to good friend." He nodded. "I must say, I feel honored."

Rachel looked up sharply and her eyes sparked. "I hope you are not patronizing me, sir."

"What I said was the truth. I am honored to be your friend for they are very important to me." He examined her relaxing posture. "Is it very hard for you to trust? Were you hurt so badly in the past?"

"The past is not important. Now I'm home." She took a sip of her ice water and smiled with a peculiar twist to her lips. "How strange that sounds," she whispered.

"Strange? That you have a home?"

She laughed and caught the dark-haired man's gentle smile. "No, not that I have a home, if that's what you could call it. I believe it to be peculiar that I would say the past isn't important."

"Why," he asked quietly.

"Because I once thought that the past was all I had left of myself. But now..." Her voice drifted and her eyes focused on his face after a moment's pause. "Now I'm beginning to see something a little different. I'm still the same person I was before leaving for Europe. I'm simply a bit more mature. A little wiser and more prepared for life," she finished as she looked away.

There was silence and Rachel glanced up to catch him watching her with a strange look darkening his eyes. She smiled and he looked away.

"How old are you, may I ask?"

His voice was strangely quiet and Rachel's smile slowly disappeared. "I'm soon to be twenty-three. Why?"

"It just seems a shame that you've seen so much at your age. You should be mother to a large family, not in training to possibly become the first female chairperson."

"I agree," she stated.

He looked over at her sharply, his eyes still dark as they watched her face. "Do you have any say in the direction your life has taken? Or are you destined to be controlled by other people?"

"That's the way of life for some, I suppose."

"But don't you wish, just once, that you could disappear and begin anew? Become a different person with a new career and perspective on life?"

Rachel passed him an oddly condescending smile and shook her head. "Why go to all the trouble when I know who I am and what I'm to do?"

"But you don't," he insisted firmly. "You know who your father wants you to be. What do you want?"

Rachel's eyes blinked in shock at the question. 'What do I want? Don't I wish to take over for father and make him proud?' Rachel glanced over at the young man's intense face and then away as she continued to turn the question over in her mind. Nobody had ever asked. Her mother and father had naturally assumed that their daughter would want what they did and Rachel had been too young to know otherwise then. But now someone who apparently cared wanted to know what she wanted for her life.

It made her feel human.

"I want a family," she said suddenly.

The dark eyed gentleman smiled with a nod as Rachel hid a slight blush behind her fan. It was astounding to realize that all the time she'd been studying to become a spinster businesswoman she had actually been dreaming of settling down and starting a family. Rachel sighed and lowered her fan as she stared down at her hands. Her life felt so wasted and meaningless. She being almost 23 and having not one perspective family-man to her name. Perhaps she wasn't so human after all. How else could she have survived all the years without God-given, intimate companionship?

"I didn't ask to upset you," the gentleman said softly.

Rachel took in a ragged breath that hinted at the coming tears. "Someone of your years must think I'm behaving childishly."

He raised an eyebrow with a brief pause. "I'm not much older than you," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh." Rachel felt a little foolish. "I apologize if I've insulted you. You seem to have such an air of maturity about you."

He chuckled. "I seem much older than 25? Oh dear."

She smiled and dropped her head. "Have you ever given any thought to settling down and starting a family?"

There was a pause, followed by a tense silence and Rachel raised her head in time to catch him adjusting his position in the seat.

He cleared his throat. "I have given it some thought lately," he said as he lightly tugged at his shirt collar.

"Truly?"

He nodded. "A family is a very precious thing to me and I won't feel my life is fulfilled unless I can bring a child into this world. I love children and wish to have several of my own as soon as possible."

Rachel turned her head to the window. "That is quite unusual for someone with your looks, sir. The few good-looking men that I have encountered wished to 'sew wild oats' until they were compelled to marry and continue their family's name by fathering a son." She turned to face him and their eyes locked once again. "It's quite refreshing, if I may say so, that you want a family for family's sake."

He smiled and the twinkle returned to his brown eyes. "May I consider that a compliment?"

Rachel's lips turned upward briefly. "Perhaps." She changed her gaze to an intense scrutiny of her fan. "Perhaps we have more in common than I had first suspected," she mumbled.

"Pardon?" He leaned forward slightly.

She shook her head. "It wasn't important."

He motioned to a passing waiter, his arms full of dirtied dishes, and gave the young man a smile. "When you have a free moment, we'd like to order."

The waiter nodded and scurried into the kitchen. When he approached the table again, his pad and pencil ready, the gentleman gave their order.

Rachel sat quietly as she studied him. 'He is so different from the men I met in Europe. So honest and open. How I wish I could be as honest with him.' Rachel hesitated. 'But why can't I? He already knows of father's wealth and position. What do I believe I am hiding from him? He very likely has already discovered who my father is simply from the facts I spouted at him on the train.'

"I see that frown again."

"Excuse me?" Rachel's eyes focused on his.

"Your face," he pointed out. "I see that look darkening your eyes that I saw once before." Rachel looked down and he smiled gently. "Have I done something?"

"No, no. I was thinking to myself." Rachel picked at the designs on her small Parisian fan. "Some days I believe I think too much."

"It's understandable, isn't it? You are probably reliving every possible scenario that could happen between you and your father." Rachel nodded slightly and he smiled. "You've more than likely been discovering things about the past and future that you would rather not have known until you had become more familiar with the people around you."

Rachel looked up with slightly widened eyes. "How do you know all this? Someone would think you had been in constant contact with my father while I was away."

"Simply an intelligent guess," he said.

The gentleman's dark gaze moved from Rachel's and she narrowed her eyes. It had been the first time he hadn't looked her straight in the eye while she spoke. His eyes met hers and he smiled.

"Something wrong?"

She positioned her napkin over her lap. "No."

"Just thinking again?" He gave her a lopsided grin.

"Yes."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the two as the food was brought to their table and Rachel noticed his slight frown as he prayed over his meal.

"Please don't take offense at anything I may have said, sir," she urged as he raised his head. "I suppose the stress of today's events has caused me to become quite rude of late. Please forgive me."

His frown eased and he pat her hand. "I could never take offense at anything said by you, my dear, because I can see the pain you've suffered. I can see it in your eyes when they look out over the land that you had once felt was yours."

Rachel looked at him in mild surprise as she stared into his eyes, dark with a melancholy sadness. "Please, tell me how you can know so much about me. Who are you?"

He smiled and pat her hand again with a slight shake of his head. "No. I think it is much better for us to be strangers who understand each other. Otherwise..."

His voice drifted off and Rachel watched him in surprise as he began to eat his light luncheon. 'What an extraordinary man,' she thought as she tried to focus her attention on her small salad. He was so open about his thoughts and feelings, but at the same time mysterious about his own personal story.

"Miss, there is no need to eat in total silence."

Rachel sighed and set her fork onto her plate. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. I must be tired from my journey."

"And your confrontation with your father?"

Rachel nodded and her throat tightened as she forced the face of her father from her mind. She gave the gentleman a tight smile and waved the question aside with a graceful motion.

"Nothing is ever a confrontation where my father is concerned. It's always plain and simple facts." He was silent and Rachel looked away hesitantly, her gaze falling to her slowly diminishing plate of food. "I don't see why you are so interested in my relationship with my father. After all, I am but a stranger."

Silence.

"The first time you saw me on the train, you attempted to lighten my mood. Why would I have drawn your interest when there had to have been so many other interesting things to see on the journey? Why try to cheer a stranger?"

He was silent a moment longer and Rachel looked up with an annoyed scowl. "Why don't you say something? Quit sitting there like some idiot boy gaping at a pretty flower!" The gentleman blinked in shock and Rachel clenched her fingers around her fan. "You say all these things about my life that you shouldn't know - that I don't know - and then you become mysterious and insist on remaining strangers. Ha! How can we be strangers when I seem to be an open book and you've read all the pages?"

Rachel stood sharply and the gentleman reached out to take her hand.

"Let go of me," she hissed.

"You're making a scene, miss," the young man stated simply. He looked around the building and gave the shocked diners an easy smile, then turned his attention back to her. "Sit down and regain control of yourself." Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but froze when his eyes sparked a warning. "Please."

This time his voice was a bit more firm.

Rachel's chin rose and she stiffly removed her hand from his before sitting at the table. She snapped open her fan.

"I know you're miffed," the gentleman began. Rachel looked at him sharply and her fan paused it's slight motion. He raised a hand. "Please, let me continue. I'm sorry I upset you. If I had known how the mention of your father would bother you I would have kept silent, but it was inexcusable for you to react in such a manner. Not only did you embarrass yourself in front of all these nice ladies and gentleman, but you've also embarrassed me."

Rachel looked out the window and the fan began again. She was too angry to grace his argument with a reply.

"Very well, miss," he said gently. He stood and set a few bills on the table. "That should cover the cost of lunch. I hope to see you again, my dear. Perhaps our next meeting will be... calmer." He bowed and Rachel turned to face him sharply. He gave her a slight smile and then turned and left the building.

Rachel closed her fan sharply and pressed her lips together as she turned her attention back to her lunch. 'Rachel Samson,' she scolded, 'you are a silly woman. How dare you lash at him with your flaming tongue as if he were a highwayman attempting to steal your virtues! You should be ashamed.' And she was. She felt the shame of what she'd done all the way to her bones. 'Why did I act that way?' She shook her head and finished her salad in silence, then gathered her reticule and stiffly rose.

Her eyes sparked as she exited the restaurant and turned for the hotel doors leading out to the main street. It was amazing how much that gentleman had withstood from her. Perhaps the real question was why he had. Rachel shook her head and pushed through the doors and out into the afternoon heat.

She halted in shock and consternation.

Rachel placed her hands on her hips and changed her glare from Maggie's abashed face to the coach from her father's wide selection. 'Hadn't my decision to spend a night at the hotel met with his approval? Wasn't the local hotel good enough for his specifically trained daughter? Or would it bring shame to his family if I stayed?'

"What is the meaning of this?"

Her tone was cold. She did not appreciate having her authority cut out from under her. The whole purpose of her eight years abroad had been to mold her into an individual who could make decisions that her father's business partners would stand behind. What was she to do if her own father didn't stand by her decisions? It would not be acceptable to constantly look to her father for permission before every significant choice she made. Her credibility would be sacrificed because of her father's lack of trust and that was something she would not allow. She had worked too long and hard to let him stand in the way now.

"Maggie," she said sharply, "I asked you a question and I demand an answer."

"I'm sorry," Maggie whispered. "There was nothing I could do."

Rachel's eyes hardened, her lips pressing into a firm line. "I told you to inform my father that I would spend a couple of days at the hotel. You did this, yes?"

Maggie nodded silently, her eyes drifting to the ground by her feet.

"Then why do I see one of father's carriages in front of me?" There was no answer and Rachel thumped her fan against her hand in agitation. "Very well." She bit off every word as she stepped forward. "I will take this up with him."

She accepted the coachman's help into the small coach and sat stiffly into the plush velvet seats. Henry Samson had no right to control her as if she was still a child. The carriage pitched into motion and Rachel opened her fan with one swift flick of her wrist. Now was the time for the two of them to set down guidelines on how the business was to be run. Not only how, but also by whom. Rachel would not continue to second-guess her father's wishes and kowtow whenever her opinions collided with his. It would be best to bring everything out into the open so her father would know where she stood, and how firmly.

Her father did not respect a weakling.

"Miss?"

"Yes, Maggie?" Rachel's fan continued it's rhythmic pulse. "What is it?"

"Don't be too hard on him. He's doing what he believes is best."

The grip on her fan tightened until her knuckles showed white. "I understand all to well the motives of my father, Maggie."

"No, I don't think you do."

Rachel turned to her sharply and then away, the fan never missing a stroke.

"I don't want you to be angry, but---"

"That's enough."

Maggie lowered her head to stare at her hands and Rachel closed her mind to the tension filling the air. More and more she was beginning to wish that she had simply disappeared while she had been in Europe. How much easier her life would have been if she had given into one of the many polite young men who had pursued her. But she had been too set on finishing the task her father had placed in front of her. Now she couldn't back off.

'Do I really wish to confront him?'

The area around her rosebud mouth tightened and she closed her fan with a determined snap. 'If he is truly in earnest regarding his decision for me to take his place on the board of directors, then he must learn to respect my decisions. No more avoiding the problem. It is time for me to face my first serious discussion. Think of it as practice,' Rachel told herself with a slow smile. 'Think of it as a challenge and you'll be fine,' she soothed. 'Think back to school.'

Her headmistress in Europe had delighted in placing the strongest willed ladies in Rachel's sleeping quarters. The young ladies hadn't begun to abuse their 'friendship' with Rachel until they had seen how soft spoken and meek she had been. That was when the controlling had truly begun. Coercion of the worst kind had straightened Rachel's back and stiffened her spine until she had looked into their eyes and forced them to turn away by the sheer power of her will. No more parties so they could laugh at her awkwardness. No more talks with the headmistress because she had let them cheat off her paper only to be accused of cheating herself.

'Now is not the time to be thinking of the past,' she told herself. The grip around her fan tensed until the delicate wood cracked. Rachel gazed down at it with a blank stare. Looking into the past would only remind her of what she'd gladly left behind.

"Miss, we're here."

Rachel straightened and gingerly stepped from the coach with her head held high. She would not be put off. A boundary was needed between them and she would not allow another day to pass without telling him of it.

"Announce me to my father, Oliver. I wish to speak to him immediately."

"I ask your pardon, miss, but your father is engaged at the moment. Would you like some lemonade brought to your room to make your wait more enjoyable?"

Rachel didn't even pass him a look as she casually slipped off her white gloves to tuck them into her reticule. She stepped through the wide doors and into the hall, setting her hat on the hall table before heading for her father's study.

"My father will see me now with or without his current company. Announce me," she said firmly.

"Yes, miss." Oliver went to the doors of the large study and pushed them open after a moment's pause. "Miss Rachel Samson, sir."

Rachel strode through the doors and halted when her angry eyes focused on the dark-haired gentleman that had turned to face her.

"You!"

Three

Robert Lee Trent glared out the window of Henry Samson's library, a black cloud filling his mind. He lounged back in the dark leather chair and nervously tapped his father's pipe against his leg. Smoking of any kind was detestable in Robert's opinion, but his father had given him the pipe as a gift. Robert had always played with it as a child, so when he had turned 16 years of age his father had presented it to him as a token of his adulthood.

The thought of his father now made Robert cringe. His father had said that his friend's daughter was kind and intelligent, but he had said nothing of the hot temper hiding beneath her unusually striking features. Of course, he had to realize that both of their fathers hadn't seen Rachel Samson for years and people had a way of changing. If only he had known it had been Rachel before making the comment about the dressmaker's shop.

"I can't believe I agreed to this madness," Robert grumbled to himself. He heard a chuckle from his soon-to-be father-in-law and cringed again.

"You really had no say in the matter, my boy."

Robert ran a hand through his jet-black hair and his deep brown eyes squinted out the window, picturing her face as he irritably chewed the end of the pipe. He should have realized it was Rachel when she had been speaking of coming home to take over the family business after so many years abroad. Now, when she discovered that he was the gentleman her father had chosen for her to marry, she would be furious and embarrassed.

More furious than anything else.

"I understand that, sir, but there must be another way." Robert cocked his head to look into the older man's face and forced himself to lock gazes. He had to be told that they had already met. "I've met with her twice---"

"What?" Henry Samson's voice was tight and he went rigid.

"It's true, sir. If she and I meet the way you have planned, with you informing her that you've chosen her future husband, she will lose what trust she still had for you and the little she had begun to bestow on me. Would you like our marriage to be doomed before it has begun?"

Robert had to admit that he didn't want to be there when Mr. Samson told his daughter that, like everything else in her young life, he had again chosen what he believed was the best man for the job. Robert shook his head. Now he understood how women all over the world felt when they were bargained over and married off similar to the way an expensive thoroughbred was sold. He wasn't comfortable with the feeling. Nor was he comfortable with the fact that because he was of an exceedingly well known and wealthy family, he was deemed worthy of the task of wedding and bedding this man's daughter.

Robert had known that they had planned Rachel and his marriage since the day she had been born. At the age of two, his training had begun. He had been taught to ride all horseflesh, to read and speak several languages, to understand business techniques and anything else that his father had thought necessary. Including fencing, pugilism, firearms, and archery for the many expected afternoons when he and Rachel would entertain important members of the business world.

Robert leaned forward and rested his pounding head in his hands. He couldn't help but feel that he should explain to Rachel what was happening to the both of them, without her father's overpowering presence. Explain to her that they had both been controlled by people who believed they had held their best interests at heart. But he had been told not to reveal his identity until her father was present. He had also been told not to meet her, but how could he have known that they would meet on his way to the dining car? And how could he have known that she would stop by his hotel to return the gloves that he had accidentally left in her private car?

A smile suddenly eased his frown and he lifted his head. When he had seen her at the hotel he hadn't been able to resist the temptation to pull her aside and soothe her troubled frown. He had needed to see the smile in her eyes and to hear her gentle voice as she talked of her life. Robert sighed and slouched back into his chair. When they did meet again he supposed he could tell her that he hadn't known who she was when they had first spoken. Somehow he knew that wouldn't soothe the problem that he hadn't told her she had been betrothed without her knowledge. Robert grimaced. 'What would I say to that?'

A scowl turned his brown eyes to black. Imagining what could happen was a far worse torture than actually being there when it did. He champed down on his pipe hard and glared at nothing in particular as Mr. Samson paced back and forth, ranting about how Robert's irresponsibility had ruined their plans.

'I'm a yellow-bellied mamma's boy,' Robert thought suddenly. He couldn't stand up to her father? Robert knew he had never truly had a voice in his own future, but he should have voiced some kind of objection that would have now eased his conscience. 'And what would you have said, Robert my boy?' He asked the question with a wry chuckle. Anything he had ever said to his father had been waved aside as if he had been a child. The fact that Robert had a thought of his own would have astounded the great Bernard Trent.

And that was the sad truth.

"I wish we could take it slow," he grumbled. Silence settled over the room and Robert grabbed the pipe out of his mouth as he sat up sharply, his eyes brightening at a thought.

"What was that?"

Robert stood and straightened his jacket, slipping his pipe into the inner pocket. "I said that I want to take this relationship slow. I will not hurt her more than she has been already. It is too soon for her to have me spring out at her so much like a leering face from a jack-in-the-box."

Henry Samson's jaw tightened and a small vein at the very top of his forehead popped into view. "I appreciate your opinion, Robert, but I believe I know what is best for my own daughter."

"Sir, I've seen her more in the past day than you have in the last eight years. With all do respect, I believe I've learned more about her in that time than I could have if she had known who I was. Don't you think so?" Robert paused only long enough to see Mr. Samson's mouth open for a reply. "I believe in what I'm saying, Mr. Samson. I am not saying, however, that I plan to go against my father's wish of my marriage to your daughter. I simply don't believe that it is wise to rush her into a relationship for which she is not ready. Let her become familiar with her new home before you force another change into her life. That is all I ask---"

"Miss Rachel Samson, sir."

Robert and Henry turned the same instant, their gazes falling on the beautiful young woman who had halted in the middle of the doorway.

"You!"

Her voice was tight and Robert hid his hard swallow with a smile that he did not feel. Robert forced himself to step forward, took her hand in his, and bent over it in a formal bow, his brown eyes locking with her green ones.

"What a pleasant surprise," Robert told Rachel as he gazed up into her eyes. "But why are you here?"

He straightened slowly, his eyes still locked with hers as he reluctantly released her hand. It had been a twofold question. Her father had told him that she had decided to spend some time in town in order to rediscover the city that she had once known so well. Although Mr. Samson had sent a carriage after her, he had flat out told Robert that he didn't expect her to come. So, why had she returned to a home that so terrified her? How much control did she truly have over her own life?

Robert motioned to a chair and she mutely nodded before making her way to it, her eyes continually passing from her father to him.

"That is a question for my father," she said in a tight voice.

Rachel gripped her fan in both hands and gave her father such a level stare that, for a moment, Robert knew Henry Samson had found his equal. Then she switched those intense green eyes on him and he let the smile die from his eyes. He had a feeling it wasn't the only question she wanted to ask.

"As well as why we continue to coincidentally meet each other. Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

Robert echoed the statement only to receive a hard glare from Mr. Samson. Robert sighed. He had hoped to sway Mr. Samson's view on the matter of Rachel's betrothal, but apparently, that wasn't to be. Her future was set and there was to be no diverting her from it. In fact, Mr. Samson more than likely believed Robert was playing the part of a fool because he had chosen not to confront Rachel with the truth. The simple truth was that Robert didn't want to see the pain in her eyes.

Not now. Not ever.

"Sir, the purpose of your visit?"

Robert's stomach knotted. "May I sit?"

Rachel acknowledged his request with a slight nod. 'How can I simply tell her that I am her future husband?' He sat and gathered his thoughts, but he could not bring himself to say those words.

"He is to be your husband."

Robert's head came up sharply. That had not been the way to tell her.

"Surely you jest," Rachel exclaimed.

"Miss Rachel, I---"

"So, you know my name."

The tone she used was calmness itself, but Robert saw the unmistakably dangerous gleam in her eyes.

"Now, Rachel, the boy is not to blame." Henry Samson leaned against the sturdy desk and crossed his arms as he peered down at his only child. "If you believe there is any blame to be had, it will fall on myself and the boy's father. We have had you two matched since the day you were born."

"Matched?" Her tone was hard and the hands that gripped her fan were snowy white. "You've had us matched and felt no need to tell me of this?"

Robert watched as the shock and anger darkened her eyes and hardened her face. What they planned was wrong. Rachel Samson was no longer the young girl to be directed which road to take for the best future. She was capable of making her own decisions, but her father hadn't yet come to realize it. That had been his first mistake. The other had been to hide this from her until the last possible moment.

"Arranged marriages are quite common," Henry said without batting an eye. "You didn't believe I would let any jackanapes come along and try to meddle his way into your affairs, did you? I wanted someone I could trust with the business."

Robert cringed.

"The business, father?" Rachel's green eyes smoldered with incredulous anger and disbelief. "Is that what I am to you? A business asset to pass along to the highest bidder? You have no right." She stood and turned away, but made no move toward the door.

"I have no right? You are my only child, Rachel. I have every right to manage your affairs the way I see fit."

"My business affairs, yes, but only at the moment. My life and marriage... No."

"What did you say?"

Rachel turned back toward her father. "I said that you have no right to manage my marriage. My 'loves' are none of your concern and my feelings for this man," she made a delicate gesture toward Robert, "are none of your business. I shall marry whom and when I choose. Not before, not after, and certainly not when someone I haven't seen for eight years orders me because he believes he has the right to play at the role of my father."

"Rachel Byron Samson, I will not accept that tone of voice from you---"

"And I will not accept this man for my husband," Rachel insisted firmly.

"You will or you are no longer a part of this family."

Rachel's calm evaporated. "You cannot do that!"

"I can and I will. If you do not marry whom I choose, I will write you out of my estate. Allowing my hard earned work go to waste is something I will not see before I die."

"But I do not love him, father." Her voice was strangled on the tears she fought to keep away.

"Love is the one luxury the rich cannot afford," Henry said sharply. "The thought of business comes first. Always. You are my only child, Rachel, and my only hope of the future. I will not see it wasted."

Rachel's chin tilted up, her eyes bright flashes of hurt as her arms were rigid at her side. "So, I am capable of running the business, but not of choosing my own husband? I am amazed at the weight of trust you place on me, dear father. How shall I meet the expectations?"

The sarcastic response was nearly spat in Henry Samson's face and he paled at the pure hatred on his daughter's face.

Robert slowly stood. He had desperately tried to make her father see the error of his choices before it would be too late. Now the bed was made and both he and Rachel would be forced to sleep in it together. He turned toward the door and heard the faint rustle of skirts behind him as Rachel followed. 'What will her reaction be to me now? Will she believe that I had tried to spare her this torture?'

Robert opened the door and gestured to the hall with a slight bow. "After you, Miss Rachel."

Her head raised higher and Robert cringed at the pain, anger, and hatred he saw in her eyes.

"May I ask how long you have known?"

Robert stiffened, desperately trying to forget how bad his answer would sound to her. "I have known all my life."

Her eyes hardened and he offered her his arm as his voice drifted away. She barely rested her hand on it as she allowed him to lead her toward the outdoor gardens situated at the back of the large house.

"How lucky you are not to be tortured with the thought of your hopes and dreams never being realized," she said.

"Mine was a torture of it's own. I've no recollection of not knowing I was to be married. The idea of marriage became abused the moment it became expected. It was no longer a special time when a man and woman sacrificed their families to begin one of their own."

"I do not wish to speak of marriage," she said sharply. She released the slight hold she had on his arm and walked ahead of him to sit at a marble bench situated under a large oak tree. "I asked one question and that one question was all I wished answered."

Robert sighed and shook his head. "I wanted to tell you, Miss Rachel."

"I understand all too well the power my father holds over people, sir."

"You may call me Robert." She barely inclined her head and he slowly sat on the other end of the bench. "So, why did you not throw your inheritance back in his face? You must have enough qualifications in business to survive on your own."

"Who would hire a woman when there are plenty of hard-working men to fill those few positions. I would be doomed to failure before I had even begun the search."

"You will marry me then?"

"No."

Robert smirked as he leaned back against the trunk of the massive tree, his hands behind his head. "Good." He felt her eyes on him and continued. "That gentleman is too sure of himself and his power over you."

"You misunderstand me, sir," she said as she stood.

Robert straightened slowly at the icy tone and turned to face her. "What do you mean?"

"I will be yours in name only. Not in spirit. Not in mind. Not in body. I will be my own person. In all sense of the law, we will be man and wife. Most likely, even in the eyes of God. Because my father has determined that I am nothing more than a business feature to be passed from one man to another, that is all I shall be to you."

He stood and stretched out a hand to her as she turned away from him. "Miss Rachel, I never meant---"

She faced him with an angry look. "You never meant for me to discover the truth?"

"That is not what I intended to say," he said softly. "I never meant to hurt you. If I had but known it was you on the train---"

"You would not have stopped to cheer me? You would have told me that you were to be my husband?" Her eyes sparked. "You lied to me, sir. You said you were honored to be my friend, then deceived me into thinking that this was all you were."

Robert's eyes darkened with pain. "I know. I am sorry. You will never know how many times I wanted to tell you. I was afraid. Afraid to see the trust you had in me vanish."

She took a step toward him, her eyes narrowing. "It has, sir. The trust has disappeared never to return. As far as I am concerned, you do not exist. So, until the wedding, sir, I wish not to see your face again. Pray you keep it so."

Robert watched her go and then let his head drop. Life. So short. So fragile. Yet, the two of theirs had been thrown to the wheels of society as if there was no God to answer to. 'I will make our marriage work,' he vowed silently. 'She will smile and laugh at life again.' Robert looked up to heaven and tightened his fists. 'I will not allow her soul to be eaten away by this hate for a father that cared too much.'

"I will not give up on her."

* * *

Rachel's fists tightened as she made her way up the heavy wooden staircase, each step of her finely sewn leather shoes ricocheting through the deserted hall. 'This can't be possible,' she thought. Her dazed mind grappled with the reality of her father's betrayal and she nearly lost her step. 'Why is this happening? Why am I passed from controlling hand to controlling hand as a puppet on a string?' Her thoughts groaned to a halt and she pushed through the door to her room. The childhood dreams she saw around her were no longer a part of who she was. That part of her had died her first month in a strange country attending an unfamiliar school. She would never be that child again. Never be that shy young lady. Never again be the assured young adult planning her first dinner engagement with a beau.

Her life had been planned.

It had never been her own.

Rachel drifted through the room, lightly fingering the trophies of her brief childhood. Her first collection of great literature given by her mother's only brother, Winston Halifax. A book of her favorite flowers that had taken her an entire summer to gather, dry, and press throughout the pages of "Gulliver's Travels". The first doll her father had imported from France dressed in fine lace petticoats, heavy velvet ribbons on her bonnet, and real silk thread embroidery on her dress. A book of poetry from a young friend who had taught her the art of climbing trees.

And given her a first kiss.

Rachel let a smile escape and gently picked up the thin, leather-bound book. There, inside the cover, was a short poem written by a not so sure hand. She traced the letters with her finger and reread it.

Hawks dive and play in the sky

I think of you and I

Playing in the trees that God made

Lounging in their loving shade.

I smile, You laugh

You cry, I comfort

Friends can never be parted

Love can never be thwarted

Even if you were to go far away

I would remember these days... always

Rachel closed the book with an unsteady breath and closed her eyes. Todd Richards had been her first love. They had done everything together and she had learned lessons about life that she would never have learned from her parents. Lessons that only orphans like Todd could have taught her. She hugged the book to her chest and let a sob escape. She could no longer leave her problems behind and climb a tree. Or wash away her troubles by swimming in her bloomers and petticoats. Todd could no longer rescue her from daily chores that stole the smile from her face. There was no escape and no childhood protector to brighten her mood.

Only marriage to a man she did not know.

"Robert."

The name did not float from her tongue as she had dreamed her love's name would. Her mind didn't stray to the thought of his face. Her arms did not long to hold him. Her breath was not shallow at the mention of his name. Everything was not as it should have been. The choice had not been hers. A choice that she had not known was needed. 'I have not been home for a full day and my future has been set. Why? Why would he do this to me?' She had truly believed she could trust the dark-haired gentleman with the deep brown eyes. Instead, she was signed over to him as a pedigreed animal.

Reward for his obedience.

Rachel set the book of poetry back on the white, French provincial dresser and let her fingers linger. What had ever happened to him? 'Does his blonde hair still fall into his eyes,' Rachel wondered. Would his new family be the center of his life as she had once thought she would always be? Did he still have a love for poetry and stories of adventure? Rachel shook her head sadly. Now she had no right to discover the answers to these questions.

Curiosity had been a trait she had learned from Todd and now it nearly got the best of her. 'My life is not my own,' she reminded herself. She sighed and pushed away from the dresser, her eyes traveling around the room, anger slowly taking a firm hold of her mind. Hardening her heart. Her back stiffened and her chin rose as she clenched her fists. Rachel looked around her in disgust and left the room, the angry swishing of skirts exaggerating her every move.

"Oliver! Oliver," she called from the balustrade of the second story.

"Yes, Miss Rachel?" The butler appeared and looked up at her with his usual calm expression. "How may I help you, miss?"

"Please prepare one of the guest rooms for me immediately."

Oliver blinked, the only outward sign of surprise that registered through his well-trained persona. "One of the guest rooms, miss? They haven't been used in years." He paused. "Might I suggest a different room? The guest quarters will be too close to Mr. Trent. That would simply never do."

Rachel waved her hand in dismissal. "Whatever, Oliver. I refuse to be surrounded by dolls and children's paintings. See to it before dinner is ready."

He bowed curtly and disappeared. Rachel stood for several minutes on the balcony, alone and silent. 'So, what am I to do with myself now? Father still believes that he controls my life and will, therefore, hear nothing I say. Maggie has deserted me in my time of need because of a secret she shares with my father. And Robert...?' Rachel pressed her lips together and made her way down the stairs, then passed under them to the back of the house.

Rachel took in a deep breath when she paused at the foot of the stairs that led out to the gardens. She desperately tried to feel the peace that had once followed her wherever she had gone, but it was dissipating fast and a type of panic she had never known seemed to chase it away faster. The peace had once always been there, hovering over her like a protective cloud. Guiding her steps and keeping her soul safe from the unhappiness of the world. It had always been so. The Lord had been her comfort and shield since an early age, so early that she could not remember the details of her deliverance.

But now she felt so alone.

Rachel stepped forward and wove her way through the narrow paths that intertwined through the complex garden that seemed more a wild glen. This section of her father's property had once been considered her sanctuary, but now it seemed more of a private torture chamber designed to mock her and the past she had left behind. Rachel sighed deeply and felt the tears brimming.

"Hello," came a soft voice behind her.

Rachel gave a start, quickly wiping away the tears before she turned. "Hello," she greeted Robert in a tight voice.

He came to stand beside her, his hands hidden in the pockets of his beige trousers. He simply stood there, staring out at the trees and wildflowers that followed the stream as it trickled past the servant's quarters. They stood silent together, staring out at the nature that should have been soothing to their souls. Instead, it seemed a torment to them both.

"I know you asked not to see me until the wedding, Miss Rachel," he began quietly, "but I could not let you believe I had agreed with your father's course of action."

"I am sure it does not matter, sir. You have your wife and I have my fortune, as well as my place in my father's company."

"But I wish you to understand that, had I thought it would make a difference, I would have refused the match."

Rachel looked over at him briefly, then turned back to the scenery. "Perhaps you were right not to refuse, sir. Heaven knows we would not want your life to be miserable after so many years of obeying your father's wishes."

"Can we not call a truce? Is there no hope of us being friends?"

Rachel heard the sound of desperation in his voice, but refused to let her heart soften.

"A truce?" She turned toward him and stared into his eyes in shock. "You who have lied to me from the beginning of our tentative relationship wish to agree upon a truce so that we might become friends? You can't be serious!"

"Miss Rachel, I can assure you that I am quite serious," he countered in his soft baritone. His eyes refused to be turned away. "Yes, I admit my decisions at our first few meetings were poor, but I couldn't bring myself to shatter your trust in me. I knew that the choice I had made would only make our final confrontation, as it were, all the more heartbreaking for you, but I couldn't force the words from my mouth." Robert finally turned away and sat on a fallen log. "I had hoped to persuade your father to allow us time."

"Time?" Rachel asked the question with a raised eyebrow. "Time for what, sir? For a normal courtship when he had already determined you as the only man suitable to sire his grandchildren? Time for persuading me to fall in love with a stranger so that your conscience would allow you to sleep at night?" Rachel turned away from him in disgust. "I think not. My father has no such compassion."

"Still, what kind of person would I have been if I had not tried."

"What type of person are you still," Rachel shot back. "You who have lied to a person you called friend?"

Robert nodded after a moment's pause and looked out at the trees that waved in the slight breeze. "I just pray that you will one day forgive me."

"Do not wait for empty promises, sir, for you shall be old and gray before I forgive your deceitfulness."

Rachel turned on her heel and left him, the hurt she felt at his deception rushing to the surface with a force that left her sobbing into her gloved hands before she was completely out of the garden.

* * *

Rachel fumed as she stood in the center of her childhood room. She had told Oliver to prepare a room before dinner, yet her order had not yet been carried out. Oliver had made the excuse of needing to properly air out the other rooms, but Rachel knew it was because her father didn't approve. That thought caused her no end of frustration and anger. 'Not even a simple request to be moved from one room to another can be carried out unless agreed to by my father? Ridiculous!'

"Miss Rachel?"

There was a slight knock on the door and Rachel turned to face it. Her creamy white features placid. Green eyes emotionless. "Enter."

Maggie slipped through the door and curtseyed. "Miss Rachel, your father requests your presence at the dinner table."

"Very well, Maggie. I shall be down momentarily."

"Begging your pardon, but he suggested I help with your change."

One of Rachel's eyebrows arched, but she silently nodded her head and turned toward her walk-in closet. 'So, I am to have a short reign.' Rachel gave another imperceptible nod. She would dress for dinner all right. A gown from Paris, one of the new styles not yet accepted, would fit her mood perfectly. It had been a gift from a friend's beau after graduation and Rachel had never really liked it. Or approved of something similar being worn in public, but if her arrival in such a dress caused her father any type of frustration or annoyance it would be well worth her own discomfiture.

"I will be wearing the green dress this evening, Maggie."

Maggie's eyes widened as she pulled it out of the closet. "Yes, miss," she whispered.

* * *

Gazing into the full body mirror with calm eyes, Rachel smoothed the dark, silk crepe fabric with steady hands. Her natural ringlets of blonde were gathered on top of her head with a circlet of silver combs that allowed the long strands to cascade down around her shoulders. The effect was perfect.

The bodice was supported by a built-in corset while two wide strips of the clinging material drooped across her upper arms. These strips of green gave the appearance of sleeves that relieved the stark bareness of her shoulders and arms. A velvet ribbon choker of the same deep green enhanced the delicate length of her neck and brought the eye momentarily away from the low cut bodice. Ripples of silk dropped to the floor from her tiny waist showing that she was slim and slender from head to floor. No extra petticoats to add roundness to her hips. No extravagant bustle to attract a man's eye as she passed. Only an elongation of skirt toward the back that would drag behind her accentuating an enticingly feminine silhouette and showing a hint of ankle at the front.

She had told Robert that she would be his in name only. A business partner and no more. Now, however, he would see what she would have willingly given him in exchange for his trust. A sudden sense of pain in her soul made her green eyes brim with tears and she turned away from her reflection, raising her chin as she bent slightly to carry her train. His betrayal had cut deeper than she thought possible. The lies. The easy smiles. He must have been laughing at her while she was telling him her innermost secrets.

'How could he have done that to me?'

"Is it time, Maggie?"

"Yes, miss. Dinner was served nearly half an hour ago."

"Than I shall make an entrance. Summon my father and... and the other gentleman to the bottom of the stairs. I wish an escort to the dining room."

"Yes, miss."

Maggie curtseyed and scurried from the room, Rachel following her at a slower pace.

* * *

"She wants what?" Henry Samson glared at the young maid and then changed his gaze to Robert. "Did you hear that, son? She wants an 'escort' to the bloody dining hall where we've already been waiting nearly an hour!"

Robert nodded but only raised an eyebrow as he followed Mr. Samson to the hall. 'What is she up to?' But he had no answer. "Perhaps she is not sure as to our whereabouts and would like to go to dinner together?"

Mr. Samson scoffed and Robert lowered his raven black brow into a frown. Mr. Samson was right. It was highly unlikely she would be unsure of anything. She was on familiar territory. Robert tapped his lips and lifted his eyes from the deep shine of his polished black leather boots. His breath caught in his throat.

"Rachel," he whispered hoarsely.

She was a European vision of loveliness dressed in the deepest of green. Nothing left to the imagination as she drifted down the stairs with her chin tilted in silent defiance; her bare arms hanging gracefully suspended at her sides. He vaguely heard Mr. Samson's astonished spluttering and stepped back as Rachel reached the bottom step. She presented Robert with her hand and he bent over it hesitantly. It was ungloved, highly uncommon when ladies wore evening gowns remotely similar in style.

He had never before noticed a fabric that adhered so completely to the wearer.

"Good evening, Miss Rachel. Shall we?"

She nodded briefly and Robert straightened, his dark eyes fixed on hers. No emotion flickered in their calm depths. No hint as to what she was feeling. Nothing that would let him know how to speak with her throughout the evening her father had planned for them. Robert gently placed her hand on his arm and proceeded to lead her toward the dining room, painfully aware of the coolness of her fingers through the sleeve of his jacket. 'Dear Lord,' he prayed fervently, 'please soften her heart toward me. Show me the way to gently tear down the walls she's constructed between us.' He took in a slow breath as his eyes darted to her profile. 'And protect my mind from straying thoughts.'

He had accepted Christ at an early age, led by an older man who had seemed to have the very love of Jesus shining in his eyes. The man had known so much of the pain in his soul and that knowledge had helped him show Robert how to confront the pain and hatred in his young heart. As Robert had grown, his relationship with Christ had become a type of refuge. Not only had Jesus' presence in Robert's life provided a sense of spiritual direction, but also a mental and emotional stability that hadn't been there in his early years. Jesus had, simply put, made Robert's life bearable while giving him new purpose. Now all that comfort and teaching seemed so hard to remember as he felt Rachel's presence beside him. He wanted to pull her away and assure her that he wasn't the monster she assumed he was. To assure her that all would be well if she trusted him. To swear to her that he understood her feelings of betrayal. These declarations wouldn't comfort her pain, though. Only patience in the plan that God had for them would see her to the end safely.

'Will I have that patience?'

"Have you enjoyed the day thus far, Miss Rachel?"

"Yes. Thank you, sir."

'Please, Rachel…' Robert sighed as a twinge of hurt pinched his heart. "It would do me honor of you called me Robert."

"If it suits me," she replied coolly.

He led her to the high-backed chair opposite her father and sat at her right hand. 'Very well, Rachel.' He fixed her gaze with his and gave her a gentle smile. 'I will wait for you.'

Four

A sigh was ripped from Rachel's lips as she stared down at the book of poetry clasped in her hands. She wanted it back, but instead she had to live a life that she hadn't chosen. 'And with a man for whom I do not understand my feelings. It is not fair.' Rachel raised her eyes to the hardwood ceiling and then shut them tight, fighting back the tears of anger and hopelessness. The control still wasn't hers. She was yet a child in her father's eyes.

A slight smile tickled her lips and she let her eyes drop back down to the book. Her fingers flipped through the pages, pausing on certain pages of poetry on which Todd had written messages before he had given the book to her. She could still remember their last meeting in the orchard at the back of her father's acreage. She had been in a dress of creamy white that had made her eyes seem larger than life to the shy boy of sixteen. That day she had been told she was to leave before the month was out and had decided to let him know of her feelings for him.

Her father hadn't been able to take that from her even now.

Rachel let out an exasperated sigh and threw back the coverlet. It was time to get out of bed and look over the books. 'There is no use walking through memories to a different person, and what seems a different life. It is me no longer,' she thought darkly. She grabbed a robe and tied the belt around her waist with a jerk just as Maggie came into the room with a curtsy. Rachel's lips tightened.

"Good morning, Miss Rachel. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes."

"The bath water is ready."

"Thank you."

Rachel stepped past her into the adjoining room and stepped into the sunken tub after slipping out of her robe. She halted Maggie before she could leave the room.

"Maggie?"

The maid froze at the door and clenched the apron of her black dress with trembling fingers. Rachel sunk down lower into the suds. "Please tell my father that I will be down for breakfast shortly."

"Yes, miss. Right away, miss."

Maggie left the room and Rachel watched her leave with a painful look darkening her eyes as she shook her head. 'I am so sorry, dear friend. The person I want to yell at is my father.' She slapped her fingers on the surface of the water. 'But I can't, can I? Not if I wish to be a continuing part of this family.'

"We aren't that much different, are we, Mags," Rachel mused to herself. "You bending and scraping to me. And I running to do every little thing my father says."

Every little thing. Rachel grabbed for a sponge and submerged it in the water with a slight splash. She couldn't keep her mind from wandering to the past. Running into her father's arms when he would arrive home from his office in the city. Being taken on special trips to state and world fairs so that they could spend time together as a family. 'So when had he decided to send me away?' Rachel stood and wrapped herself in her robe as she stepped out of the tub.

She threw open the doors to her closet and took out a dress of cotton chintz, then tossed it aside and pulled out a long skirt of charcoal gray and a simple white blouse. She was going to the office and wanted no instances of the old gentleman insisting she was too interested in frills and fashion to understand the intricacies of business.

"Would you like some help, miss?"

Rachel surrendered to Maggie's gentle hands and silently planned for the board meeting that afternoon. She knew her father would object at first, but if he truly wanted his plans to be carried out, he would back down.

"How would you like your hair, miss?"

"Something simple and businesslike."

Maggie nodded and maneuvered all of Rachel's tresses into a simple bun, not a single hair escaping her skillful fingers. Rachel gave herself a nod in the mirror and turned to leave the room without a backward glance. She met her father downstairs.

"Good morning, father."

"Rachel."

She saw the uncertainty in his eyes and felt her heart begin to melt. 'What are you doing,' a small voice asked. 'Imagine the pain he went through when he sent you to the school. Do you really believe he doesn't love you? That he wanted you to be someone other than who you were? You're his daughter,' the voice continued. Rachel felt unwanted tears pricking her eyes. 'No matter how you had done at that school, he would have accepted you back because he loves you. He simply wanted everything to be perfect. For you. For your family. He wanted to protect you from the unknown.'

"Good morning, Miss Rachel."

The soft and gentle voice sounded at her other side and Rachel turned her head sharply to look up into the brown eyes of her betrothed. The stranger who was to become her husband. Her heart hardened and she pushed the voice from her mind. 'My life is a lie and my father made it such.' Rachel turned her eyes forward and stepped into the dining room with her head held high.

"Good morning," she said in a cold voice. She sat in the high-backed chair he pulled out for her and gave him a curt nod. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He sat beside her with a smile. "Are you having an enjoyable morning, Miss Rachel?"

"Yes, thank you." She accepted the plate of eggs and bacon, then politely motioned to the bread.

He passed it to her with a smile. "Would you be willing to accompany me on a horse ride through your father's property?"

"Thank you, no. I plan on attending father's board meeting and, later, looking over the books to see how they are being handled."

"That's not necessary, Rachel," her father said in a tight voice.

Rachel looked at her father sharply. "I would rather be there to see how you do things, father. How else will I learn if not from viewing you in action."

Henry Samson frowned and dropped a piece of bread onto his plate. "Rachel, there won't be meetings for the next week or so."

"And why is that?"

"Because we mutually agreed it would be better to allow you to get settled before you were required to become involved."

Rachel arched an eyebrow and dabbed her napkin at the corner of her lips. "'We' decided, father? I don't recall ever having been asked if I would concur."

Her father's grip tightened on his butter knife and he gave his daughter a hard look. It slowly melted into an understanding smile and Rachel felt her temper begin to rise.

"Rachel, I suggest you become accustomed to the fact that not all the decisions made by large companies will revolve around you or your influence therein. Use this time that they have so wisely given you as an opportunity to meet the people you haven't seen in years. Gain an advantage by viewing what the people want. That is when you will have true power over the business world. When you meet the 'little people' and their needs."

"Very well said, sir," Robert stated.

Rachel forced herself to swallow her pride and anger as she accepted the water from the serving maid. 'I will not allow this intruder the upper hand. If he agrees with what my father has said, so be it. I will not look the unreasonable child by continuing a losing argument.' Rachel pressed her lips together. 'Very well said,' he had crooned. It was enough to make her nauseous.

"So, Miss Rachel, about the horse ride. Perhaps we could enhance that to include a picnic?"

"I think that would be delightful." She caught her father's smile and ground her teeth. 'I will not be goaded!' She placed her napkin on the table and slowly stood. "Perhaps I had better change my gown?"

Rachel turned after giving the two men a sickly sweet smile and gracefully strode from the room. She mounted the stairs as quickly as possible for a lady and deliberately closed her door with a gentle hand. 'Of one thing I am sure. I will not be accused of having a shrewish temperament. If Mr. Trent wishes to go horseback riding on father's land, then that is exactly what we shall do.'

"Maggie?" Maggie hurried from the walk in closet and wrung her hands as Rachel began fumbling with the hooks on her blouse. "Mr. Trent and I will be having a picnic today. Please retrieve my riding habit and then go down and tell Cook to prepare us a light meal."

"Yes, miss," Maggie whispered as she turned for the closet.

Rachel crossed her arms and her green eyes hardened. Mr. Trent would get his picnic.

* * *

Robert sat with a quiet sigh after Rachel had left the room. 'I really have no idea what I'm doing, Lord. All I can do is trust You.' A wry smile twisted his lips and he pushed his plate away. He'd been trusting God regarding his relationship with the mysterious Rachel Samson since his father had reminded him his bride had already been chosen. Worried that he was becoming too fond of his female friends, Bernard Trent had taken it upon himself to remind his son of his responsibilities. 'What a blessing I hadn't fallen in love with one of them.' They had all attempted to get their hooks into him, this he knew, but many of them had lost interest after he had begun to talk of the many things that excited him. Subjects such as foreign business customs, pre-law, and different types of literature hadn't appealed to them.

A sudden sense of peace lifted his heart and he smiled. 'Just show me where You want me to go, Lord, and I'll follow.' Robert's mind paused and he pushed from the table after giving Henry Samson a farewell nod. 'As long as that doesn't lead to water, of course. You know I can't swim.' That had been the only type of sport not included in his rigorous training. His father had attempted to leave not a single avenue undiscovered, but Robert's own fear of water had been an unsurpassable obstacle.

"Mr. Trent?"

Robert looked up toward the stairs. "Yes, Maggie? What is it?"

Maggie looked over her shoulder and then made her way down the remaining stairs. "Mr. Trent, I just wanted to warn you…"

Robert raised an eyebrow and followed her gaze toward Rachel's room. "What's the matter, Maggie?"

"She's in an awful mood, sir. I'm afraid she has some terrible plan to get even with you for something."

"Oh really," he said as he crossed his arms. "Thank you, Maggie, but don't worry about it. I'll handle Miss Rachel just fine."

Maggie wrung her hands and began to slowly walk toward the kitchen. "Yes, sir."

'Okay, Lord,' he prayed as he looked up the stairs. 'Here I am. There she is. What do I do? You are the only One who understands her and that which she feels. All I ask is that You use me.' Robert shook his head and then slowly climbed the stairs, puzzling over the comment Maggie had made. 'Something to get even for? What could that be? What have I done now?'

He paused at her door and took in a deep breath as he stared at it. He wanted to be there for her during this time of transition that seemed to rip out her heart, but she wouldn't let him close. 'Perhaps it's time to take my place as her betrothed?' He shook his head and forced himself to pass her room. 'That is not the way to reach her. Everything that has ever taken place in her life has been forced. It is time to give her a choice.'

He nodded to himself and opened the door to his room. "Good morning, Houston."

The valet scurried to him with wringing hands and Robert shook his head. Mr. Samson had insisted on hiring a manservant, no matter how long Robert had protested, and now he seemed to materialize out of thin air before Robert realized he was needed.

"I heard you were to go riding this morning with Miss Samson, sir. Your riding suit is pressed and waiting. Shall I retrieve it?"

Robert raised an eyebrow. "My luggage is at the hotel."

"Oh no, sir. The master had the remainder of it brought over late last night. I've had everything pressed and hung."

Robert shook his head with a sigh and then gave the squirrel-like man a gentle smile. "Then, by all means."

"Right away, sir."

The valet scurried to the adjoining quarters as Robert paced the floor. 'I hope You will give me some hint as to what I'm to do, Lord. You know how much I detest blind situations. Then again, I always seem to learn so much from them, don't I?' Robert's lips turned up for a moment and then the scenario in the dining room replayed itself in his mind. 'Be careful what you say. Siding with her father may be appropriate in the eyes of society, but in Rachel's eyes it is not.'

"Even if he's right," he mumbled.

"Pardon," Houston asked from directly behind him.

"Nothing."

Robert gave him a tired smile and then let Houston dress him for the morning ride. 'So you'll handle Miss Rachel. You don't really believe that, do you?' He shrugged into the crisp shirt with a slight scowl. 'I must believe that I have a chance or there is no point in continuing to hope for the changing of her heart.'

Even so, feelings of hopelessness continued to weigh him down. The obstacles that stood between him and his bride-to-be seemed impossible to overcome. 'How will I do it? She's so sure that I'm against her that she's pushing me away even farther. How am I to get past that?' The hollowness in his stomach deepened as he grabbed his hat and gloves from Houston's outstretched hand. 'A step at a time, I suppose. Get to know her slowly, as if she didn't know I was destined to marry her. Woo her. Show her that I am trustworthy.'

"If it's not too late," he mumbled.

"It shouldn't be too late to ride," a businesslike voice said from behind him.

He turned to Rachel at the front of the door and gave her a heartfelt smile. "You are a vision of loveliness, Miss Rachel."

She pressed her lips together in a firm line, hands smoothing the plain and simple green riding habit. "Please, sir. Either refer to me by my given name, or my last. Do not act as if you've changed your mind mid-sentence."

"Pardon?" Robert raised an eyebrow.

Her intense green eyes focused on his face with a hard look. "Rachel or Miss Samson, not both."

He tapped the rim of his riding hat with another smile. "It shall be as you say," he said softly.

She nodded briskly and stepped forward when the horses arrived. Robert watched her gracefully mount the fidgeting chestnut gelding and let his smiling eyes drift to her face as she coldly watched him approach. He wouldn't be daunted. 'She's understandably wary,' he thought to himself as he positioned himself in the saddle. 'It shall take her a short while to become familiar with me.' A shiver of expectancy ran through his body and he pulled on the reigns of his dun gelding to hide it. 'Why should I disguise how I feel? Shouldn't I wish her to know my feelings for her?'

As the two horses trotted side by side, Robert turned the question over in his mind. Her knowledge of his true feelings for her could be construed as good or bad. Flattering or unwanted.

"Intriguing," he mumbled.

"I thought so too when I first saw it as a child."

Robert blinked and realized he'd reigned his horse to a stop in front of two trees that had somehow become entwined with each other. It was how he hoped his relationship with Rachel would end. 'Is it a sign, Lord? You know I need one.' He dismounted. The horse snorted it's displeasure at not yet having it's run, but eagerly followed when Robert made his way to the tree for a closer look. The trees could not be separated without the death of one. He smiled and ran his hand along the bark, hesitating at one section where two sets of initials had been carved. He heard Rachel's slight inhalation of breath and slowly bent to examine the letters. RS and TR.

"Shall we continue our ride?" Rachel sounded quite insistent.

"Of course," he said. He mounted and urged his horse to an easy walk. "I shouldn't waste our time together on trees. Forgive me." He heard her annoyed sigh and shook his head. "Rachel, I apologize for sounding flippant---"

"You didn't."

Robert moved his steed even with hers. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yes." She sent him a searching look. "It is not necessary to placate me as you do my father. I am not impressed by your supposed concern and, if you truly wish to earn my trust, you will cease the act."

"Yes, my lady. Anything you say, my lady," Robert countered with a wide smile. He saw her back go rigid and instantly regretted his remark. He grimaced. "I'm sorry, Rachel. My father warned me of my unusual sense of humor, but I seldom ever listen to authoritative figures. I doubt if I shall begin now."

"If that was so, you would not be marrying me. True?" Rachel asked this with a sidelong glance accompanied by a slight rising of the eyebrow.

Robert nodded and sent a prayer of thankfulness to the heavens for her interest, strained as it may have been. "Very true, but with one fault. It wasn't only my father who matched us as a couple."

"I realize this. My father was also involved in the decision."

His eyes twinkled and he sent her an impish smile. "Yes, but that wasn't to whom I was referring." Robert pulled his horse to a sudden stop. "Shall we give them the exercise they're wanting?"

Rachel visibly struggled with the annoyance of not having her questions answered and positioned herself more firmly in the saddle. Robert smiled and tightened his grip on the reigns. He had to save some conversation material for later, didn't he?

"Who will give the sign?"

"Sign? Is it a race or simple exercise?"

He caught the slight twinkle in her eyes and felt his heart skip a beat. 'Slowly, Robert,' he reminded. 'Lead her to you slowly.'

"Lead the way, Rachel," he said with a slight bow in her direction.

She examined his face a moment, then gave a touch with her heel and galloped away. Robert hesitated only a moment before urging his horse to follow.

* * *

Rachel scolded herself when she listened for the sound of Robert's horse behind her. 'Should I care one way or the other if he follows me? I think not.' The grip on her reins tightened and she pressed her lips together. 'What is he up to? Why is he so kind? Why the picnic? Why the smiles and eagerness to please?' She pushed the questions from her mind with a sudden scowl and they returned unbidden. He had been kind and understanding to her since they had first met, so why did she not trust him?

Rachel reluctantly drew her galloping horse to a canter. 'This is ridiculous. What does it matter whether I trust him or not? We are to be married and there is no turning from that.' The horse slowed to an easy walk and Robert drew his horse up beside her. She felt his dark brown eyes focus on her and scowled when a spark shot up her spine. It was hard to forget how he'd been that day before. So gentle, but firm. Like a friend she needed.

Several minutes passed in silence.

"You're very quiet, Rachel."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Are you all right?"

She heard the concern in his voice and felt the muscles in her back begin to loosen. 'There is no point in being hardheaded when he is insisting on showing such concern, is there? After all, how could it be an act? Why would he trouble himself when the two of us are to be married whether we hate or love one another?'

"I'm fine," she finally said. The smile that lit up his face made her heart flutter. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be apologetic. I was simply hoping I hadn't done anything to upset you. My father---"

"Please do not talk of your father," she interrupted sharply. "And stop believing that any phrase you say shall upset me. I am not a child."

She felt his eyes on her again and looked down at her skirts. The sound of him dismounting his horse and coming to stand beside hers brought a slight comfort to her soul. 'Why? What is it about him that makes me divulge my feelings and secrets so easily?'

"Rachel, if that is true, I would very much like to ask you a question. It's quite personal."

Her eyes focused on his and he lifted his arms to her.

"What is it," she asked.

He hesitated as he engulfed her waist with his hands. "The second pair of initials. Who carved them? A childhood sweetheart?"

She placed her gloved hands on his shoulders and he lifted her down to set her gently on her feet. Their gazes held for a long moment before she dropped her hands to her sides and turned away. She took the reigns of her chestnut gelding and led him to a young tree where she tied him securely.

"I suppose you could classify him as such," she told him.

Rachel fought the urge to close her eyes and relive that day when she and Todd Richards had walked their horses amongst the fruit trees in the orchard. Todd saying good-bye to her with a kiss and poem. Her clinging to him as she pleaded with him to take her away from the fear.

"Did you never have one, sir?"

"Yes," he said softly. "I can assure you, I most certainly did."

She turned and saw that he had already positioned the blanket under the shade of a large oak and was beginning to set out the lunch. 'I suppose I should help.' She pressed her lips together and made her way to the blanket to lower herself with a sigh. However, when she reached for the basket, he protested with a smile.

"Please, Rachel, allow me. I can assure you I am most highly qualified for laying a picnic. However," he gave her a wink, "if you find I am in error in any way, feel free to correct me."

A slight smile found it's way to her lips and she made herself more comfortable. "You are flippant, aren't you? How did your father ever put up with you?"

"He didn't," Robert told her as he laid out the cold chicken. "I was usually in the direct care of my mother, tutor, housekeeper, or the like. It was quite a thrilling life, I assure you. I experienced all there was to know of the lady's world of fashion and needlework. As well as the fascinating world of business and law."

"What a combination," she chuckled.

"Oh, it truly was that, Rachel," he said softly, a faraway expression in his eyes. He set out the remaining trays of fruit, cold cuts, cheeses, wine, and chilled glasses, then gave her another smile and passed her a napkin. "Many times I wish I was there again. At home with only the knowledge of another day of studies to tempt me with."

Her eyes dropped to the napkin and her smile vanished. "You should never wish for those things which are impossible. It only detracts from the seduction of tomorrow."

He was silent and she looked around the lush grass with a wistful smile. 'So peaceful. If only my life were so.' She felt a touch on her hand and changed her gaze to the offered plate. She took it with an unfelt smile and set it off to one side to receive the glass of wine.

"At the very least," Robert began, "we have been blessed with a beautiful day."

Rachel nodded as she took a sip. The wine tickled her throat as it went down. "I think father threatened the skies with harm if they had done less."

"Let us not be cruel, Rachel."

She looked away and nibbled a bit of cheese. "I apologize."

"Accepted."

Another heavy silence came between them and Rachel turned to face him when she heard him clear his throat softly. She raised an eyebrow and watched in confusion as he pulled a small, slightly worn velvet box from the pocket of his riding suit jacket. A lump became lodged in her throat and she took a quick swallow of wine when she realized what the box contained.

A ring.

"Is there something wrong, sir?" Her voice was surprisingly calm. He slowly opened the lid of the small box, then closed it again. When he made a move to place it back into his pocket she stretched out her arm, palm upward. "May I see?"

"This is all wrong, Rachel," he protested with a clear ring of defeat in his voice.

Her palm remained outstretched and she calmly gazed into his eyes. "May I see?"

He dropped his eyes to the box, opened it again, and slowly retrieved the ring from it's snug hiding place. Placing the box back in his jacket pocket, he took her hand and slipped the ring on her middle finger. Rachel tried to ignore the warmth that spread through her body, finally convinced herself it was the wine, and pulled her hand from his grasp to view the ring.

Miniature diamonds set on a band of pale gold surrounded a small, heart-shaped ruby. The ruby seemed on fire in the sunlight and the diamonds reminded Rachel of delicate tears that the heart had yet not shed.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, overcome by an emotion she didn't dare examine.

"Thank you."

"Was it your mother's?"

"No," he said softly.

"Grandmother's?"

"No."

His voice was even quieter and Rachel looked up from the small ring to catch his eyes watching her. 'What lies dormant in those depths of brown,' she asked herself. 'What does he think when he gazes at me like that?'

"Did your father order it for your bride," she finally asked.

He pulled his eyes away with a shake of his head. "No. I designed it myself. The ring hasn't been from the box since I received it from the jeweler years ago."

Rachel gazed at him in shock. "How did you know my ring size?"

"I didn't. Not really." Robert looked into his glass of wine. "I just used my mother's," he added hesitantly.

Rachel didn't know what to say in response to that, so she kept quiet.

The silence that fell over the two made Rachel occasionally glance at him when she was sure he wasn't watching her face. There was an odd frown on his face and he almost seemed to be having an argument with himself. Twitches and changes in his facial expression fascinated Rachel and she couldn't keep herself from staring. The men in Europe had been plastic and smooth. Never an unschooled expression had ever escaped from their well-practiced façade and it had often made Rachel suspicious as to their true motives.

Robert was different.

Like in the restaurant, he didn't seem to hide what he was feeling. It was all right there. In his eyes. On his face. Clearly displayed if she took the time to look--- Rachel pressed her lips together and dropped her eyes to her hands. 'Take the time to look,' she scolded. 'You make it souund as if you want to know him better!'

"Is there a reason why you were in such a foul mood this morning," Robert asked suddenly.

Rachel retrieved her wineglass from her plate and scowled, pouncing on the subject with a flare of temper. "My father is deliberately trying my patience."

"How, may I ask?"

Rachel looked over at Robert and placed her wine aside as she absently opened her fan with her other hand. "I ask you, is it such a scandal to move my belongings to another room?"

Robert's eyebrow raised. "Another room?"

"Yes," she stated simply. "I refuse to sleep in a room surrounded by toys and childhood fantasies. Yet," her fan paused, "when I propose sleeping arrangements that differ from my father's wishes…." The fan began again at a faster pace and Rachel missed the twinkle of a smile in Robert's eyes. "Of all the subjects to stand against me and refuse to be swayed, did it have to be this one? All I want is a woman's room!"

Rachel caught the smirk that he hid behind his napkin and gestured toward him with her free hand. "My proof," she went on, her fan continuing to pick up speed. "It's ridiculous! Simply ridiculous that my own father refuses to allow me to put my childhood behind me. Why must I be tortured nightly by sleeping below the frills and laces of a canopy bed when other women my age sleep in a normal boudoir?"

Robert laughed and shook his head as he put a hand out toward her. "I apologize, Rachel, it is simply too much for me to hold back." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, constantly viewing her with a smile. "So, what do you propose?"

She scoffed and her fan halted mid-stroke. "What do I propose? I propose burning the room and beginning anew, that's what I propose!"

"You know that isn't a logical solution, of course."

She looked away and didn't fight the smile that tickled her lips. "Of course, but I have been tempted more times than I would care to admit."

"So, why don't we pack up our beautiful picnic, race back to your castle, and begin your room's transformation, as it were."

Rachel picked at the fan and twirled the satin rope in her fingers, occasionally letting her eyes drift to Robert's face. "My father would never stand for it."

There was a moment of silence and Rachel dropped her fan in surprise when Robert's voice sounded directly above her.

"And the reason why that should stop us?"

She looked up into his laughing brown eyes as he offered her his hand and felt herself letting go the mistrust that she held toward him. After placing her hand in his, she stood and gave him a small smile before turning to help pack up their picnic lunch.

* * *

Rachel and Robert stood in the center of her childhood room with crossed arms. They had both changed their clothes into the most old and worn items they could find and were now ready for the challenge of packing up her past and putting it in the attic to make way for a new woman.

"Where do we start," Robert asked. He came to stand by her pale pink canopy bed and pointed at it with a grimace. "I believe this is a stupendous place to begin."

"And how do you propose that," she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We take it apart and have Oliver find some capable young men to carry it out of here."

"Why don't we just ask those same capable young men to dismantle it while we pack up my dolls and books?"

"Perfectly lovely idea, Miss Samson," he said with a bow in her direction. "I yield to your superior intellect."

She waved his comment aside, desperately trying to hold back the laugh that wanted to bubble to the surface, and gestured to the empty trunks that waited outside her room. "I also suggest that you drag those trunks in here while I direct those capable young men about the bed."

Robert straightened and puffed out his chest. "Drag? Men do not drag. They lift and carry." He went to the massive, empty trunk to lift it with ease, and set it in the center of the room. When he straightened, he put a hand to his back and limped out. "All right, we drag."

Rachel shook her head with a smile and followed him out into the second story hallway. "Oliver, I need you to find some young men who are available to take apart my bed and relocate it to the attic."

Oliver blinked, then nodded stiffly and left.

"Poor Oliver," Rachel muttered as she went back to her room. Robert was standing in the middle of the room staring at a French, Porcelain faced doll in satin ribbons and lace. Rachel came to stand beside him. "I see you have found Babbette."

"Babbette," he asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes. The first doll my father brought to me from his many trips to The Continent." Rachel straightened the dolls pale blue skirt. "Babbette, this is Mr. Trent."

"Bonjour, ma petite. Comment allez-vous? Etes-Vous desempare sans vos amie, non," Robert asked.

Rachel looked at him with wide eyes. Her memories were jerked back to a time when she had asked her doll a similar question about the companions she had left behind. Sure that the beautiful doll missed those friends in Paris, she had been determined to make the doll forget by forming a special bond with her.

"Vous parlez Francais, Monsieur Trent. Bon. Tres bon," she forced herself to say without a quiver in her voice.

Robert looked up from the doll with a smile. "Est-ce que tout le monde?"

"No, Mr. Trent. Everybody does not speak French as well as you apparently do," she told him.

He handed her the doll and made his way to the window seat for her other stuffed toys and porcelain dolls. "Je suis etonnant, oui?"

"Yes, I have already found this out many times," she admitted. "You are definitely amazing and just full of surprises. But where did you learn to speak so beautifully?"

Robert brought a few of the toys over to her and helped her wrap them in papers before carefully packing them in the trunk. "My mother was French. She would speak French to me while I was an infant and continued as I grew. Father encouraged it because that extra knowledge in the business world… Well, it would…"

Robert paused with a glance over at Rachel and let the subject drop.

Rachel nodded and made her way to one of the dressers. She pulled out clothes that were lovingly folded and transferred them to the second trunk. "The fact that your mother spoke French to you when you were a baby is not surprising. Nor the fact that she began teaching you at such an early age. And the fact that she was French is clearly recognizable in the nearly perfect pronunciation. I always had to struggle with mine."

"Perhaps we shall have time to converse in French upon occasion? You never know when a diplomat from The Continent will make a sudden appearance at a board meeting. Wouldn't it be embarrassing if you insulted his mother while thinking you were complementing his physique?"

Rachel shook her head with a smile as she finished emptying the dresser and began packing away her books. "I doubt if I am as bad as that, Mr. Trent, but the idea of conversing in such a beautiful language is too much to refuse. I shall be delighted."

Robert nodded and closed the first trunk, filled to the brim with dolls and stuffed animals. "This is full, Rachel. I shall go tell Oliver and see how he's coming on finding those young, brawny men to carry out your bed."

Rachel watched him leave. There was something there when he looked at her, this she knew. Some spark that she didn't understand, but how could she let him close? Her father had chosen him to marry her because of a relationship that he had with Robert's father. How could she simply forget that and become friends with this stranger who had lied to her? It was an excuse that was becoming weaker each moment she spent with him, yet she clung to it like a dying woman. Clung to it with a fervor she didn't understand.

'Why can I not at least be friends…'

She pushed the thought away and looked down at the book of poetry she cradled in her arms. She set it gently on the top of the dresser and repositioned the photographs of her parents beside her jewelry box. The flash of the diamonds on her ring caught her eye and she stared down at it, confusion muddling her thoughts.

One of the diamonds winked at her.

* * *

Rachel looked around her newly decorated room with a content smile. The childish wallpaper was gone, as well as the canopy bed, the small chairs, and two of the dressers. Instead, she'd acquired a beautiful oak, four-poster bed, a new cushion for her window seat, and two overstuffed chairs that were set across from her fireplace with an antique table between them. The dressers had been replaced by antique pieces as well, and the wallpaper had been peeled away to reveal lovely wood paneling that served the purpose of enhancing her personal collection of artwork quite well.

This was her room.

She nodded her head in approval, dusted her hands - although she had already changed her clothes - and made her way down to a room off the main stairs. It had often served as her mother's sanctuary and was even now often called the Sitting Room in remembrance of her. Rachel felt the sudden urge to spend a few quiet hours there surrounded by books and comforted by the quiet presence of their knowledge, as well as the memories of her mother.

Rachel entered the library to find Robert there, reading by the light that filtered in through the side window facing the massive orchard. He turned to greet her with a smile as he stood and closed the book. She felt a sense of disappointment at his presence and her eyes darted around the room.

"I seem to have chosen a bad time to read," Robert said in a quiet voice as he approached her.

She took in a slow breath and forced herself to lock gazes with him. "I'm terribly sorry to ask this of you, Mr. Trent, but would you mind?"

He bowed with a slight smile. "Consider this room vacant, Rachel, and I am but the whisper of a memory."

He closed the door behind him and Rachel went to stand in front of the window, her eyes closed as she clasped her hands behind her. Something had changed and she was hesitant to admit what it might have been. His gentle temperament was still the same, yet she was no longer suspicious of it. 'How can this be? I have only known him such a short time. Can we truly be developing a relationship? It's impossible!' Yet, her heart argued with her.

Rachel rubbed at her forehead and turned to sit in one of the armchairs by the large window. A tattered edge of the oriental rug caught her eye and she bent to lift the corner, pushing aside a loose floor board to reveal a small box. Her eyes misted with tears as she pulled it free and opened it. Inside was a pendant, a picture, and a small brooch with a chipped cameo. Rachel retrieved the picture and bit her lower lip.

It was her mother.

The pendent and cameo had been hers as well until she had given them to Rachel as a birthday gift. Rachel, fearing she would lose them if she kept them with her other trinkets, had hidden them away in the safest place she knew. Her 'treasure chest' under the floorboard in her mother's favorite room. It had seemed the best place because of the fact that her mother always spent so much time there.

Rachel stared down at the photograph and caressed the smiling face with a shaking finger.

"Mother," she whispered. "Mother, I don't know what to do…"

The dreams and fantasies that she had grown up with were so different from what she now found herself living. The reality of it frightened her and made her long for the soft, soothing touch of her mother's hand on her head. The whispered words of encouragement and love that would follow. 'How shall I continue without you, Mamma? You showed me what it was to be a woman and now that is gone. How shall I know what is proper and expected?'

Rachel's head fell back and she closed her eyes with a deep sigh.

* * *

"Where is Rachel?" Mr. Samson asked as Robert made himself comfortable at the table. "That girl is trying my patience."

Oliver came to stand beside Mr. Samson. "Miss Rachel wished me to convey her sincerest apologies, but she is suffering from a severe headache and shall be dining in her room this evening."

Robert looked up with concern and made a move to stand. Oliver sent him a look followed by a slight shake of his head.

"Tell her that we shall deeply miss her company and conversation," Robert instructed the butler.

"I will, sir," Oliver assured him with a bow before he left the room.

Robert watched him leave and then turned to stare down at the table with a concerned frown. He had noticed the change in her while they had planned together the redecoration of her bedroom. The smile on her face had been more apparent. The laughter more genuine. Her deferment to his judgement on certain placements of furniture less forced. Their relationship was growing and yet… Yet there was something holding her back. A fear that he sensed. A struggle.

"What's wrong, my boy. You haven't touched your food."

Robert took in a deep breath and forced himself to eat, the taste of the well-prepared meal acting as sawdust in his mouth. He chased the food down with heavy gulps of wine and pushed away from the table.

"Finished?" Henry Samson sounded suspicious.

Robert forced a smile and left the room to ascend the stairs with deliberate motions. 'Am I sure that I want to do this?' But he still wasn't sure what he was doing. He found himself standing outside her room and stared at her door for several long moments before clearing his throat and softly tapping it with a shaking knuckle.

The door was opened and Maggie stood there. "Yes?"

"Maggie…" Robert's voice died in his throat and he absently tugged at his collar.

Maggie's lips tilted in a smile and she held up a finger, then closed the door. Robert heard some mumbling on the other side and then it was opened once again and Maggie was gesturing for him to come in. Robert entered the large room after taking in a deep breath and searched it for Rachel. She was sitting on the window seat staring out at her father's acreage, her dinner barely touched.

"I came to see how you were," he said. His voice sounded calmer than he felt.

Rachel turned her head toward him and her eyes seemed distant. "Thank you, Mr. Trent, but I'm fine. A headache is seldom something that threatens a person's life."

He watched her face and his mouth went dry. She was paler than normal and yet still so lovely… "I understand, Rachel, but I'm still concerned for you."

'I want to spend as much time with you as possible,' he wanted to say.

"Thank you, but there is no need. I shall be better in the morning, I assure you." She turned away. "Good evening, Mr. Trent."

Robert stood there a moment more, then bowed with a watchful eye on her silhouette. "Good evening, Rachel. I shall pray for your quick recovery."

She seemed to take in a slow breath as her head lowered in a brief nod. Robert paused a moment longer, then turned and left the room.

* * *

Robert watched Rachel enter the room for breakfast and pulled out her chair. She sent him a strained smile, but refused to meet his gaze. He sat at his customary seat beside her and sent her a concerned glance.

"How did you sleep, Rachel?"

"Very well. Thank you."

Robert didn't believe her. "It's such a lovely morning. Would you be up to a walk in the gardens after breakfast?"

"No, thank you."

"Oh come now, Rachel," Mr. Samson said from the far end of the table. "The fresh air might have a stimulating effect on you."

"Thank you, no, father," she insisted even more firmly.

A plate of food was set in front of her and she gazed down at it with disinterest. After a few moments, she stood and excused herself from the room. Robert watched her go, then followed, assuring Mr. Samson that he would be back shortly. He found her sitting on the bench under the oak tree in the garden directly outside the house.

"Are you feeling quite well, Rachel," he asked as he came to sit beside her.

"Please, Mr. Trent, I appreciate your concern, but if you would be so kind as to leave, I need some time to myself this morning."

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Rachel sighed as she shook her head, raising a hand to her forehead. "Sir, please. Perhaps I shall see you for lunch."

Robert paused a moment longer, then stood and gently took her hand to press it against his lips. "Until then," he said quietly.

* * *

Rachel heard the door to the library open and close and raised her eyes from the book of literature. Robert came across the room and sat in the chair across from her, book in hand. She gave him a tight smile, then dropped her eyes to the page as she tried to ignore the delightful aroma of his cologne. Attempting to clear her mind, she took in a deep breath and then wished she hadn't when the masculine scent filled her lungs. As she brushed an imaginary hair from her face, she heard him shuffle positions.

"You've been missed, Rachel. After so many days of not having your presence at the dining table, I'm beginning to believe you have been an angelic figment of my imagination."

"I apologize for my absences, Mr. Trent."

"I quite understand. You have not been well." He paused. "I am only glad that it has passed."

Silence descended over the library once more and Rachel sighed, again wishing she hadn't when the decidedly 'Robert' aroma found it's way to her nostrils. She rubbed her forehead and struggled to concentrate on the words that danced around the page. The week had been crawling by; her boredom only alleviated by the many fittings she had needed to attend in town. Fittings for trousseaus were seldom seen as escapes, but that was how Rachel had viewed them.

They had made her most recent excuses of headaches and fatigue more believable.

Another sigh escaped her lips and she heard Robert stand. She looked up in surprise. "Am I disturbing you?"

"No, Rachel, but I feel I am bothering you. I can finish this book in the garden." He bowed. "Good day."

As he left the room, a feeling of guilt made Rachel chew her lip. She was certain that she had seen hurt in his brown eyes. 'Follow him and assure him that all is well,' she told herself sternly. 'Admit to him that you have appreciated his kind words wishing you well. Let him know that you have indeed forgiven him for not telling you who he was. That you understand the fear that controlled his actions.'

Rachel sighed and changed her gaze to her book. "I cannot," she whispered. "I cannot."

She closed her eyes with another sigh as she shook her head and lowered the book. Each day that she had felt unwell had been another day safely away from his disturbing presence. Yet each day he had found a way to meet with her, whether in her room, in the gardens, or passing on the stair. The concern that had darkened his eyes still confused her with the feelings that it caused inside her heart. 'What does it mean?' And her mind shied from the implications each time she asked the question.

* * *

Rachel opened the door to the library and hesitantly entered. She'd seen Robert enter a few moments before and had decided that, in order to make up for the previous day, she would read in his company. 'All I must do is sit in his presence quietly reading while not making a sound that would cause him to believe he is bothering me. After all, he has as much right to be there as I.' Rachel caught a whiff of his cologne in the air and made her way to the bay window to sit in her favorite overstuffed chair.

"Good afternoon, Rachel," he said in a quiet voice as he closed the book he had been reading.

A slight panic rose in her heart and she sent him a smile. Rachel gestured to his book as she sat across from him. "Sir, what are you reading today?"

"A book of little importance," he told her.

"Whether it be a book of little or great importance, I still wish to know the name," she told him with a laugh. "Perhaps I have read it and wish to discuss it with you?"

"Gulliver's Travels."

Rachel chewed her lower lip and dropped her eyes to her own book. "How odd. I happen to be reading it as well."

"It happens to be my favorite work," Robert volunteered. "What do you think of it."

"Enjoyable reading. Serious yet light-hearted."

"It seems we are of one mind on the subject."

She smiled with a slight nod and then began to read. The scent of his cologne along with the intensity of his eyes was proof enough that he hadn't yet left the room. It was almost as if he were debating whether to do so. Rachel turned the page, though none of the words had been comprehended, and concentrated on looking as peaceful as possible. After a few moments, he opened his book and began to read once more, his eyes occasionally drifting to her face. A small smile lifted the corner of Rachel's lips and she turned another page.

He sighed, but remained in the room.

'So what does this mean,' she asked herself. 'Are you willing to attempt a friendship with him at least? Are you willing to put aside the suspicion and anger you've held against him and act as an adult? Will you discuss items of concern with him and accept his opinion on these?' Rachel's smile disappeared as she pressed her lips together and adjusted her position, regretting it when the motion caused his eyes to pinpoint her face.

"Rachel?"

She glanced up and her green eyes were captured by his brown ones. "Yes?"

His eyes changed to a darker shade before he continued. "Are you feeling quite well?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you."

Robert nodded slowly, almost absent-mindedly, and gazed back down at his book. Rachel watched his face and could somehow tell that wasn't what he'd wanted to ask. When he lifted his eyes from his book once more, she was still examining his face. Their eyes locked and she couldn't pull away. The look in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat.

"I'm glad," he whispered.

"Glad?" She was amazed that she sounded so calm.

"Glad you're feeling better. I've been worried for you. All these fittings cannot be healthy."

She smiled a small smile. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Trent." And she was genuinely thankful.

"Have you many more?"

Rachel shook her head. "Not many. I believe the final fitting should be fairly soon."

Robert dropped his eyes with a slow nod and tapped his fingers on his knee. "Good."

"Good?" She raised an eyebrow. "Surely you don't wish to be married to a woman who has no new clothes."

When he looked up his face and eyes were unreadable. Finally, his lips tilted with the smile that she had become familiar with in such a short amount of time. "I truly believe you would be lovely in whatever you chose to wear. I just ask that you pace yourself more carefully."

"I see. You don't wish me to sneeze while reciting our vows," Rachel teased.

"I don't wish you to be ill at any time."

Rachel's smile disappeared and she dropped her eyes to her book to hide the blush. "Thank you."

Robert continued to watch her in the silence.

Five

"I will not wear it!" Rachel threw the material at the protesting ladies chosen to design her wedding gown.

"Your father ordered it."

"I am not a child and I refuse to wear a material which I might have worn as one. Nothing I have seen has impressed me as the gown in which I wish my groom to see me."

"We are trying, miss," a middle aged woman asserted quickly. Her tone was firm, yet gentle. "It is very hard to work with someone who will not cooperate."

"Perhaps I would cooperate better if I believed that it was my wedding I was planning," Rachel snapped.

"That is not my affair, miss." The woman stepped forward with a book and thrust it at Rachel with tightly pressed lips. "So far my selection has not struck your fancy. If you would be so kind as to pick a swatch from this book, perhaps I will have your gown finished before you are required to walk down the aisle."

Rachel took the book and dropped it to the floor without looking from the woman's eyes. "I think not." She turned sharply and strode from the room, gracefully stepping down the stairs as her mind seethed. "Robert!"

She halted. 'Robert? Since when have I called him by his first name? Haven't I wanted to keep a certain amount of distance between us?' She thrust the questions aside when he stepped into the hall from the library for she knew that the past several days had done away with a considerable amount of the tension between them.

"Rachel? Is there something wrong?"

A slight hesitation and she had her temper in check, as well as her questions about the sudden use of his given name. "Yes," she said as she stepped forward. Her chin rose and her eyes sparked. "I still have not found a suitable pattern or material for my gown and I refuse to be the laughing stock my father apparently wishes me to be."

"What do you suggest? Would you like to travel to the boutique in town?"

Rachel let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm afraid it will be the same. This may be a large city, but my father is never forgotten. He's done too much for the people here. Once they discover his wishes, they won't be swayed."

Robert nodded in understanding and gestured toward the garden. Rachel followed without a word. She'd known him for slightly over a week and he continued to surprise her. 'Why doesn't he assure me that father must know best, as he had that first morning over breakfast? Why doesn't he press upon me the importance of having all the necessities in order for the wedding? Why is he so concerned with what I believe is important?'

"Have you considered your friend from Europe?"

Rachel's eyebrow rose and she turned to look at him in confusion. "Friend? What friend?"

"The friend who designed your evening gown."

She flushed slightly as she thought back to that first evening. "Lucinda's beau, Peter Delacreux?"

Robert nodded with an impish smile and sat at the bench they had shared once before. He looked up at her with twinkling eyes and she turned away as she sat beside him, her breath catching in her throat.

"It was a piece of art, Rachel. I believe he would design a breathtaking wedding gown. Could you wire him and have it sent? I'm sure he remembers your... um... dimensions."

A smile tugged at her lips when she heard him clear his throat with embarrassment.

"That's an intriguing idea," she admitted when she turned to face him. "Although I'm sure she's now home with her family in New York entertaining her beau and many friends. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they were currently married. However, maybe she could persuade him... Could we go this afternoon?"

"I don't see why you could not. Would you like for me to ask Oliver to prepare a carriage for Maggie and yourself?"

"Maggie? Why would Maggie wish to come?" Rachel asked the question with a raised eyebrow as she watched him stand.

"Very well then. I'll inform Oliver that you shall be traveling with your father."

He turned to go and Rachel followed him with her eyes. "Robert," she called after him as she stood. "As far as I am concerned, my father has little or no part in deciding that which I shall wear as a bride. I was hoping you would accompany me."

He halted and turned toward her, a clear look of shock on his face. "Pardon?"

A tenseness made her back go rigid and she stepped forward, chin raised. "If you would rather not, I fully understand." She berated herself for making the suggestion.

He caught her hand in a gentle grip before she could move past him.

"That was not my meaning, Rachel. I was taken by surprise, that is all. You have wanted time by yourself of late and I simply thought..." He paused for only a moment. "I would be delighted to accompany you."

She looked down at his hand, still gripping hers, and then changed her gaze to his deep brown eyes. "My hand please, sir?"

He flinched slightly as he released her with what seemed a forced smile and Rachel chided herself for being so cold. 'You're teasing him,' she scolded.

"Thank you. I shall be ready to leave shortly. Could you have the carriage waiting?"

"Of course."

He bowed slightly and then left her staring after him, wishing she hadn't treated him as a servant at her beck and call. Her fingers felt for the engagement ring on her left hand and then she turned sharply to stare at the large oak that stood so solemnly behind the bench. Their marriage would never work. 'Never,' she insisted as she walked toward the bench and sat with a deep sigh. She stared down at the simple, yet sophisticated design on the ring that encircled her finger, then changed her gaze to the direction Robert had taken. 'What is keeping me from him? What part of me is pulling back just when we could become a true couple?' She shook her head slightly and then changed her eyes back to the ring.

"So the rumors were true."

Rachel looked up sharply from where she sat and her back went rigid when her eyes focused on a tall gentleman with blonde hair. He was nervously handling a worn cap in his rough hands and gave her a slight nod of the head when she stood.

"And you are?"

"Have I changed that much, Rachel?"

Her chin rose and she turned away. "You seem to have the advantage."

He chuckled. "Your years in Europe have certainly strengthened your backbone as well as sharpened your tongue. I wonder if the Rachel I fell in love with is still under that business-like exterior."

She faced him sharply and he gave her a boyish smile that took her breath away. "Todd?" He nodded and she ran forward to throw herself into his arms, the tears already flowing as he wrapped his arms around her.

"There she is," he said gently.

"I've been home for more than a week and you've never come to say 'hello'. I thought you'd moved away or forgotten about me."

"How could I forget about you? I'm in love with you."

"Even when I've been gone for so long?" Rachel looked up into his green eyes with a look of awe. "Even with me being so far away?"

"Of course. Why do you think I stayed in this town? Rachel, I wanted to be here when you got home. So that I could marry you."

Rachel stiffened and pulled away, straightening her skirts as she turned for the bench. 'What am I doing? I'm already to be married. I can't turn my back on Robert now. Not after he has been so kind and understanding to my needs. But how can I let Todd leave my life again? It hurt so much the first time.'

"What's the matter, Rachel? Don't you want to marry a simple man like me?"

"There's more to it than that, Todd."

"What more can there be? I'm here and you're back. I'm still in love with you and you're still in love with me.... Aren't you?"

Rachel looked up at the afternoon sky and sighed. "That's not the problem."

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "Then tell me what the problem is, Rachel. I want to marry the love of my life and I'm not going to let you get away from me again. I will marry you."

"I'm afraid not, sir."

Rachel stiffened and the two quickly separated before turning to face Robert as he stood in the doorway. 'Now I've probably hurt him,' she groaned to herself. She stepped forward and gestured to Todd behind her. "Mr. Trent, this is Todd Richards. Todd, this is Mr. Robert Trent."

"Her fiancé," Robert added with a gentle voice.

Rachel looked down at her clenched hands as they measured each other up, then forced herself to place a hand on Robert's arm as she faced Todd. "I apologize, Todd, but Mr. Trent and I have plans in town this afternoon. Perhaps you would come to dinner? I'm sure everyone would love to meet you. We could discuss old times."

Todd raised an eyebrow and Rachel's heart cringed.

"I'll be here, Rachel."

He passed them, giving Robert a dark look, and then Rachel was again alone with her father's choice. Her hand dropped from his arm and she turned away.

"I'm sorry, sir. I did not expect to see him. My behavior was inexcusable and I ask your forgiveness."

Silence settled over the two and Rachel slowly turned to face him. His usually soft brown eyes were nearly black as he clenched his hands behind his back and stared up at the sky. 'What have I done,' she asked herself. 'I was always so concerned about my ability to trust him and now I have stolen his trust in me. What type of friendship will we be able to share now?' She heard his sigh and then he turned toward her with a sad smile in his eyes as he presented her his arm.

"Perhaps I may be excused from dinner tonight, Miss Samson? I have made plans for tonight that I simply cannot reschedule."

Rachel looked away and allowed him to lead her toward the carriage, a lump settling firmly in her stomach. It was the first time he had called her by so formal a title. She didn't particularly care for the sound of it from him.

"Of course you may be excused, sir," she told him as he helped her into the carriage. "I only supposed that you would enjoy meeting a part of my past."

"Your past doesn't interest me," he said in a tight voice. He entered the carriage to sit beside her and crossed his arms.

"I see." Her temper flared and she whipped open her fan after she'd arranged her skirts. "Very well, you are excused. Shall we go?"

Robert tapped on the ceiling of the carriage and it lurched to a start. 'What am I doing? How can I marry him when I may be in love with someone else? After all, I must be in love with Todd. Why else would I have reacted in such a way.' She snapped the fan closed and turned her head to stare out the window. An unsuitable match could devastate her father's business, not to mention the fact that Todd could be only after her money. 'Preposterous,' she chided.

Even when he had been younger, the thought that her father was wealthy hadn't seemed to effect their relationship. Todd had always accepted her for what she had to offer. The size of her father's portfolio had never seemed to matter. For all she knew of her current fiancé, his family could have lost their riches and needed a partnership with her father for their own survival.

"Miss Samson, we have arrived at the telegraph station. Would you like for me to send the wire?"

She gathered her reticule and accepted his hand when he helped her down from the carriage. "No, thank you. I am quite able."

"As you will."

Rachel's step toward the telegraph office faltered slightly at the softness in his voice, but she quickly recovered and passed by him without another hesitation.

"Good day," she greeted the elderly man behind the counter. "I wish to send a wire to New York."

"Yes, ma'am. Do you know the exact city to which you want it sent?"

"New York City. To Mrs. Lucinda Delacreux." Rachel jotted down a few sentences, very conscious of Robert standing directly behind her, and then handed the pad and pencil back. "This is the message I wish to send. How much will this be?"

Money was exchanged, the message was sent, and Rachel gave the man directions of how to contact her when the reply was received. With that, she left the small building with Robert on her heels.

"While we are in town I need to pick up my trousseau from the boutique by the hotel."

He nodded, gave instructions to the carriage to meet them at the boutique, and took her elbow with a firm but gentle clasp as they crossed the street. When they stepped up onto the other side, he released her and matched her easy pace. Rachel peeked at him out of the corner of her eyes and forced her face to remain calm when she caught sight of the scowl that darkened his features. 'I don't want him to know that I... What? That I care what he's feeling? What is so horrible about letting him know that I want to know why he's angry?'

She stopped and looked up into his eyes with defiance, fighting the desire to let him know how much she was sorry for hurting him.

"Mr. Trent, I have already apologized for my behavior with Tod--- Mr. Richards in the garden. If that apology is not enough, then I'm afraid you will continue to be angry for the remainder of our time on this earth."

Robert's fists tightened and his jaw clenched as he continued to silently look down at her.

"If you truly have a prior engagement this evening during dinner by all means keep it. However, if you are simply refusing to attend so that you may hide somewhere and pout, I strongly urge you to be punctual. Father abhors tardiness."

"Miss Samson, as you are so fond of pointing out to your father," Robert stated in a tight voice, "I am not a child. Nor do I make it a habit of lying and I refuse to be treated as if I do. If I say that I have a prior engagement, then that is what shall keep me from your presence. Nothing less. Nothing more."

Rachel's chin tilted upward slightly and her fan snapped open to calmly stir the air.

"Furthermore, I refuse to be present as you make a fool of yourself in front of that part of your past that should stay buried. Instead of taking steps backward, you should be trying to resolve the issues that stand between you and your father for, I can assure you, he will not be pleased at this latest addition to your affections."

The fan in Rachel's clasp froze in mid-motion and she stiffened, closing the fan against her hand with a loud crack. "How dare you," she hissed.

"Oh really? Did I finally get under that cold exterior you've shown me since I arrived at your home? Why is it that when I am kind you act as if it is an annoyance to be dealt with, yet if I am honest, you act as if I have insulted your virtue?"

"You have no right to speak to me in such a manner!"

"I have every right to tell you the truth as I see it, Miss Samson. If only you would be so honest with me when talking of Mr. Richards. When I asked you if he was a childhood sweetheart, I had no idea I was so far from the truth. Were you planning on marrying him once you arrived safely at home? Is that why you were so upset when I was... thrust upon you?"

Rachel turned away from him sharply and strode into the small boutique.

"Good morning, Miss Samson. Are you here to pick up your trousseau?"

Rachel gave the attractive, middle-aged man behind the counter a charming smile that did not reach her eyes. "Yes, Mr. Thorne. I must say I am quite eager to see how my suggestions have turned out. You know how gowns have a tendency to look more attractive in the book or at the boutique than they do at home when the person who purchases them wears them again."

They shared a polite laugh and then the gentleman excused himself to the back. The smile on Rachel's face disappeared and she gracefully opened her fan when she heard Robert enter the building.

"Miss Samson---"

"Sir," she interrupted in a curt voice, "this is neither the time nor the place to continue our conversation."

"I agree. That is why I was going to suggest that we continue this some other time. Perhaps when we arrive at the house we could arrange a quiet time in your father's study."

"Thank you, no."

"Afraid that you shall lose the discussion?"

Rachel's hand clenched the fan and when she heard a slight crack she forced herself to release it. The fan dropped to the end of it's delicate satin rope and she turned to face him with her chin held high. "I am afraid of nothing, and certainly not of anything you may have to say."

He bowed slightly. "Very well then. When we arrive at your father's house we shall set aside some time for ourselves."

"Madam, here we are," the middle aged man called from behind them. "Ah, Mr. Trent. I am so glad you're here to approve the selections your charming bride-to-be has made."

"Approve?" Rachel's temper flared as her eyebrow rose. "Mr. Trent approves nothing but his own wardrobe."

"Pardon, madam, I simply assumed that you would be eager for him to view your choices."

She opened her mouth for another sharp reply until she felt Robert's hand take hers. A sharp intake of breath was all she could manage before he took control of the conversation and assured the gentleman that his bride-to-be was capable of making her own selections. He then directed the clerk to have the trunks of clothing packed up and sent on to the Samson family estate. Mr. Thorne bowed and hurried to make the arrangements, leaving them alone once again.

Rachel turned on him and yanked her hand from his grasp. "Why must you always assume control of any situation you choose? I was handling the---"

"You were embarrassing yourself, Miss Samson, and I refuse to stand by and let that happen. If you are truly to take over your father's business you need to learn self-control."

Rachel stiffened, trying to ignore the tingle she still felt in her hand from his firm touch. "You are neither my instructor, nor my father."

"Of these facts I am painfully aware, nevertheless, I shall still bring to your attention any part of your attitude that is at fault. Now," Robert offered his arm with a slight bow, "shall we go? I believe the carriage is waiting outside."

"I can find my own way, thank you." She turned to leave, but was halted by a firm clasp on her hand. "Release my hand, sir," she warned him without turning.

"I will not. We are going to leave this building as the 'couple' we are. You will have your hand on my arm, and I will lead us out into the beautiful autumn sunshine, and then help you into the carriage. How you wish to conduct yourself once we enter said carriage is strictly your choice, but how you act before that time is not. You will behave."

Rachel's chin tilted as he wrapped her hand around his arm and led her out into the sunshine. She gave a stiff smile to the gentleman who had helped them in the boutique and then quietly stepped up into the carriage. She slid to her far side and quickly snapped open her fan. Robert stepped in after her and proceeded to pat the hand that rested in her lap. She sent him a dark glare.

"You did very well, Miss Samson."

"Don't you dare patronize me, sir. I have never been so insulted in all my life. Treating me like a child! Such impertinence," she objected.

"You still did very well." He turned toward her and she looked away. "Don't you understand that I am attempting to help you prepare for the many hours, months, and years surrounded by men in a boardroom?"

"I understand no such thing."

"Then I shall explain it." He presented his hand.

Rachel's gaze flitted to it and she arched an eyebrow before looking away.

"Point one."

"Excuse me?" She looked over at him sharply.

"Men shake hands in greeting." He took her hand, palms pressing together, and firmly squeezed. "This is how we can tell what kind of man we are dealing with. One way of many. If the shake is firm and he initializes it, he is an aggressive businessman. Usually. However, if it is weak and sloppy, he will more than likely be easily swayed."

Rachel stared down at their clasped hands and then changed her green eyes to his brown ones. "A handshake? You can learn all that from a simple handshake?"

"Everything in the business world has some type of meaning." He pulled their hands apart and faced forward with a slight sigh. "Unfortunately, there are new rules added every day. I only hope that I can teach you enough before the first meeting of the board." He sent her an intense look. "And will you be a willing student?"

"If it means a greater chance of success, I will."

"I'm glad to hear that, Miss Samson, but believe me when I warn you that it will not be easy."

"I would be disappointed if it was."

"And you will have to trust me completely. No hidden agendas. No doubting my end purpose."

Rachel hesitated and pulled her eyes away. "That is a tall order, sir. One that may be difficult for me to fulfill."

"If it were anything but, I myself would doubt your inner strength and commitment." He hesitated. "And I strongly urge you to discontinue any further contact with Todd Richards."

Rachel stiffened. "You don't have the right to ask that, Mr. Trent. He is my friend and I refuse to push him away."

"You will only drive away your fiancé?"

"That is unfair," she objected stiffly.

"Still, it is the truth, is it not?"

"Think what you will, I refuse to ignore a friend I haven't seen in eight years."

"But is he just a friend?"

"That is not your concern."

"I think it is," Robert insisted in a gentle voice.

"Why," Rachel asked as she looked at him sharply. "I am nothing more than a prize to be won for you. In point of fact, I was a prize that required no effort on your part. Why should you be at all interested in a possible love interest that I may have once had?"

His jaw clenched. "You are more than a prize to me, Miss Samson. You have always been a permanent fixture in my life. A part of my future as surely as that ring you wear became a part of my wardrobe. For the better part of seven years I have carried it with me. Do you truly suppose that I would not come to feel something for you? Am I so cold in your mind?"

"Yes. Any man who would marry a woman simply because the parents had agreed it would be the best for both parties has no heart. And no spine," she said in a voice edged with ice.

Robert stiffened. "I told you once before that my father and yours had no part in my decision to marry you."

"Was it my money, then," she hissed.

"No," he said sharply.

"Prove it."

His face hardened, but his tone remained calm as he took her hand between his, stilling the movement of the fan. "How could I not marry the woman God chose for me?"

Rachel looked up into his dark eyes and forced a sneer, trying to ignore the desire that showed in the depths of his eyes. "God told you this? God showed you a vision of me as your wife and you fell in love with that vision? I find that hard to believe."

His grip on her hand tightened for an instant, and then he placed it gently back into her lap with a visible slumping to his shoulders. "He warned me that you would. I suppose that I should have listened." He shook his head and crossed his arms. "Very well then, Miss Samson, the choice is now yours."

"Pardon?"

"You and I may indeed be required to exchange marriage vows, but I cannot forcefully claim your heart. That is only yours to give. Now you must make that choice. If that does not rest on me, I will never touch you. This I swear."

Rachel looked down at the small ring that encircled her finger, barely noticing when the carriage finally lurched to a start. The second of the tear-like diamonds seemed to shimmer at her.

* * *

"I don't understand why we're having this discussion, father. I invited Todd for dinner and he accepted. As far as I can see, there is nothing damaging or scandalous about this evening."

Henry Samson clenched his jaw. Rachel caught the slight movement and lowered her eyes back to the business ledgers she'd been pouring over the past few hours. Her father had continued to make excuses to put off her inevitable meeting of the board. It had now been postponed until after she returned from her honeymoon, and with what Robert had hinted to her about unknown secrets of the business world, she was thankful. Although the two hadn't had another chance to be alone since they had returned from the city earlier that day, she was still determined to have him teach her all there was to know.

And the fact that Robert now seemed to be avoiding her irritated her to no end.

"Rachel, there is simply no reason for you to be entertaining this young man whom you haven't seen in eight years. You are betrothed. What does this man have to offer you that Robert can't provide?"

"Father, Todd is my friend and that is why I invited him to dinner. If you are not going to be in attendance, I will offer your apologies to Todd, but I will not cancel this meeting," she stated calmly without looking up. "Now, if you would be so kind, I need to continue studying these entries. Thank you."

"Rachel, the wedding is in three weeks and we still haven't made a decision about your gown," he objected without moving. "I can't have you walking up the aisle in a traveling gown."

She sighed and closed the book with an annoyed expression. "I have taken great care with my gown, father. A friend of mine from school will be having her new husband design it specifically for my wedding. It will be sent to me when it is finished."

"What!"

Rachel stood and gathered the books and papers, then passed by her father toward the hall. "I grow weary of this, father. Everything is arranged and, I assure you, I will not look a fool. Your prized possession will be finely decorated and sold to the highest bidder as you wish."

"Rachel Byron---"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted with a raised hand. "I'm sorry, father, I should not have spoken to you like that. Please forgive me, but I truly have pressing matters to attend to. Please excuse me."

Rachel shut the door behind her, then made her way to the garden with a hand to her head. It throbbed relentlessly. 'Three weeks,' she reminded herself. 'Three weeks until my fate is sealed.' She sat on the bench and set the financial books beside her. That statement wasn't exactly true. Her fate had been sealed the moment she had come into the world. 'I don't really believe that I would be able to change anything, do I? Father is not the type of man to back down once he has made a decision.'

"Where do you think I learned it," she muttered under her breath.

"Miss Samson, may I have a moment of your time?"

Rachel looked up into Robert's face and nodded slightly, attempting to ignore the twinge of hurt at the continued use of her proper title. She missed the gentle sound of her name when he said it and she hated to admit it. He pushed the ledgers and financial statements aside and sat close beside her. A little too close. Her nostrils flared as the musky scent of his cologne wafted toward her and she gripped her hands together tightly as she watched him. 'It must be time for our private discussion.'

"Yes," she urged.

"I apologize for my behavior earlier today," he said quietly. He looked away from her face. "I ask your forgiveness."

"You ask for my forgiveness," she asked in shock.

To her recollection, she had been behaving as a harlot by throwing herself at a man she hadn't seen in eight years simply because he had claimed that he still had love buried in his heart for her. In addition, she had been treating Robert with all the disrespect and suspicion of one of her roommates from school since the day she had met him. That thought alone was enough to make her wonder if what he had said about loving her was true. How could it not be when he continued to behave as a gentleman no matter what her actions toward him were?

He gazed down at her wide eyes with a raised eyebrow. "Is that such a surprise that I can admit I was wrong?"

Rachel dragged her eyes away. "No," she lied. "I... I was simply amazed that you dare talk to me about this afternoon."

He was silent a moment and then gently took her hand. "You are not a very good liar, Rachel."

She looked up slowly at the use of her given name and froze at the compassion in his eyes. "I don't know what you mean," she said. Her voice sounded a little strange, even to her own ears.

A small smile tilted up the corners of his mouth and he cupped her chin with two of his gentle fingers. "Rachel, I am not your father," he said in a voice as soft as velvet. "When God shows me that I am in the wrong, I apologize. How else may we become friends? How else will I expect you to trust me?"

Rachel closed her eyes and forced herself to pull her head away. She slowly drew in a long breath, trying to ignore the fire that raged through her blood. "I don't believe we will ever become friends, Mr. Trent," she told him. "We are too different."

"Are you sure that's true? Whether we are as different as night and day, or the same as the earth's path around the sun, I know that your future is important. Both to me, and to you. That is why I've put the choice into your hands. I care about you, Rachel, and that is all that matters to me. If you truly love Mr. Richards, then I will not stand in the way of your relationship with him."

"How can I have a future with him when I am to be your wife?" Her question was answered by silence and she turned to face him. He was staring up towards heaven.

"I have not been avoiding you, Rachel. I was praying."

"About?"

"If you choose him before our wedding has come, then I will step down from the marriage altar and allow him to take my place."

Rachel blinked in shock. "What about my father?"

He looked down at his hands and shook his head. "Your father doesn't matter to me, Rachel. You do." He stood and offered her his hand. She slipped it into his and he bent over it with a soft kiss. "I will see you tomorrow. Have a pleasant dinner."

Robert turned to go, but she stopped him with a quiet, yet firm question. "Mr. Trent, what did you mean when you said that my past didn't interest you?"

"I meant exactly that," he answered as he faced her. "My father thought it best that we not grow up together and now it hurts too much to know that I'm not a part of that past." Robert turned to go once again. "I don't want any part of reliving a past that I couldn't.... A past that I was kept from having with you."

Rachel tried to ignore the pleasure she felt at his comment and forced herself to ask another question. "Do you really love me? Or is all this an act that my father has devised to make me accept you?"

Robert stiffened and she heard him sigh so deep that it pulled at her heart. A part of her so wanted to believe him that the question had been asked before her mind had received a chance to process it. Now, he'd taken the question as an insult instead of as the probing question it had been. A question from her soul.

"Mr. Trent," she said suddenly. She took a step forward and put a hand out toward him. "Robert, I apologize. I did not mean for that to sound as cold and heartless as it did. I only---"

"If you knew me," he interrupted softly, "you would not need to ask. Good evening."

Rachel stared after him with a thoughtful gaze.

Six

Robert stepped into the darkness of the hallway and then slouched against the banister with closed eyes. 'How can I let her go, Lord? I love her too much to allow her to be taken away.' He took in a deep breath and once again attempted to push away the doubt. 'Why did You tell me she was the one I was to marry if I am to let her walk into another man's arms?'

He gripped the banister a moment more, then turned for the study for a quiet talk with her father. 'Today isn't the time to tell Mr. Samson of my decision to step aside, but I would like to discuss with him the plans for our wedding holiday in Europe.' Robert sighed. 'One that I may or may not be taking.'

"Mr. Samson---?" He froze in the doorway for only an instant as he took in the sight of Rachel's father slouched against one of the formiidable leather chairs. "What happened," he asked. He hurried forward and helped the older man to his feet.

"It's nothing," Mr. Samson gasped. "Nothing at all."

"I find that hard to believe," Robert insisted as he leaned over him. "Tell me what happened."

Their gazes locked for a moment and then Mr. Samson turned away. "Nothing happened, Robert. I'll be fine in a few minutes. In fact." Mr. Samson gripped both of the arms of the high-backed leather chair and stood. "In fact, I believe I shall go up to my room and look over some private papers. Good day, Robert."

Robert stared after the man and then leaned against the hardwood desk as he crossed his arms. 'I don't know who is harder: him or his daughter.' He shook his head and straightened, looking down with a raised eyebrow when a few papers dropped to the floor. He bent to retrieve them and found himself reading them when his eyes focused on two names. His and Rachel's. He searched through the papers until he found the beginning of the letter and then he noticed there were two; one from his father and one from hers.

Warm greetings to you, my friend. I received your letter a few days ago informing me of my son's safe arrival; however, Rachel's reaction to their meeting puzzles me greatly. I would like to think that Robert is a pleasant enough young man, so for what reason did she at first refuse to marry him? Would it have anything to do with the young orphan you suspected her of seeing before you sent her to school in Europe? I remind you that I made Robert recall his responsibilities at about that same time -- true, he was sixteen and it was a hard command for him to follow -- but he yielded to my guidance.

Your daughter's state of mind causes me to worry on the future of our common interests. Isn't there anything you can say to make her realize the importance of her marriage to my son? Put aside your pride, Hank, and confide in her the knowledge that you don't expect to be on this earth much longer. I assure you, it will ease her tongue and propel her up the aisle into Robert's arms. Even make her easier to control for both you and my son.

As for postponing her meeting with the board members until after the holiday we've planned for them in Europe, I believe it is a sound idea. Allow Robert to work his way into her every day routine so that he may mold her into what she needs to be to follow our plans. I look forward to your next letter, my friend. Be well.

Robert stared down at the letter a few moments, his thoughts chasing themselves around in his head before he put it aside and began to read the other.

Greetings friend. I have received your letter in today's post and must say that I am unsettled at the thought of confiding in my daughter such a secret as my impending death. As for her behavior regarding her marriage to your son, only the mind of a woman would understand such logic as that. But I am troubled, friend. In reference to the orphan -- Todd Richards -- tonight I discovered that Rachel has begun seeing him of her own free will.

What also troubles me is that your son has done nothing to dissuade her.

I see our plans for their future becoming black. I have seen no sign of your son attempting to mold her into anything. Instead, he seems eager to bend to her merest whim. How will this prepare her for the pressures of the boardroom? Do not talk to me of her state of mind when she seems to be controlling your son instead of vice versa.

Perhaps I was too hasty to agree to their marriage. Or perhaps I was too optimistic to think that a woman would be able to handle a businessman's world? Whether or not that woman was to be my daughter gives me little cause for comfort either way. I have bestowed too much of my time to this venture and I grow tired of the constant battle of wills. Perhaps I should insist that the marriage take place at the end of the week to put a stop to her squabbling. It bears thought

The letter stopped there with a wide, black streak marring the page. Robert threw the papers on the desk and strode from the room, his mood becoming blacker with every step. He had believed that he had finally become a free man. To find that it was not so gave him no pleasure at the thought of his father. 'Puppets,' he told himself harshly. 'That is what we are to these men. Puppets. How shall I jump these hurdles I constantly find? How shall I persuade Rachel to trust me when she has the example of these two men around her?'

Be still and know that I am God

Robert leaned against the doorframe as he waited for a horse to be brought around for his trip to town. He let out a deep breath and pushed all his dark thoughts toward heaven. 'Forgive me, Lord. It isn't my place to judge these men who love us too much. Only You can hold them accountable for what their actions do.' Robert took in another breath and stepped forward when the horse was led from the stables. He pulled himself into the saddle and gave one of the high windows a last, longing look before turning the horse's head to race down the long stretch of road toward town.

* * *

Rachel watched Robert as his horse galloped away and then turned from the second story window with a troubled frown. It was time to prepare herself for her dinner meeting with Todd Richards, but how and when was she to make her decision. 'Why did he give me the freedom to make it?' She hesitated and turned back toward the window, then shook her head and made her way to her room to change.

"Maggie, do you know anything of Mr. Trent," Rachel asked. She closed her bedroom door and made her way toward the sunken bath.

Maggie straightened sharply and brought a hand to her throat. "You startled me, miss."

"I'm sorry," Rachel said. The look that passed over Maggie's face was one of shock and relief. Rachel noticed and leaned against the doorframe of the bathing room. "And I'm sorry for all the trouble I've been causing you. I've been impossible to live with and I wish I could take it back. All I can do, however, is ask for your forgiveness."

Maggie smiled at her childhood friend and then nodded as she wiped away a tear. "Of course I forgive you. We're always going to be friends, no matter what happens between us."

Rachel nodded and then dropped her eyes to her hands clasped in front of her. "I'm glad because I really need someone to talk to or... or I'll go mad." Her voice cracked and she shook her head as she angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. "I can't even talk without starting to ball like an infant! How is my father supposed to trust me with the family business if I behave like some addle-brained school girl?"

Maggie wrapped a comforting arm around Rachel's shoulders and led her to the already prepared bath water. "Don't be so hard on yourself. This has been a very emotional time for you and it hasn't even come close to ending yet. How is your father supposed to expect you to handle all the excitement?"

"He expects me to handle it better than I have. I must always do everything better. It doesn't matter how well I believe I may have handled the situation, there is nearly always some little action or decision that I could have done differently." Rachel stepped away from the comforting arm and surrendered to the gentle hands that helped her out of her clothes. "And now I've been given a choice that I never wanted to make."

"A choice? What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

Rachel sighed and stepped into the tub, submerging till it covered her entirely. 'Dear God,' she prayed, 'what am I supposed to do?' It was the first time she had prayed since stepping from the train and yet another item on a long list of things done wrong. She pushed herself up until only her head was out of the water and silently thought while Maggie washed her hair. Was she prepared to make the choice tonight at dinner? Or would she take full advantage of the last three weeks before her marriage and give Robert her answer when the priest asked her if she would take Robert Lee Trent as her husband?

"Maggie?" Rachel spoke when she realized she hadn't received an answer to her earlier question about her betrothed.

"Yes?"

"Do you know anything about Mr. Trent? Anything my father may not have told me? Or something that he doesn't know you discovered? Anything."

Her question was answered by silence for a few moments and Maggie's hands paused their motion in Rachel's wet ringlets.

"I don't believe so. Why? Is something wrong?"

Rachel scowled slightly and closed her eyes when the rhythmic washing began again. "No. I was just curious." Silence settled over the two until Rachel broke it with another question. "Do you like Mr. Trent?"

"Yes," Maggie said simply. "He's a very soft spoken gentleman who cares a great deal of what others feel. Why?"

Rachel stared down at her slender finger and tried to ignore the ring as she dunked a sponge under water. "Let's say I'm curious."

"I've noticed that you happen to be curious about him quite a bit."

Rachel could hear the smile on Maggie's lips and rubbed some handmade soap onto the sponge. It smelled remarkably similar to roses. "He's an intriguing man, Maggie. The moment I believe I have him explained, he surprises me with either pure honesty, or a gentleness that touches my very soul." Rachel sighed and handed the sponge to Maggie after the young woman had finished rinsing her hair. "I don't understand what I feel."

"Sounds remarkably similar to love, Rachel."

"Love," Rachel asked with a sarcastic smirk. "What do I know of love?"

"You don't need to know anything to experience it."

"And how can I be in love with Mr. Trent when it has been Todd Richards in my thoughts for eight long years?"

"The orphan boy? Why would you be thinking of him?"

"He wasn't just an orphan boy to me, Maggie. Didn't you know that?"

"All these years and you still care for him that much," Maggie asked quietly. "Are you sure it isn't still a childhood crush that a heart hasn't forgotten?"

Rachel splashed her hands in the water with an angry mutter. "I don't know and that's the problem. How can I marry Mr. Trent---"

"Why don't you call him Robert?"

"I have," Rachel protested. "Upon occasion."

"Not that I've heard. Why not?" Rachel shrugged. "Come on. You can tell me, Rachel."

"To tell the truth, I've never really thought about it."

"So think about it a moment. I'll wait."

Rachel crinkled her nose and let out a deep breath as thoughts tumbled around in her head. She hadn't thought about it because it seemed childish whenever she did.

"Maybe I just wanted to hurt him," she admitted softly. She brushed a ringlet from her eyes and sprinkled some scented bath salts into the water. "Maybe I didn't want to like him. I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to keep him away from me."

Maggie nodded and squeezed the remaining water from the sponge before turning for the white robe beside the sunken tub. "I can understand why this would be true at first, Rachel. You feel your father has betrayed you and you're not ready to trust another man with any part of you. But why do you still not call him Robert?"

"Because I don't think I know him well enough to call him by his first name. I've only just met him."

"Rachel, I think this would be an acceptable exception. Don't you?"

Rachel stepped out of the tub and into the softness of the robe, wrapping it around herself with a slight sigh. "I know. I see the way it hurts him every time I call him 'sir', or 'Mr. Trent', or some such nonsense. I just don't understand why he's still so civil to me. Why is he so kind?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I have." Rachel stepped into her room and stared into her closet. "I have," she said again.

"And what did he say?"

"He said that he loved me."

"And you don't believe him, do you?"

Rachel sighed and turned away from the closet. "I don't know what to believe. How can he be in love when he's only just met me? I don't understand how that can be true."

"Have you asked him?"

"Yes. He said that God told him I was the one he was to marry." Rachel shook her head with a sigh. "Let's not talk about this anymore, Maggie. I just want to get this dinner over with and go to bed."

Maggie nodded and began making selections for her evening gown.

* * *

Rachel stared at herself in the mirror and scowled. Why hadn't she worn this dress for her first dinner with Robert? The deep red brought out the color of her hair and the modest cut did nothing to detract from her natural lines. 'I was being childish and vindictive,' she told herself. 'I wanted to hurt him because… I wanted him to hurt as much as I did when I found out…'

Rachel turned from her reflection and left her room, a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. 'I wish Robert were here,' she admitted. With Robert, she could be herself. There was no pressure to fulfill unreal expectations. She was always able to be honest with him. 'But why do I believe I am unable to be the same with Todd? Isn't that the way things used to be between us?' A smile suddenly softened the green of her eyes and she pushed the troubling thoughts from her mind. 'Yes,' she told herself. 'It shall be as it was. He shall be my childhood protector once again.'

Rachel turned for the waiting room situated across the hall from her father's study and prepared for Todd's arrival. 'What am I to say when he comes? What will he say? Will he present some solution to my marriage to Robert?' That thought stopped her as she sat on the loveseat by the marble fireplace. Robert himself had solved that problem. 'Had he been serious,' she asked in thoughtful consideration. When she recalled the look of pain and loss that had darkened his deep brown eyes, she was sure that he had been. 'But why? Why would he let me choose another man if he loves me so much? It makes no sense. Why would he give me a choice that he is sure to lose?'

"Mr. Todd Richards, miss," Oliver announced as he opened the doors and showed the young gentleman in.

Rachel stood and offered her hand as she stepped forward, a genuine smile dancing on her lips and in her eyes. "Todd, I am so glad you came."

"Even you couldn't have kept me away, Rachel," he said in a slightly husky voice as he kissed her hand. "And may I say you take my breath away. I feel horribly underdressed."

She waved the compliment aside, barely hesitating when the expected feelings of giddiness didn't arrive. "You look fine, Todd. Very handsome, in fact. You've grown."

He laughed uncomfortably and smoothed the charcoal gray suit with callused hands. Rachel looked away with a forced smile and led him to the dining hall as she made conversation, fighting off the unbidden thoughts of Robert. 'Quit comparing them,' she scolded. 'They are nothing alike. Todd is a hardworking man who's made himself a very good living. He didn't let the fact that he was an orphan stop him from doing what he dreamed of doing.'

'And Robert?' a voice asked.

'Robert has been solely trained for me,' she snapped.

The thought made a tingle shoot up her spine as she sat in the offered chair.

She gave Todd a smile and rang the bell to signal the beginning of the meal. "So what have you been doing while I've been away at school?"

"Well," he paused and squirmed slightly. "Well, I guess I've done pretty good considering I barely had a bed to sleep on when you left. I mean, now I have an entire ranch."

"How did you get into ranching," Rachel prodded. He cleared his throat, seeming to be uncomfortable by the interest into his past. Rachel gave him a reassuring smile. "I haven't seen you for a long time, Todd. I'm curious. Won't you humor me?"

Two serving maids set plates of salad in front of them and Todd looked down at it with a blank look. "When does dinner start? I'm not a rabbit."

Rachel laughed and he looked up sharply with a slight flush. "Todd, this is dinner."

"This," he asked incredulously as he pointed at the salad.

"The main course follows in a bit."

He shook his head as he picked up a fork. "Okay. How did I get into ranching? Let me see. I suppose it started when I got a job from old man Parson as one of his helping hands."

Rachel nodded. "I see. So, he didn't adopt you?"

"Not in so many words. It wasn't legal or anything. I just left the orphanage and stayed there at his ranch, helping him around the place. Then, one day he died and I found out that he'd left the place to me in his will. It was a shock."

"A pleasant one, I would think."

Todd shrugged and focused his attention on her. "The pleasant shock was finding out you'd come home. I can't wait until I can show you the place. All it needs is a woman's touch and it'll be heaven on earth! And then there will be all the kids."

Rachel looked down at her barely touched salad and swallowed hard to keep from choking. "Todd---"

"Don't say it, Rachel. I know I shouldn't be talking about this under your father's roof, what with you being promised and everything, but I can't help it." His voice lowered. "I've always dreamed this day would come. You'd be back and we'd be married."

"What about Robert, Todd? I can't just abandon him like this. With no warning? Isn't that a little cold?"

"Any colder than hiding the fact that you were to be married to some stranger? Any colder than letting you and I fall in love only to rip you away from me?"

Todd shook his head and then stood to move into the chair beside her. He took her hand and caressed it with his thumb. Rachel looked into his brilliant green eyes. Her breath no longer caught in her throat as it once had. 'I'm not in love with him,' she sighed regretfully.

"Rachel, we were meant to be together and nothing is going to stop that. You'll simply tell your father that you don't love Robert. Tell him that you love me and we're going to be married whether he likes it or not."

"I don't believe that would be the best way to handle the situation, Todd. I think it would be best---"

"Rachel," Todd interrupted, "I know what to do."

"But you don't understand---"

"No, your father doesn't understand. He doesn't understand anything about you or he wouldn't be forcing you to marry someone. If he did, he would see that it's ripping you apart to be away from me. He would see that!"

Rachel tried to take her hand from his grasp, but it tightened. "Todd," she stated firmly, "you don't understand how my father thinks."

"A man doesn't understand how your father thinks?" He looked at her in shock and then threw his head back with laughter.

His grip on her hand loosened and she pulled it free as she stood, her back ramrod straight as she stared down at him. He still laughed.

"I am, after all, my father's daughter, and I believe I would have some idea why he does certain things. Don't you think so?"

The laughter slowly died and Todd stood with a smirk still twinkling in his eyes. "Rachel, you are so beautiful when you're angry."

He made a move to wrap his arms around her, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. "I am serious, Todd. You laugh when I say that I know why my father does what he does. Do you mean to insinuate that you do not believe a woman can think? Do you believe I should be barefoot and pregnant as I plant flowers, knit, make quilts, or something else totally ridiculous?"

"Rachel, that's not what I meant at all!" He raised his hands in defense and took a step back. "I only meant that I believe a man would have a better idea of how another man would react to different things."

"So a woman should kneel to the man's wishes without argument? Without even offering her opinion?"

"Of course. That's the way God wants it to be."

"Wrong," she said in a tight voice. "God wants marriage to be a partnership. Man and woman working together as they have since before The Fall in the garden." Todd spluttered and Rachel raised a hand. "From the moment this dinner began you have been insinuating that you already believed you had control over my life. I can assure you that such is not the case."

"Rachel, I'm not trying to control your life. I'm just showing you---"

"Showing me what to do," she asked in a quiet voice with a raised eyebrow. He nodded and Rachel's chin rose. "I will say this only once, Todd Richards. I will not marry you."

She walked past him, but he stopped her with a firm grip on her arm. Rachel turned her head sharply.

"You will," he insisted. "My whole life on this ranch of mine has been spent preparing it for the life I knew we would have. I can't throw that away! I know you love me, Rachel. How can you walk away from that just because your father tells you to?"

"No one makes the decisions for my life but me, Todd Richards, and I am not going to change that by allowing some pompous, self-centered man tell me what is best!"

He stiffened and released the grip on her arm. She promptly pulled it away. "You have definitely changed. I remember a time when you openly asked me what you should do, especially with your father."

"I was a child then, Todd. As you can see, I am no longer that child."

"I see that now," he said quietly. "So what will happen to us? Is there no way I can get you to marry me?"

"None," she said firmly. "If you had been more open to my opinion there may have been a chance, but I have been on my own too long to give over the control to anyone but my equal."

Todd nodded sadly and looked away. "Then I suppose I should leave. There's no point in staying where I am not wanted."

Rachel turned as he passed her. "Todd, I did not say you were not welcome here."

"You didn't need to," he said.

He bowed with a touch of uncertainty and then left the room, leaving Rachel to stare after him with a puzzling sense of peace. A few moments passed and then she lowered herself into the chair at the head of the table to stare at the empty doorway. 'Why do I feel no remorse at losing him? Don't I realize that he will never again come to ask me to be a part of his life?' Rachel changed her gaze to her hands, her eyes once again fixing on the delicate ring, but she still couldn't convince herself that she would miss him.

The third of the diamonds sparkled at her.

* * *

"Rachel? Rachel, are you all right?"

She looked down at her betrothed, her eyes focusing on his as he knelt in front of her. He took her hands in his and gently rubbed them with a concerned look as she gazed into his face.

"Rachel," he asked again.

"I'm fine," she finally said. Her voice was quiet. She stared down at their hands and then back to his face across from hers. "My dinner plans didn't quite go as expected."

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

She made a motion to stand and he was instantly on his feet to help her. "That's quite all right. I shall be fine in a few moments."

"I'm sorry it went badly," he said as he released her hand. "I was hoping you would be happy when I arrived home from town."

"I would not say that I am unhappy," she said.

"Aren't you? I would have sworn by the look on your face when I came in that something awful had happened. I reasoned that either Mr. Richards hadn't arrived or... I'm not quite sure what else."

Rachel smiled reluctantly and surprised herself by placing a reassuring hand on his arm for a moment. When she withdrew it, she could tell that he had been just as surprised.

"Thank you for your concern." She paused and watched the stable hands lead away the lathered horse. He had come home in an apparent rush and she turned to give him a probing glance. "Did you have a pleasant evening?"

A smile twinkled in his eyes as he nodded. "I'd been looking forward to visiting the children ever since I knew I was coming to see you. We have been writing letters to each other for years. In fact, I've 'watched' so many of them grow up that I feel I'm their father."

"Children," Rachel asked.

"I apologize," he said with a sheepish smile. "The children at the orphanage in town."

"Yes? What about them?"

"My father disapproves, but I've been sponsoring them for years. Sending them much needed gifts for birthdays and holidays. Shipping them textbooks and guest speakers or acting troops. I've been trying to give them opportunities other people don't believe the kids deserve."

Rachel saw the excitement and compassion in his eyes and heard the laughter in his voice. 'He truly cares for these children,' she wondered in awe. 'These children have no family to speak of, no wealth, and no chance of bettering themselves, yet he goes out of his way to make them feel loved.' She examined his face for a long moment as he continued to speak about his time with them, then gave a start when the grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour.

Rachel sent him a regretful look. "It's getting late," she said quietly.

He escorted her to the bottom of the stairs and she offered her his hand, ignoring her feeling of surprise. He took her hand to his lips for a kiss that lasted longer than usual and her heart fluttered as their eyes met.

"Good night," she said. "I shall see you in the morning for breakfast."

"Good night, Rachel," he answered. "Please sleep safely and well."

The gentleness that filled his voice was on her mind hours after they had parted company, and it followed her into her dreams.

Seven

There was a soft knock on Rachel's bedroom door.

"I'll get it, Maggie," Rachel said as she stood from her vanity. She set her comb down and gave her childhood friend a smile. "You go back to whatever you were doing."

Maggie returned the smile with a sleepy one of her own, then turned back for the room directly connected, shutting the door behind her. It was still early for anyone to be up, even her father never rose before dawn, so she slipped into her dressing gown and brushed a few wisps of loose hair from her face. It was probably Oliver wondering about some trivial matter of upkeep for the grounds. She blinked in mild surprise when her eyes focused on Robert's face.

"Good morning," he greeted in a quiet voice.

"Good morning. I didn't think anyone else rose this early."

"I enjoy strolling through the garden this time of morning. It's so peaceful. Would you be interested?"

Rachel looked behind her, a slight smile softening her face when Maggie emerged from her walk-in closet with a simple morning gown of pale rose. She changed her gaze back to Robert and nodded.

"I'll wait downstairs."

"No," she said quickly when he turned to leave. He faced her with shock registering in his eyes. "You can wait here outside my door. I won't be long." He nodded mutely and Rachel shut the door, then turned and hurried to Maggie. "Hurry, Mags. He's waiting outside the door."

"Why didn't you let him wait downstairs?" Maggie whispered.

"I don't know," Rachel admitted in a whisper of her own. "I just heard myself saying 'no' when he said he would." She stood still as Maggie fastened the buttons that ran up the back of the dress and then stepped into the slippers Maggie placed at her feet. "Ever since last night..."

"Yes?" Maggie prodded.

"I've got to go," she said as she hurried to the door. "I'll tell you later." Maggie nodded reluctantly and then Rachel rushed out the door, pausing in the open doorway with a hand on her head. "Oh," she said in consternation. "I forgot to do my hair."

Robert turned and cleared his throat as his gaze fixed on her. "Would it be very improper to leave it down?"

"Of course," Rachel replied and then hesitated. "But I suppose it would be all right if I braided it. After all, we are only going to be in the garden." Rachel plaited her hair with deft fingers, took the offered piece of rose colored ribbon from Maggie's outstretched hand and then gave Robert a small smile. "There. That's better."

She tossed the braid behind her back and took his offered arm with another shy smile in his direction.

"You seem to be in high spirits this morning," Robert commented as they proceeded down stairs. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept like a dream. It was almost as if I had guardian angels hovering over my bed. I felt so safe and protected. I haven't felt that way in years," she recalled with a sigh.

"I'm relieved you're sleeping that way again."

"Thank you," Rachel said as she looked over at him. His face was unusually dark and somber. "Is something troubling you, Robert? You seem preoccupied somehow. Would you care to talk about it?"

When he turned to meet her gaze there was a brief light in his eyes, but it faded as he took in a deep breath. He let it out in such a way that it scared her. When he looked away and guided her down the back stairs into the garden without saying a word, Rachel's stomach seemed to freeze and turn to fire at the same moment.

"I need to talk to you, Rachel, and you may not like what I have to say," he finally stated as she sat on the bench by the oak tree.

She looked up at him, trying to hide the fear from her eyes. "Yes? What is it," she asked.

He glanced around the quiet loveliness of the garden and shook his head. "No, not here. Someone may be listening. Shall we walk instead?"

She stood again. "Very well." She followed beside him, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"I don't mean to frighten you, Rachel. I simply don't know how to say what it is I must tell you."

She nodded and the panic began to rise. He stopped suddenly, a few hundred feet from the back of the house, and stared up at the sunrise as it flashed it's radiant brilliance as far as the eye could see. Rachel followed his gaze and let out a deep breath. There had been a time in her life when she had believed her future was as vast as the sunrise. Brilliant in it's intensity. Mysterious in it's direction. Breathtaking in it's force in other people's lives. Uncontrollable.

How wrong she had been.

"I need you to understand one thing," Robert said in a quiet voice that seemed to sneak up on Rachel's mind. "I told you the truth when I said God showed a vision of you as my wife. And, although that may have been the first and foremost reason for me to marry you when I was younger, that isn't the case any longer. I have come to love you so deep that any other woman would never be enough."

"Although I may not understand as you wish me to, please go on with what you say is so important," she told him in a strained voice.

"I have discovered the reason why my father wishes me to marry you."

She turned to him in expectant anticipation, but he continued to stare at the landscape with unseeing eyes.

"Yes?" she urged.

"I was to be your controller."

"What." Rachel's voice was dangerously quiet as her hands tightened into fists.

"My purpose in your life was to mold you into what our father's desired, and then stand by the wayside as you did their work with my hands on the reigns."

Rachel jerked herself around and walked a few steps from him. When he came to stand behind her, she ignored him to glare out at the land in front of her.

"Will I never be free from you men," she hissed. "Will I always be pressured and prodded by you who believe a woman is not fit to do any business but that of the kitchen?" She whirled, her eyes full of sparks as they focused on his. "All of my life I have been forcibly led down the path that others demanded me to follow. Never once did they seek my council."

"I know," Robert said, hurt tightening his voice. "Rachel, I know---"

She cut him off with a simple glance. "I am tired of this. Just once in my existence I wanted to find someone to be with who would seek my opinion before he made a decision that would change the direction of our lives together. Now I shall never have that chance because, again, my path has been chosen. My path has always been chosen. First by my father and yours, now by you." Rachel turned from him sharply and crossed her arms. "Just go."

She heard a movement behind her and closed her eyes when pain stabbed through her soul. A part of her had wanted him to stay and explain to her that she had misunderstood what he had brought her there to hear.

"I thought you were different," she whispered as she dropped her head. "I truly thought you were different."

A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder and she sucked in a quick breath as her head came.

"I am, Rachel," came a soft voice. "That's why I'm telling you these things. I don't want any secrets to come between us. I want us to be friends if we are to be nothing more. Controlling you is the furthest thing from my mind because I believe that just as business has partners, so does marriage. Of course there shall be only one leader, but where would that one be if there were no others? Very lonely."

"But how can I believe you," she asked in a voice that was close to tears.

He turned her to face him and tilted her head up. "I won't ever lie to you."

Rachel closed her eyes and let out a strangled choke as the tears came, the tears that she had fought since the day she'd arrived. Sobs that she'd held back since the day she had left her father and mother for Europe. She felt Robert's hand drop away from her chin and then a slight kiss brushed her cheek before he pulled her into an embrace. She felt her anger disappear, revealing the deep fear of what she had become. Of what her father had wanted her to be. She didn't think she could do it. All the long and lonely years of training she'd withstood and she still didn't believe that she would ever survive the day-in and day-out business that her father had been preparing her for.

It terrified her that she had limitations.

* * *

Rachel's sobs were as quiet as they were intense. Her whole body shook as Robert held her against him, wondering to God if he was doing the right thing by telling her. His heart broke at the thought of the pain she had to endure, but he was thankful that he was there to help her through it. A fire surged through his blood as he held her, the rose scent of her making his nostrils flare. 'I love her so much, God. I don't think I can wait much longer. Please,' he begged, 'help me. I don't want to push her away. Losing her would make life seem empty. Meaningless. Almost as meaningless if I didn't have You to guide me.'

He was rubbing her back gently when an alarm rang inside his head. Her arms had eased their tight grip around him and were up higher, massaging his back. She moved in closer and the alarm sounded again. 'Robert,' he told himself, 'you had better back off or you're liable to lose control. Don't take advantage of this tender situation or she'll hate you. You must let her come to you on her terms and not when she's emotionally unbalanced like this.'

Robert forced himself to slowly drop his hands from her back and take hold of her upper arms. She allowed him to push her gently away and looked up into his eyes with an expectant look, her lips parted. He gazed down at her, struggling with the need he felt to pull her into a more intimate embrace.

"I didn't want you to think you couldn't trust me," he whispered. "That's why I told you as soon as I found the easiest way to do so."

There was a darkening to her eyes and she broke their locked gazes to stare at her hands. "I suppose I should thank you," she sniffed as she turned away, "instead of behaving like a fool. Crying never solves problems."

"I don't think that's all true. It makes us feel better."

"Surely you haven't," she asked with a quick look over one shoulder. "After all, you're a man."

'There are the walls again,' he thought to himself. He stepped forward to stand beside her. "Do you expect me to say I have never shed a tear?" His question was met with silence as they watched the fading trailers of the sunrise. "That would be a lie and I told you that was one thing I would never do."

"So you did," she whispered in a strange voice. "So you did."

Robert sensed her give him a sidelong glance. "I wish I could change all that's happened. I wish there was some way I could give you back your past, but I can't."

"It's all right. My past is no longer important. It does not have control over me, but my father does. My life is not my own. I suppose it never was."

There was a strange coldness in her voice and Robert began to panic. "It should have been," he said with a calm he didn't feel.

Rachel shrugged and turned for the house. "Perhaps."

An overwhelming feeling of loneliness flooded over him as he watched her go, still not sure of how he could help her through the toughest time of her life. Suddenly he remembered he hadn't told her all of what he'd discovered.

"There is something more I must tell you," he called after her.

She halted for barely an instant, not turning when she answered him. "I believe breakfast is served. Perhaps you should save it for another day?"

He stepped toward her. "It is important, Rachel."

She turned at this and stared up at him with green eyes that barely hid the hurt. Robert clenched a hand behind his back to keep from pulling her into another embrace.

"I believe you would want to know," he said.

"I want to know many things," she told him in a tight voice, "but this is not the case in the business world, is it? Let us have breakfast and then we can discuss it to the full."

She turned and began to climb the stairs into the house.

"I will be in shortly," he said as he turned back to his view of the horizon.

He heard the door close and let his head drop. 'So when is the appropriate time, Lord?' Robert wasn't sure as to which subject he was referring. Permission to hold her as his betrothed or notification that it was the right time to tell her of her father's impending death. Robert let out a deep breath and then shook his head. It wasn't his decision to tell her what he wasn't even supposed to know. If her father chose to tell her, that was his choice. If not, that also would rest solely on her father.

Was that lying?

He clasped his hands behind his back and proceeded farther into the garden, the question remaining unanswered as his thoughts continued to linger on his fiancée. 'Rachel, Rachel,' he murmured silently. 'I wish you would stop pushing me in so many different directions.' It would have been so easy for him to give in when she'd looked up at him so expectantly. She had known, in that instant, what she had wanted. 'So why didn't I give in to her? Why did You pull me back, Lord?'

'She was vulnerable and I didn't abuse that,' he thought suddenly. 'Maybe she will trust me a little farther?' But it seemed that their relationship was a dance. 'Dancing around each other like two fighting cats.' Robert let out an exasperated breath and sat on a log that faced a good-sized pond. He picked up a few pebbles and chucked them into the clear blue depths.

"Only three more weeks," he muttered. "Three more weeks and I shall be able to bring her away from this."

Maybe she would relax then. Perhaps, when she believed that she was on equal ground with her new husband, they would be able to become more than friends. It was a sincere hope. Robert stood, brushed the leaves from his trousers, and headed toward the house. He still hadn't had a chance to discuss the after-wedding plans with her father, but perhaps he would take it upon himself to inform Mr. Samson what they would do.

"I'll simply ask Rachel where she would like to go," he mumbled.

"I want to talk to you."

Robert looked up at the sound of the deep voice that came from behind him and turned to look into the green eyes of Rachel's childhood sweetheart. "Yes?" His voice was strained.

"I don't care what her father thinks, mister," the large man threatened as he pointed a finger in Robert's face, "but Rachel is going to marry me. Don't you see it's the only way she's going to be happy?"

Robert straightened to his full height of 6'3" and stared back into the man's eyes. "Rachel will marry whomever she chooses. Strange, but I believe that wasn't you."

Todd Richards' eyes sparked as his fists clenched. "You might talk like some snooty east coast snob and you might dress pretty, but only I know Rachel. Do you think she will ever really get over me? Do you think she'll really see your face when she kisses you on your wedding day? Do you really believe it will be you she'll imagine she's with when you hold her on your wedding night?"

Robert was about to say that he didn't care who she saw as long as she was marrying him when he realized that he did care. Quite a bit, too. Instead, Robert simply smiled a half smile as if he knew a secret, and turned to go.

"She doesn't love you. She never will," the deep voice rumbled from behind him.

Robert continued for the house. "Then why am I invited to breakfast and you are left to sneak through her garden?"

* * *

Rachel looked up from her small serving of breakfast as Robert came into the room. She returned his smile briefly and then refocused her attention on her untouched meal. What had possessed her? 'I had wanted him to kiss me! Had it not been for his kindness and understanding the situation may have gotten out of hand. But, then again, would it have been such a horrible experience? He claims that he loves me, so wouldn't it have been more than natural for us to share a kiss? Passionate or not…' She shied away from the subject and the way it made her feel. 'I refuse to think on it,' she announced firmly.

Yet the tingles remained to remind her of the sparks that had awakened when he had soothed her tears with such a gentle touch. 'Perhaps I am overreacting,' she told herself. 'Or perhaps it was the sunrise in addition to the subject we were discussing.' She looked across the table to find him gazing at her. Their eyes locked and she couldn't pull away. 'What do I feel for you, Robert?' That was what she wanted to ask him. 'You are always so painfully honest that, at times, it tries my patience. Other times, you are so absurdly sensitive to my feelings that it causes me to be suspicious of your actions. And yet, there is a passion hiding just beneath the surface. Are you waiting for me to release it?' His brown eyes seemed to change and then he turned away. Rachel was left with an odd emptiness as she struggled for breath.

"I've decided that three more weeks to wait for the wedding is unnecessary."

Rachel looked toward her father with a raised eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I believe you should be married by the end of the week."

"What?"

"Mr. Samson," Robert spoke up quickly, "this is going too far. As it is, your daughter and I were unable to have an appropriate time of courting. Now you wish us to be married when we've known each other less than two weeks? You're mad!"

Rachel nodded her mute agreement, marveling on how she couldn't imagine herself stating the facts any simpler.

"Mad or not, inappropriate or not, you and Rachel will be married before the week is out."

"We will not, sir," Robert insisted stubbornly.

Both Rachel and her father stared at him in shock.

"This is Rachel's wedding as much as yours, if not more, and I am sure she wishes to wait." Robert looked over at her with a questioning light in his chocolate eyes. "Am I wrong?"

Rachel sat there in shock, her eyes wide as she stared at him from across the table. 'What kind of man is this?'

"Rachel," her father was saying, "the sooner you and the boy are married, the sooner the wedding holiday is over, and the sooner you shall be available to take over the business. I'm only thinking of that. The longer you wait the tougher it shall be."

"I'm quite sure that three weeks either way won't make that much difference," Robert countered. "After all, Rome wasn't built in a day."

"Well, this isn't Rome," Mr. Samson snapped.

"Even so, I believe the choice is your daughter's."

The two men changed their gazes to Rachel and she blinked. Robert's eyes held hers for barely a moment before she stood and gave her father her full attention.

"It seems I have quite a decision to make, so I shall be in my room."

"Rachel," her father called after her. "We need an answer."

She paused in the doorway leading to the hall and sent her father a calm stare. "I realize this, father, and I shall be considering just that." She shifted her eyes to Robert's and sent him a small, puzzled smile. "Good day, Robert."

With that, she turned and left the room, her thoughts one big jumble. 'Three weeks are three weeks,' she insisted as she climbed the stairs to her room. 'Either it could be weeks of freedom before being married to a man I barely know. Or it could be considered weeks of discovery. Time that I could use to find out who I am marrying. Then again, my father made several good points. The board has stopped meeting so that I could settle in. Enough is enough.'

Rachel pressed her lips together with a scowl and closed her bedroom door without a word to Maggie who stepped forward to help her change. She felt Maggie's curious look, but ignored it. 'What am I going to decide? There are pros and cons for each side. Which would benefit me more?'

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead, Maggie."

"What's got you so upset? You aren't angry, but you're definitely irritated. Maybe even a little confused."

"Is it that obvious," Rachel asked as she sat at her vanity.

"Come on, Rachel. It sounds as if you need someone to talk to."

"The person I wish to talk to is neither interested in my opinion, nor the least bit concerned about my priorities."

"Your father?"

Rachel nodded and handed Maggie one of her many hand-carved combs. "Who else is able to work me into such a fit?"

"It's only because you love him so much."

"Are you sure of that?"

"No, but it seems to go with the territory, don't you think?" Rachel only shrugged and Maggie shook her head. "What did he do this time?"

"He's convinced that the wedding should take place at the end of this week."

"But your gown," Maggie protested. "You've only just asked your friend if it's possible to make it. It'll never be here in time for that! And all the invitations, not to mention the meal and reception plans. It's impossible. He can't be serious."

"He's always serious, Maggie. You know that."

"There's no swaying him then?"

Rachel's eyebrows lowered into a puzzled frown. "I didn't have a chance."

"What do you mean? Did he send you up here before you could talk, or did he just leave the room?"

"Neither," Rachel said simply. "Robert told him that the wedding date would stay as it was."

Maggie dropped the comb. "Mr. Trent told your father this?"

"Yes, he did," she said slowly. "It makes me wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Maggie asked as she picked the comb up off the floor.

"What Robert said to my father makes me wonder why he's doing this. I know for a fact that if his father finds out it won't make his life any easier."

"How do you know?"

Rachel hesitated. "I'm not sure. A feeling, really. He talks about his father so much... maybe I'm wrong. Maybe his father doesn't care one way or the other."

"I find that hard to believe. Haven't both your father's gone through a lot to keep this marriage between you and Mr. Trent from going wrong?"

"Only difference is Robert always knew about me. He had time to fall in love."

"Rachel, 'falling in love' as you put it, is simply an act of a person's own will. It's a decision of the heart to care for another. Don't get angry, but I think you could become very attached to Mr. Trent if you let yourself trust him."

Rachel looked down at the ring on her finger with an unnoticed sigh. "But that doesn't help me make my decision."

"And what decision is that?"

"Whether the wedding will be sooner or later."

"How did that decision come to be yours?"

"Robert told my father that the decision wasn't theirs to make.

"Again with the telling," Maggie muttered. "My, my, my."

"What do you think I should do, Mags. I trust your opinion more than my own father's right now," Rachel admitted sadly. "Maybe even more than my own."

Silence settled over the room and Rachel used the time to calm her thoughts. All the decisions and choices were being given to her and she didn't know quite how to handle them. Loving Robert would be her decision. Marrying Robert and not Todd had been her choice. Now changing the date of that same wedding was left in her hands?

"I have this feeling that you shouldn't wait."

Rachel turned toward her childhood friend in shock. "What did you say?"

Maggie set the comb on the vanity countertop with a deep breath. "I hate to admit it, Rachel, but you've been miserable ever since you arrived. The fights with your father, the shock of finding a husband already chosen for you. I think you need to get out and start your own life. Forget about the reasons why your father is moving the date up. Use it for your own inner healing."

'Oh to be free,' she thought to herself as she slowly stood. "I think you're right, Mags," she whispered as she stared out her window.

She would be free of her father's controlling hand and her own things would surround her. Items and priceless pieces of furniture that she chose. Not only that, she would be married to a man who wasn't afraid to tell her what he thought. He wouldn't control her. There was a soft knock on the door and Maggie answered it, then she came to stand behind Rachel with a worried look.

"Rachel, Mr. Trent wants to speak with you. He said he'd wait in the garden."

Rachel's eyes wandered to the engagement ring once more. The diamonds that surrounded the heart-shaped ruby seemed to wink at her once more, hinting at the tears that were hiding in her own heart.

"I suppose now would be the best time to tell him my decision." She looked over at Maggie with a question darkening her eyes. "How do you think he'll take it?"

Maggie sent a look over her shoulder, then rested a hand on Rachel's arm. "Something's bothering him, Rachel. I didn't want to ask him about it, but I'm sure I'm right."

Concern formed a knot in her stomach. "Do you think he and my father may have exchanged words?"

"I don't know, but I believe he needs to talk to someone and you might be the only person he feels he can trust with his feelings."

Rachel nodded and put a hand up to her hair. "Let's put my hair up and then I'll join him. I need the extra time to think."

Rachel sat at her vanity and began to pray as she hadn't in years.

Eight

Robert paced by the bench as a black cloud darkened his thoughts. 'How can he expect me to keep this from her? Rachel has the right to know!' But trying to convince her father of that fact was impossible. He had tried more than once, but nothing had ever come of it.

There was a step heard behind him and he turned, his eyes focusing on Rachel's troubled face. She had put her hair up in proper form and had even taken the time to change into a morning dress of pale blue.

"Thank you for coming," he told her as he stepped forward.

"Maggie said something was bothering you."

Robert directed her to the ever-familiar bench and sat beside her. "Maggie is a very intelligent woman. You're lucky to have such a friend."

Rachel reached her hand out for his. "Robert, please don't try to change the subject. Tell me what's happened."

Robert didn't hesitate. He took her hand between both of his and looked into her eyes. "Your father is dying."

Her grip tightened. "What?"

"After you went to your room he confronted me with the fact that I wasn't cooperating with my father's plans. The conversation became quite heated and he had another attack."

"Another attack," Rachel choked out. "What do you mean another attack? How many has he had?"

"I don't know. I'm not even sure how long he has to live...." Robert's voice died away and he changed his gaze to their clasped hands. "I think we should get married early, Rachel. I've been thinking about it while waiting for you." He looked into her face and went on before he could translate the emotions that darkened her normally bright green eyes. "I think we should be married before your father dies."

There was a slight pause before she answered and she brought her hand up to cover his. "Robert, I don't want to marry you early simply because my father is dying," she said in a quiet voice.

"Neither do I."

"Then, tell me why."

"Rachel, how many times must I tell you before you believe me?"

"Tell me why," she whispered. A tear trailed down her cheek. "Please."

He swallowed hard. He already felt his control giving way as she quietly gazed up at him. 'God, help me.'

"I want to marry you because I've been in love with you since I can remember." She closed her eyes and tilted her chin up as he went on. "Even that day we first met on the train couldn't have kept me from loving you. The way your eyes sparked when you were mad and your cheeks became a soft shade of pink. Or the way your chin quivered when you were upset. Even the way you snap open that silly fan has me head over heels. There is nothing on this earth that is going to keep me from marrying you."

She released the stranglehold she had on his hands and dabbed at the tears with her kerchief. "I want to marry you this week, Robert. Not because of my father's illness, but because I want to be free. I don't wish to be continually haunted by a past I'm trying to learn from and leave behind. I want a new life and you seem to be the only man I know who even cares what I think or feel about anything." She moved closer to him and took hold of his hand again. "I can't promise that I'm going to trust you from the start. I don't even know whether I'm going to love you the way you love me, but I know you are the only real friend I have who isn't afraid of my father. I need that."

Their gazes locked.

"I told you once before I was honored when you told me you believed I would be a good friend," he told her softly. "Now I am that friend and I don't know what to say or do. Thank you, Rachel. That gives us a common place to start. Far better than being strangers and so close to something more."

A hand rose to his face and a gentle smile lit her eyes as her fingers traced his lips and jaw. Robert reined in his thoughts and emotions with a hard yank. 'Let her lead you. Let her lead you,' he repeated to himself. Her fingers found their way to his lips once more and they paused there.

"You say the most pleasant things," she whispered. "How can someone like you be real?"

He kissed her fingertips with a smile. "I often find myself thinking the same of you, my dear."

She dropped her gaze and brought her hand away from his lips. The smile slowly disappeared and Robert knew she was thinking of her father.

"Why am I not sorry he's dying, Robert? All I feel is a sick kind of relief and it scares me." She looked up at him and no tears glistened in her eyes. "Why can we not be an ordinary family?"

Robert brought a hand up to brush a few stray ringlets from her face and then brought her hand up to his lips. "I don't know, Rachel, but we need to take this slow with one problem at a time. God will show us the way through this. All we must do is listen and follow."

She nodded and lowered her eyes a moment, then looked up again. "Robert, can you hold me for a few moments," she asked in a voice choked with tears.

He sent her a gentle smile and opened his arms. She moved into them with a sigh and rested her cheek against his chest, her arms wrapping around him so tight that it seemed she had no intention of letting go. Robert closed his eyes and pressed his lips against her hair, the scent of roses wafting through his nostrils as he thanked God for her.

"I want to love someone, Robert," Rachel whispered. "I'm just so afraid that I don't know how."

"You know how," he soothed. "You simply haven't come that far as yet. One step at a time, Rachel. That is how everyone learns to walk and learning to love isn't much different." He let out a content breath when he felt her nod against his chest. "Just remember that both God and I are here for you any time you feel alone or unloved. Just call and I'll be here."

There was another nod and when she didn't release her grip he began to pray for their future together. And for the stubborn fathers who had nearly ruined their lives. Several minutes passed before Robert felt her stir against him. He released her without hesitation and looked into her face with a gentle smile when she pulled back. Rachel stared up at him in quiet thought before she leaned forward and gave him a tender kiss. When she began to pull away it was all Robert could do to keep from answering her innocent kiss with a more passionate one of his own.

'In time,' he reminded himself. 'Be patient.'

Rachel and Robert stood together and she reached over to take his hand. "I suppose we should tell him our decision."

"Will you acknowledge that you know of his illness? He did not wish me to tell you."

Rachel tightened her grip on his hand and began to walk toward the house. "Then I won't treat him differently."

"Is that wise?"

She stopped and looked up at him, puzzlement darkening her eyes. "I don't know if it's the right thing to do, but I'm tired of the secrets. The day he confides in me as a partner, or more importantly as a daughter, that is the day I shall change my actions. Not before. Do you understand?" She asked this in a voice that was almost pleading.

He nodded and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I understand, my dear."

They turned for the house once again. "Thank you, Robert," she said quietly. "I have this feeling that our marriage may work after all."

"Was there ever any doubt?"

She sent him a smile. As they walked into the house and asked Oliver to find her father, Robert couldn't help feeling a little overwhelmed. They were preparing to tell her father that they agreed to be married right away. Rachel had shown him a side of her he never thought he had a chance of seeing. And much to his surprise, his love for her was deeper than ever. He could only pray that one day she would come to him as his wife and lover. 'But she must take that step,' Robert insisted. 'All her life she has had things pushed at her, chosen for her, prepared for her, and bought for her... She's about to burst from the need of discovering who she is.'

And how to love.

Robert squeezed her hand again as they followed Oliver up to her father's private study. When Rachel paused in front of the door to look up at him, he sent her a smile and raised her hand up to his lips. She seemed to grow several inches right before his eyes as her back straightened and her chin rose in determination. The effect was breathtaking.

"Announce us, Oliver," she stated without taking her eyes from Robert's. "Both of us."

"Yes, Miss Rachel." He nodded curtly and turned to open the double doors leading to the second-story study.

"Robert first, Oliver."

He nodded again and Robert blinked in shock before turning to follow the aged butler.

"Mr. Robert Trent and Miss Rachel Samson, sir."

Her father stood by the window, looking out at the many hundreds of acres of timberland before turning to greet the couple with a dull gaze. Robert noticed the look and instantly felt pity for the man. Mr. Samson had lost so much more than he realized.

"Robert? Rachel? Have you made a decision?"

Robert felt the gentle tightening pressure of her hand in his and interpreted it as a signal to speak. "We have, sir," he said finally. "After discussing it amongst ourselves, we've decided that it would be in our own best interests---"

"Just spit it out, Robert," Mr. Samson snapped. "I don't have all day."

Robert straightened and clenched his free hand into a fist. "We agree to be married early."

Mr. Samson nodded in such a way that Robert suspected he wouldn't have had it any other way.

"With one condition, father," Rachel added in a firm voice.

Robert looked down at her expectantly.

"Our honeymoon shall not be in Europe. I have seen enough. We shall stay here, in my home state, and tour possible home sites. Then we shall begin building our home." Rachel looked to Robert and he nodded his agreement.

"Nonsense," her father was saying. "You and Robert may live in the house I have in town. Or you may stay here. No point building a house you haven't need of. Besides, I have your entire wedding trip planned---"

"I appreciate the thought," Rachel said stiffly, "but we shall stay in Massachusetts, father. There we shall find a place to build our home." She tilted her chin upward and her grip on Robert's hand tightened. "You can sell the townhouse, father, for I shall not live there."

Henry Samson crossed his arms and nodded curtly, then turned back toward the window. "You better find a gown."

They were essentially dismissed. When they stood in the hall, both Rachel and Robert visibly relaxed.

"He certainly doesn't appear ill to me," Robert whispered as they made their way downstairs.

"He's never been sick a day of his life." Rachel released Robert's hand and smoothed her skirts. "This is why I find it so hard to believe."

"You don't think he would---"

"No," Rachel said quickly as they descended the stairs. "No, I suppose not. But why has he now become gravely ill when it so conveniently makes us bend to his will?"

"Rachel, why do you believe your father would do that?"

She sighed with a slight shake of her head and turned toward the garden. "I don't know. Some part of me knows that he wouldn't use circumstances as these to control me, but then the thoughts come."

"Would you care to go for a walk and discuss it?"

"Yes," Rachel said simply. "I haven't done so much talking in years. It's an odd feeling to be able to trust someone so freely."

"I pray that I won't ever let you down."

"All people do eventually, Robert. The fact that you come to me honestly when you've made a mistake impresses me the most and allows me to trust you above many other people I know."

Robert was silent and Rachel sent him a sidelong glance to gauge his reaction to her confession. He noticed. "Thank you, Rachel. That means a lot to me."

"I had no intention of embarrassing you."

"You don't know how long I've waited for you to say anything pleasant to me," he told her gently.

"Have I been that awful?"

The two of them began walking down one of the many garden paths, hands clasped separately behind their back. Robert drank in the scent of her beside him, as well as the peace in the air as they walked side by side. How could the day get better?

"It was hard, I must admit, seeing how you mistrusted me almost to the point of hatred. Harder still when I knew that only I had caused this mistrust because of my dishonesty to you. All that kept me going was the thought that I might have been the only person who wanted what you did."

Rachel reached out for his hand as they walked and clasped it tightly. "I don't believe I hated you, Robert. I was disappointed and hurt because you hadn't confided in me, yes. I was no doubt even a little angry that this choice had been taken away. Then there was the embarrassment, of course, but I don't believe I ever hated you."

"I'm glad of that," he whispered in a slightly husky voice. He cleared his throat. "I really am glad."

"And I never meant to hurt you by pulling away whenever it seemed we were getting along. Just the thought of caring for someone my father had chosen..."

"It's all right, Rachel. You've had a rough time as well."

She stopped and looked up at him. "Why do you still wish to marry me? I know you say you love me, but how can you feel that for someone who is so cold that she's not miserable her father is dying? How can you love someone who's done nothing but toy with your feelings and use you? I don't understand."

"True love is patient and blind, Rachel. It says that in the Bible. I simply began to pray I would see you through God's eyes. He sees past all the pain and anger to the inner woman who isn't shown because of fear."

She looked down and dropped his hand. "So why don't you ever pull me into a tender embrace?"

Robert's breath died in his throat.

"I've given you all the openings and invitations you could want and you have never done a thing. As much as I appreciate your thoughtfulness for my feelings…" She tilted her head up slowly and a tear dropped down her cheek. "Am I not desirable to you?"

He took hold of her arms in a gentle grip. "Don't you ever think that, Rachel. It has taken my control to keep from dragging you to some remote place where we could be alone together. Alone and intimate so that I could show you how much I love you." Robert smiled and his hands softly rubbed her arms. "You've had so many things forced on you that I didn't want to be another one of those pushing you in some direction other than where you wished to go. I've always allowed you to lead me."

She shrugged out of his grip and turned away, her back stiff with anger. "I am so tired of leading, Robert. Once in a while it would be nice to be led or pushed instead of constantly having to think out each and every perspective before taking a step."

"But every time your father---"

"Things are different with my father," she snapped as she whirled to face him. "Don't you understand that? Can't you see that the only reason I fight against every decree my father makes is so that he shall see that I have what it takes? I don't want to lead you, Robert. I want us to be partners. I want you to show me what you want or what you believe we both need." She threw up her hands in exasperation before coming to stand toe to toe with him. "I want to be a woman when I'm with you!"

"You are definitely that," he said.

He pulled her into his arms and felt his heart nearly burst when her arms came around his neck after their lips met. 'If I'm doing the wrong thing,' he prayed as their kiss deepened, 'forgive me for enjoying it so much.'

* * *

Rachel turned from the third-story window of her room with a sigh, dragging her eyes from where Robert stood by the bench and the oak tree. So many questions and emotions ran through her mind. An unsteady hand rose to her lips as the passions resurfaced. Rachel was uncertain as to how she was to face them. They were new. Unexpected. She dropped her hand and stepped back toward the window. 'What do I do,' she asked as she pressed a hand against the glass. Rachel flushed when she remembered how she had clung to him after their kiss, comfortable in their close embrace. 'Never before have I felt this way about any man. Do I love him, or is it simply the needs and wants I have hidden for so long breaking free?'

"Do I love you," she whispered as she rested her forehead against the glass.

He looked up at that moment and sent her a smile, barely recognizable from the height of her room. Rachel simply continued to stare down, their gazes locking. 'I want to trust you, Robert,' she told him with her mind. 'I want to love you as you love me, but there is such a large part of me that is still so afraid to let anyone in. Now I've let you see a part of myself that has been hidden for so long… I'm waiting to see what you will do with that little trust. Will you abuse it? Or will you patiently wait for more? I submitted to you a challenge to lead me where you thought we needed to go and you did so without hesitation. Will you continue even when it seems I'm pushing away? Will you pull me toward you again, or patiently stand by while I wait and think?'

'There is nothing on this earth that will keep me from marrying you,' he had said.

Robert's words came back to her so clear that she couldn't help but smile. Hadn't he told her he wouldn't lie to her? Hadn't she seen that statement proven time and again? She watched him as he pulled his eyes away and headed for the house with one last, longing look in her direction. When he could no longer be seen from her window, she turned and made her way for the closet to pull out a walking dress of ivory and pale blue.

She had made the excuse of going to change for their trip to town so that she could retreat from him and the new emotions. He had a strange effect on her: he made her feel like a woman and not a business tycoon.

"Maggie? Are you here?"

Maggie appeared from the adjacent room and gave Rachel a smile. "I guess what Mr. Trent had to tell you wasn't all that bad."

Maggie stepped forward to take the dress from Rachel's hands and laid it across the bed before turning to help Rachel out of her morning dress. "What did you two decide?"

"We have agreed to be married early. Then we will take our honeymoon here in Massachusetts while looking for a place to build our new home."

"But what did Mr. Trent have to say that had him so upset?"

Rachel dropped her eyes to her hands and sighed. "I'd rather not talk about that just now, Mags. If you don't mind."

Maggie was quiet a moment. "Of course I don't mind. Just remember that I'm here for you if you need an ear."

"I think I should talk to Robert now, Mags, don't you?"

There was a shocked silence and then a sigh. "Yes, Rachel. I definitely think you should talk to him now. I'm happy you see that."

"So am I."

"Why do you need to change into your walking dress? Are you and Mr. Trent going into town this morning?"

"Yes, we need to rewire my friend and ask if her husband can have my gown ready before the end of this week."

"Is it possible?"

"I don't know. I don't even know why I'm going to all the trouble. She wasn't even a very good friend of mine. I didn't even much care for the other gown her husband designed, even though I was foolish enough to wear it."

"Whose suggestion was it about the wedding gown?"

Rachel smiled. "Robert's. He said he liked the other gown and thought that the gentleman who designed it would do a great job."

"But what will you do if they wire you back saying it's impossible?"

"I suppose I'll wear my mother's gown. She and I are about the same size. I might be a tad smaller in the bust line."

"Would you like for me to get it down from the attic and air it out for you? It wouldn't be a problem to get it fitted to your needs, just in case."

"That would be wonderful, Maggie. Thank you."

Maggie finished doing up the last clasp and fluffed the sleeves and ribbons before fixing Rachel's hair. "Will you and Mr. Trent be staying in town all afternoon? Or should I have a late lunch prepared for you?"

"I had planned a walk around Boston. I would really enjoy showing him my childhood haunts."

"That's a lovely sentiment, Rachel. I think he'll appreciate it."

"I hope so, Maggie. You know how much I'm opening myself up to him. What if he laughs? What if it disgusts him?"

"Rachel, I don't believe anything you could do would disgust him. He practically worships the slippers you stand in."

"You didn't see his face when I had practically thrown myself at Todd, Maggie. That hurt him deeply."

"Does he love you any less?"

"I don't know," Rachel sighed. "I've asked him how he can love me after all I've done to him and he simply says that true love is patient and blind."

"It is. Why do you think you were able to love Todd when you were younger? You looked past all that was on the outside and let him into your heart. When your father sent you away, though, it hurt. I think that's why you're fighting this relationship with Mr. Trent. You don't want to be sent away."

"I'm not fighting it that hard, Mags," Rachel murmured when she recalled the kiss as well as her and Robert's last conversation. "We shared quite an... exchange down in the garden."

"I'm glad. Don't you feel human again? Aren't you beginning to forget about all those awful things that had happened to you in Europe?"

Rachel nodded and reached out cold fingers to the book of poetry on her oak dresser. "I was finally able to face my past and put it behind me last night, Maggie. When Todd left that part of me left too. I felt it." Rachel turned toward Maggie with a lost look on her face. "Who am I now?"

"Lord Almighty can show you that." Maggie laid a hand on Rachel's as it rested on the poetry. "You've said good-bye to this part of you, Rachel. Now you need to fill that empty section of your heart with something else. Just ask God to help you. He'll show you the way through the fear and suspicion and help you reach out."

Rachel looked at Maggie with a smile. "You never have given up on me, have you?"

"Not once. What are friends for?"

"Do you believe Robert will be the same forgiving friend that you have been?"

"I know he will, Rachel, because I have this feeling about him. Don't be afraid to trust this man. He won't betray your trust."

Rachel nodded and turned to go, the book of poetry clasped tightly in her hands. She met Robert downstairs and took hold of one of his hands when he made a move to start down the front steps. He sent her a questioning look, followed by a reassuring smile. Rachel glanced down at the book in her hand, then lovingly placed it in Robert's. He looked down at it in shock.

"This is for you, Robert. A way for me to show my trust in you." She touched the book with a finger as her eyes drifted to the worn leather. "This is the book of poetry I was given by a certain young man before I left for Europe. He and I had spent our relationship jotting down thoughts and poems of our own in the margins. I give it to you now so that you may have a part of my past."

"Rachel, this is... this is..." He smiled and caressed her cheek with a finger. "Thank you, my dear. You have no idea how much this means to me."

She stood on tiptoes to place a light kiss on his cheek, then pulled back with a smile before she took his arm and followed him to the carriage.

Nine

The carriage pulled to a stop outside a large brick building and Rachel looked at Robert with wide eyes. "The orphanage?"

"I see you know it," Robert said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Rachel looked out the window of the carriage once again and nodded her head. "Yes, I know it well. All the boys and girls had such stories of adventure. They seemed to have so much fun, too, even though their lives were shambles."

Robert stepped out of the carriage and offered her his hand. "Their every day on this earth is an adventure, Rachel, but their lives are seldom 'shambles'."

Rachel slipped her hand in his and carefully stepped down. She clung tighter to his hand and stared at the front doors. "Those were simply the words of my father," she whispered.

Robert made a move to step forward, but Rachel stopped him with a tug on his arm. He turned to look at her. "Rachel? What is it?"

"I don't know."

Robert glanced at the large double doors, then turned to Rachel and took hold of both her hands. "Rachel, look at me." She pulled her eyes away and looked up at him. "It is quite alright if you don't wish to visit the children today. We will go. I simply wanted to spend as much time with them as possible and thought you would enjoy it as well."

Rachel's eyes dropped. "I spent so much time here as a young girl I don't know if I can go back. I want to put my past behind me, not travel back to face the memories again."

"There is nothing wrong with facing your past, Rachel. It's that which makes it possible for us to move forward. Do you want your past to always have control over you?" Robert tilted her head up and sent her a smile. "The children have heard so much about you."

Rachel turned for the door just as it opened with several shrieks. Children of all ages and sizes came funneling out calling Robert's name and throwing themselves into his arms as he knelt down with a smile. Rachel watched the spectacle and sighed. 'He shall make an excellent father one day.' He stood, taking one of the younger girls in his arms, and sent Rachel a small smile.

"This is Rachel, everyone."

The children swarmed around her, taking hold of her hands as they asked all types of questions. She laughed, the fear retreating as she allowed herself to be dragged into the orphanage.

"Help, help," she called to Robert trailing behind her. "I've been kidnapped."

"Do tell."

Rachel laughed again and sighed as the pleasant memories of her childhood came flooding back to soothe her heavy heart.

* * *

"I'm so pleased that you enjoyed yourself today, Rachel," Robert told her as they walked through the garden of her father's home.

Rachel lightly fanned herself. "Thank you for having me."

"I had no idea you were such an avid child lover." They sat on the fallen log by the creek that ran through her father's property. "It was remarkable to see how they all took to you. Frankly, it made me a little envious."

"Envious," Rachel asked him in amusement. "There is nothing for you to be envious about, Robert. To see the look of devotion and love on their faces when they look at you should be proof enough that they see you as the parent they lost. You should feel honored to be so highly adored."

"I am," he said quietly. "What I meant was that I was envious of those looks of love and happiness I saw on your face when you were with them." He paused to pick up a small, round pebble at his feet. "Those were the very gazes I had hoped to see directed toward me."

Rachel's fan closed slowly and she dropped her hand to her lap. "It could have been that way, I suppose, if I wasn't such a headstrong young woman."

Silence descended over them and Rachel studied her fan while lightly chewing her lip.

"Now I've ruined a perfectly lovely day," he sighed. "I apologize, Rachel. These comments should have been kept to myself. Destroying the peace that I feel between us at this moment had not been my intention by those remarks. Please forgive me."

"You are forgiven," she said quietly.

Another uncomfortable silence fell and Robert suddenly stood. Rachel looked up and caught the ever-familiar touch of sadness in his eyes.

"I shall see you this evening."

Rachel nodded and watched him as he left, a strange uneasiness causing her stomach to churn as her head throbbed. She brought a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes with a deep breath. 'What is wrong with me? In Europe I was never sick one day, now I have headaches that rival those of anything I've ever known.'

"Rachel?"

Maggie's voice sounded behind her and she raised her head. "Yes, Maggie?"

"Did you have a pleasant day?"

"Yes, I did, thank you." Rachel examined Maggie's face and slowly stood. "What is it, Maggie?"

"Mr. Trent's father arrived today while you and he were out."

Rachel took in a gasp. "Was Robert told?"

Maggie nodded. "As soon as I saw him."

"I had no idea he was expected so soon... Of course, with the wedding plans set into motion so early, he would have had to come, wouldn't he?" Rachel shook her head and paced in front of the talkative creek. "Why do I feel this is such a bad thing, Maggie? Why am I suddenly so afraid?"

"Maybe because you know that your father would throw together a party to welcome his long time friend," Maggie asked quietly.

Rachel froze and looked over at her with a barely withheld moan. "No, Maggie. He didn't."

"He did, Rachel. The guests are arriving as we speak."

Rachel threw her hands up in the air and started toward the house. "I have only just arrived from town, Maggie. When did he suppose I would have time to prepare for this get-together?"

"He said that if you didn't inform him of your plans ahead of time, there was no way for him to let you know of his."

"Typical."

"He does have a point, Rachel."

"I know, Maggie, but I never supposed he would throw an affair of this magnitude in my face. He abhors parties. All his friends know this! How was I to know that he would suddenly desire one to be held for his friend's arrival?"

"I don't know, Rachel," Maggie said. "All I know is that you have very little time to ready yourself."

Rachel hurried up the stairs, nearly colliding with Robert who was on his way down.

He steadied her. "I see Maggie has told you."

She nodded and brushed a stray hair from her eyes as he dropped his hands to his sides. "I believe it is a conspiracy, Robert, so that we never have our feet firmly planted beneath us. Never a moments peace to catch our breath."

"Now, Rachel, don't upset yourself. Everything shall be fine."

Rachel took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then gave Robert a slow nod. "I know, I just hate the fact that I am unprepared."

"I understand, but relax and ready yourself now. You'll be fine." He placed her hand on his arm again and led her the remaining way to her bedroom, then placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "Save me a dance on your card," he whispered in her ear.

She gazed up at him a moment, then smiled hesitantly and entered her room to close the door softly behind her.

* * *

Robert smiled at her door for several seconds, then tucked his hands in his pockets and whistled as he made his way to his room. His father's sudden arrival would not take away the happiness he felt at that moment. It was amazing to see the difference in Rachel caused by constant honesty and prayer. 'Thank You, Lord,' he prayed now. 'She has come so far in such a short time and You are the cause.'

"Robert, my boy," came a loud voice behind him.

Robert froze, turning sharply to see the towering figure of his robust father. "Father?"

Bernard Trent stomped forward and pulled his son into a bear hug, then gazed at him as his large hands pressed down on Robert's shoulders.

"So surprised to see me, son? Surely, you didn't think I would miss my only son's wedding. Pshaw," he laughed.

"I simply believed you would be down with the arriving guests, father. They are, after all, here to honor your arrival."

"Nonsense," Bernard Trent boomed with a hard slap on his son's back. "This is the engagement party that should have been thrown days ago. But you know how Hank detests social affairs such as these."

Robert nodded with a faint smile and was led to the upstairs library opposite his room. Bernard Trent closed the door after him and gestured Robert to a chair. He took the one opposite.

"So have you been well, son?"

"Yes, father, thank you. And you? How is Barbara?"

"Your stepmother," Bernard asked in his loud voice. "Oh, she's well enough. She's downstairs in fact, waiting for Rachel's arrival."

"I am afraid Rachel and I shall be a bit tardy, father. We have just now arrived from town and are not dressed for the occasion."

"It's to be expected." Bernard rubbed his chin with massive fingers. "Son, how are things between you and Rachel?"

Robert held back a cringe. "They are fine, father. Why do you ask?"

Bernard hesitated and then waved the question aside. "Nothing, my boy, nothing. Just curious."

"Curious about what, father? Surely, you don't suppose anything shall go wrong with our marriage, do you? After all, we know so much about each other." Robert couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice.

"Is something bothering you, son?"

Robert stood with a shake of his head. "Of course not, father. I really must be getting ready so that I won't keep the guests waiting too long."

Robert was halted at the door by a booming question voiced behind him.

"You know I'm proud of you, don't you, son?"

Robert turned a moment and sent his father a smile. "Yes, father. I know."

The door closed softly behind him and he strode to his room, ignoring Houston's agitated movements as he hurriedly dressed. He knew his father was proud of him, in his own way, but it was hard to hide that he knew their plans to control the two of them. It was hard to remember that they were doing it out of love. Robert viewed himself in the full-length mirror, then left the room to hurry downstairs. He wished he could have met Rachel outside her room, but unfortunately, the guests awaited his presence. Rachel would have to make an entrance of her own.

Robert entered the salon where the guests had gathered and wished them all fond hellos, one by one accepting their congratulations and affirmations of their presence at the wedding.

"When will the lovely bride-to-be grace us with her presence?"

Robert turned with a smile and gave his stepmother a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, Barbara. How was the trip?"

"Exhausting," she complained as she gracefully touched her silver hair. Her emerald green fan swished closed and she tapped him on the shoulder with it. "And you, young man, were not at the station to meet us."

"My apologies, Barbara, but I was not informed you were arriving. Could you not have sent a cable to warn me?"

She smiled and opened her fan with a grace and ease that easily rivaled Rachel's. Robert smiled when he realized that knowledge would likely irritate her to no end.

"Robert Trent, you have known we would arrive for days."

"I assure you I have not," he protested gently. "For if I had, I would have met you with a carriage drawn by a dozen white horses."

She laughed and took him by the arm. "Flatterer. Why couldn't I have had a son like you, my dear boy?"

Robert patted her hand. "One of me is sufficient, don't you think?"

"True enough. A person can get so tired of sugar, and you are sweetness itself."

Robert chuckled and turned his eyes toward the entrance of the large room when he felt an odd sensation in his stomach. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her standing there. Rachel was dressed in a velvet gown of dark burgundy, a string of pearls glistening at her neck that enhanced the silky paleness of her skin. Arm-length gloves set off the color of her gown just as the pearls arranged in her hair twinkled with the candlelight, mirroring the brightness in her eyes.

"I see she has arrived," came a low voice beside him. "Either that, or you have fallen in love with an angel that is not of this world."

Robert looked down at his stepmother with a smile before leaving her to welcome Rachel to the party. He took Rachel's hands and gazed down at her with twinkling eyes and a broad smile.

"You look radiant, Rachel."

She smiled and gracefully opened her ever-present fan as she took his arm. "You look dashing as well, Mr. Trent."

"Ah," he said. "We are back to the land of 'prim and proper' I see."

"Of course."

"Very well, Miss Samson," he said in a soft voice as he bent close to her. "I shall be etiquette itself." A ghost of a smile lingered on her lips and Robert felt her fingers squeeze his arm.

"Who is this adorable creature," his stepmother cooed as she rushed toward them with hands extended.

"Miss Samson, I would like to present you to Barbara Trent."

"My dear girl," Barbara said in a voice as cultured as smooth cream, "you must call me Barbara."

Rachel took her hands in greeting, allowing herself to be fussed over and coddled with a grace and patience that amazed Robert. He watched the exhausting meeting between his stepmother and soon-to-be wife with a satisfied smile. They loved her. At least Barbara did. Would Rachel receive the same instant acceptance from his father? Robert pushed the question from his mind. It didn't matter. He and Rachel had begun to form a friendship that would make it possible for future things. What did it matter if she was accepted by his father or not?

"Bernard," Barbara called to her husband. "Bernard, you must meet this delightful young woman."

Robert looked to his father and the smile slowly disappeared as the moment of truth stealthily appeared before him. His father's opinion mattered greatly. Just as he had always been driven to please his father while growing from a boy to a man, he now wished Rachel to be accepted into this same family. He sincerely wanted her to be a part of it.

"Mr. Trent," Rachel greeted him, "I have so looked forward to meeting the man responsible for raising this talented gentleman." Rachel gestured toward Robert with a smile as she gracefully opened her fan.

"Miss Samson." Bernard Trent bent over her hand with an elegant bow, rising to clap Robert on the back. "She is a beauty, isn't she, Robert?"

Rachel hid a smile behind her fan, sending Robert a look that he couldn't interpret. "You honor me, sir," she responded.

"Nonsense," Bernard said with a rumbling laugh, "just stating the facts as I see them, my dear. And don't allow a single man tell you differently."

The gathering of people began to move to a larger room as the sound of a small chamber orchestra was heard filtering through the rooms of the gigantic house. Robert offered Rachel his arm and she took it with another hidden smile as they followed his parents to the ballroom.

"He is charming," she finally said in a low voice only Robert could hear.

"He is my father," Robert told her with a slight grimace. "There has never been a word to describe my father."

"And your mother is a doll. I adore her already and I have only just met her."

Robert smiled with a nod. "Yes, she is unique."

"How long will they be staying, do you know?"

Robert shook his head as he led her into the ballroom, guiding her to one of the corners by the open French doors. "I do not know. I assume they will return home once we have left on our honeymoon."

Rachel suddenly fell silent and Robert looked down at her with an odd look. "You're very quiet."

She looked up at him, her fan pausing before she dropped her eyes. "I suppose the fact that I'm getting married at the end of the week is beginning to become a reality in my mind. It's a trifle overwhelming."

"It's understandable. You've been on your own a long time." He turned to the table beside them and served her a small cup of punch. "It seems a dream to me, as well."

She accepted it and took a couple sips, then resumed the steady motion of her fan. "Am I ready for this?" Rachel looked up at him, her fan pausing mid-stroke. "I must admit, I don't know if I'm ready to be married. My training has focused on business, not matters of the heart. Or children. Or how to please my husband. I don't believe I'm qualified for marriage."

The urge to pull her into a comforting embrace took hold of him with a ferocity that he barely controlled. Instead, he sent her an understanding smile. "We will learn together."

Their eyes locked for several moments until Robert forced himself to look away. 'How can I comfort her among these strangers,' he asked himself. 'She needs reassurances that I can't give because of the many ears that surround us. Oh, Rachel, of all the times to realize that you are truly getting married, did it have to be now?'

"Robert," his father called as he approached them. "My boy, I'm going to steal your beautiful companion for this next dance. You don't mind, do you? Of course not."

And with those few words, Bernard Trent deposited her cup into Robert's hands and twirled away onto the dance floor. Robert watched them a moment, then turned to make his way into the crisp air of the night. The ballroom led out onto another section of the extensive garden that he and Rachel had begun to view as their own private sanctuary. He heard the gentle laugh of the creek and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees and bushes that housed the many types of birds and small woodland creatures, yet they didn't comfort him tonight.

Robert paused by a bush that held several beautiful flowers and picked one. He stared down at it for several quiet minutes until he heard the slight rustle of skirts behind him.

"Escaping?" a voice behind him asked.

He smiled and brought the flower to his lips.

"Is something bothering you, Robert?"

"No, Barbara, just thinking."

"About the future, I suppose? You always were a level-headed young man." She came to stand beside him and took the flower from his hands. "But you can't fool me, Robert. Something is troubling you. What is it?"

"To tell you the truth, Barbara, I'm not sure. I have this ominous feeling that something isn't right."

"How exasperating."

He chuckled with a nod of his head. "Life usually is, Barbara."

She was silent for several moments. "I know I once told you that I didn't want to be called 'mother' by you, Robert, but I've changed my mind."

Robert looked down at her with a look of surprise. "Are you sure? You were terribly insistent when you told me that. You said that it brought back too many bad memories of your own ungrateful children, I believe."

She nodded and looked down at the pale lavender flower. "Yes, you are correct. Those were my exact words. But, since then, I've come to know the love of my life and light of my heart. You, my boy. You have given me nothing but joy all the days and years I've known you. You have shown me acceptance and love. The least I could do is have you call me mother, for I truly think of you as my son."

Robert took her free hand and brought it to his lips with a smile. "How can I argue with such logic as that... mother."

Her light blue eyes twinkled with tears and she touched his cheek. "Come back to the party, Robert dear. You haven't danced with your charming fiancée and you need to correct that this instant."

He nodded and watched her go, then passed a quick look to the stars before following after her. Once he entered the room, his eyes were instantly drawn to Rachel's and he sent her a reassuring smile as he made his way toward her. She was surrounded by several members of the board and had become trapped into a discussion of the stock market, as well as how the economy was influenced by the overall attitude of the consumer.

Rachel was winning the discussion, of course.

"Excuse me, gentleman," Robert cut in as he positioned himself by her side. "I believe I have the next dance with this charming young woman and I must steal her from you."

Robert led her onto the dance floor and gazed down at her with a smile. "Have I told you that you are the most radiant woman here?"

"I believe some comment on my outward appearance was mentioned earlier this evening," she teased.

"Well, then I must have been inflicted with a temporary lapse of memory by the vision of loveliness that I find in my arms." She laughed and the sound seemed music to his ears. He squeezed her hand and repositioned his in the small of her back as they danced. "I see you have impressed the board members. This will please your father."

"And I have been accepted by not only your mother, but your father as well," she reassured him. "So you need not worry on that any longer."

Robert gazed down at her in mild surprise. "How did you know that was bothering me?"

"Your mother," she said with a smile. "We chatted a while before she went to fetch you." Rachel dropped her eyes, then gazed back up at him with a strange look in them. "Besides, the look on your face was obvious enough to anyone. You need not be concerned any longer, Robert. I am acceptable to both parties."

"And if you weren't, I would not care," he told her.

"I'm not sure I believe you," she said as she dropped her eyes again.

He held her slightly closer. "Miss Samson, you are not an antique to be bartered and approved. You are a human being who is loved and cared for. You are to be my wife and that is all that matters."

Her hand tightened in his, but her head remained lowered as they continued to move gracefully around the dance floor.

"Robert?" Rachel's voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

"Yes?"

She looked up slowly and caught his eyes. "I have been meaning to tell you…" Her voice drifted as her eyes searched his.

"What is it?" He gently squeezed her hand. "What is bothering you?"

"It is only that I haven't yet told you… I haven't yet told you that I forgive you."

Robert was confused for a moment or two and then a smile danced in his eyes and on his lips as the pleasant emotion of relief filled his heart. "You have no idea how relieved I am, Rachel."

"I have meant to tell you sooner. Truly I have. I am sorry that it has taken me so long."

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "Rachel, it does not matter to me how long it has taken. You have forgiven me and that was more than I dared hope for. Thank you, Rachel. Thank you so very much."

A small smile trembled on her lips as she watched his face. "You're welcome, Robert."

She said his name in such a way that it seemed almost a caress.

* * *

"Good morning, Rachel." Robert greeted her as she met him at the base of the stairs. "How are you feeling this lovely morning?"

Rachel pressed down the surprising feeling of joy at seeing him so early in the morning and turned for the garden. "I am very well. And you?"

"I was hoping you would join me for an early morning carriage ride."

Rachel halted by the garden entrance and turned to face him with a glance of mild surprise. "A carriage ride? But it's just now dawn. Isn't it a bit early for venturing out?"

Robert looked over his shoulder, then led Rachel a little way from the house. "I must confess, Rachel, I need to get away before my father discovers I am awake."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Robert sighed, sitting on the oak tree bench with another glance toward the house. "My father is a demanding man, Rachel. To be sure, yours is as well, but in a different way. When my father is present, my presence is demanded at his side so that I may learn and observe all he does. I am then drilled and tested to ensure I have learned properly."

Rachel sat beside him, an unfamiliar sense of compassion warming her eyes. "Running is never an end to a means."

Robert smiled. "I understand this, and if I thought he would allow it, I would simply ask to be excused for the remainder of this week."

"Perhaps he will," Rachel put in. "How can he not understand how pressing these last few days will be? There are still so many arrangements to be made before we can proceed with the wedding."

"To that, I have no doubt, but he would simply assure me that he and your father would be more than adequate to do the job. Besides," Robert added with a smirk that sent her heart racing, "that isn't why I wish to be excused."

"What on earth could be more important than our wedding," she asked calmly.

Robert covered the hand in her lap with his and she took in a slow breath. What she saw as she gazed into his brown eyes caught her by surprise. 'Have I ever seen such a look of love and devotion as what simmers there? Yet, how does a man come to care for a woman so deeply in such a short amount of time? True, he has been raised with the idea of knowing me to be his bride, but he has never set eyes on me before that day on the train.' Rachel's mind raced. Hadn't he also told her God had shown him a vision of her as his wife? 'But how could he love a vision?'

"Rachel," he said softly, breaking into her thoughts. "Rachel, I want to spend these last few days with you, not my father. We have had so little time to explore our thoughts and feelings on life and that is what I wish to do."

"But the wedding," she protested without much conviction.

Rachel knew very well that her father and his would be able to handle the arrangements far better than she. Was she afraid of spending so much time with this man who cared for her so deeply? Was she still hesitant to trust him with her heart for fear he would break it? Or was she fearful of her own firmly concealed emotions? Fearful they would burst the walls and roam free.

"The wedding plans will run just as smoothly without us, if not smoother," Robert assured her. "I just wish to spend as much time with you as possible, my dear. I promise not to ravish you, or kiss you within an inch of your life..." Robert paused with a smile that caused her gaze to drop.

"I suppose this is the reason to which you were referring when you mentioned that your father would not excuse you?"

Robert released her hand and leaned his back against the oak tree. "It is. This is why I have decided to play truant and suffer the consequences. I assure you the punishment is well worth suffering for my time with you."

Rachel felt a blush rising to her cheeks and turned away, all the while wishing for her fan.

"Are you sure it is wise? Should we be alone so close to the day of our wedding," she asked.

"Now you are concerned for our reputation," Robert commented with a chuckle. "Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. If you don't wish to be alone with me, you have but to say and I will ask it no longer."

Rachel shook her head slightly and turned back to face him. When she did, her eyes couldn't pull away. "That isn't it, sir," she told him quietly.

He sat up and leaned toward her with a playful smile. "Then, Miss Samson, are you afraid of me," he asked in a whisper.

A slight breeze tickled his black hair and blew the familiar scent of his cologne into her nostrils. She forced her breathing to remain calm, but couldn't steady the beating of her heart as she gazed into his eyes. Those twinkling gems of emotion that seemed to make her feel whole. They made her human and gave her a sense of belonging. Was she afraid of them? Was she afraid of those eyes that laughed? Or of those lips that fit hers so perfectly?

He leaned a little closer and she could feel his every breath warming her face. 'Why doesn't he kiss me,' she groaned inwardly.

"I am afraid of no one," she said in a voice little louder than a whisper.

"Except maybe yourself," he countered. His voice was a bit huskier than usual.

The two of them sat there in silence for several moments, their eyes speaking for centuries as their faces remained scant inches apart. Finally, with a slow movement that seemed to torture Rachel more than the hint of the kiss itself, he guided her into the strength of his arms, his lips finding hers with a touch as gentle as a rose petal. She drew her arms up to encircle his neck, amazing herself when she discovered her fingers had buried themselves in his silky raven hair. His lips touched hers again and again and then they pulled away, hovering so close that she could still sense their slight touch.

"Rachel," Robert whispered unevenly. "Rachel, I need to know."

She opened her eyes slowly, her breath coming in short puffs as the teasing touch of his velvety lips on hers wreaked havoc on her emotions.

"I need to know if you're thinking of him," he finished.

Rachel gazed up into his eyes, seeing there the need that she had come to believe was only hers. He wanted her to care for only him, to think of him instead of the ghost from her past. She tried to speak, to form words that could reassure him her thoughts strangely included only him, but nothing came. She attempted to shake her head, but her eyes were fixed on his and unable to move. Instead, her fingers buried themselves a little further into his hair and she tilted her chin just enough to increase the pressure of her lips on his.

Rachel closed her eyes, hesitantly allowing herself to enjoy the caress of his lips as he pulled her closer to him. So close she could feel the beat of his heart echoing hers. A small voice protested her display and it was quickly silenced when his lips migrated from her lips to her throat, pausing at the wild pulse. Rachel's eyes fluttered and a spark of fear began a flame of panic.

"Robert," she choked out. "Robert, I...I..."

His lips found hers once more and the panic spluttered and died. Then he was pushing away, quickly untangling her arms from around his neck to stand and run his hands through his hair as he stepped a few paces away. When he turned back to face her, he knelt before her and placed both of her palms to his lips. Rachel could only gaze down at him in shocked silence as she desperately tried to calm her breathing.

"Rachel, my dear lady, I am so sorry for this display," he said in a strange voice. "By no means am I saying this is not exactly what I have wished to do from the moment I met you, but now I feel I have betrayed your trust in me."

Rachel gazed down at him in confusion, her mind numb.

"Such a short time ago I claimed I would not kiss you in such a way and I have broken my word." He dropped his eyes and kissed the palms of her hands once more. "Please forgive me."

Rachel smiled as she pulled one of her hands free. He looked up at her, but she remained silent as she simply straightened his hair with gentle touches of her slim fingers. Finished, she dropped her eyes to his and traced his jaw before taking his hand once more.

"I assure you, sir," she told him in a soft voice, "there is nothing to forgive."

* * *

The morning and early afternoon had passed too quickly for Robert.

He and Rachel laughed together as he escorted her up the front steps, her hands looped around his arm as she smiled up into his face. With a content sigh, Robert caressed her hands and wished the day would never end. His father would be furious about his disappearance, but Robert was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on business -- or even wedding plans -- when Rachel was so close at hand. Who could blame him for the way he acted? After so many years of making due with daydreams and an active imagination, he finally had her by his side.

Her smiles.

Her laughter.

Even her frowns.

They were new experiences that he couldn't pass up. He hoped he could make his father understand. Perhaps Barbara would help?

"Robert."

His father never shouted, or even raised his volume, for the effect from his booming voice was always the same. Dread. However, today not even his father's disappointment could bring Robert down.

Robert looked up from Rachel's face and gave his father a nod. "Good afternoon, father."

Bernard Trent's face was hard and Robert could see the annoyance in his eyes and the set of his jaw. Rachel's fingers tightened on his arm and Robert caressed them with his thumb while holding his father's gaze.

"Robert, I need to speak with you." Bernard sent Rachel a nod that seemed to be a dismissal, then refocused his attention on Robert. "I feel we need to come to an understanding."

Robert turned to Rachel and took each one of her hands in his. Bringing each to his lips, he smiled as he kissed them. "I'll see you this evening, Rachel," he promised quietly.

Rachel squeezed his hands, returned his smile, and sent her future father-in-law a slightly reproachful glance before passing to the main staircase and out of earshot. Robert watched her go with a smirk and smiled wide when she turned to look at him before disappearing into her room. His smile was abruptly removed from his face, though, when his eyes met the hard ones of his father.

"I thought we had an agreement, son." Bernard said slowly.

Robert's smirk returned and he crossed his arms as he adjusted his stance to that of nonchalance. "We do, father. I marry Rachel and you and Mr. Samson live happily-ever-after."

A vein on Bernard's forehead suddenly appeared.

"Don't get flippant, Robert. I expressly told you to meet me in my room when you had finished breakfast. Instead, you had a picnic packed and disappeared God-only-knows-where with Hank's daughter."

"You told me to meet with you as soon as possible." Robert uncrossed his arms and spread them wide. "This is as soon as was possible."

"Son, it's nearly four o'clock in the afternoon," Bernard said stiffly. "You are spending entirely too much time with her. When are you going to take your position in life serious and resume your studies?"

"Father, I was spending too much time worrying about the future and not enough with whom I was required to marry. I felt led to change that."

The vein pulsated and Bernard turned a little pink. "Led? You felt led?" Bernard sputtered a little more, but no words came.

"Yes, I felt led." Robert sighed. "Father, you know how I feel about her. Is it so horrible to want to actually know a little about each other before the wedding? Our marriage isn't a business merger, it is two people agreeing to spend the rest of their lives together. I want it to be as painless as possible for her. Is that so wrong?"

Bernard visibly regained control and rested a massive hand on Robert's shoulder. "Hank and I have things planned for you that you don't yet know---"

"Father, I know more than you think."

Bernard's hand dropped to his side and he examined his boy's face. "And what is that?"

"That you expected me to be the one to control Rachel into doing that which you or her father wished. Even though she was to be the chairperson, I was to use my influence as her husband to direct her decisions." Robert shook his head. "I will not do it, father. If she asks my opinion I will offer it, but I refuse to manipulate her. It was unfair of you to expect it."

Bernard sighed deeply. "Robert, you do not know the entire story so it is impossible for you to see the big picture. I wish I could ask you to trust me."

"I wish I could make you trust me," Robert countered. "I am a man, father. I bypassed pacifiers for pipes long ago, yet you don't see it. Why is it so hard for you to entrust me to your training and my intelligence?"

Bernard nodded slowly, his brow lowering in thought. "My experiences make it difficult for me to do so, son. You have not lived my life so I don't expect you to understand."

"Father, I want to understand."

"I know," he said quietly. Bernard smiled suddenly and clapped Robert on the back. "I'm proud of you. I suppose you don't believe me, but I'll say it anyway. I respect your determination, son. Don't ever lose it."

Robert watched his father leave, then shook his head as he ran a hand through his hair. Had he finally proved to his father that he no longer needed him at every turn? 'Has he finally begun to see me as a man?'

"Robert?"

He looked up in time to catch Rachel gliding down the remaining stairs. He smiled and offered her his arm. "Hello again."

"Is everything alright between you and your father?" She took hold of his arm with both of her hands and allowed him to lead her to the garden. "I feel so awful. I should not have allowed myself to be persuaded."

"Everything is fine with my father, dearest. Besides," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes, "I enjoyed persuading you."

She didn't seem to hear him. "After all, I knew that Mr. Trent expected you to be with him all day. I should have known that our picnic would not be acceptable." Rachel looked up at Robert with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I did not mean for your father to be angry with you."

Robert guided her to the bench that surrounded the giant oak and urged her to sit before clasping her hands in his as he gazed down at her. "Rachel, my father is not angry with me. He was annoyed at first, yes, but he understands the reasons I gave him and accepts them. If anything, he sees me more as a man than he had before. Everything is fine, Rachel, and there is nothing for which to blame yourself."

"But he told you to meet with him, did he not," she insisted. "You disobeyed him because of me. What must he think of me?"

He held her face in his hands as he knelt down and gazed into her fearful eyes. "My father respects you, Rachel. I can see it in his eyes. I can even hear it in his voice when he speaks of you. And yes, I disobeyed him, but it was my decision and you can not be held responsible." Robert paused and leaned forward to kiss her tenderly. When he pulled back, he sent her a smile. "My father is much different from yours. Do not worry about us."

* * *

Rachel set down her pencil, closed the folder, and sighed deeply as she watched Robert pace in front of her father's desk. The two of them were in the downstairs study where Rachel had met her father that first fateful day. It was now only two days until their wedding.

"Robert," Rachel spoke up in a tired voice, "I'm exhausted. May we stop for lunch?"

He stopped pacing and looked over at her with an apologetic smile, tucking his unlit and unfilled pipe into the upper pocket of his jacket. He came to sit in one of the dark leather chairs across from her and took her hand. Rachel felt a sense of comfort and peace from the simple grasp and was strangely content.

"I'm sorry for working you so hard, my dear, but we have such a short amount of time."

Rachel stood, taking her hand from his. "Nonsense. I believe I have learned quite enough for a first meeting with the board." A small smile tickled her lips and she sent him a playful glance. "Besides, all work and no play makes Robert a bore."

She left the room and gave Oliver a nod. Plans had already been laid for a picnic. Robert simply hadn't been informed. Not yet. Rachel stood by the front door, patiently pulling on her gloves and adjusting her hat until she finally heard Robert come to stand beside her. She sent him a sidelong glance, then proceeded down the front steps when a buggy was brought around. Oliver helped her up and she took the reigns, then turned to give Robert a calm glance.

"Mr. Trent, don't tell me I am to go on this picnic alone? And on such a beautiful day, too." She clucked her tongue at him. "What shall I do with all this food?"

"I sense a conspiracy," he told her solemnly as he came to stand by the buggy. "You have been conspiring against your instructor, Miss Samson. What of your promise to be a studious pupil?"

She raised an eyebrow with a ghost of a smile. "Consider this simply a relocation of events," Rachel said in a low voice.

He gazed up at her a moment more, then climbed up beside her and gestured toward the road. "Lead on, Miss Samson."

Rachel urged the horse forward, noticing a sudden tense silence that settled over them. She had noticed it before, once or twice, but had written it off to imagination. Now, she wasn't so sure. A quick glance in his direction to study his profile was the only proof she needed. Robert was either upset by her lack of cooperation, troubled by her playful mood, or uncomfortable in her presence. Her brows drew together slightly.

"Robert? Robert, have I upset you," she heard herself asking.

There was a moment's hesitation and she pulled the buggy to a stop amongst the orchard. She secured the reins and turned to face him. He remained silent and stepped from the buggy to proceed to her side where he offered her his hand. Rachel slipped hers into it, carefully alighted from the buggy, and silently followed beside him as he began to walk through the trees. He still held her hand and the gentle pressure sent warm tingles through her fingers. The soothing effect, however, wasn't enough to overcome her concern. 'What have I done,' she asked herself again and again. 'Have I overstepped my boundary?' She shook the question off as ridiculous. 'Has my progress been less than adequate?' Again, the question was dismissed.

"Rachel," he asked slowly, "would you mind if I asked you to talk of your past?"

She halted, her hand tightening in his as she gazed up at him in surprise. "But, Robert, you told me you wanted nothing to do with it."

He changed his eyes to their clasped hands. "I know, and that was how I felt at the time. I've changed my view on that subject."

Rachel hesitated, then began walking once more, her hand clenching his. "What would you like to know?"

"When did your mother die?"

"I believe it was two years before my day of graduation," Rachel recalled softly. "My progress was outstanding and my instructors were prepared to grant me a leave of absence because of 'family emergency'." Rachel stopped, her eyes focusing on the ground. "The headmistress received an urgent message from my father, however, saying the stress was unnecessary. He convinced her to deny my pass and proceed with my schooling."

Robert was silent a moment more. "When did you know she was ill?"

"There was something in the letters she wrote that didn't seem right. When I asked her about it, she told me."

There was another moment of silence before Robert began walking once more. She followed, still clutching his hand, amazed that his solemn silence beside her was a comfort to her troubled spirit. His gentle grip of her hand seemed almost soothing and she had such a yearning to tell him the whole of her life story. From beginning to end with all the secrets and desires that, previously, she had told no one but Maggie. The yearning grew until she could repress it no longer.

"I was born in winter," she began quietly.

Ten

Maggie lowered the veil.

"I am ready, father," Rachel said in a calm voice. "Please signal everyone."

Henry Samson left the room without a second glance and Rachel expelled a nervous breath. She'd been fighting the butterflies in her stomach for the past two hours as the time drew nearer for her marriage to Robert Lee Trent. Not only her father's choice, but hers also. 'How did that come to be?' She gripped the wedding bouquet of white roses with a single red rose in the center and tapped her foot absently.

Days had passed and everything had fallen together, but Rachel had spent each day waiting and hoping that her father would pull her aside to confide in her that he was dying. He never had. Instead, she and Robert had found solace in each other's company while talking of business and her past as well as bits of his. She'd found the talks to be invigorating, not to mention a little unsettling whenever she caught herself wishing he would take her into his arms as he had before. Every once and awhile she could catch him giving her the same dark-eyed look and expected him to kiss her again. However, he would simply smile and bring her attention to some silly ritual that men saw as important in the business world. She couldn't remember now what it had been.

"Did they play the signal?" Rachel hissed to Maggie who stood behind her with the wedding gown's train in hand.

"No, not yet. Relax, Rachel, or you'll pass out on your way up the aisle."

"Wouldn't that incur my father's wrath," she said bitterly.

She and Robert hadn't shared another embrace like the one in the garden. Instead, they had simply walked through the orchard or the vast gardens holding hands when they wanted to get away. The strange thing was, she had been content most of the time. Now she wanted something more, but wasn't quite sure what that was. Or maybe she did, but didn't want to admit it. 'Stop over exciting yourself,' she scolded. 'You're supposed to be calm.'

"There," Maggie said as she gave Rachel a gentle push. "There's the signal."

Rachel took her father's arm and proceeded down the aisle with slow steps as she took in deep breaths to settle her nerves. It was exasperating to be so rattled when she knew there was nothing to the marriage tradition than a few vows and a kiss. 'A kiss?' Rachel's heart skipped a beat. During the few rehearsals they had rushed through, the two of them had bypassed the kiss because of lack of privacy, but some part of her knew that Robert had simply been thinking of her. After all, she still remembered what had happened the last time an innocent kiss had gotten out of control.

She smiled. 'Is Robert looking forward to it as much as I am?'

Rachel pushed the thoughts away and sent her father a sidelong glance, pressing her lips together in a firm line when she saw his scowl. 'Will he ever admit that he has a weakness or failure? Will he ever come to me and apologize for the hell he put me through? Or will he die without the words moving past his lips?' Rachel didn't know what she was expected to do to get her father to see her as more than a possession to be passed from one owner to the next. 'How can I make him respect me?'

"Who gives this woman to this man?"

"I do. Her father, Henry William Samson."

Rachel's hand was passed from her father's arm to Robert's without hesitation and she sighed. She was no longer his problem. A gentle squeeze turned her eyes from her father's gruff face to the brown eyes of her betrothed. Her breath slowed a bit before she turned away. She'd analyze the look later. Right now, she was preparing to be married and she didn't want anything to go wrong.

The minister's voice droned on and on about the holiness and beauty of the matrimonial state, but Rachel found her mind wandering to the future she would have with the man standing beside her. She had told him once that she believed their marriage would work, but did she really know? 'How can I be so positive that his view of me will not change once we are alone together? Free to go beyond the walls we have constructed. I haven't been with other men, but what if he has succumbed to the temptation of the local brothel?'

She would look like a bumbling fool.

A child.

Rachel swallowed hard and felt another gentle squeeze on her gloved hand accompanied with a smile and twinkling eyes when she glanced up at him. She wasn't sure if he was trying to comfort her, or was just looking forward to more time alone. Maybe both? Or neither? A pounding began behind Rachel's eyes and she winced, then realized that Robert had begun repeating his vows to her. Their eyes locked and she blinked as she saw, for the first time, the unhidden love and desire that sparked in his brown eyes.

She heard the minister prompt her for her vows and repeated them, not really hearing what she was vowing to do in the sight of God and men. Her mind was having trouble pulling focused thoughts from the pain that hit her from all directions. 'I refuse to faint. I shall finish this wedding in style. I shall not embarrass Robert in front of all these people.' The pain subsided and she let out a sigh as she finished her vows. A few more minutes droned on as more words were said, and then Robert's smile disappeared.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Rachel's breath stopped and she swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in her throat. It went down hard and settled firmly in the pit of her stomach. Robert leaned forward and lifted the veil to gaze down into her face with plain and simple adoration. He smoothed the veil behind her, his eyes passing over her face before his arms went around her to pull her toward him. Rachel closed her eyes with a soft breath, her arms going around him as their lips met.

The world around them disappeared and Rachel felt his grip tighten. She smiled against his lips and pulled herself closer. 'I feel at home here in his arms.' It was a very pleasant feeling and she knew that it was one she wasn't familiar with. The minister cleared his throat and Rachel reluctantly forced herself to pull back. Their gazes locked for a moment and they shared a smile, then the minister presented them to the church body as Mr. and Mrs. Robert Trent.

Rachel ran the name around in her mind a few times and then turned her head to give Robert a genuine smile.

* * *

Robert sat beside his new bride with a smile on his face as the reception continued to pick up speed. Damon Chilton, one of his many friends from his home state of Virginia, had done the toast, the food had been eaten, and the drinks had been tossed back as if there was no tomorrow. All that remained was their dance. Robert brought her hand up to his lips for a gentle kiss and stood. The director of the chamber orchestra nodded, then lifted his baton.

"I believe this is where we dance alone," Robert said as he helped her to her feet. "I must warn you, I'm so happy right now I doubt if I'll be able to remember a single step."

"You?" She laughed and gripped his hand tightly. "Oh, Robert. You could dance with two left feet."

"Why do you say that?" They made their way to the dance floor and Robert gave her a smile. "Do I look that suave and sophisticated?"

She laughed again and turned to face him, preparing for the dance. "Of course," she said quietly. "Didn't you know that?"

He rested his hand in the small of her back and pulled her closer. "It never dawned on me that you would think so, my love. How could I be so lucky as to be in love with an angel such as you?"

The music began, a lovely waltz by Strauss, and Rachel placed her other hand on his shoulder as she looked up into his eyes.

"Do I make you forget that anyone else is here? I can assure you that when I'm with you I forget."

Robert's eyes twinkled and he pulled her a little closer. "That may be a dangerous thing to tell me, Rachel."

A smile tickled the corners of her lips. "I hear the music in my heart and move where it tells me to go. Can I help it if it makes me forget? Try it. Just move with the music and carry me with you." Her smile widened a touch. "Just be with me."

"That shall be a pleasure."

Rachel seemed to float as he slowly moved her across the dance floor. His heart soared at the gentle warmth of her against him and he praised God for helping her accept his presence as her husband. Life seemed too good to be true at that moment.

Robert's step faltered and Rachel's smile ebbed.

"What's wrong?" She followed his gaze out into the crowd of the many people watching. "Who do you see?"

"Todd Richards." Robert's voice was a little tight and his step faltered again.

"Robert," Rachel said as she squeezed his hand.

He looked down at her with annoyance clearly shown in his eyes. "What is he doing here?"

"I invited him."

"Why?"

"We were friends for years."

"I don't want to share you, Rachel," Robert pressed in a tight voice. "If he asks you to dance---"

"Robert," Rachel cut in. "If Todd makes the suggestion of dancing with me I shall simply tell him my dance card is full." She lifted a card for him to see. "A perfect explanation and one he won't be able to argue with."

Robert read his name listed repeatedly in her handwriting and smiled down at her before placing a kiss by her ear. "I like this side of you, Rachel," he whispered. "Thank you for letting me see it."

She returned his kiss before he pulled away and looked up at him with a serious gaze. "Thank you for encouraging me to show it."

He brought her hand up to his lips for a lingering kiss until his eye caught the commotion on the other side of the room. The music stopped and there was a high pitched scream from one of the ladies. Robert released Rachel's hand and rushed forward, gently pushing people aside. When he came upon the collapsed figure of Mr. Samson he knelt down and took his hand. Rachel stood behind him.

"Rachel, have Maggie get the doctor."

"Yes, Robert."

He heard her hurry from the room, the quick rustle of her mother's satin wedding gown sounding as she walked. 'Lord,' he prayed, 'don't let this man die before she has a chance to forgive him. I don't think she'd survive.' Mr. Samson's eyes flashed open and they focused on Robert's face as he helped him sit up.

"What's going on," he asked in a strangled voice.

"You had another attack," Robert told him. "Maggie's gone for the doctor."

At that moment, Rachel entered the large ballroom and stood behind Robert with a hand on his shoulder.

"Right now I believe we should get you out of here and to your own room."

"Todd," Rachel directed, "help Robert get father to his room. Jeremy, you and Damon help with his feet. Richard, you and Jonathan support his middle and let Robert and Todd take his head and shoulders."

People jumped to action and Robert smiled inwardly at her natural gift of leadership. If her father would just sit back and watch her, he would see it. Robert and Todd adjusted their grips on him and then headed for the stairs that led to the upper stories. When he felt a gentle hand on his back, he looked to see Rachel staring down at her father with terror in her eyes as she followed beside them.

"He'll be fine, Rachel," he whispered.

She looked up at him with a blink and didn't bring up the mask he expected to see slip in place. Instead, she simply gave him a brief smile before returning her gaze to her father.

* * *

The doctor stepped from the room and gestured to Robert. Rachel looked up at him and grasped his hand as panic widened her eyes.

"It's all right," he said. "I'll be right back."

He kissed her palm and sent her a comforting smile before following the doctor a little way down the hall. Rachel stared after them a few moments, the fear choking her before she turned away. She wrapped her arms around herself with a deep breath. 'Don't let it in,' she scolded. 'That's the first rule.' She closed her eyes and stepped in the opposite direction of Robert and the doctor, pausing to grab the banister that spread the width of the house as a sob was ripped through her throat. 'I can't,' she screamed to herself. 'I can't do this anymore! I want to be in there with my father, comforting him and letting him know that I still love him!'

Darkness choked her mind and she sunk to the floor, still gripping the railing as she gave in to the racking sobs that came. 'Everything I have ever known is disappearing. Why must I lose my father as well? He has always been the one part of my life that has remained the same whether it was in my past, present, or future.' Now he was dying and she didn't have the courage to admit to him that she had been hardheaded from the moment she'd arrived. 'Why can I not let him see how he had hurt me? Do I believe it would make him see me as a failure?'

"Rachel, I'm here. I'm here now."

Robert's arms wrapped around her as he knelt beside her, gently prying her hands from the railing to bring them to his chest. She turned into his embrace and let more tears come. This is what she'd wanted from her father, but had never received. A comforting embrace. Tender words of love and forgiveness. Confirmation that she was pretty and desirable. Instead, she had been pushed to try harder, struggling to impress a person who was thousands of miles away. Only by a miracle was she able to accept those same things from Robert now.

A seed planted by his patience and kindness had blossomed.

'Why couldn't I have had this love from father? Why couldn't he have looked into my eyes and told me that it would have been all right if I had failed? Why had he continued to push me when I had wanted so much to rest? Why couldn't he have encouraged me instead of claiming I wasn't trying hard enough?' A steady stream of unpleasant memories bombarded her and the sobs worsened.

"Rachel, stop."

Robert tilted her head up gently, but she couldn't open her eyes and torturous images from the past made the tears flow stronger until she was gasping for air. Her hands clenched the front of Robert's suit.

"Stop," he said in a firmer voice.

He took hold of her arms and shook her gently. Her eyes flew open and she sucked in a breath as she looked up at him with a dazed look, struggling to focus on his face.

"Look at me," he urged. "Look at me."

Her eyes tried to focus again and her head began to pound.

"I'm here, Rachel," he said in a gentle voice. "Can you hear me? Nod your head."

She nodded slowly.

"Good, now breathe out." She looked at him in confusion, small yellow dots beginning to appear in front of her eyes. "Breathe out, Rachel. Trust me and push all the air out of your lungs. Do it."

He pushed on the front of her bodice and the air rushed out. She blinked and shook her head, taking in a slow breath as the blackness faded into the back part of her mind. She let it out again and then took another, doing it several times before putting a hand up to her head with a moan.

"I feel like my head is about to explode."

"You became hysterical," he said gently. "Are you all right?"

He stood and helped her up, supporting her with an arm around her waist as he led her to one of the many padded benches spaced through the entire house. She only nodded, a hand still pressed against her head. 'Hysterical? What had I been thinking about just a minute before...? Father?' The thoughts came rushing back at her and she clutched Robert's hand, pulling him down beside her as she looked at him with panic in her eyes.

"Rachel, what is it," he asked as he took her other hand.

"I want to be in there with him, Robert, but I can't! I'm afraid that if he sees me like this he'll believe I have failed. I won't be able to handle that!" She shook her head violently. "But I know that if I don't talk with him about what he has done to me, I'll go mad and what kind of life is that for you and I?"

"You need to tell him what you have told me, my dear," Robert insisted. "It doesn't matter what he thinks of you. All that matters is that he understands how you feel. You cannot continue to live a lie, Rachel. You are only torturing yourself and those you love."

Rachel stood sharply and walked to the railing, gripping it with white knuckled hands as she stared down at the ground floor. 'It would be so easy for me to throw myself over the edge and end it all...' She jerked around and pressed her hands against her face, shrinking back against the railing when she felt Robert's hands rest on her shoulders.

"You have to take the final step, Rachel, or you shall always doubt yourself and your own ability. I believe in what you can do, but that isn't enough. You must believe it too." He took her hands from her face. "Don't hide, Rachel. No one here will attack you, or make you do that which you don't wish to do. You're not alone."

She looked up at him and then threw herself into his arms, hiding her face against his shirt. "He scares me so much, Robert. A simple look is all it would take to cut me down. How can I go in there alone?"

"Dearest," he soothed as he stroked her back, "you aren't going in there alone. Don't you know that God is in your heart?"

"I can't, Robert. Don't make me go in there."

"Rachel, Rachel." Robert pulled back with a smile. "Of course I won't." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the room that they were to share that night. "I shall leave you here for a few minutes so that you can change. Then we'll sit out on the balcony and talk. Alright?"

Rachel looked up at him and then nodded. "Alright." They paused at the door and Rachel turned to him, raising a hand and pressing it against his cheek. "Please don't be too long."

He took the hand and touched it to his lips. "I won't."

Rachel shut the door and turned to the large bed. She slowly wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes when the tears came.

* * *

Robert ran a hand through his black hair and let out a deep breath as he forced himself to turn from the master bedroom and stride toward her father's room. It was time they had a talk about his daughter. 'I'm tired of seeing that haunted look in her eyes,' he told himself. And the thought of her becoming hysterical as she had so few minutes before sent stakes of fear straight into his soul. 'Give me the words, Lord.'

"Mr. Samson," Robert said as he closed the door behind him, "I think we need to have a talk. Before it's too late."

"I'm not dead yet," he said gruffly as he pushed himself up.

Robert gave him a steady look. "Is that how long you're going to wait before you put things right with Rachel? Until you're taking your final breaths?"

Henry Samson gave him a sharp look. "Watch your mouth, son."

"When it comes to Rachel, that is the last thing I shall do." Robert came closer to the bed and crossed his arms. "Do you truly believe everything you've done is worth it?"

"What are you talking about," Mr. Samson snapped.

"I'm talking about our marriage. I am speaking of Rachel's training. Of keeping her from her mother's side. Of not allowing her to come home to visit you or her friends. Pushing her so hard that the thought of even a small failure tortures her. Was this all worth her being ready for your business?"

"I had no choice. She's the last one in my family line. The only one to carry on. What did you want me to do? Coddle and pamper her so that at the first meeting of the board she would crack? I don't think so. A man's world is hard."

"Never that hard, sir." Mr. Samson snorted and Robert went on. "Didn't it ever occur to you that you could have trained me to be the chairman of the board and simply schooled her to be the chairman's wife? That would have worked just as well because after our wedding I would have been part of this family."

Mr. Samson looked up at Robert with dark eyes as he ran a hand through his peppery hair.

"You never thought of that, did you? Now Rachel has paid the price."

"What price," he snapped.

Robert sighed in exasperation and shook his head. "You don't understand what you've lost, do you?"

"I haven't lost anything."

"Yes, you've lost your daughter."

Mr. Samson cringed slightly and turned his head away. "Ridiculous!"

"Haven't you seen it in her eyes when she talks to you? Haven't you even heard it in her voice when she fights everything you've planned?" Mr. Samson didn't say a word and Robert shrugged. "At least now you cannot say you were never told. What will you do with this information? Dismiss it, or use it to get Rachel back as your daughter?"

Robert waited for an answer and then shook his head and left the room. 'Did it do any good?' Robert sighed and headed back toward the master bedroom. He opened the door slowly. Rachel was nowhere to be seen. A touch of concern and panic sped his heartbeat as he stepped farther into the room and his eyes squinted in the dark. They focused on where she lay on her side in the middle of the large bed. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself as she slept fully clothed in her wedding dress.

He let a sad smile rest on his lips and quietly slipped out of his jacket and shoes, then came around to the bed to carefully climb up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her hair. His soul mourned for her and all she had lost with seemingly no hope of having it returned to her. She had lost her mother. Her father had purposely walked away from her. And her childhood sweetheart had disillusioned her. 'My dear Rachel,' he thought to himself. 'Are you ready to trust me yet? Are you ready to surrender your troubles to God and release the past?'

Robert let out a quiet sigh as he closed his eyes and surrendered to exhaustion.

* * *

"But I can't. He will look at me as he used to and I can't take that!"

Robert opened his eyes and focused on Rachel's silhouette as she paced on the open balcony, her robe wrapped tightly around her. His heart went out to her. 'If only her father could see what he was doing.'

"Do I want him holding this over me all my life?" Rachel continued to whisper as she tied and untied the belt of her robe. "I have to stand up to him and if that means telling him how he's made me feel my whole life.... Maybe I should talk to Robert?" She looked over at him and took in a gasp when she saw him awake and watching her. "Did I wake you?"

He sat up, patting the bed beside him as he tried to ignore the fact that he looked disheveled and unshaven in his wrinkled suit while she looked like an angel in her satin nightgown and robe.

"You might have, but I'm glad. It sounds like you're ready for that talk."

She sat beside him and tucked some of her loose ringlets behind her ear. "I've been pacing since midnight, trying to work it all out. It just doesn't want to straighten out in my mind."

Robert took her hand and she sighed as she laid her cheek against his shoulder. "Did you have a nightmare?"

She nodded and brought a hand up to her face. "I was losing my balance on the edge of a cliff and saw my father simply standing there. He didn't try to save me. Every time I tried to call for help he would put a gag in my mouth, then step back even further and cross his arms as he used to when I was a child. He would scold me without saying a word, yet I could hear everything."

"What did you do?"

There was a hesitation before she answered. "I turned around and jumped."

Robert's heart dropped. "What do you think it meant?"

Rachel sighed and stood, pulling away from him but not releasing her tight grip on his hand. He followed her to the balcony without hesitation.

"You know what it meant, Robert. I gave up. I didn't fight. I didn't confront him. I let him win by turning around and doing that which he was pushing me to do. Regardless of the harm it would cause."

She released his hand and leaned her hands against the railing as she stared down at the garden below.

"You know how many times I wanted to jump from this balcony while you slept? It didn't matter to me that it was the weak way out, at least I would have been free."

Robert turned her around roughly. "Don't you ever talk like that, Rachel," he growled as she looked up at him with dull eyes. "If I lost you I would die. I have waited too long for you to come into my life to let you simply walk away. Do you want me to go through a living hell just so that you can be free from facing your father?"

Rachel turned her head away and slumped against him, her arms hanging at her sides as Robert held her to him. 'I must take her from this house,' he thought suddenly. 'Ever since she came here she has been pushed around and belittled. Never being allowed to make any decisions except the few I have guided her way. No wonder she believes she is yet a child in her father's eyes.' Determination straightened his spine and put a fire in his blood as he lifted her in his arms and headed back into the room. They were leaving before first light.

"I don't know what to do, Robert," she was murmuring under her breath. "I just don't know. I don't know."

He set her down gently and tilted her head up. Her eyes were glazed with sleep and confusion as she looked up at him. "We're going to leave tonight, Rachel. Away from this house and these memories that torture you. I shall take you where you may heal. Where you and I shall be together. Do you trust me?"

She nodded dully, a slight spark lighting in the depths of her eyes as she continued to stare up at him. Suddenly, alertness began to brighten and burn as she focused on his face. Her hands came up to trace his jaw and eyebrows, delicately pushing the hair from his eyes. He swallowed hard and tried to fight the conflicting emotions that began to clog his mind. 'What does she want me to do? What do I want to do? Lord, what do You want me to do?'

"Robert, I… I love you," she whispered. It sounded as if the thought was a revelation to even herself.

It was then that he knew the answer to his question. He pulled her into a passionate kiss, the walls crumbling around both of their hearts as his arms engulfed her.

Eleven

Rachel picked at her fan as she sat on the bench in the garden, ignoring the joyful songs of the birds. She was alone again. Robert was seeing to the packing before their trip to Boston and he had made a point of telling her to stay in the garden to relax. 'But I can't sit here hiding from my father. I don't want to run from this. I want to walk away with a free conscience. It's time to take the final step. It's time for me to be honest with both my father and myself.'

"Rachel, everything's ready. The carriages are loaded and on their way to town and our traveling coach is waiting." He knelt in front of her and took one of her hands in his as he caressed her cheek with the other. "Are you feeling better?"

She shook her head and a tear dropped. He wiped it away as he kissed her hand.

"We're going now, my love," he said gently.

She stood, feeling weak and sluggish as she did so, and gripped Robert's hand tighter. "I can't go yet."

"Do you wish to speak with your father?"

Rachel nodded. "Running away isn't an answer. I must tell him why I'm leaving or he will believe that I am weak."

Robert tilted her chin up and kissed her before brushing the tears from her cheeks with his lips. "To me, you are the strongest woman alive," he told her as he pulled her close.

She embraced him a few moments longer, then pulled back. "Go on ahead and prepare our room at the hotel. I will follow you later."

"God is with you, my love. Never forget that."

He kissed her once more and then left the garden, leaving Rachel in somber silence. She stepped toward the house as she pulled in her last ounce of inner strength to prepare herself for the last confrontation. Resentment of what her father had made her become stiffened her resolve and quickened her step, her momentary weakness of the day before forgotten. As she climbed the stairs, she readied the statement she would make. 'And he shall listen,' she told herself. 'I shall make him hear me.'

She opened the door to his room, saw him sitting on the balcony, and made her way toward him. "Good morning, father. Robert and I are ready to go. I came to say good-bye."

He turned to her with hard eyes and then looked away. "Good-bye, Rachel."

"One thing I must tell you before I leave."

"What is it?" His tone was short.

Rachel sat in the chair across from him then, a feeling of desperation lowering her guard. The fight that raged inside began to dwindle.

"Father, I don't wish for us to part like this," she told him in a gentle voice. "Please let me go with the feeling that things are right between us. I want you to be the understanding father that I remember. I want to believe that even if I had failed, you would have loved me." Rachel hesitated when he didn't turn to face her. "I want to know that you love me."

He turned to her sharply, a scowl darkening his face and hardening his eyes. "What nonsense is this? I didn't spend thousands of dollars at a school in Europe for you to sound like an addle-brained girl in short skirts! Pull yourself together and act like the business woman you are," he directed in a tight voice.

"Father, please," she pleaded. "Please say that you love me if nothing else---"

Her father stood, took his hands from her grasp, and walked to the far edge of the balcony before turning to her. "Rachel Byron Samson, I will not have you behaving like this. Such nonsense as being told you are loved is simply unnecessary in the position I've directed you to."

Rachel dropped her head, fighting the tears and the coldness that invaded her heart as his words sunk to the very depths of her soul. She could feel her rage rising as the walls that she'd begun to tear down were again firmly resurrected. 'I've given him the chance,' she told herself, 'and he has flung it in my face with the reminder that he's been ruling my life like I was his slave. No more!'

"You have been controlling my life from afar for years," she whispered with her head still lowered. "But, more than that, you've constantly persuaded me to follow your commands since the day I was born. I resent that."

"You're a child, Rachel." She stiffened and raised her head sharply. Her father didn't notice. "You don't understand what parents must do for their children."

"And you never trusted me with any important decisions. I resent that, too. Now that I'm leaving this house, I wish you to know why. I wish you to understand that I am not running from you or your plans. I am determined to discover who I am. Who I would have been without your iron hand sucking the kindness from my soul."

"I understand," he said in a voice that clearly stated he understood nothing of what she'd said. He stepped back into his room, passing her to leave.

Rachel stood sharply and stopped him with her next words. "Why don't you ever listen to what I say to you? When you didn't let me come home to say good-bye to mother I hated you. Letter after letter I wrote, begging you to let me come home. You wrote back once saying my future was more important. Ha!"

Rachel turned away and gripped the balcony railing when he had twisted around with a hard look in his eyes.

"Don't you care that I've come to hate and despise everything you stand for? Doesn't it matter to you that your daughter must learn tenderness and love from a man she's barely known? Doesn't it strike you as odd that your own daughter is so afraid of you that she has thought of killing herself just so she wouldn't have to know you believed her to be weak? Do you feel anything at all?"

"That's enough, Rachel," he said in a firm voice. "There will be no more talk like that while you're under this roof. It's unbecoming of a lady."

Rachel wrenched herself back around. "Don't you understand? I'm leaving your roof! I won't be under your thumb any longer. I won't be the son you wanted, but never had!"

Mr. Samson slapped her hard across the face.

Rachel's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed as she raised a hand to her burning cheek. "If that is the way you show your affection for me, sir, this is the last time you shall see me. I shall not set foot into this house again. To me, you are already dead."

Rachel strode past him and slammed the door without a backward glance. "Oliver," she snapped, "a carriage. Now!"

Slivers of guilt pressed into her heart as she stepped down the stairs and strode down the hall to the double doors. 'Why did he do this to me? Why did I let him?' Rachel waited impatiently for the carriage, her thoughts boiling as the scene replayed itself again in her mind. All the things she could have done differently, but it was too late. The words had been said.

Rachel climbed into the carriage and thumped the ceiling with her fan. It lurched to a start. 'At least I'm free of him now,' she told herself. 'He knows how I feel and apparently doesn't care. How can he be human?' Feelings she couldn't fathom blackened her heart and mind as the carriage swayed. 'Thank goodness Robert and I are free of him.' But the thought of meeting her new husband and experiencing their awakening love didn't chase away the cold she felt deep inside. She shook it off, finally ignoring it when the heaviness didn't retreat.

"It will leave when I'm with Robert," she whispered with a forced smile.

Surrendering to the joyous memories of their wedding night was easier now that she was away from her father's house. Remembering the way Robert had looked at her. The gentleness of his touch when he had held her. The tender way he had called her 'my love'. Rachel closed her eyes and dropped her fan into her lap as she laid back into the velvet cushions. Now that she was far from the oppression and iron hand of control, she would be surrounded by love.

The carriage came to a stop and she opened her eyes, expecting to see Robert rushing forward to greet her. He didn't. Rachel scowled and accepted the coachman's hand as she stepped down. 'Where is he?' She picked up the skirts of her dark blue traveling gown and climbed the stairs, looking for him as she entered the lobby. He was nowhere in sight. Rachel dusted the traveling stains out of her clothes and proceeded to the front desk.

"Have you seen Mr. Trent? He was to meet me here when he reserved our room," Rachel informed the desk clerk in a businesslike tone.

"Mr. Trent? Ah! He did, in fact, register a room for he and his wife, but then he talked to a rough looking man in his forties and left a few minutes later. He didn't tell me where he was headed, but he told me to make sure you found your way to the room."

Rachel's eyebrow raised and she snapped open her fan in exasperation. "Very well, then. Show me to my room."

The young man showed her to the second floor with a smile as he opened the door to a large group of rooms. "This is our finest available. We reserve it for those guests of ours who intend to stay for long periods of time."

Rachel looked around the finely decorated rooms and nodded her approval, but her irritation at the disappearance of her new husband didn't go away. "Fine. You may leave."

The clerk's smile disappeared as he closed the door with a grumble about her lack of personality. Rachel ignored him and threw her reticule and fan onto the nearest set of couches. A rough looking man in his forties, the clerk had said. Rachel peeled off her traveling gloves and tossed them carelessly by her reticule, then stood to wander around the rooms. Robert had made an excellent selection, as always, but she had wanted him to carry her over the threshold. Then she wanted to have several hours alone with him so that they could continue to discover each other.

Especially now that she was free from her father.

Rachel began struggling with the buttons of her traveling gown as she slowly headed for the master bedroom. 'Well, just because Robert is not here does not mean I am kept from having fun on my own. I wonder if that old sweet shop is still here. Or I could just wander around Boston Commons. I could even hire a horse and begin to look around the available properties for the future site of our home.'

She nodded to herself and slipped out of the dress, tossing it aside to get cleaned before pulling a few selections from the closet. 'Walking, riding, or….' Her hand paused as she pulled out an alluring dress of pale rose. 'Perhaps a tea dress for when Robert returns?' Easily gotten out of, it was perfect for the newlywed life-style. Rachel smiled and flung the other dresses aside as she decided that the latter was better for their strained relationship. 'It could even alleviate some of the irritation I feel at being left alone on the first day of our joint freedom.'

The gown felt good against her skin. Rachel smiled coyly and grabbed the matching robe, slipping it on as she stepped out of the room to pull on the rope that would let the housemaid know she was needed. Minutes passed when there was a knock on the door. Rachel opened it a little way, ordered some tea and cakes, and then leaned against the door with a sigh when she was alone once more. 'Now I only have a short wait before Robert returns.'

But what if it wasn't such a short wait?

'Nonsense,' she told herself. 'He would never leave me alone for very long.' She reclined on the dark mahogany lounge and let out a deep breath as she tried to ignore the tears she felt hiding just beneath the surface. The scene with her father was coming back to haunt her. She could feel it hiding in the back of her mind. Waiting. Lurking. Rachel covered her face with shaky hands, fighting the bitter taste that told of the tears rolling down her cheeks. Tears of exasperation, hatred, and loneliness. 'Would it have been so hard for father to comfort me? Why couldn't he have said he loved me when I had begged for that much?'

A sob broke through and Rachel pushed out of the lounge chair, tightening the gauzy robe around her as she paced the room. 'I hate him for what he's doing to Robert,' she hissed to herself. 'And I hate him for what he did to mother. And I despise him for what he's done to me.' Rage boiled under the surface, breaking through the wall as the tears coursed down her cheeks. 'Controlling, unloving, overbearing, unresponsive man!'

Her hands balled into fists as she strode forward, pushing through the French doors that led to the balcony to walk into the fresh, late-autumn air. The anger and rage were taking over her life. She was becoming obsessed with the desire to constantly do the opposite of what her father ordered. 'What if it threatens my happiness with Robert? What if, because he was father's choice for me, I begin to despise him too? I can't handle that,' she yelled at herself. 'Give this up! Let go of this burning hatred and resentment you have against your father,' she pleaded with a dark part of herself. 'Don't let it take over your life!'

"Miss? Your tea and cakes are here," a timid voice called from inside the apartments.

"Fine. Set them on the table and leave."

"Y-yes, miss."

There were a few moments of cups rattling, then blessed silence when the door had closed behind the shy housemaid. She was alone again. 'Oh, Robert,' she called with her heart, 'why don't you come and be with me when I need you?' A wind blew through her hair and she reached up to take it down. 'He likes it when it's down,' she reminded herself as she wiped tears from her cheeks. She stepped forward and gazed down into the street, willing him to come walking to the hotel with all the love she felt in her heart.

He didn't come.

"I can't be here alone with these thoughts," she whispered through clenched teeth.

It was dangerous to think of her father the way she was. Wishing that he were dead so she wouldn't need to face him at the board meeting when she took his place. Yet wishing he were there so she could spit in his eye and clearly show him how she felt. Wishing both Robert and her father were in front of her so she could throw Robert back in her father's face. To show that the choices she would make would be her own. Just so that she could hurt her father the way he had hurt her.

But what of Robert's feelings?

She fell to her knees and gripped the balcony railing, memories of another time and place when she had done much the same thing and Robert had comforted her.... 'Robert,' she called again, 'why aren't you here? Help me fight these thoughts and feelings. I can't do this alone!' But she didn't hear his familiar step behind her. She was still alone. Rachel pressed her head against the railing as another sob broke through, frantically trying to push the feelings farther down. 'Leave me alone! I don't want him dead,' she told the voices in her head. 'I want him to love me. I want my father to tell me that he would have accepted me whether or not I had succeeded in taking his place!'

"Rachel, the clerk said---" Robert cut off and rushed forward, his arms going around her as he knelt down. "I'm here. It's all right now. Shhh. Shhh."

Rachel pushed away from his tender embrace, her heart breaking as she did.

"Where have you been?" She struggled to her feet, a balancing hand gripping the railing with white knuckles. "Why did you just abandon me here?"

He looked up at her in silence for several moments, then slowly stood. "I didn't expect you so soon," he said in a soft voice. "I'm glad you've had a chance to---"

"Glad," she snapped. "You're glad that I've had a chance to nearly lose my mind because I thought you'd left me?"

'What are you doing,' she asked herself as the panic rose. 'Listen to what he was to say.' She shook her head and strode past him, pushing the voice of reason out of her mind. He was her father's choice. He was her father's decision. He was her father's opinion. He was her father... He was her father....

Rachel turned on him in a violent rage, unprepared for the firm embrace that wrapped itself around her. She tried to fight it, but the grip tightened, holding her against him as his hands massaged her back. The scent of his cologne... Rachel took in a deep breath and a little of the fight left her.

"I'm not the enemy," he whispered in her ear. "I'm not your father's toy soldier. I'm here for you, my love."

She felt the tender kisses that trailed from her ear to lower neck and stopped her struggling as she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, the sobs breaking through the rage that had been used to hide them.

"Let it out," he soothed as he pulled her closer. "The fury and frustration. Let it all go. I won't hold it against you. Don't be afraid, my love. I'm here."

Rachel pressed herself even closer against him, the hard tears making her lungs burn. "I'm sorry, Robert. I didn't mean to attack you like that. Please don't hate me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, please forgive me..."

"I forgive you, my love," he whispered against her neck. "I'd forgive you if you walked away from me and fell in love with another man. I'd forgive you if you'd lied when you said you loved me. I'd forgive you anything as long as you never hate me. I wouldn't survive that."

She squeezed her eyes shut tight, unable to hold back the sobs that continued to rip out of her, and drank in the scent of him. "I don't hate you, Robert. I don't. I promise I don't."

He continued to press his lips against her neck and pulled her closer to him as the words of his love continued to flow.

* * *

"Did it go badly then?"

Rachel finished her cup of tea and set the teacup on the tray. "I tried," she said in a cracked voice. "I pleaded with him to at least tell me he loved me. Or to let me know that even if I hadn't succeeded at the school he would have accepted me."

"But he didn't, did he," Robert asked as she came to sit beside him. "He said your behavior was unacceptable, or some such nonsense, and probably said something that made you lose your temper."

"You know both of us too well for safety, Robert," she sighed as she snuggled up against him on the lounge. He put his arms around her and kissed her hair. "Every time I think of my father now, I'll remember that. I just find it hard to believe it doesn't matter to him."

"I think it does and that's why he's shutting you out."

"Robert, it's becoming easier each day to allow myself to be pushed away. That can't be good." Rachel entwined her fingers with his and stared at them in silence.

"Do you feel anything when you think of your father," Robert asked gently.

She laid her head against him and closed her eyes. "I'm so hard inside, Robert. Even my feelings for you are weak compared to what they should be. Some day they might disappear and that thought terrifies me." She paused with another sigh. "All because of him."

"No, my love," Robert said quietly. "It isn't all your father's doing."

Rachel sat up and turned to face him, releasing his hand. "What do you mean? You're not saying that I am to blame, are you?"

"Not completely," he said as he shook his head. He took her hands in his again. "You need to soften your heart toward him. Release the past and forgive him so that he can change."

"What?" Rachel gasped. "I forgive him before he even apologizes? You can't be serious!"

"Dearest, there is no hope for us unless you do this. Your past is slowly tearing you apart. Bit by bit it's taking you from me and sealing you away from your father by hardening your heart. You must release it or you'll never be free."

Rachel pulled her hands from his and stood, pulling the robe tighter around her. "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what he had put me through."

He came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms about her to pull her close. "I would, Rachel, because I had to come to a point where I was told by God that it was time to forgive both my father and yours for what they had done to us."

"But how," she whispered. "How can I when visions of the hell I went through in Europe haunt me every night?"

"How did Christ forgive the people who crucified Him for simply being who He was?"

Rachel cringed as the sentence hit home, but couldn't force herself to pull away. She felt so cold....

"Love, your trembling," Robert stated in concern. "Would you like a blanket?"

Rachel shook her head. "I just feel so alone, Robert. So alone and cold that only hell itself could warm me. I don't like this feeling."

Robert pulled her closer to him and kissed her neck. "You need to let go of this, my love. Only then shall you have room for God and I. Only then."

Rachel turned into his embrace, hiding her face against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. "I don't know if I can," she whispered.

"Just as you didn't know if you could love, but look at you now," he whispered against her hair. "Don't doubt yourself or what you're capable of."

"But do I love you? What if my feelings aren't real? What if I'm only using you to escape my father?"

Rachel felt him stiffen and squeezed her eyes shut tight. She hadn't meant to be so open about her fears. 'Why couldn't I have just worked that out by myself without telling him about my doubts?' Now she had probably pushed him farther than she could bring him back. 'I am a failure,' she told herself as she gripped the lapels on his suit jacket. 'What kind of person would insult someone as I have when they knew the other person cared so much? I'm cold and have no business being anywhere but by myself.' The thought hit her hard and she dropped her hands to her sides when the numbness spread through her soul. She turned from his embrace and cringed when he didn't fight to keep her from doing so.

"How do I know what love is," she asked with a slight sneer as she walked for the balcony. "I have never been shown kindness or understanding. I have never been shown compassion that goes deeper than shallow friendship. So how can I love someone, Robert? All the people I've ever known have used me in some way or another. In fact, how do I know that you are not doing the same?"

Silence descended over the room and Rachel shook her head as she took in a deep breath. "You say I need to forgive my father. You say the only way there is hope for us is if I release the hatred and resentment I hold for him. Impossible. This is what I have been raised with. This is what I have been shown and taught. If our love is doomed because of that, then maybe we never loved each other in the first place."

"Rachel, what do you wish me to do," he asked in a low voice. "Do you wish me to walk away so that you may blame yet another failure on your father? I won't do it. I know I love you more than my own life. Maggie, your father, my parents, Mr. Richards.... They all know this is true. The only person I still need to prove it to is you."

She gripped the balcony and straightened her back. "You've tried, Robert. I even gave in to the fantasy for a short while, but it's too late for me. I have been alone far too long. I cannot love and I certainly do not know how to accept it. I am better off alone and independent."

"Are you saying our marriage is over then? Are you saying that you lied to me on our wedding night when you said that you loved me? Are you trying to tell me that you didn't feel anything when I showed you how much I love you?" He paused. "I don't believe you, Rachel."

She turned slowly, her arms relaxed at her sides as she faced him. He had come to stand directly behind her and his presence nearly overwhelmed her.

"I am saying our marriage is simply to remain a business partnership."

"Why? Rachel, why are you doing this? Why can you not let it all go? Why must you fight to keep the control so tight?" He made a move to take her into his arms and she stepped back. His arms dropped to his sides, the hurt scarring his face. "You've shown me a part of yourself that I know is the real you. Soft. Gentle-hearted. Loving and forgiving. Why must you hide that part of you now? Why can you not give in to her, Rachel? Why do you push people away when they care for you?"

She slowly crossed her arms. "That part of me is weak, Robert. How can I give in to weakness? Do you want me to ruin my father?"

"If that is what it does, yes! Damn your father's millions, Rachel," he said harshly. He took a step forward and took hold of each of her arms. "I only care about you!"

"I'm sorry about that, Robert," she stated in a cool voice. "This is my decision. You have received what you wanted, a part of me that had been given to no-one else, now leave and let me get back to my life."

He stiffened and dropped his hands to his sides as he stood in silence for several minutes. "Rachel," he said finally, "I have found the place where I shall build our home. That is where I shall be. That is where I shall wait for you to come to me as my wife. Even if I must wait until I am old and gray, I shall wait."

Rachel watched him go and raised her chin when the urge to run after him nearly overpowered her. He stopped at the door and turned to face her, his eyes locking on hers so firmly she was sure he knew what she felt.

"I told you once before that nothing would keep me from marrying you and I proved that statement to be true. Now I tell you that nothing shall take my love from where I have placed it, at your feet. You are my choice, my love, and you are my life. I shall never stop loving you."

He closed the door after him and Rachel sunk to the floor with a choked breath, but she didn't cry. All the tears were gone. She could only mourn in dry silence.

Twelve

Robert slammed into the house, shoved his hat and gloves at Oliver without a second glance, and strode up the stairs two at a time. She had pushed him as far as she could and now there was only one place to go. Her father. 'I've said all I can to Rachel,' he admitted sadly. Even now, the hollowness of being without her was beginning to seep into his heart. 'Please, Lord, be with her. I don't want her to be alone and afraid.' Thoughts of her admitting to ideas of suicide entered his mind. 'I don't want to live without her,' Robert prayed. 'Please, keep her safe while I talk with her father.'

Thoughts of her father made him clench his teeth. If it was the last thing he accomplished before moving into their new home, he would make Henry Samson see what he was doing to the two of them. He would make Mr. Samson see they were not children to be forcibly drug by the hand any longer. 'I don't know how, but I know You will give me the words.'

Wait for My time

Robert's fist froze just before contact with Mr. Samson's study door.

He turned away to grip the railing surrounding the second story's inner balcony. 'Am I wrong, Lord,' he asked the voice. 'Have my feelings for her blinded me to Your will?' Robert closed his eyes and his grip on the railing tightened. Anger and urgency made his heart seem to burn inside him. 'How can I stand by and let these two people push each other away? How can I stand silent and let her push me away? She needs me!'

She needs only Me

The phrase was as clear in his mind as if God had spoken them aloud. Robert stiffened and his heart rebelled. 'No. That can't be true,' he countered. 'Rachel needs the love and understanding she didn't get from her father. I can give that to her.' An inner silence made Robert cringe, but his heart still fought the idea of letting her go. 'She's been alone all her life and now that I can be with her she sends me away! It is her father who is to blame,' he reasoned. 'I must make him see that.'

Wait for My time

Robert straightened sharply, his hands balling into fists. 'I don't want to wait any longer! I want us to be together. I want to feel her beside me. I want to be able to love her without fearing that she'll push me away. I want to grow old with her at my side! Don't make me give her up,' he pleaded.

Do you trust Me?

Robert cringed again and turned sharply for the stairs, taking his hat and gloves from Oliver's hands when he reached the bottom. It was an unfair question. He slammed out the front door and leaped into the saddle of the jet-black stallion. With the barest touch of the reins the two were off and running, heading nowhere in particular as they let the wind blow their cares away.

Robert's weren't so easy to get rid of.

'I love her, Lord,' he prayed as he clenched his teeth. 'I love her and You want me to turn my back on that? How can You ask me to do that? You know I can't! It's impossible! I've been in love with her for at least ten years and now You're asking me to put that behind me? I can't! It would be like tearing off my arm,' he protested.

Do you trust Me?

The question pounded into Robert's heart and soul, but he continued to fight it. 'That's the same question You asked when I first realized it was true I was going to marry someone I'd never met. That's the same question You asked when I told You it wasn't fair! I didn't like it then, and I hate it now.'

Do you trust Me?

Robert pulled his horse to a stop so fast that it sat back on it's haunches, then he gripped the reins with white knuckled hands and raised his glare to the heavens. 'You know I trust You with my very life. You know I trust You with every part that You ask of me. You know I trust You with every decision that's ever been made for my future.'

Then be still and know that I AM is with her

'But I love her,' Robert groaned inwardly.

I died for her

'I can be with her now when she's feeling so alone,' he added quickly.

I am with her always; past, present, and future

Robert dropped his head with a sigh. 'But there's so little time....'

I am time

Robert nodded and slowly raised his head, turning the horse toward town as he straightened his back. 'Very well, my love and life are in Your hands. Please keep her safe.' He urged the horse forward into a canter and gripped the reins with white knuckled hands. 'I will wait for you, my love.'

* * *

Henry Samson sat out on the balcony of his room and stared out at the horizon. Maggie came in with a breakfast tray and set it on the table in front of him. His gaze never wavered. The house seemed empty and mocking to him. Everything he had wanted for her and the future generations of his family meant nothing. She hated him. She hated all that he had done for her. She hated all that he was. Henry cringed away from the view and stared down at his breakfast tray. So many times he had wanted to give in to the desire to comfort her, but always he had pulled back. Determined to have her be strong and self-sufficient. Not in need of tenderness.

Hadn't that weakness nearly been the death of him once?

"Mr. Samson? You've gotta eat something."

He turned his head toward Maggie and then looked away again. "I'm not hungry."

"I know. Everyone in this house isn't hungry, but you've still gotta eat."

"Later. I'll eat later."

Maggie nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll bring it back later."

She left the room and Henry stared out at the horizon. Later. He had always put off everything until later. Telling Rachel how proud he was of her. Telling Rachel about Robert. Telling Rachel that her mother was dying. Telling her that she was loved. It had all been put off. Tomorrow had tempted him and then never come. 'Why did I wait? What fool thought persuaded me to let her grow up without a father?' But he didn't know. The reasons for the decisions he had made had long since been forgotten and he could only ride the repercussions of his actions.

Henry brought a hand up to his face and rubbed at his eyes. He knew he was crying, mourning the loss of a daughter he had loved too much, but the tears offered no comfort. Just as they hadn't when his wife had died, leaving him alone to raise the daughter that had once worshiped him. The living memory of the wife he had loved too much. 'Dear God, what have I done…'

* * *

Rachel felt numb.

She slipped out of bed and attempted to ignore the emptiness she felt inside as her hands reached out for her morning robe. Her toes kicked something soft in the early morning light and she stared down at his slippers. Kneeling down to pick them up, she dug her fingers into their softness and slowly straightened. 'Where is he at this moment?' She glanced over her shoulder toward the bed but looked away when her eyes focused on his side. Unslept in. His pillows as fluffed as when she'd drug herself to bed a few hours before. 'How shall I forget him?' She recalled their wedding night together and dropped the slippers with a choked breath, pushing the sobs down deep inside her heart and locking them away.

'I need no one.'

She jerked her arms into her robe and strode out of the bedroom to yank on the thick, braided cord that would summon her maid at the hotel. It was time to move on. Time to get involved with the business and hope that her father would not fight her every step.

There was a soft knock on the door and Rachel pulled it open. "Good morning. Please bring me up a simple breakfast and order a horse to be brought around. Thank you."

She closed the door before the maid could utter a word, then turned to march back into her bedroom. Rachel's eyes were carefully aimed from the bed. Throwing back the doors of her closet, she grabbed her dark green riding habit, reaching past the royal blue traveling gown she'd worn on her first day home. She began to dress and didn't seem to notice when her mind wandered to thoughts of him. Would he be walking in the garden, remembering their first passionate embrace? Or would he be at the site of their new home, overseeing it's building with loving eyes and a gentle touch? Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes closed as she remembered how gentle his hands could be. When he held her. When he caressed her---

Rachel stiffened and her eyes snapped open as she quickly pushed thoughts of him as far away as she could. It wasn't far enough. 'Why God,' she spat at the black in her mind. 'Why is this happening? Why did You let me fall in love with him when You knew that I would have to push him away? It hurts and You knew it all the time! Why did You let my father push me away so many years ago? Why did You let my mother die when I wasn't there? Why?'

The silence pounded at Rachel from all sides and she straightened her skirt with cold fingers, then sat on the edge of her bed to fasten her shoes. Silence was the only answer she received. She pushed the thought away and stood, stomping her feet to make sure her shoes were on tight. She exited her bedroom to find that her breakfast had been set on the coffee table in the living room while she'd been dressing. Rachel looked down at the small portions of egg, toast, and other items with a curl of her lip. The sight was enough to turn her stomach.

Which it did.

Rachel looked away and took hold of her hat and reticule, then left the room without a backward glance. She had things to do and none of it included time for eating. Placing her hat at a jaunty angle and tying it firmly in place with some simple green netting, she made her way down the hotel stairs, through the lobby, and onto the front porch steps to wait for her horse.

It was waiting for her.

A porter helped her into the saddle and she gave him a brief nod before turning the head of the horse toward the road out of town. She didn't know why, but something was pulling her toward her home. 'I need to find out from Oliver when the next meeting of the board is,' she told herself. 'That's all it is. It's not that I want to see my father, because I don't. It's not that I want to see Robert, because I don't....' She gripped the reins and chided herself for the lie. What was so wrong with admitting the fact? She did want to see him again and there was nothing wrong with that.

The silhouette of the large mansion loomed before her and she pressed her lips together as she urged the horse to a quicker pace. One day it would be hers, but she saw no joy in that prospect. Just as she had once seen no joy possible in her marriage. 'But that has been found to be true,' she scolded herself. 'And it was your doing!' She pushed the chiding voice from her mind and turned for the long road that led to the front door of the mansion. 'I don't have time to dwell on sentimental thoughts as those.'

Moments later, Rachel pulled up in front of the front gate, handed the reins to one of the young stable boys, and greeted Oliver with her hat, reticule, and gloves.

"Miss Rachel, I didn't expect to see you here this morning," he said in a calm state of shock. "Pardon me. Mrs. Trent."

"Good morning to you as well, Oliver. Is my father here?"

"No, he has taken a carriage to town and won't be returning until later this evening."

She nodded and stepped further into the hall. Oliver followed. "Oliver, I need to inquire as to when the next meeting of the board will be called."

"Perhaps I can answer that question for you."

Rachel froze with her hand on the doorknob of her father's downstairs office and then turned to gaze up into Robert's chocolate brown eyes. She pulled her eyes away and turned back for the office door. The pain she felt in her heart left her struggling for breath.

"Good morning, Robert," she said in a tight voice.

"Good morning, Rachel." He followed her into the office and closed the door behind him. "I understand you have a question regarding the next meeting of the board?"

She took in a deep breath, regretting the act when the scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, and turned to face him. "Yes."

He motioned to her father's chair behind the desk as he sat in one of the dark leather chairs opposite. "Won't you have a seat?"

Rachel couldn't find the words to utter that would have adequately expressed her appreciation for that one simple action. By that gesture, he had shown her that he recognized her place in the business. He had let her know that he understood she was to be the leader and accepted it. She tilted her head up and took her place on the other side of the large mahogany desk.

It was a lonely place.

"You're father has gone to town to inform the board that you won't be taking the chairman seat as soon as expected. Instead, you will be trained more closely by him or myself in finer points of business." Robert dug his infamous unlit pipe from his jacket pocket and wiped it off absently before jamming it in between his teeth with a slight scowl. "A bunch of empty words, if you ask me."

"I am no longer in my father's good graces, Robert," she said stiffly as she stood. "Therefore, I am to be punished."

Robert stood as well. "It's his own fault, Rachel, and he knows that. He simply doesn't want to admit that Henry Samson was wrong. On the other hand, you admit you're wrong even when you are not."

Rachel looked over at him a moment, then passed by without a word.

"Rachel, wait."

He took hold of her arm in a gentle grip and stood in front of her, blocking her way to the door. Rachel looked up into his eyes, but didn't pull her arm from his grasp.

"Yes," she asked quietly. Any louder and she was sure he would have heard the emotion his presence caused.

"You know that I'm not angry with you?"

"Yes."

He let out a breath of relief and released her arm. "I'm glad, Rachel." He dropped his gaze and made a move for the door leading to the hall. "I'm praying for you, my love. Praying that the Lord will show you a way through the confusion. A way through the hurt and anger."

"I thank you, Robert," she said in a stiff voice, "but it is not necessary."

"I would do no less for those I dislike, Rachel, how can I not do this for the woman I love?"

Rachel's breath caught in her throat and she hesitated a moment before proceeding through the door.

"Will you come with me to the land I have purchased for our home," he asked quietly. "I want you to see it."

"I suppose there would be no harm in that," she agreed reluctantly.

He smiled down at her and Rachel felt a heart-wrenching pain as she caught the twinkle in his eyes. How was she to ignore the feelings she felt for him? Love or not, it was strong and she would never be able to fight them. She pulled her eyes from his.

"Could we make it a picnic," he asked.

Rachel sighed, desperately trying to think of a way to decline. "I will meet you here if I find the time this afternoon." She paused at the front door and took her hat and gloves from Oliver. "If I do not come, please do not come asking for me. I had some appointments this afternoon that I may not be able to reschedule," she lied. "I will contact you when I am next available."

He took her hand and kissed the palm, sending shivers up her spine that she couldn't shrug off, nor hide. His eyes twinkled up at her before he straightened.

"Have a pleasant morning, Rachel. I look forward to the time we can spend together."

"Thank you," she told him stiffly as she withdrew her hand.

She slipped on her gloves, secured her hat, and proceeded down the front stairs. The young stable boy helped her mount the fresh horse and she gave Robert one last look before urging the horse toward town. He knew she had lied to him, yet he hadn't pressed the issue. 'Why?' Rachel pressed her lips together and urged the mare to a faster pace. 'It is pointless to ponder such questions,' she insisted. 'You know very well that he is one endless question that you shall never receive the answers for. The sooner you accept those facts, the sooner you shall no longer be flustered by the things he does.'

The silence that descended upon her didn't dissipate until she pulled her horse to a stop in front of the hotel and dismounted.

"Good morning, Rachel."

She turned and gave Todd Richards a friendly smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Good morning, Todd. What brings you to Boston at this hour in the morning? Supply shopping for the ranch?"

He took the worn hat from his head and gave her a guilty smirk. "No. I was coming by to talk to you."

Rachel sighed. "Todd, I really am busy. I don't have time for idle chitchat."

She made a move to pass by him and enter the hotel, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Please, Rachel. Just a few minutes. Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes, I have," she lied. "What is so important that you won't let me go to my room and change?"

He looked around, absently turned the hat over in his hands, and then cleared his throat. "I don't believe this is the right place to talk about it."

"Talk about what," Rachel asked in exasperation. "You're acting so mysterious and it's beginning to irritate me."

His green eyes twinkled at her as he smirked again and she found herself following him away from the entrance of the hotel toward the busier section of town where their conversation would merge with the people around them. 'What are you doing? Robert's touch is hardly cold in your memory and you're following Todd God-knows-where simply because he smiles at you? Have you lost what little senses you had left?'

"Todd, I don't have time for this," she reminded him with a lack of forcefulness.

"Then why are you following me," he countered.

She stopped and faced him with sparks in her eyes. "I don't know. Perhaps you should tell me so that I can go about my business?"

He put his hands out in front of him and chuckled. "Okay, okay, Rachel. Don't get your bloomers in a bunch."

"My under-things are none of your business," she snapped as she wagged a finger at him. "And if you don't tell me why you're acting so suspicious, I will turn and leave without a second thought."

The boyish smile on Todd's face melted away and his eyes darkened as he took her hand. Rachel sucked in her breath and looked up at him with a question in her eyes.

"I still love you and I want you to come with me. I've given this a lot of thought, Rachel. I see how miserable you are. Even after the wedding, I saw that it was all an act to make your father happy. Well, he's dying! You don't need to do that anymore. You deserve to be happy and I want to make you happy."

She pulled her hand from his and turned away, her mind speeding as she heard his heavy steps fall in beside her. 'What are you going to do? Change your mind and run away with him? Throw your father's business back at him and live a life of immorality with your new lover?' The thought brought bile to her throat. But why should she be punished and tortured simply to please a father that didn't care anything about her? She wouldn't necessarily need to live out her days as Todd's mistress. They could just run away and live together in friendship.

Rachel snapped open her fan and stirred the air around her face when she stopped and stared out at Boston Harbor. Did she really believe that friendship would satisfy Todd for the rest of their life? He was a man in love and she was the one on whom that love was focused. It would be as difficult for Todd as it would be for Robert to be content with a business partnership. In fact, was she so sure that she was prepared to live alone for the rest of her life while working side by side with the man who knew every part of her?

Her husband in so much more than name.

"Rachel, if I've made you angry I'm sorry, but I don't want to live without you. I've already done that for eight long years. Don't ask me to do it again."

"Todd, do you know what you're saying? I'm a married woman. A very well known married woman. You want me to live in sin with you and ruin my family's reputation?"

He turned her around with a firm grip on her arms. "There has to be a way! I don't care what it costs. I don't care if it means moving to Europe and changing our names! I want to be with you, Rachel."

She turned her head away. "Enough, Todd. Let go."

"Rachel---"

"I said let go," she insisted in a firmer voice.

"Okay," he said as he released her reluctantly. His fingers cupped her chin and he turned her head back toward him. "But I am not going to let you leave my life so easily. I'm not going to let your father come between us again." He bent his head forward and kissed her, long and deep, then reluctantly pulled back. His eyes sparked with desire. "I love you, Rachel."

She stared after him, watching him leave with an odd emptiness in her soul. 'Why couldn't you have said this eight years ago, Todd? Why couldn't you have forced me to elope with you back then?' She shook her head and turned away slowly, the memory of the pressure of his lips long gone. His kiss and touch didn't spark a fire as Robert's did. Thoughts didn't scatter when Todd told her of his love. 'So why didn't you slap his face? Why didn't you pull away, kicking and screaming? You're no better than a common whore.' Rachel cringed under the accusation and silently stepped to the front desk to order a carriage that would take her to her family home once she was finished changing her gown.

She proceeded up the steps to her room and closed the door behind her with a sigh. Why the struggle for acceptance from a father who would never approve of anything she accomplished? Why pretend to be married to a man who would never be able to move past his one great fault; he was her father's choice. Why fight the friendly advances of a man who loved her with every fiber of his being? Why not escape to a country she'd called home for so long?

Rachel changed in silence, her tired mind working the endless scenarios and consequences. Finally, dressed in a pale pink dress with intricately embroidered designs, she exited her room, proceeded down the stairs, and made her way to the carriage waiting at the foot of the front steps of the hotel.

"Take me to the Samson country home."

"Yes, ma'am."

She stepped up into the carriage with another sigh and lowered the shade. Rachel opened her Parisian fan and stared down at the colors that formed a peaceful countryside. 'Who am I? Puppet? Or woman?' She paused and then closed the fan with a snap.

Thirteen

'I will wait for you. You are my choice, my love, and my life.... Why are you doing this?'

Rachel sat up sharply, gripping her coverlet with white knuckled hands. "Robert?"

Then she remembered where she was.

That she was alone.

A dead silence met her ears and she collapsed against the pillows, missing the sound of his breathing. Could it only have been once they had shared a bed? Why did it seem so very much longer? She could still vividly recall the odd fluttering in her stomach when she had watched him sleep beside her on their wedding night. So content as his arms were around her. Time after time she had run her fingers through his silky hair, yet he had continued to sleep. So peaceful that she had been envious of him.

Rachel slipped from the berth on the railroad coach and slipped into her robe. Some part of her knew he wouldn't go back to the hotel room to try and find her. He would wait ever so patiently for her to stand by his side at the place he had somehow chosen to be their home. 'How can I let him stand there alone?' Rachel pushed the thoughts away with a moan and pressed her back against the wall as she took in a deep breath. If only she felt safe enough with Todd to allow him close enough to comfort her, but there was always the fear that she would lose the firm grip she had on her emotions. That was the reason he was in a different section of the train carrying them to New York City. She had told him it had been the only other room available, but that had been another lie.

Perhaps a wiser one than she had first thought.

A shaky hand brushed her hair from her face and she made her way to the side of the car, lifting the shade to stare out at the black night as she came closer and closer to her escape, yet farther from the man who made her feel whole. 'Why am I leaving?' The reasons had long since disappeared and yet she hadn't been able to stop herself from boarding the train that took her so far from her home in Massachusetts.

"Robert, I'm so sorry," she choked out as she closed her eyes.

If only there had been some way to keep from hurting him while still escaping her father. The sudden thought of him made the sadness disappear as quickly as it had come. She turned sharply, her stomach tightening in knots of anger. 'I am finally free of you, father! No more looking down your nose at every decision I make. No more driving me to the end that you want for me. No more swallowing my tongue just so that I wouldn't look like an ungrateful child who didn't appreciate what you had done for me.'

Rachel's fists clenched and she slid back into bed, forcing her eyes closed. She wouldn't let another minute of sleep be wasted on thoughts of a life that was no longer hers to worry about. This was now her new beginning and she would live it to the full. She would no longer be the daddy's girl that her father thought she had been born to be.

'Nothing will take my love from where I placed it. At your feet. I will never stop loving you.'

Rachel buried her face in her pillow, clenching the sides with white knuckled hands as she willed Robert's face from her mind. She knew it would be back, as well as the memory of his laughter and the warmth of his touch, but tonight she would sleep well.

* * *

Robert looked out the window of his room at the Samson homestead and crossed his arms a little tighter. He knew she was out there wishing she wasn't alone while wondering why she was and not knowing how to change it. 'How I pray I could be there with you, my love,' he tried to tell her with his heart. But God had clearly shown him that it wasn't His time. Robert was to be content with waiting and praying that her heart would be opened to the forgiveness she needed to give her father.

It was a test so difficult he could only pray he made it through to the end.

A darting star caught his eye and he clenched his jaw. Once upon a time, he would have foolishly wished upon that star that everything be made right. Now he knew better. He knew to go to the One who had designed and created those stars that fell. 'God,' he prayed, 'I know Your eyes see my pain. I even know that though I may not know the words to pray, You have already heard them uttered from my heart. I trust You because there is nothing else I can do to bring her back to me. She is in Your hands and that is the safest place for her to be. However long I must wait, I will wait because I love her.'

"Amen," he whispered.

Robert turned from the balcony window and stared at their wedding bed, his eyes darkening as he fought the tears of anger and loss. If only he had not given into the desires, the separation would have been so much easier. 'But You hadn't pulled me back,' he told the comforting presence filling his soul. 'What was I to do? I gave her love and understanding and she returned it, even though it may have been so briefly.' His hand reached out for the satin robe hung over the back of the chair and he brought it to his face, taking in a deep breath of the rose scent that had always seemed to surrounded her.

"God, I'll miss her," he admitted in a husky voice as he sat on the bed.

And he knew it was alright to do so. They had become one. Each a part of the other although Rachel hadn't yet discovered that. She could push him away as far as she wanted, but God would find a way of touching that part of her that was joined with him and use it to make her see what He wanted for her life. God would help her see the desires of her heart though she tried to hide them because of her fears of failure and rejection.

Robert lay back as he wrapped the robe around him, trying to imagine that it was her embrace. He knew it wouldn't be enough and that was fine. He still had his Lord and he knew that He would never leave his side. But, for now, he needed time to mourn. Tonight he would sleep well.

* * *

Maggie stepped into Rachel's old room, pausing when she saw Rachel's father sitting on the window seat gazing at a picture. Henry Samson looked up from the small portrait and she saw the mask he always wore slip quickly into place. Her heart broke for the two men. Robert and Mr. Samson mourned for Rachel's loss in two different ways. Robert threw himself into the building of what he believed was their dream home while Mr. Samson wandered aimlessly around the mansion attempting to relive the past while denying that he missed it. 'I don't understand why they don't just go to the hotel and bring her back. That's all she wants. Someone to show her what's right. Rachel's nothing but a scared little girl in a woman's body and if the two of them apologized for whatever they did wrong and then told her how they loved her, everything would be fine.'

Maggie sighed. "Good morning, sir. Is there anything I can do for you?"

He shook his head and carefully stood, the portrait dropping to his side. "No, Maggie, thank you."

Mr. Samson left the room, but a few moments later Robert entered. Maggie straightened from her dusting and gave him a hesitant smile. He returned it and came to stand by the window seat, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out at the early morning. She chewed her lip to fight the tears. He loved Rachel so much that it was a constant battle for him to keep from going to her each and every day. Somehow, Maggie knew that. What she didn't know was why he continued to leave Rachel to her own devices each day.

"I won't stay long, Maggie."

"It's alright, Mr. Trent. You can stay as long as you like. I'm just cleaning up."

Silence descended over the room and Maggie headed for the closet to begin packing up Rachel's clothes. An order had been sent from the hotel to have them packed up and ready for a pick up. Maggie didn't understand why Rachel needed her old clothes when Robert had purchased a new trousseau for her, but she didn't want to argue either. 'I know how Rachel is and I don't have the heart to fight with her about it. She's had so much set against her already. I just can't do it.'

That was why she hadn't fought against her attitude when Rachel had first arrived from Europe. There had been something in the way Rachel had greeted her that had hinted at the unstable emotions hiding beneath the surface. Then, when Rachel had opened the door to her room, Maggie had clearly seen that her childhood friend's life would be hell on earth. Day in and day out Maggie had wanted so dreadfully to pull Rachel aside and talk to her of all that had happened since she'd been away, but something deep in her conscience hadn't allowed it. Something had insisted that she remain quiet and let all be discovered in its time.

Even about her father's failing health.

"Maggie, may I ask you a question?"

Maggie looked up from the trunk. "Of course, Mr. Trent."

His smile seemed distant. "I believe we know enough of each other to be on a first name basis. Please, call me Robert."

"I don't guarantee anything, but I'll try." Maggie could see questions by the hundreds flash across his face, mostly about Rachel. He was silent for a long time and Maggie began to wonder if he was going to ask the question or not. "What's the matter?"

"Am I doing right, Maggie?"

"What?"

He turned to face her. "The Lord urges me to keep distant. To leave her to this decision for some unknown reason. To distance myself from her so that she must go to Him for what she needs."

Maggie nodded and came to stand beside him. "It sounds as if God has everything under control." She paused and hesitantly reached out to touch him on the arm. "So, what's bothering you?"

Again he was silent, staring down at her as wave upon wave of emotion showed on his face. "I suppose deep within me is the assurance that God, in His infinite wisdom, has confronted the problem just as it was meant to be handled."

"But."

"But I am not so strong in my faith to be content without her. I hear her laughter on the wind. Her touch still burns on my skin. The rose scent of her hair fills my nostrils each morning that I rise with the sun. I strive to be content with Jesus' presence beside me, but I cannot. Rachel… Maggie, Rachel has been a part of my life for too long. I cannot put her aside as He wishes me to do."

Maggie took in a slow breath as she searched for the words to comfort him. "How do you know that's what He wants you to do? She's your wife, Mr. Trent, and God knows how much you dote on her. Why do you think He fixed you two up? You'd be the key to her releasing the past. I'm not saying that I know the reason why everything's happened the way it has, but I know that it has happened for a reason."

Robert turned his head away, but remained silent.

"I knew Rachel really well before she went away to school and the woman that came back wasn't the girl that went away. Not even close. But when you began spending so much time with her…"

Robert's gaze was brought away from the window by that remark. "Yes?"

Maggie could hear the eagerness in his tone. "Robert, when you kept being so nice and understanding it made her feel safe. Rachel started changing then. Her whole appearance became… softer. Gentle. Compassionate. Like she was before. I know, because I spent every hour with her before she went away. Your presence in her life was a Godsend and I don't regret a single moment of it. Neither does she, even if she doesn't know it yet. Don't force yourself to do anything that your heart doesn't want to do because God uses our hearts to guide us."

"How do I follow it? Tell me, Maggie. I don't know anymore. All I hear is her voice telling me that she doesn't love me. All I see is the look in her eye when I told her I would pray for her. She is haunted by a past that I don't understand and I cannot help her."

Robert's voice was tight with desperation and Maggie gripped his hand.

"You can help her. Pray. Pray like you have never prayed before. When you wish she were at your side, pray. When you hear her voice calling to your heart, pray. When you hear her laughter or tears on the wind, use that as God's guide to pray. The old Rachel is battling her way through the hardness and stone and she needs your prayers more than your presence right now. God's hammer can hurt when it breaks the stones of our hearts."

His hand tightened on hers and he nodded, clenching his jaw before turning to stare out the window.

Fourteen

Todd stepped down from the plush carriage and looked around the large, bustling city with a wide-eyed gaze of amazement. Buildings taller than he'd ever imagined arose on each side of the cobblestone streets. Rachel chuckled behind him and he turned with a flush to stare into her amused eyes.

"New York City is breathtaking," Rachel agreed as she accepted his hand.

She stepped down from the carriage and brushed out the traveling suit she'd purchased in Boston before leaving. She had not been able to stand wearing the blue one worn when she had first met Robert. It had brought back too many memories. Whether they had been pleasant memories or nightmares had not been the point, they had been of Robert and therefore more than she could bear. Now, dressed in a traveling gown of the darkest red, she felt as if she'd lost a part of herself.

"Breathtaking isn't the word, Rachel." Todd looked around the city and just shook his head. "I didn't go to school long enough to know the word."

Rachel smiled and motioned to a porter. The porter hurried down the steps of the large hotel and gave her a curt bow. "Bring the luggage to the front desk, if you please."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Come, Todd. Let us find a room and then we will cable Lucinda."

She heard him follow behind her and let out a sigh. 'I wish I could have some time by myself.' However, she knew that if her wish were granted she would simply begin thinking of Robert and their time together. Why did she insist on torturing herself day to day?

"Are you sure this friend of yours will be okay with us just barging in on her like this?"

Rachel gave him a smile. "Positive. Don't fret." She turned to the aristocratic looking clerk and gave him a nod. "Good afternoon, sir. We would like two adjoining rooms for the week."

"I'm terribly sorry, Madame, but we have no available rooms at this time."

Rachel refused to be daunted. "Very well, then may I send a cable?"

"Certainly, Madame."

He presented her with a pen and paper, patiently waiting as she sketched out a brief greeting to her friend. "Now," she said as she handed the note to the clerk, "have this delivered to Mrs. Lucinda Delacreux."

The clerk blinked in mild surprise, then nodded and summoned a porter. "It shall be done at once, Madame."

"Thank you, sir." She looked around the lobby of the grandiose hotel, then back at the clerk. "Is there a place in your hotel for us to wait for my friend's arrival?"

"Certainly, Madame."

She and Todd were escorted to a lobby decorated with chandeliers, plush velvet couches, overstuffed armchairs, and finely carved tables and chairs. Oriental rugs of the most vivid colors insulated the floors and large oils seduced the eye with their landscapes and portraits. Rachel saw nothing of it as she carefully seated herself on a couch and ordered tea. Riches such as what surrounded her were commonplace when raised with wealth. The beauty had become expected and unappreciated.

Just as Robert's comforting presence had.

Rachel pushed it away and turned toward Todd when he had sat beside her. "So, what do you think? Are you ready to run back to the simple life you knew on the ranch?"

Todd stared down at his hands. "A part of me is, yes. After all, I don't know which way is up in a place like this. I'm afraid to touch anything because I might break it."

"I hear a 'but' in that sentence."

He nodded and faced her. "This is all an adventure for me, Rachel. I ain't never done anything like this before. Not since I was a kid and ran away to Lawrence with some friends because we heard tell of huge factories there. I feel like a kid again. Running away just because I wanted to be somewhere different."

Rachel smiled reluctantly, the friendship she had felt for Todd resurfacing as she remembered all the fun times and adventures they had shared. "I missed you so much, Todd."

Todd smiled and took her hand. "I didn't really like growing up, to tell you the truth. What else could I do, though, without you and Maggie to drag around every place?"

"It wasn't fair what father did to us, was it?"

Todd's face fell as he looked away. "No. No, it wasn't. You was too young and I was just getting to be a man. I'd have married you if I'd known exactly what that meant. I didn't even know I loved you until you went away and I kept thinking about you over and over again. I was so confused and didn't know why. Writing you letters was pointless because me and Maggie didn't know where to send them."

Tears sprung to Rachel's eyes as she watched Todd's face. "I wish I was still in love with you, Todd."

He looked up and squeezed her hand. "Maybe you are, you just don't know it. He wasn't right for you, Rachel. I don't care how nice he acted. He doesn't know you like I do."

Rachel sighed and she looked away. "I don't want to talk about him."

"That's fine by me."

But it was too late. Robert's face was already there, in her mind. His touch still lingered on her skin and the feel of his lips yet burned on her palms where he so loved to kiss her. Robert Trent was like a laughing demon created to torture her soul and remind her to never fall in love. Cupid's arrow gone so terribly wrong.

* * *

"Rachel! Is it you?"

Rachel stood with a smile, her arms outstretched to receive her friend's greeting. "Yes, Lucinda, it is I."

"How lovely to see you," Lucinda crooned through her ruby lips. "But since when have you called me anything but Lucy? I insist that you do so again."

Rachel kissed Lucy on each cheek and then held her out at arms at length. "You look marvelous, Lucy. What is different about you?"

Lucy flushed an attractive shade of pink that brought out the blue of her eyes and took Rachel's arm. "I'm married, dear girl, and to the most wonderful man."

"So, you finally persuaded Peter to put a ring on your finger," Rachel asked with a laugh. "How long was the engagement before the date was set?"

"Oh, you," Lucy scolded. "You always did have the queerest sense of humor." Lucy led Rachel out into the sunshine and glanced back at Todd who followed a safe distance behind them. "I read of your own happy occasion, Rachel. I say, is that tall young man your new love?"

Rachel forced a laugh as she stepped into the large carriage and waved the question aside. "But seriously, Lucy, what have you done to yourself? You look absolutely radiant!"

A slender finger toyed with the reddish-brown curl by her ear and she sent Rachel a coy smile as Todd joined them in the carriage. "I've told you, Rachel, dear. I'm married to a wonderful man."

"Well, I must say marriage agrees with you."

"Thank you, dear. Now," Lucy gestured to Todd and Rachel with an intense gaze, "I simply must insist that you two stay with Peter and myself while you are in New York. Our townehome has more than enough room for the two of you and it shall be wonderful to hear how you have been these several months."

Rachel cringed inside, but showed her friend a congenial smile. "You are too kind and I most happily accept. It seems we have met with a little difficulty in finding rooms at the hotel."

"That's New York City for you. Bustling and always full to the brim with people. Peter and I are quite tempted to return to France. Although, we have discussed living in England."

"England? Why, Lucy, you've become quite the world traveler. I remember a time when you said you wished to be married so that you would not be required to do anything but stay at home and knit."

Lucy giggled and Rachel caught the smile leap to Todd's face as he watched her. Lucy had always been that way. Her infectious laughter had put smiles on every man's face whether he was jovial or rather sour. There had always been something in her laughter that had made it impossible to refuse her charm.

"Peter has been very patient with me, the dear man, and is quite happy with my progress." Lucy's smile widened. He says that he is looking to purchase a sailing ship so that we may travel around the world with only the minimal essentials from port to port. I must say that I'm looking forward to the adventure. You and yours must make it a point to come with us if we do decide to follow through."

Rachel nodded, her mind straying to Robert. "I'm sure he would enjoy that," she said quietly.

Lucy sent her an odd look before glancing at Todd. She examined his hands, saw no ring, and then raised an eyebrow when her gaze refocused on Rachel. "You must tell me soon whether you believe that will be possible. I think it would be the greatest adventure of all, Rachel, and would provide a wonderful opportunity."

"Opportunity?" Rachel looked over at her. "Opportunity? What type of opportunity?"

"The opportunity for discovery, dearest," Lucy said gently. "Married life is not easy and the more you discover of he who has given you his name, the more you discover of who you are and what you want from life. I recommend it to all my married friends, as well as my single ones."

Rachel breathed in deep. "It sounds a wise recommendation, Lucy. I shall certainly think on it."

"Good." Lucy nodded curtly and then clapped her hands in delight. "We're here! We're here!"

She threw open the carriage door and was instantly taken into the arms of a dark haired man. Rachel pulled her eyes from their greeting when the pain seared her soul and accepted Todd's help with a stiff smile.

"Isn't she just lovely, Peter?" Lucy asked the question with a smile at her husband.

"Yes, she is, my dear," Peter Delacreux said, but his eyes were only on his young wife.

Rachel looked at the aristocratic Frenchman with a reluctant smile. Peter Delacreux had always been good looking. Blessed with waves of dark hair and piercing gray eyes, girls by the score had swooned at the mere mention of his name, but his eyes had always strayed to the innocent loveliness of Lucinda Bond. Of the New York Bonds. Destined to be filthy rich from the moment she was born because of wise investments by her ancestors, Lucy had never known hunger nor cold, yet she had always had a heart of compassion that Rachel had never understood. After all, how could a pampered princess such as Lucy Rochelle Bond be anything but a spoiled brat?

Such had never been the case.

"You flatter me, sir, but I see your eyes straying to the loveliness of your wife," Rachel teased with a smile.

Lucy blushed and gazed up into her husband's eyes with a love that Rachel knew was from her very soul. That look caused Rachel pain. Pain because she had so wished to have that look for Robert, but it hadn't come and now it was too late. Rachel looked over at Todd with a heart-wrenching sigh and then turned her head as the small group entered the townehome.

"I apologize."

Rachel waved the comment aside. "Do not trouble yourself. Lucy has always been in your heart and I expect no special treatment."

Peter extended his hand toward Todd. "I am Peter Delacreux," he said in his rich French accent. "Pleased to meet you…?"

"Todd. Todd Richards." Todd shook his hand with a jovial air and looked around the house with amazement. "Your house is a real sight. I ain't never seen anything like it."

"Peter dear," Lucy spoke up softly. "I'll show Rachel to her room."

He kissed her hand and then gestured for Todd to follow him. Rachel heard him begin to give a detailed description of their home as Lucy took her hand and led her upstairs.

"Rachel…" She paused at the top of the stairs and took Rachel's other hand. "Rachel, that young man downstairs… Is he the young man you told me of when you had first come to the school? That orphan boy you cared for so much?"

Rachel forced herself to meet her eyes. "Your memory amazes me, Lucy."

"Rachel, dear, where's Robert Trent? The papers said he was whom you had married. Were they wrong?"

Nausea hit Rachel like a wall of stone and her knees went weak. "I-I am feeling suddenly ill," she said feebly. "Perhaps I should go lay down?"

Lucy guided her into the nearest room, carefully laid her out on the bed, and helped her loosen her clothes so that she could breathe more freely. All that done, she sat in a chair beside the bed and took Rachel's hand. "Don't you say another word, dear. You rest and get better. The men can take care of themselves."

Rachel closed her eyes and drifted off.

* * *

"What troubles you, petite amie?"

Lucy sat across from her husband with a deep breath. "Something is not right, Peter. I do not know what it could be, but something is definitely not right."

Peter watched her face. "Is it, perchance, between Rachel and her friend?"

Lucy nodded with another sigh. "Todd Richards is not the man she was reported to have married. When I met them at the hotel I did not think he looked quite right. After all, the photo in the papers flattered both Rachel and her new husband quite admirably."

After a moments pause, Peter stood and came to stand beside her. He rested his hand gently on her head and tenderly massaged her scalp. "Perhaps the Father wishes us to show her understanding and compassion, but allow her to be on her way as quickly as she wishes to escape? Perhaps where she runs He is waiting?"

Lucy smiled and reached up to take his hand in hers so that she could press it against her cheek. "Of course. You must be right, dearest. I shall need your help to keep from asking too many painful questions."

"Your heart shall give you all the guidance you require, petite amie. Trust that which the Father gave to you."

* * *

Rachel changed for dinner with a heavy heart and sickened stomach. Each moment she spent in the happy home of Lucy Delacreux was another moment of torture. So many years of fantasies and fairy tales had made her long for such a life as Lucy had, and yet the choices she had made and the path that had been chosen had made that impossible. Robert had tried again and again to bring a fantasy to life, but she had fought it and finally killed any possibility of having him be her 'Prince Charming'. Rachel withheld a moan and left her room. 'Behind me. I must leave all these things behind me. They serve only to remind me of that which I never wanted.'

Todd met her at the bottom of the stairs in a dashing suit of charcoal gray and Rachel took his arm, but avoided his gaze. He didn't seem to notice as he led her to the dining room for the evening meal. Todd pulled out her chair and she thanked him with a nod and forced smile, desperately trying to keep her eyes from Peter and Lucy.

"Will you be staying with us long, Rachel?"

"As soon as the next ship departs for France, that is when I shall leave," she said softly.

Lucy and Peter seemed to exchange a glance.

"You're in luck," Peter spoke up. "A ship is leaving for France the end of this week. Two days hence, in fact."

Rachel nodded with a feeling of relief that she hid deep within her heart. Any more time than two days in the presence of such joy was liable to kill her.

"I hope you will take no offense at our parting so soon?"

Lucy smiled and took Rachel's hand. "Of course not, dear. I'm only glad that you thought of me when you were in need of a place to stay."

Rachel's grip tightened on the hand and she met Lucy's eyes. "As I am glad that you were here for me to call on."

"We shall both be sorry to see you go," Peter offered. "But we will certainly not detain you. If we can do anything for you to make your stay more enjoyable, please do not hesitate to let it be known."

Rachel nodded and dropped her eyes to her plate with the instinctual knowledge that Robert would have instantly loved these strangers that were so eager to be friends. "I thank you," she whispered.

* * *

Rachel stared out at the ocean. Their first day at sea was coming to a close. 'Where am I to go from here? I am a married woman and the man standing beside me is not my husband.' Much to Todd's disappointment, she had insisted upon separate suites for the entire duration of the journey. 'Will it be enough,' she asked herself as she felt Todd slip his arm around her waist.

The touch made her nauseous.

She pulled away and turned to go downstairs to her suite, or perhaps the dance room. Anywhere that would keep her from his touch. She heard him follow and pressed her lips together. He more than likely assumed she was leading him to one of their rooms for privacy. How little he knew her. It was time for her to decide just how far their relationship would ever go. When she reached out for the door of her room, Todd laid his hands on her shoulder and turned her to face him. He made a move to kiss her, but she turned her head away with a scowl. She couldn't fool herself into thinking she'd be able to do this.

"What is it, Rachel?" He gave her an amused smile and turned her head back toward him with a gentle finger against her chin. When he saw her scowl was not a joke, his smile faded. "Is it him?"

Rachel knew very well to whom he was referring. She lifted her chin from his grasp. "Todd, I have no intention of being your mistress. I agreed to this trip because I needed to escape from the clutches of my father, but that is all."

He crossed his arms. "That ain't all, Rachel, and you know it. You wanted to find out who you are. You wanted to find out a lot of things and I think one of those was if you were still in love with me."

Rachel tilted her chin higher. "Believe what you wish. I shall not disgrace myself or my family by having intimate relations with a man who is not my husband."

"We can get it annulled," he told her. "I'm not going to lose you."

Rachel could feel her patience slipping. "Todd, you have not understood what I'm saying. We cannot get a marriage annulled until we reach Europe, and even then I am not sure as to the procedures. As for losing me, don't be ridiculous. How can you lose that which you have never had?"

His face darkened and she felt a twinge of guilt. She placed a hand on his arm.

"I'm not saying this to be mean, please understand that. I wanted you here with me as a companion, nothing more. Not yet. I'm not ready for something more than friendship with any man. Just be patient, Todd."

"Be patient? Be patient, Rachel? I've been patient for eight years!"

"I know and I'm sorry. This is as hard for me as it is for you."

He clenched his jaw and strode down the hall to his room where he slammed the door behind him. Rachel pressed her lips together. 'How can one man cause so much exasperation? Why can't he be more like Robert?' She shook her head and entered her room, ignoring the sunshine filtering through the porthole. Thinking of Robert was the last thing she had wanted to do and yet he was always the first one on her mind.

"What am I going to say when he comes after me," she asked the silent room.

Feeling foolish because she expected an answer, she turned for her adjoining bath. 'A long soak in the tub is what I need. Maybe that will wash the memory of his touch off my skin.' She leaned against the door of the bathroom with a sigh. 'God, I'm going to miss him so much.'

Rachel wasn't sure if it was a prayer or a curse.

* * *

"Rachel, won't you think about it first? He's the captain of this ship, for God's sake! He could marry us."

"You watch your language," Rachel snapped, her fan pausing mid stroke. She adjusted her gaze to stare out at the beautiful afternoon sunshine reflecting off the ocean waves and pressed her lips together in irritation. "Todd, I will not marry you when I am still married to Robert. It wouldn't be right."

"Robert be hanged," Todd said harshly. "I'm sick of hearing his name whenever I talk about us!"

"There is no us," Rachel insisted as she closed her fan with a snap of her wrist. "How many times must I tell you before you understand?" She pinched the bridge of her nose with a slow breath. "I made a mistake in asking you to come. You would never make me happy. No man would ever make me happy. When we get to Le Havre---"

"Rachel, you don't know what you're saying. Of course I'll make you happy. You're scared to trust a man because of your ex-husband and father, that's all."

She looked up sharply, the sweet smile on his face making her sick to her stomach. "Do you still believe I am nothing but a piece of jewelry to be worn around your arm?"

"Of course not," Todd stuttered while his face flushed red.

"You know very well that Robert is still my husband and yet you insist that marrying you is the proper thing to do." He stiffened and Rachel stood, throwing her napkin on the deck table. "Enough is enough. When we arrive in port today, I will begin searching for a place to live. You are welcome to come, if you must, but I can assure you that when I find my new home you will not be staying there."

She turned to leave and he caught her by the hand.

"Rachel, I'm sorry," he soothed. "It's just I want what's best for you."

"I can assure you that my best interest is also on my mind, thank you," she informed him in a tight voice.

"Come on," he said as he directed her back to her chair. "Let's talk about this while finishing our breakfast. Please?"

Rachel watched him with a raised eyebrow as she reluctantly resumed her seat. "I suppose causing a scene so early in the morning isn't good for the digestion."

He chuckled and Rachel held back a sigh of loneliness. How many mornings like this would she survive before he understood that she couldn't accept him as anything but a once close friend? How could she tell him that receiving anything but innocent companionship from him made her feel sordid and sullied? Rachel's gaze changed to the ocean and her grip tightened on her fan. He had, after all, put aside his own life in the country to follow her to Europe. Why?

"Todd, why do you put up with me," Rachel asked suddenly.

He looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She changed her gaze to her hands as they clenched her fan. "I've been moody and unkind to you since the beginning of the journey. Not only that, my father will more than likely have written me out of his will by the time he discovers where I've gone. And who's to say he won't alert those of his many friends in France to my presence? You've chosen to run away with a hornet's nest and yet you seem fine with your decision. Why are you still determined to marry me?"

He was silent for a long time and then he stood with a smile. "That's a pretty tough question for me, Rachel."

"I know."

"I've told you I love you so many times I've lost count."

"I know that too."

Todd sighed as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I don't know how I'm going to get you to understand, Rachel. I guess I'll go to my room and think about it, then give you an answer."

Rachel watched him leave and let out a sigh of relief. She hated to admit it, but spending so much time with him was emotionally draining. He had fallen out of the role of her childhood protector and that made her feel a little lost and afraid. Afraid because she had never felt unprotected before. She had not felt truly alone until recently. Her eyes dropped and she brought a hand up to her neck to pull out a thin gold chain with a duo of delicate rings hanging at the end. She'd tried to mail it back to Robert several times and each time something had prevented her. Perhaps it had been the way his eyes had smoldered with love the day he had slipped the simple ring of devotion on her finger. Maybe it had been the words he had spoken on their wedding day.

'With this ring I thee wed. Mind, body, heart, and soul I am yours.'

Rachel shivered and tucked them back into her bodice, her fingers lingering on the smooth metal. If only she could keep him out of her mind. She rose and moved to cling to the railing, her hand clasping her fan. Looking down at the wake left by the gigantic steamer caused her no joy or awe, only a puzzling sense of loss. She knew what to attribute it to, but it was easier to push it away as fantastical nonsense. It would come back, she knew, in her dreams where she wouldn't be able to fight it. But dreams could be whisked away by logic and not bother her again.

She looked up at the sky, her eyebrows drawing together in a delicate frown as she let the fan drop from her hand. Clutching the railing with both hands, she closed her eyes and let her mind wander. It really was no surprise when it wandered to Robert. Although they had known each other for such a short time, they had found so many shared interests. 'And yet I let him walk away,' she reminded herself. She turned from the railing and strolled around the deck, breathing in deep gulps of the crisp ocean air. He had never once treated her unfairly without an apology. He had opened up to her in personal ways countless times. And he had stood by her side, defending her rights when her father had seemed to be abusing his authority. So, why had she abandoned him?

Rachel halted, her insides churning with emotions she didn't understand. The only thing left for her to do was hope Todd didn't leave her as she had left Robert. She knew she deserved it after her abusive demeanor toward him, but she realized that another such mental blow could send her teetering over the edge. As it was, her emotional control was a delicate thing. Little had she realized how accustomed she'd become to Robert's silent strength constantly beside her.

Devoted solely to her and his God.

She jerked around and headed toward her room, pressing her lips together in irritation. If only her father had let her be. Had he trusted her enough with the decisions for the business as well as her life she would have chosen to be alone. Independent. A pillar of strength and intelligence that would have forced her fellow board members to speak of her with respect. Instead, she'd been treated with gentle hands and spoken to with kindness and compassion. She had been loved without striving to be worthy of it.

A sob tightened her throat and she quickened her step down the corridor, trying to keep her calm composure under control. 'At least until I reach my room,' she instructed herself firmly. She slipped through the door and closed it behind her, pushing away roughly to keep from leaning against it. 'Weak fool,' a voice railed at her. 'So many times you told yourself you wouldn't submit to the lies and caressing glances used by men to subdue you! Now you've let him in your life and it has turned to shambles. Weak-minded fool!'

Her hands flew up to her head and she stumbled forward a few steps. "Stop," she hissed. "It's all lies. He did love me. He does still!"

The mocking voice went silent and Rachel's hands dropped to her sides as her insides went numb. If she truly believed he loved her, why had she left him behind? Why had she accused him of using her? Why was she traveling with a man she didn't love? Why? Rachel made her way to her bed and sat slowly, pulling the wedding and engagement bands from inside her bodice to stare down at them with empty eyes.

'With this ring I thee wed. Mind, body, heart, and soul I am yours, my love.'

Rachel's eyes darkened and her grip tightened around the fine gold chain an instant before she jerked it from around her neck. She stood and threw it across the room before wrapping her arms around herself when she turned away. 'Enough of this sentiment,' she snarled. 'I'm starting a new life. Feeling sorry for myself or reliving the past won't make it any easier!'

Rachel turned toward her door sharply when there was a soft knock. "Yes," she snapped.

Todd opened the door slowly and gave her an uncertain smile. "I see you're in another pleasant mood."

"Don't start with me," she warned. "If you have something important to say, fine. Otherwise, don't bother coming in."

Todd's eyebrow raised slightly and then his gaze shifted. "I just wanted to let you know that when we dock, I was going to go on ahead and find us a permanent place to live."

"Fine. I'll stay at the hotel we decided on until you come back later today. Then, if you've found nothing, we'll stay at the flat my mother left for me."

"And I'll sleep on the couch," he finished with an amused smile. "Just as long as it's okay with you."

"Fine, fine," Rachel said as she turned away. "I'll see you tonight."

He gave her one last odd look before he left the room. She breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the dresser. 'Peace at last,' she thought to herself. No Robert. No father. No Todd. Just silence and peace. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. It would be nice to be alone for a little while.

Fifteen

Todd sneaked into the one bedroom flat in the section of Le Havre and let out a curse when his stocking foot met the corner of an old couch. The light from a single candle came from the bedroom to the living room and he looked up into Rachel's face, her eyes dark with anger as she rested her free hand on her hip.

"How dare you come here," she hissed. "You, who haven't shown your face for over a week! This is my home, Todd. Get out," she snapped as she lifted her hand long enough to point at the door. "Not a word you've given me to ease my mind. No word of apology that you deserted me after the first day here! And you said that you were looking for a place for us," she scoffed. "What have you been doing? Chasing after some high priced floozy that had caught your eye and your wallet?"

He stood slowly and put his hands toward her in a soothing motion. "Now, Rachel, calm down---"

Her hand reached forward to grab a pillow from the couch and she flung it at him, not caring that he dodged before it could hit him. "I have been worried sick about your safety and you have the unmitigated gall to tell me to calm down?"

"I meant to write or something, but I was so busy at the farm---"

"You were too busy?" Rachel's eyes flashed. "How much time could it have taken to drop me a wire? You are nothing but a self-centered brat who uses women to get what he wants. If they won't give in to your desires you drop them for the next available whore!"

"It's not like that at all Rachel," he sputtered. "Everything that you said about your father made me think.... How are you going to support me and you when he's written you out of his will?"

Rachel remained silent, her eyes narrowing.

"I knew there was no way for you to do that so I started looking for a job. I didn't want you to have all the pressure of supporting the both of us because I love you--"

"Love," she sneered. "What do you know of love? You swore that you loved me, Todd Richards, and yet you abandoned me here without a word! Was I so easily forgotten when the color of my money dimmed?" She pointed at the door. "Get out of my house!"

"Let me get my things," he said in a cold voice.

She strode forward and looked up into his face with narrowed eyes, not seeming to notice the height difference between the two. "You will get out of my sight this minute and count yourself lucky I didn't chuck your luggage out into the gutter where they belong," she whispered harshly.

He examined her face for a moment and placed his hat back on his head. "Time has definitely changed you, Rachel. You're bitter and cold. No wonder your marriage didn't last a week."

She slapped him hard.

He tipped his hat as he rotated his jaw, then turned on his heel to leave without a word. Rachel glared after him, taking in deep breaths to keep from breaking out into hysterical sobs. She knew she was becoming a monster. Of all the people in the world, she knew. The thought that she was becoming her father terrified her to the very core of who she was. It was times like these when she remembered the way she had been with Robert. More gentle. More feminine. More loving.

The candle she held dropped to the floor and went out, sinking the room in darkness as she collapsed to her knees. She hid her face in her hands as she allowed the tears to come. She hated what she'd become. Unable to love. Unable to let anyone close. Not a friend to stand by her. No job to take her mind from her pitiful existence. Barely a place to live. No loving husband at her side, or even in her life. Not even a lover as Todd had so wanted to be. She finally had what she had always wanted; she was alone.

Yet, she was even more bitter and hard than she had ever been in her life.

"God," she screeched as she lifted her face from her hands, "I want to die! Do You hear? Strike me dead and save these people from my memory. I can't go on with this pitiful existence I think is life! I don't want to pretend anymore that I'm happy with where my life has gone or what I've become…"

Her voice broke off in a fit of sobs.

She pulled herself to her feet and stumbled toward her second story window, always left open to the night sounds of the harbor city. Crawling over her window seat, she stared down at the street below. Would she have the courage to throw herself over the edge? Would she be able to watch her life end like that? Rachel turned away roughly and fell to the floor. Thinking that it had been the key to an easier life from her father, she had run to a country that she had called home for so long. Now that she had been there for nearly two weeks, she was beginning to see that running away had been a bigger mistake than she had thought possible. None of her friends from school were to be found and so many of her bad memories hit her every night that she woke up screaming with terror.

"It would be so much easier to die," she told herself now.

Then she wouldn't have any cares. She wouldn't hurt him anymore. She wouldn't feel so alone. She wouldn't drown under the knowledge that she had pushed God and Robert so far out of her life that there was no way they could find her again. Pushing herself to a sitting position, she stared up at the night sky and sobbed until her eyes swelled shut.

* * *

Robert paced the floor of his room. 'What is it, Lord,' he prayed repeatedly. 'What is this sorrow that I feel? What is this deep, heart-wrenching anguish that has kept me from sleeping for so many days?' Another shudder ran through his body and he dropped to his knees, hiding his face in his hands as he prayed words and phrases he didn't understand. Praying fits such as these had become common in the past two weeks and he was afraid of them. Afraid for what they meant of Rachel's safety.

'I don't understand the dreams, Jesus,' he prayed. 'They come like little demons with pitchforks at my heart and I don't know how to fight them off except by the use of Your name and the reminder of Your blood that has covered me. But what do they mean? Where have these imps of pain and depression come from? What part of my past has welcomed them?'

It is time

Robert looked up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom and clenched his hands into fists. 'Lord? It is time for what? Is it time for me to go to Rachel and talk with her? Is it time for me to confront her father with the effect of his choices? What, Lord? Please show me Your will.'

It is time for her to be broken

A sense of dread filled his heart and he shook his head. 'Please, Lord, there must be another way. Her heart cannot take it! You are not firmly enough implanted in her soul for her to survive the breaking. Please, Lord, please.'

It is time, My son. Time for her past to be broken from her so that she may be free from it. It is time for her to be broken and remade

Robert dropped his head. He knew that his God would be gentle with her because He loved her so much more, but he also knew what it meant to be broken in the spirit. For once, so many years ago when he himself had been headstrong and filled with anger, the Lord had broken him. The Lord had chosen that time to remind him of his sins and his black heart. God had shown him, again, why it had been necessary for Him to send Jesus as the one Savior of the world. And Jesus had reminded him of the slashes, beatings, and crucifixion that had been necessary to save him from the darkness.

'Dear God,' he prayed. 'You, who are Father of us all and Savior to the world, I ask that You be with her now more than You have ever been. Let her feel You. Let her know that You love her. Allow her to see the mercy and grace that is You.'

* * *

Rachel stared down at the water with a dead look, barely discerning the sound of the people as they passed by her on the bridge. Maybe she would go for a long swim. A way to disappear off the face of the earth. They wouldn't recognize her when they finally dredged her body from the murky depths downstream. Her family's reputation would be saved and her past would be spared humiliation. She wouldn't be alone anymore. Rachel closed her eyes as another wave of nauseating loneliness overcame her and she nearly pitched forward into the water.

"Whoa there," a gentle voice sounded from behind her. "Watch your step."

Rachel clung to the arm that had saved her from falling and allowed herself to be led to a near bench that looked out onto the people passing by. She looked over at the older gentleman and gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. 'If only he hadn't stopped me I would be at peace now.' But that was as far as her thoughts would go before her soul seemed to be drawn into the compassion that shone in his eyes.

"Are you feeling better, miss?"

She nodded, unable to pull her eyes from his. She had seen that same look of compassion and unconditional love in the eyes of Robert when they had said their marriage vows.... The thought drifted away and she dropped her eyes to her hands.

"I'm fine, sir. Thank you for your kindness."

"I thank the good Lord that I happened to be passing by."

She could feel him examining her face and knew then that she must look sick and haggard. "Good Lord or not, I still thank you."

The man's eyebrow rose and a concerned twinkle darkened his eyes. "Have you reason to doubt that God is anything but good?"

A wry smile twisted Rachel's face and she chuckled. It sounded anything but happy. "I have reason aplenty, sir. Reason enough to tumble your own faith."

"Of that I wouldn't be too sure, miss. My faith has withstood wars, deaths, plagues, and heartaches of all kinds. My Lord and Savior is my life and I wouldn't have it any other way. If they proved the Bible to be a lie, I would still believe in Him and His teachings."

The smile melted from Rachel's face and she turned away. "I am envious of this faith you have, sir, for if I had such I would not be here today."

"It is never too late, my dear. God never walks away from those He loves and I can assure you He loves us all."

"Love," she said with a slight sneer. "What can someone like me know of love? I have never been shown it. I have never experienced it."

He held up her hand with a gentle grasp and touched the gold band on her finger, as well as the delicate engagement ring. "Have you forgotten your husband?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared down at the rings she so lovingly polished day in and day out. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, he was love."

"No," the man corrected gently. "No, God is love. Your husband was saved by that love when His sacrifice was seen in the life of His son and passed on to us all. God loves you like that. Have you forgotten?"

Her tired eyes looked into the man's loving eyes with shock. "How do you know my husband," she whispered.

The man smiled and looked off into the distance, as if remembering. "I have many memories of boys becoming men," he said vaguely.

Rachel's eyes dropped. "My memories are haunting. How I wish I could have yours."

He looked back over to her and his gaze seemed to speak to her soul. "Mine are good because I have chosen to view them as a blessing. Faith in but small quantities is required for this. Faith and trust in the Lord and His purpose."

Rachel looked off into the distance, remembering how strong her faith had once been. "Where did it go," she whispered. "Where did He go? Why did He make me go through this alone?"

"He didn't leave you, my dear. You left Him. He has been calling for you, but you've been in so much pain that you haven't heard Him. His heart has been breaking for you, but you haven't seen His tears because of your anger toward the ones that you love.

"But why have I felt so alone," she asked as she looked toward him briefly. "It eats away at me from the inside and tears me apart in ways I never thought possible. Life holds only pain for me. Do you really believe God has been a part of all that?"

"I do."

Rachel sighed and turned away with a shake of her head. "You are a fool."

"I may be, but I'm a happy fool. Happy in the knowledge that in my weakness my Lord is strong and will lead me through whatever comes my way. My enemies have no power because I am God's child and my fears are powerless to control me because fear is not of Him."

"Fear is all my life has been," she whispered harshly. "Fear. Hatred. Bitterness. I know no God."

"Perhaps that is why you wish to die?"

Rachel looked over at him sharply, but didn't deny it.

"I can see it plainly in your face, my dear," he said in answer to her silent question. "You've lost everything that you believed was making your life worth living and now you don't wish to go on."

She pulled her eyes away from his and instantly was overwhelmed by the hollowness that had become a regular part of her life. "You must be mistaken, sir," she told him in a cold voice.

"Your soul is crying out in pain, my dear. Can't you hear it? You're lonely and bitter. You're crying out for love and don't know where to receive it. I can show you."

"People have shown me many things," she hissed as her eyes snapped fire. "They have shown me the blackness of their hearts while calling it friendship. They have shown me lust while calling it love. They have abandoned me and called it necessity."

"God has never done those things," he said softly.

"He has left me as surely as my own father sent me to rot in a hell called Europe while telling himself he did it for his family," she snapped.

"No, my dear, you have left Him."

"Nonsense." A part of her cringed and the loneliness descended on her again as she stiffened her back and shook her head. "He doesn't exist," she spat out. "Not to me."

"He is more real than you or I," the man insisted in a voice as gentle as the breeze. "And I can show you. I can make Him real to you."

Rachel whipped open her fan and turned her head even farther away from him. "I think you should go," she said. "Thank you again, sir."

He stood slowly, smiling down at her with those gentle eyes that pierced her soul and revealed her loneliness. "And again I say that God loves you, dear child. He is simply waiting for you to ask Him back into your life as he once was. Don't believe those lies that say He doesn't care for you because those are straight from the pit of hell. He loves you. He died for you."

The cold that infected her soul radiated through her eyes and voice as she spoke. "If there is such a being as this, He has yet to show Himself to me. And I have seen too many things that say He does not care for us to believe as you do." She turned away and snapped her fan closed. "Good day."

"I shall pray for you, my dear. I shall pray for you daily."

Rachel heard him go and the tight grip she'd held on herself instantly disappeared. She fell forward to her knees with a groan and wept into her gloved hands until night descended, then made her way home as if in a trance for she knew that tomorrow she would die.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Robert slowly entered Mr. Samson's private study.

Mr. Samson continued to stare out the window for several moments of silence before he turned and gave Robert an odd look. Robert felt a pinch in his soul and opened his heart to Jesus as he had done so often the past month.

"Mr. Samson?"

Mr. Samson changed his empty gaze back out the window and motioned Robert to take a seat. "Robert, I haven't been completely honest with you."

Robert lowered himself into the seat very slowly. "Sir?"

Mr. Samson sighed deeply and made his way to the small desk to sit across from Robert. "Call me Henry, Robert."

One of Robert's eyebrows shot up and he absently took the ever-present pipe from his jacket pocket and slipped it into his mouth. "All right... Henry."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two men and Robert was hesitant as to what he could say to ease the tension. 'Lord, I am at a total loss. What is expected of me? Should I sit here quietly waiting for him to confess whatever presses on his soul? Should I attempt to ease the burden somehow?'

"I don't know how to say this, Robert." He straightened some papers on his desk and set them aside. "I've never had a day of my life where I was unsure of what to say."

"I can believe that." Robert couldn't force himself to call the man across from him by his given name.

Henry Samson looked Robert in the eye. "You must hate me as much as Rachel does."

"No, sir, I do not and neither does Rachel."

Henry looked down at his desk and lifted a photograph. He handed it to Robert and waited for a response. Robert gazed down at it with a small smile. It had to be Rachel. The hair, the twinkling eyes, the strong set to her jaw.

"That is her mother."

Robert looked up in shock. "Her mother? I would have sworn it was Rachel."

"I know. So would I." Henry took the photograph back and gazed down at it with tortured eyes. "Rachel doesn't understand how much it hurts to lose someone you've spent your whole life loving. She doesn't understand that it makes a person bitter when they blame themselves for that person's death. And she never did understand that every time I read one of her letters from Europe it was like another accusation from her mother."

Henry stood and made his way back to the window. "You see Melissa, my wife, she kept telling me that my determination to keep Rachel away from home during the holidays was an unwise move. Melissa was sensitive to things like that, but I was convinced that if Rachel was allowed home her concentration would be shattered."

Robert watched the strong man before him take a road less traveled and was amazed at the toll it took. Henry Samson blamed himself for all the wrong choices and the harsh words. He blamed himself for the failures and setbacks. Henry Samson was nearly crushed under the weight of guilt that had taken years to accumulate and had no idea how to relinquish the burden.

"Henry," Robert said hesitantly, "how long have you known that you were dying?"

Henry's head dropped. "I've known since before Rachel was born."

"What?"

"I have a genetic heart disease that is passed from generation to generation. That's why I've always been so hard on Rachel. I knew that she had to learn these things quickly, the first time shown. If she didn't, her legacy would be in danger and so would any chance for her to survive in this harsh world."

"But, Henry, there was me," Robert insisted.

Henry ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. "No, there was Rachel. If you died, how would she handle the company unless she'd been trained? She was my only hope."

"I still don't understand."

Henry sighed deeply. "I'd had a son before Rachel was born."

Robert remained silent.

"Arthur." He paused and crossed his arms. "Arthur died of this same heart disease before he'd even turned two. That was why I had to press her so hard. I didn't know when it would be my time. I didn't know if I would die before it was time for you to marry."

"But, Henry, you chased her away. She adored you while growing up, eagerly struggling to meet every goal and expectation you'd set for her. When you sent her to Europe you lost contact with her. You never explained to her why you wouldn't let her come home."

"I know," Henry snapped. "But how could I look in her face and tell her that I was dying! How could I tell her that after her mother died I didn't want her to come home because I knew that she would remind me of her!" Henry turned away. "God, I'm such a fool and now it's too late."

"It's never too late, Henry."

"I wish I could believe that, but I don't think she'll ever forgive me. I don't think she'll ever look at me with those green eyes the way she used to. My angel will never call me 'papa' again."

Robert rose and came to stand beside his father-in-law with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Henry, she's at the hotel in town. Why don't you go and talk to her?"

"I wouldn't know what to say, Robert."

"You could tell her that," Robert said simply. "She's convinced that you're some type of superhuman who believes he has never done a thing wrong. You need to convince her that you're just as scared as she is. Tell her that you've made wrong choices, but only because you loved her and wanted to take care of her. You could even tell her that you wouldn't let her come home because you missed her mother too much."

Henry dropped his head and took in a deep breath. "I'll think about it."

* * *

Rachel gathered her senses the next morning with a part of her that had lain dormant for a long time. It seemed too much like the mornings when she had dragged herself from bed while in school. Wishing she could die, but letting her heavenly Father lead her on and trusting in Him for a greater purpose. 'How those days had extended into oblivion,' she remembered now. Yet no matter how many times she had prayed those days to never return, here she was.

"No more," she told herself in a dead voice as she slowly made her way to the front door. "No more hurting. No more bitterness."

She left the apartment building and stepped into the carriage, trying to ignore the silent cry rising within her heart. Thoughts of Robert and her father came unbidden and she closed her eyes with a painful moan. How could she leave them like this? Hadn't once been enough? Weren't they suffering enough without her death? Rachel's hands covered her face and she fought to push the thoughts away. She had waited for one of them to come for her, but no word had arrived from either. They had forgotten her as surely as Todd had deserted her without a second glance back. Her life was as good as over. She had no husband. She had no father.

She had no God.

That thought seared her soul with pain and she moaned again, dropping her hands to her sides as her eyes filled with tears. 'God! Where are You? That man said You have never left my side, but why can't I feel You? Why aren't You as real to me as You are to Robert? Please,' she pleaded, 'show Your love to me before I die! Let me feel what Your love is! I don't want to be without You any longer,' her soul screamed toward heaven.

The carriage came to a stop and Rachel stepped out, not caring where her feet led her as long as they took her into nonexistence. She stepped into a building and followed an elderly man down a hall and into a large room where a man behind a desk stood and gave her a happy smile. She shook his hand hesitantly, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings.

An orphanage.

"Bonjour, jeune femme," he said. "Puis-je vous etre utile en quelque chose?"

In an instant, all her dreams and memories of her childhood with her friends at the hometown orphanage came back to her. How happy she had been. How full her life had seemed. How close to God she had felt being surrounded by children her own age that would listen to her testimony of His presence in her life. Was that what she needed to have Him be real to her again? Was this her chance for a new beginning? To find what she had lost?

The conversation she'd had with Robert the night of her dinner with Todd flooded her memory as well. Robert had had such a sparkle in his eyes when he'd talked of the children at the Boston orphanage. Could she feel closer to him if she buried herself in the work here? Would she somehow discover the joy that she had seen so often in his eyes if she spent time with these children?

A slow smile spread across her face. "Bonjour, Monsieur. I believe I can be of assistance to you," she replied. "I will teach your students English if you are willing to hire me."

The man closed his eyes and then opened them with a smile. "I thank God on high, for He has surely heard my prayers."

'And mine,' she thought to herself.

"I can start as soon as you have a class for me to instruct," she told him. "My name is Rachel Trent and I can assure you that I am more than qualified to instruct your students. The salary can be arranged later, if you wish. All I ask is that I am able to teach the students using my own method."

"Oui, oui, Madame," he agreed enthusiastically. "As for the date that you will be needed, I can have a class arranged for you in just one moment."

"So soon?" she exclaimed in surprise. "But, Monsieur, are you so sure of my qualifications?"

"Madame, you yourself have said that you are more than qualified and why should I not trust your judgment. As for the curriculum, the readers and other supplies are in the classroom. All you need is students to fill the desks, and I can assure you that we have more than enough of the little darlings."

"How many classes per day would you like for me to instruct?"

"As many as you are able."

Rachel stood. "Very well, Monsieur. I am ready. Lead the way." The man stood with a wide smile and gestured for her to follow. Rachel did so. "Monsieur, how would you prefer to be addressed?"

"Ah! Pardon, Madame, how rude I am. I am the director of the orphanage, Louis Delacreux."

"Delacreux!" Rachel stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Do you have a son named Peter?"

"Why, yes, Madame. How do you know of my son?"

"He married one of my friends."

"You are friends with dear little Lucy?" Louis Delacreux let out a booming laugh and then continued on his way. "Our God is definitely kind to lead the both of us to each other. Now we can share many stories of childhoods and blessings."

Rachel nodded as she looked around the orphanage with a wistful smile. 'Robert, I wish you were here to meet the children.' Louis led her to a large door and opened it with a chuckle. The children were sitting quietly at their desks, studiously browsing through many different types of books, even the occasional reader.

"Good afternoon, children," Louis greeted them in his heavy accented English. "We have been blessed this fine morning with a teacher for you."

The children gasped as they looked up in unison and Rachel smiled at each one of them, the memories of her and Robert's time with the orphans in Boston already flooding back to her.

"Bonjour," she greeted quietly.

The children rushed from their seats and gathered around her, either taking hold of her hands or skirt as they bombarded her with questions. Both in English and French. A tear found it's way down her cheek and she laughed as she allowed them to lead her to the teacher's desk. 'Thank You,' she prayed. 'I will try to find You. I will try.'

* * *

Henry Samson stared at the hotel for a long moment before ascending the stairs and making his way to the front desk.

The clerk seemed surprised to see him. "Hello, Mr. Samson. What can I do for you?"

"I have come to speak with my daughter. Is she available?"

The clerk cleared his throat. "Well, sir, um, she's no longer staying here. I-I thought you knew."

"Not here."

"No, sir. She left a while ago."

"I see. Thank you. Good day."

Henry Samson turned and strode outside, then clambered into the carriage and thudded the ceiling with his fist. It lurched to a start and he pressed his lips together with a pain filled exhalation of breath.

Sixteen

Rachel scowled as she struggled through the grading of the last few papers. She didn't feel any different than she had when she'd arrived in France. She was still angry with her father, with Todd, and with God for making her go through it alone. The only person she didn't think about was Robert. Her mind continued to stray from thoughts of him as if he were the plague itself. Rachel knew she had promised God she would try to find Him again. That she would attempt to put her life back together, but the priority was getting food on the table without delving into her father's money.

She didn't have time for religion.

'Maybe later,' she reasoned with herself. 'When I can devote more time...'

Rachel slammed down her pencil and covered her face with her hands, desperately trying to ignore the throbbing headache that was the only proof she was alive. Being on her own at school had been so different. Her bills had been paid by her father, as had her housing costs, and she had needed to worry little about trivial things such as clothing and food because the school had provided those. Minus a healthy cut from her father's monthly 'donations'. 'Now I must pay the grocer, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker....' She felt as if she were a nursery rhyme.

"Are you still with us, Madame?"

Louis Delacreux stood in the doorway of her room with a concerned frown as he watched her. Rachel straightened with a forced smile and gathered her papers. She hadn't yet given the pleasant older man a chance to inquire as to how Peter and Lucy were faring in New York City because she didn't want to think back on her short time spent in their company. Too joyful, that's what it had been. Too much love and adoration for her to stomach and if she confessed as much to Louis she suspected that he would discover something was wrong with his new teacher.

There was a slight tug on Rachel's heart and a familiar tightness constricted her throat. 'I must leave,' she told herself. 'I must leave before I begin to cry.' She just couldn't bring herself to admit that something was wrong. 'Isn't that weakness?' She had already succumbed too many times to that frailty of hers.

She tucked the papers under her arm and headed for the door with a practiced smile at her new employer. He didn't move from the door. Instead, he gazed down at her with what she supposed was a fatherly smile and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Rachel tensed, but somehow kept from pulling away.

"Yes, Monsieur?"

"This past week you have been working yourself too hard, Madame. Take this weekend and pamper yourself."

Rachel waved his concern aside. "I enjoy the pressure, Monsieur. It reminds me of the many memories I have of being a student myself. I will be fine."

"Do not try to pull the wool over these eyes, Madame. I have lived too long to believe any of it." He smiled again and released her shoulder. "If you wish to talk, I am here. If you don't..." He shrugged. "I shall pray that things are made clear for you."

Rachel swallowed hard, the plastic smile still attached, and then scurried from the large building with the feeling of his eyes on her as she went. Talking seemed so dangerous to her. Spending time in prayer terrified her even more at this point. Some small part of her heart appreciated the fact that God had sent the old man to save her from killing herself, but there was a newly erected wall around her heart that did an extremely thorough job of keeping Him on the outside. She had once thought that Robert's care and gentle touch had begun to tear it down, but they had only seeped under it's rotting foundation. The walls were still sturdy. The foundation had changed.

Rachel climbed into the carriage and clenched her hands together as she stared out at the passing scenery. She felt numb and a little scared. Ashamed and unsure. All in all, she felt humbled by life in general. Here she had been raised and taught to believe that she was strong enough to handle anything thrown her way and yet she had discovered that wasn't the case. She had fallen in love, broken his heart, broken her own, and thrown away all the friendships she had ever known simply because it had been convenient. Convenient, that is, to salvage her own pride and desire for control over a life that was quickly falling to pieces.

Now she was fighting for that last bit of control using her last ounce of pride.

A searching constricted her heart and she pushed it away. 'I'm not ready,' she said. 'Not yet. I'm not ready.' For what, she didn't know. All she knew was she wasn't ready for change. Rachel Samson was comfortable with who she was and enjoyed calling the shots. 'Why should I give that up? I'm a grown woman who has the power to make the decisions for what appears in my life. I don't have to answer to anyone but myself and I like that feeling of power. Why must I change now that I have what I've always wanted?'

Silence was her only answer.

* * *

"Good morning, Madame." Rachel nodded a greeting and then went back to the papers on her desk. She was preparing a reading from a little known author and still had to finish the translation into English. "Monsieur, good morning. I hope your weekend was enjoyable."

"Much. The wife and I had friends over for tea, dinner, and even had them stay the evening and join us for breakfast and a day at church."

He paused and Rachel's eyes lost focus on the words in front of her. He was going to inquire on her weekend. She could tell by the sudden pregnant silence that filled the room. 'What shall I say? That I stayed at home and wept? That nightmares have kept me from sleeping? That my soul is racked with guilt for betraying my husband on the morning following our wedding night? That I miss his touch so drastically I force myself to relive that moment again and again so that I shall never forget it?'

Rachel pressed her lips together and struggled with the translation once more. "I am glad it was so enjoyable for you. Perhaps you should invite more friends over this coming weekend so that you may experience that joy again."

"I think I shall," he said slowly. "I think I shall. Um... I hope your own weekend was more relaxing than your week, Madame."

"Yes, it was. Thank you," Rachel lied.

He nodded absently, rubbing his chin with a hand as he watched her. "Very well, Madame. Have a wonderful morning."

Once he had left, Rachel leaned back in her chair with her hands covering her pale face. She took in a choked breath and pushed the feelings down, trampling them with anger she kept ready for just an occasion. 'I don't have time for this,' she thought sharply. But each day her hold on the tears became weaker. It was only a matter of time before they came whether she was prepared or not. The tears were raging against the dam she'd built so hastily and she knew it would not hold. Not against the constant bombardment of love and acceptance she received from the children, the teachers, and especially Louis Delacreux. They would come. One day, they would come.

Rachel stood and made her way to the chalkboard, painstakingly steadying her hand as she wrote the day's lesson on the board.

* * *

Rachel stared at the letter in her hand with a scowl before crumpling it up and tossing it away. 'No. No! I refuse to be the one to apologize first!' But even now, the desperation she had felt growing deep inside was cresting. Tears were constantly brimming and she found herself clearing her throat often when she talked. Several of the teachers had begun hesitantly asking her what was wrong, but she had pushed it aside with a laugh that sounded more hysterical than amusing.

She feared that her father was dead.

Pride kept her from apologizing for her headstrong behavior, this she knew, but she couldn't help it. She felt as if she had always been the one to 'apologize for living' even when she herself had not been to blame for whatever had caused the scene. Even Robert had said that she often blamed herself for that which wasn't her fault. 'So why should I apologize when father was the one who was always so bull-headed? He pushed me into my decision.' But had he forced her to alienate Robert just when they had shared so much? Had her father been responsible for the words she had said that had hurt her new husband to the very soul?

No. They had been her choices. Hers alone.

Rachel covered her face and tried to force the tears away, but they wouldn't be hidden. They struck out at her heart with renewed vigor until they poured out onto her cheeks with such speed that they dripped from her chin. 'Why? Why did I cause such pain, Lord? How could I possibly have believed it was for the best?'

Rachel loved her father. She truly did. When she had allowed the rejection to blossom, it had bloomed to bitterness and rage that had fueled an easy hatred. Now she was afraid that she had withdrawn too far from him to ever be considered his 'angel'. 'How do I forgive and forget? How do I leave it behind and start over before it's too late?' That was what terrified her. She didn't know how to 'let go and let God'. Control had been her training and now He was asking her to give that up so that He could make her life better and easier.

She didn't know how to hold on to His hands only.

'Teach me how. Please. I'm willing to be taught. I can be taught. Please. Teach me. Teach me...'

The children she taught had let go of the anger against those who had beat them, insulted them, molested them, and abandoned them. Couldn't she learn from them? Couldn't she somehow get them to speak of their past hardships and discover how they had moved past it? Couldn't she? There had to be a way. After all, wasn't she the teacher? Couldn't she assign a writing assignment or something? Anything?

Rachel felt an uncommon sense of desperation as she got ready for school that morning. It was as if something inside of her had snapped. She was tired of it all. Tired of being strong. Tired of being removed from all Robert had ever loved. Tired of hiding from those people who were desperately attempting to be her friends. Again and again, the children had attempted to woo her with their smiles and laughter, but she had kept them on the outside. So, too, had Louis Delacreux attempted to coax her from her shell by inviting her to dinner at home or tea in his office. Again, she had kept him on the outside by attending, yet only with her mind. Her heart and soul had been carefully tucked out of reach.

But Rachel had known that their reach had been becoming closer and closer to where she had hidden herself.

With a last look behind her, Rachel hurried downstairs and into the waiting carriage sent from the orphanage. 'I shall show whatever I'm feeling,' she promised herself. 'I shall be truthful in my answers to their concerns and I shall open up to their inquiries.' But she couldn't be sure that her mind would allow her heart to carry out her threat. Eight years was a long time to put behind. 'But if I could do it for Robert...' That thought gave her hope.

Louis Delacreux met her on the front porch. "Madame, good morning."

She smiled, a little less assured than what she'd have liked, but she let it slide. 'If he believes something is wrong, then he will ask.' Again, she promised herself to open up to him.

"Good morning," she replied. Her voice sounded a trifle strange.

He examined her a moment and then motioned her to follow him. She did so with an air of hesitancy as they made their way to his office. Louis gestured to the seat across from his desk and she took it with a sigh, setting her briefcase on the floor beside her. 'Please,' she found herself praying, 'please make him ask me what's wrong. Make him say what I need to hear in order to finally break down and cry. I need to cry, God. I need to cry so badly.'

And it was the truth. Rachel knew that she needed the comfort that Maggie and Robert had once been available to give her. She was hungry for it. She could tell by the way she kept thinking how good it would feel to sob for hours in the older man's arms, imagining him to be her father.

"Madame, I have something to say to you and I ask that you hear me out completely before responding." Rachel nodded, the tears building in the back of her eyes. "Very well," he sighed. "Very well."

Silence descended over the room and Rachel had to fight the urge to leap to her feet and flee. 'No! I shall remain. I shall be truthful and open. I shall cry.'

"I fear you have not been completely honest with me," he began.

Rachel choked back the words of defense that nearly broke through her forced calm. She knew that his statement was true and she was determined to hear it, listen to it, and ask how to change it.

"The policy here at my school is honesty, first and foremost. Honesty causes us to be closer to God, closer to each other, and closer to the children whom need our honesty the most. My understanding of life is that if something troubles us at home, it troubles us at work. The shared honesty allows us a safe place to discuss these problems while knowing they will be dealt with in a Godly manner."

Rachel nodded along with this statement, her heart beating louder and more insistent as his voice became kinder and more understanding. 'He knows. Lord, You've told him my secret so the telling would be easier, haven't You?' A desperate part of her soul begged for it to be true. The step such as she was about to take terrified her to the very core of her self-assured façade. This man would be kept on the outside no longer.

"Now, to the point at hand." He paused, his hand absently rubbing the cover of his well-used Bible. "Several of the children have come to me---"

"The children?" Rachel was startled out of her silent torture by the unexpected turn. "The children came to you?"

Louis Delacreux examined her eyes and face before continuing. "Yes, Madame, the children. They feel that you are sad and lonely. Some of the older boys and girls go so far as to say you seem to be in a battle amongst yourself where you will accept no help from those around you."

Rachel blinked in surprise and her face blanched. She felt physically ill.

He saw the reaction, but pressed on without a lengthy pause. "The teachers have noticed this as well. You greet them with a happiness that seems forced while deftly changing the subject from that of your personal life before you began teaching here. Even I have noticed it. I hate to be brusque, for it is so foreign to my personality, yet our Lord is worried for you, child. The kid gloves must be removed."

The intense nausea increased and Rachel brought a hand up to cover her mouth as she squeezed her eyes tight.

"The pain you feel grows stagnant and must be dealt with before your heart is beyond healing other than the Supernatural. The Lord has watched you suffer long enough and has decided you are ready to be broken and formed anew." He paused and came to stand beside her, a hand gently placed on her shoulder. "Lift your eyes and be healed, child, for our God has said it is time."

Rachel hid her face in her hands with a choked cry as the dam broke.

Seventeen

"Madame?"

Rachel smiled and nodded toward a young boy in one of the front desks. "Yes, Jean-Pierre? You have a question?"

He brushed his blonde hair from his blue eyes and glanced down at his reader. "Madame, I don't understand this."

She came to stand beside him and looked down at the reader. "Which part, Jean. Show me."

"The parable of the lost son, Madame. What does it mean?"

Rachel sighed and picked up Jean-Pierre's reader. "It is a very sad and happy story, Jean, that Jesus---"

"The teacher," piped up one rosy-cheeked young girl.

"Yes, Marie, the teacher."

"The Savior," came a tiny voice in the back of the room.

Rachel laughed. "Very good, Paulette. Yes, Jesus the teacher used this story to tell the people how much God loved them."

"But how, Madame," Jean-Pierre asked as he screwed up his face in concentration.

Rachel gazed down at the reader with a faraway smile. "By showing that even when we believe we know the best direction to take and the best decisions to make, He will accept us back with open arms."

"So, the great God never kicks us out," Paulette asked in a very quiet voice.

"No, Paulette. He never kicks us out. In fact, when we hurt, He hurts."

"Because he wants us to be happy," a little boy asked.

"Yes, Jacque, because He wants us to be happy and free. When the son in the Bible realized that he was only hurting himself, he remembered how well the slaves were treated and decided that was all he deserved. But when his father welcomed him back as if nothing had happened..."

"This is what our God will do when we ask Him for help, yes," Jean-Pierre asked in a thoughtful tone. "So the son in this story is us and the father is God?"

"Yes. Good, Jean-Pierre."

"Merci, Madame," Jean-Pierre said with a wide smile.

"Now," Rachel handed Jean-Pierre back his reader and made her way to the chalkboard, "children, you have been doing very well."

"Thank you, Madame," they said.

"Would anyone like to read some scriptures or poems that they have found most enjoyable?"

All the children jumped from their seats in excitement and Rachel laughed as she raised her hands. "All right. All right. Take your seats. Who would like to read first?"

Marie, with her bobbing brown curls and hazel eyes raised her hand with a cry. "Oh, Madame, let me! Let me!"

Rachel nodded. "Marie, thank you for volunteering. When you are finished, how would you like to select the next to read?"

Marie's eyes widened and she looked around the classroom. "Madame?"

"Don't be afraid, Marie." Rachel sat at the head of the class and nodded her head. "Go ahead."

As Marie began to read a poem she herself had written about heaven, Rachel's mind wandered. It had been a month since she had begun teaching the children as a real teacher instead of a cold statue. The Lord had found a way to bless her that she had never thought possible.

Once she had opened up to Louis about the real reason she had come to France, the story had manifested itself in horrid detail. Her pride and fear. Her refusal to humble herself to those around her. The bitterness that had grown in her heart because of the forgiveness she had refused to give to her father. All of it had been sorted through, prayed over, and discarded so that it's power had ceased. When Rachel had left his office, she had felt as if a leaden weight had been lifted from her back and the world had seemed a brighter place. Her laughter had begun to sound genuine and would come when she least expected. Even the children's joy at life had begun to seem less pointless.

Rachel had begun to live.

Rachel smiled as she watched Paulette stand and begin to read a few select scriptures from the reader. 'Thank You, Lord. Thank You for blessing me with children such as these.'

* * *

Robert gave the large building a smile as he crossed his arms. It was finished. It had taken nearly three months of hard work as he and his workmen braved the elements to build his dream house, but he felt it was worth it. He felt closer to God than he ever had, and a feeling of peace commonly followed thoughts of Rachel as he entrusted her to His care. 'Is it time to go to her,' he asked for the countless time. 'May I tell her our home is finished?'

A silence followed the question and Robert's brow dropped into a puzzled frown. Something had been troubling him ever since he had begun to work on the large home's final stages. He had tried to reason out what it could have been, but had finally given it to God, trusting Him to work out the difficulties and smooth over the rough spots of his life. Just as he had, when God had shown him that it was time for Rachel to be broken. Now the feelings were back, yet they were different. 'What is it?'

Robert straightened suddenly, turning for his horse as his scowl deepened. He gave his head foreman a curt nod and leaped into the saddle to urge the horse into a fast gallop toward town. Something wasn't right. 'Is it Rachel, Lord? Has something happened to her?' A flash of panic tightened his grip on the reins, but he surrendered the terror to the Lord and began to pray for Rachel's safety. The same as he had since the day he had known he was to marry her.

An approaching rider made him pull his horse to a stop and he gave Maggie a smile. "Good day, Maggie. Have you come to see the house?"

"No. I've come to tell you that Rachel is missing."

"What," Robert snapped causing his horse to flinch. He took in a deep breath and gave the horse's neck a firm pat. "I didn't mean to be so short, Maggie. Tell me what you mean."

"I went into town today to let Rachel know that her father's condition is worsening, but she wasn't there. When I asked the clerk if she'd moved to another hotel, he said that she'd moved out the first week she was there and hadn't told him where she was going."

Robert ran a hand through his hair and gripped the reins. "Go on."

"Well, I thought maybe she'd gone to visit her friend in New York, so I wired her."

"And?"

"Mrs. Delacreux hasn't seen Rachel since she sent her off at the dock almost two months before," Maggie said in a tight voice.

"The dock? In New York? What was she doing there?"

"Her friend said that she was with a man named Todd Richards and they headed for France. She also said that she felt something was terribly wrong, but didn't feel led to ask her about it. She and Peter, her husband, felt that they were to be understanding and kind, but allow them to leave." Maggie hesitated before going on. "You don't suppose she would really go to Europe with Todd, do you?"

Robert shook his head. "I don't know, Maggie."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know that either."

Maggie brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. "We have to find her. I realize it's already been too long to save her reputation, but.... But her father is dying. I don't know how much longer he's going to be here. Rachel should be here." She sighed and slapped her leg. "If only they weren't so stubborn."

"I know, Maggie. I know."

"I have to get back to the house. Please find her. Please," Maggie whispered.

She gave him a pleading look and then turned the chestnut mare back the way she had come. Robert watched her go and pushed the dread from his mind. France. She had run to a place as far as she could go from him and the father who threatened her sanity. Halfway across the globe he could still feel her as if she stood beside him, but now an ocean of water separated them.

Water.

Robert shuddered and urged his horse to a half-hearted gallop. He should have known that his fear of water would stand between him and his love, but he had hoped against hope that he would have found some way around it. How could he find a way around the Atlantic Ocean when his bride was on the other side with another man?

Do you trust Me?

There was no cringe this time. Robert answered without hesitation. 'Yes, Lord. Yes, I trust You. It's simply that my fear has been with me so long that it has become a part of me. A part that I don't know how to give it up. You are the only One who knows how much I dread the sight of water and I know You are the only One who understands why I fear it.'

You must go forward, child. Never look back to yesterday for I am not there

Robert nodded and urged his horse to a faster pace.

* * *

Robert handed his hat and gloves to Oliver and went upstairs to Henry's bedroom. Henry was lying in bed, propped against the pillows as he read a book. He looked up as Robert entered the room and set the book on a side table.

"Robert."

"Henry, I was wondering if you had attempted to talk with Rachel."

Henry's sunken eyes dropped and he hid a ragged cough in his hands. "Why?"

"Sir, did you talk to Rachel?"

"I did not," he confessed in a haunted tone. "When I arrived at her hotel, she was not there." Henry looked up at Robert and the accusation in his eyes was clear. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did not know. Why did you not tell me she had left the hotel?"

Henry pressed his lips together. "Because I'm a stubborn old man. An obstinate, hard-headed old man who may have lost the only light in his world." Henry Samson looked up at Robert with tears hiding under the surface. "You have to get her, Robert. You have to bring her home so that she can know that I am sorry. I have been a fool and she must know. I love her. Dear God, how I love her, but she won't know unless I tell her I am sorry. You must get her, son."

Robert sat beside him and took his cold hand. "I will, father. I will."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to come?"

Robert gave Maggie a half-hearted smile and then picked up his luggage, desperately trying to keep his mind away from the thought of the water that would soon be lapping at a large ship's belly when he arrived in New York City. It had been so long.

"I'm sure, Maggie. This is between her and I. The last thing I want is for her childhood friend to see what might happen."

"Robert, I've seen her moods before. Nothing would shock me."

"But Rachel has changed, Maggie. She has changed quite a bit and not even I know what those changes mean to those relationships around her."

"Very well, but you will certainly be in my prayers."

"Of that I am grateful."

Robert heard the shrill whistle, as well as the conductor's call for everyone to board, and gave her another smile before turning for the private train car. "We will see you shortly, Maggie, both Rachel and myself, Lord willing."

Maggie nodded and brushed a tear from her eyes. "I hope to God she's okay. I don't know what we'd do without her."

Robert stepped aboard, setting his baggage inside the door before taking a firm grip on the iron railing as he looked down at his wife's childhood friend. "She is fine, Maggie. Of this one thing, I am sure because God would not show me a clear vision of her as my wife unless she was to be that until our lives ended together. She is well, and she will be coming home to all of us."

The train began forward and Robert stood there until the station could no longer be seen, then he entered the carriage used solely by the Samson family. He came to a corner he recognized and sat with a sad smile, the scenario that had happened so many months ago playing out in his mind. She had been so very lovely sitting by this window with the delicate frown darkening her eyes. The early morning sunshine filtering through and turning her hair to gold.

'The social pages could not possibly be the cause of such annoyance.'

Robert shook his head with a slight chuckle as he remembered the line he had used for their introduction. Even at the very moment the words had been out of his mouth, he had known they had made him sound a fool. Why had he even had any urge to comfort the unknown lady in the first place? It had to have been because she was the woman he'd loved for so long without realizing it.

He had felt drawn to her.

Robert removed his hat and gloves, setting them on the oak table in front of him, and picked up a dog-eared issue of the New York Times with a smile.

* * *

"Good morning, sir. Allow me to take your bag."

Robert released his grip on the handle of his carry-on and gave the young porter a small smile as he attempted to keep his eyes from the water. It was time to put his faith to the test. A test of reckless abandon and courage. A test of trust and conviction. The ultimate test.

"Good morning to you, young man. Are you going to show me to my room?"

"Yes, sir. This way please."

Robert nodded and fell into step behind the young man, focusing on the back of his head to keep from looking over the edge. He heard the deep boom of the horn and flinched. 'Here I am on a type of ship that I swore I'd never be on again; going to a place where I never wanted to find myself in again; all for the woman I love and the Lord who owns my life.' He hadn't been on a ship for fifteen long years and, right now, he wished he could have made it another fifteen. But if he had to face his worst fear in order to get Rachel back in his life, he was more than willing.

He tipped the porter, then pressed his back against the door when it had closed behind the young man. He looked around the room with a brief glance until his eyes focused on the porthole that would give him a supposedly beautiful view of the ocean below. He remembered once before he had looked out a similar porthole, the excitement of his first trip to Europe giving his parents fits as they tried to answer all his questions. He had only been eleven. Business had called his father to France and his wife and only son were to accompany him. Robert was to come so that he would be able to learn business techniques of other countries. His mother was to control him and keep him out of his father's way.

Robert closed his eyes as the pictures of that fateful trip rushed at him.

There is no reason to fear, child. I am here. If I am for you, who can be against you?

Peace flowed over Robert like a tidal wave and he relaxed. The control was released and he let the wall in his mind crumble as the fear and dread flowed like the water he had feared. The memories seemed so real. So clear.

Halfway through the trip their ship had begun to sink. He couldn't remember now what had caused it, all he could focus on was the fact that he had been separated from his parents and stranded with an older man in a small lifeboat. Drifting for what seemed like weeks. Surrounded by water, but unable to drink but a few drops each day from their rations. It had been on that fateful trip that he had learned of God's love for him. It had been from that strange man he had learned of Jesus' sacrifice on a cross so long ago. It had been he who had gently instructed him how to surrender his life to his Savior.

But his family had never made another trip across the ocean with him.

And he had never again seen his mother alive.

Robert pushed the painful thoughts away and stepped forward to start unloading his luggage for the long trip. Why hadn't he ever told Rachel? Why hadn't he ever opened up to her as much as he had expected her to do for him? What kind of trust was that? He accepted the criticism with a slight nod of his head as he finished his unpacking, then closed the suitcase and slid it under the bed. Mistakes were to be learned from and that was what he intended to do. He took an overcoat from his closet and turned for the door.

It was time to stare his fear in the face.

He closed the door behind him and took in a deep breath before beginning the short trip toward the top deck. As he climbed the stairs, he could feel his throat tighten. His hands absently tightened their grip on the railing as he used it to steady himself. 'I have nothing to fear,' he muttered silently. 'It is God's creation, not a weapon of destruction. Be still and know that He is God.'

Robert continued to mutter such sayings to himself until he reached the top deck, then his thoughts went silent as the awe of the view struck him to the soul. The brilliant clarity of the sunset as it reflected off the miles of untamed ocean cried out the glory of the God who had created it. The wind that whistled through his hair seemed to sing His praises. The sea creatures that raced beside the large ship chattered and squealed their delight and urged Robert to grip the railing with a smile as he stared down at the water that seemed to laugh. This is what he had feared? He chuckled and leaned his forearms against the railing, relishing the feel of wild nature around him.

He was free.

Eighteen

Rachel looked out at the sunset that sparkled on the city of Le Havre and sighed. She was content and at peace, and yet she wasn't. Some part of her was missing and she could feel it moving steadily closer. 'But what is it?' She shook her head and turned away from the window of her one-bedroom apartment, again wondering how Todd was faring on the Parisian countryside. Perhaps he had saved enough to return home? It was hard to believe that he had left her so readily after so many weeks of pestering her.

In fact, it was hard to believe he had left her at all.

Rachel thought back to the day with a sad smile, her green eyes darkening when she remembered their first day in the large port city. Todd had disappeared, supposedly to find them a place to live. After the fifth night alone in her mother's one bedroom apartment, she had realized that he wouldn't be coming back. It had hit her hard. Doubts of her own desirability had attacked her from all sides, just as they had when Robert had never made an unwanted advance toward her.

And it had hurt so much when she had realized that only her own bitterness and hateful demeanor had chased him away.

Rachel shook her head and sat at the window seat to stare down at the street below, a sigh of thankfulness breaking through her lips as she remembered how she had continued to refuse Todd's propositions of marriage, as well as his suggestion of something less desirable. How had she held out under his continuous declarations of undying love? How had she withstood his passionate embraces with a turned head or annoyed sigh? How had she kept him from her bed?

Robert's face flashed into her mind. "Perhaps it was you," she asked.

Rachel stood and slipped into her coat, then left her apartment for her usual morning walk. On these walks her mind would wander to Robert. She had never been able to escape him or his love, but for some reason, she had needed to try. Desperate to find a part of herself that had been taken away, she had fled. 'Have I found who I am?' A smile played with the corners of her mouth and she closed her eyes as she pictured the small, orphan children whom she taught. They had been a blessing to her that she hadn't thought possible. They had kept her sane. They had taught her unconditional love.

And they had taught her forgiveness.

"Such is the faith of a child," she said to herself.

Blind. Trusting. Forgetful of the past. Willing to walk on with their hand in hers. She loved them all and looked forward to the next day of laughter and love when she would teach them of a country they had never seen. They were the only things keeping her from returning home. The thought of leaving them tore at her heart and made her eyes burn with tears. But she knew that soon she would need to return to her father and let him know of her love for him, as well as asking his forgiveness for the pain she had caused. However, even to this day, something held her back. Each day she went to the ticket office to purchase a one-way ticket to America, and each day she came back empty handed when an urging from the Lord had prompted her to wait yet again. 'When,' she asked now. 'When can I return to the ones I love?'

Do you trust Me?

Rachel sighed with a slight nod, remembering a time when His voice wouldn't have been so clear. 'It seems so far away now,' she told herself. 'Has there ever been a distance between us?' He seemed so close that it was hard to remember a time when He hadn't been there.

The street life of Le Havre began to stir as Rachel continued her walk through the streets, reveling in the sounds and smells of the waking city. 'If only Robert were here to enjoy the sights with me. It could have been the honeymoon we had been denied. It could have been the journey of discovery with him that I had dreamed of.'

She shook her head and tightened her grip on her parasol, letting the tears of remorse trail down her cheeks without a thought. Peace was not far behind and she surrendered to it without a moment's hesitation, letting the Lord's mercy and love fill the emptiness that seemed to eat her heart. 'I miss him,' she prayed. 'I miss him so much.' And she knew that He realized this. If anyone knew her innermost thoughts it was her Savior, but He still chose to keep Robert apart from her. For what reason she did not know, but she trusted Him and His time.

A bench came into view in a small park and she made her way to it, sitting with a content sigh as she watched the people pass. Robert would have enjoyed her walks and their time together. He would have especially loved the quiet time when she watched the many different types of people as they made their way past. She nodded with a smile and let memories of their short time together fill her mind to overflow into her heart and soul.

He didn't seem so far away and that fact seemed a little odd. For so many months it had been only an image, an impression burned into her mind, his touch still fresh against her skin. Now it was like she could smell his cologne. In fact, if she closed her eyes she could almost imagine his touch against her shoulders as he rested his large and gentle hands there.

Or feel his lips pressed against her neck.

She opened her eyes, reaching her hand back in expectation of touching the silky softness of his hair, but there was only air. Another tear trickled from her eye and she lowered her gaze to the ground. 'I've been faithful to him, Lord. Please bring him to me so that I may tell him this. Please, let me tell him that I'm sorry for deserting him and his love.'

A sudden chill in the wind made Rachel bring her shawl tighter around her as she stood, turning back for her small apartment that she now called home. Tomorrow was Sunday and she would need to rise early for the walk to first service. Perhaps she could visit the children at the orphanage afterwards? The thought brought a smile to her face and she quickened her step, the emptiness disappearing as the joy of her children's company overcame her heart.

It is time, my child

Rachel blinked and halted her walk back to the one bedroom flat. A deep-rooted feeling of expectancy had suddenly flickered to being when she'd heard the whispered words in her soul. Her grip tightened on her parasol and she closed her eyes in prayer. 'Lord, do with me as You will for I am willing to follow You. Show me Your path and make it clear that it is Your bidding.'

Hatred and bitterness are behind you, precious child. My will delights your soul. Love and compassion fill your heart until it overflows. It is time for your return.

A wave of joy made her knees weaken and she turned sharply, hurrying down the familiar street toward the ticket office. So long she had waited for this time and yet now those days and months could have been as short as minutes. 'It is time,' she asked herself in wonder. 'Thank You, Lord,' she prayed with her heart and soul filled with love. 'Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.'

She had never known such a joy and peace as that which filled her soul at the thought of returning home.

* * *

Rachel stared down at the one way ticket in her hand with another thought of wonder. So soon and yet so long. She looked up at the cruise ship just beginning it's unloading of passengers and gripped her one bag of luggage. How long had she waited for this day to come? Now that it was here, she could hardly believe it. She was going home! 'Thank You, Lord,' she prayed for the countless time with a heart overflowing with gratitude. 'Now I can see them all again. Father. Robert. Maggie. Oliver. All of them.'

Her smile widened and she moved to sit on a near bench, setting her bag beside her as she waited for the line of passengers to dissipate. What would Robert say when he saw her arrive at their new home? 'But what if he hadn't finished it when he discovered I had disappeared,' she asked with a sudden concerned frown. 'What if he's sold it and moved, overcome with grief? What if I won't ever see him again? What if father has already died?' Out of habit, she snapped open her fan and began to stir the air around her face, trying to chase the thoughts from her head.

Trust in Me, child, and you will not be led astray. I know what your heart desires and that is My joy

Rachel pushed the worries away with a deep cleansing breath, her eyes focusing on the groups of people with a reluctant smile. A tall figure with black hair partially hidden beneath a charcoal gray hat descended the ramp and Rachel sucked in her breath as she slowly stood. 'It couldn't be, could it?' She took a hesitant step forward, her fan dropping to the end of it's satin cord around her wrist.

"Robert," she asked in a choked voice.

He gave the young porter a smile and Rachel dropped her parasol as she began to push through the crowd toward him, ignoring the glares and sharp words as the gentlemen and ladies rebuked her rudeness.

"Robert," she called over the loud bustling. "Robert, over here!"

She saw him turn his head her direction with a squint against the sun, but his eyes passed over without seeing. A touch of panic propelled her through the crowd a little faster as she tried to get his attention again.

"It's Rachel, Robert," she yelled again. "Over here! I'm over here!"

This time his eyes focused on hers and he halted his progress down the ramp. A look of disbelief passed over his face for the briefest moment before he dropped his carry-on bag and rushed forward, pushing through the crowd without even a struggle. When he reached her, he took hold of her upper arms with a gentle grip and stared down into her eyes for what seemed an eternity. Then he released her arms and his fingers were stroking her jaw and cupping her face as if imbedding the every curve into his memory once more.

"Rachel? Is it you, my love," he whispered. "Is it really you?"

She could only nod as she swallowed hard, the tears spilling onto her cheeks. He brushed them away with his thumbs and then lowered his head to caress each cheek with a kiss. He pulled her into a tight embrace, cascading kisses down her neck as she had often dreamt he would.

"I love you," she choked out as her arms went around his neck. "Oh Robert, how I love you…"

Any other words were cut off as his lips found hers.

* * *

Rachel led Robert up the stairs to her one-bedroom flat with a hesitant smile as he looked over the building. 'What will he think when he sees how I have been living since leaving him? Will he scoff and sneer? Will he point out the fact that someone as rich as I shouldn't live as I have been? Will he tell me that I shouldn't have loved it so much because it didn't fit my station?' Rachel shook her head and opened the door, sending him another hesitant smile as he passed her into the modestly decorated apartment. 'Will he love it as much as I have grown to?'

"I see you in this room, my love," he told her as he came to put his arms around her. "All the thoughtful touches.... It makes me feel as if I've come home."

She looked up at him, her face breaking into a relieved smile as she pushed a stray lock of hair from his face. "I have so much to tell you."

He nodded and placed another kiss on each of her flushed cheeks. "Then, by all means, tell me."

Her story came out in excited patches, colored with an anecdote that made him laugh, the ever-familiar twinkle adoringly present in his dark brown eyes. She reveled in his dark gaze filled with desire and love and sent yet another prayer of thankfulness toward heaven that she was again in his arms where she belonged. Then she remembered the days and hours that she had been away from him. The time she had sacrificed to spend with Todd. 'Robert must have been so hurt,' she thought as her throat tightened with sadness and regret.

"What is it," he asked.

"I was thinking of how it must have hurt you to know that I had chosen Todd over you after all. Even after I had confessed my love for you on our wedding night." Tears spilled over and she shook her head. "I was such a fool."

"You were hurting, my love," he soothed. "No one can accept unconditional love until they're ready. I've forgiven you, so don't torture yourself."

"But what of the scandal that my running away has caused? I went to Europe with a man who wasn't my husband," she countered in a tearful voice. "It won't matter to them that I was always faithful to you. They won't be able to pass up the fact that I abandoned you. It won't matter to them that I constantly insisted on separate rooms for us during the entire journey. They won't believe me when I say that I could never stand the thought of waking up to anyone's face beside mine but yours."

He kissed her tenderly, his arms tightening around her. "Dearest, put it aside. It is I you have married and not 'them'. God has forgiven you. I have forgiven you. Do not fret on it any longer."

Rachel closed her eyes with a tear-filled sigh and asked God to help her accept the forgiveness she had wanted for so long.

"So where is Mr. Richards now," he asked after a few moments of silence.

"He left me almost immediately after we arrived."

He raised his head and gazed down at her, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks with an understanding sadness in his eyes. "I see."

"I was so close to death then, Robert," she told him as more tears cascaded down.

He held her closer, gently pressing her head against his chest. "I felt you at those times most of all, Rachel. My heart burned as if it were being torn in so many different directions." He heaved a great sigh and kissed her hair. "I felt so helpless. If God hadn't been there with me I would have gone insane for worry of your safety."

"If it hadn't been for the Lord leading me to the orphanage, I know I would have died."

"Orphanage?"

She nodded her head against him as the joy at the thought of her children welled up inside her. "I teach the English language to a small little orphanage in a dirty section of town. It is owned and run by the father of Peter Delacreux, Lucinda's husband."

He tilted her head up with a smile. "Tell me about them," he asked softly.

"They are the most precious children, Robert, and they've taught me so much about love. It seemed that every day I walked into that classroom I would feel closer to you because I believed we had something in common. We loved these children that other people were content with forgetting."

"Those smiles have a tendency of growing into your soul, don't they," he asked as he traced her jaw. "And they have no idea how much more whole they make a person feel."

"Not only whole," she whispered with a smile. "They made me feel. They helped me see that I had so much to be thankful for. And they showed me how to forgive."

He placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Tell me how," Robert urged.

"So many of those children were abandoned or abused by the people they called family, and yet they still loved them with every fiber of their being. In fact, they usually begged me to teach them how to speak of their families in English. It was awe inspiring... and humbling."

"Why, my love?"

"Because they had so much less than I did and yet they were grateful to be alive. Their faith in God was astounding for they thanked Him for each and every day they woke up. I had so much and yet appreciated it so very little. I thank God for those children, for without their influence I would never have seen what I had been given. I had a father who would have moved heaven and hell to give me a life of comfort. I had a childhood friend who loved me as a sister."

"And a husband who would have given his life for you," Robert added as he nuzzled her neck.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she tightened her grip around him. Content silence descended over them as they stood in the middle of the room, holding each other with occasional whispered words of love and devotion. After several minutes, Robert lifted his head with a sigh and Rachel's heart and soul soared as she looked into his deep brown eyes. The love, tenderness, and devotion she saw there must have been mirrored in her own, for his grip tightened around her.

"And now I have something to tell you," he said in a rough voice.

Rachel's heart didn't know whether to skip a beat or stop dead in it's tracks. "Yes?"

"The house is done, but do you wish to return? You've made quite a life for yourself here and I would never ask you to give it up if you did not wish to."

Rachel looked deeper into his eyes, pleading him to understand her next words. "I want to stay, Robert."

"Very well. I shall direct the house to be opened as an orphanage."

"Thank you, dearest Robert," she told him. "Thank you."

"But there is one condition, my love," he said as he brought his lips ever closer to hers. "You must never leave me again."

A smile lit her face, her eyes glowing with genuine love, and she drew his lips down to hers. "Mind, body, heart, and soul I am yours," she whispered against them.

* * *

"Robert? Robert, wake up," Rachel whispered against his ear.

She watched him with a smile as he stretched and ran her fingers over the stubble on his chin. He was so handsome in the morning. His eyes opened slowly and he sent her a sleepy smile. Her heart fluttered and she took his hand.

"Good morning, Robert," she whispered. "I thought I would bring you to class this morning so that the children could meet you."

He stretched again and brought her hand to his lips. "That sounds very tempting, my dear, and I think I shall allow myself to be tempted."

Rachel smiled and kissed his hand before setting it gently on his chest. "Well then, I suggest you get up and get dressed. For, as soon as I explain to Louis that I'm leaving for a little while, we will be heading for the ticket office to secure passage on the next ship to America."

"Louis," Robert asked with a puzzled frown. "Who's Louis?"

Rachel made her way to one of his steamer trunks and opened it to search for a pair of trousers. "Louis is the headmaster at the orphanage. He's also the father of the man who married my friend Lucy."

"Oh, the father of that man who designed that scandalous gown," Robert said as he wrapped Rachel up in a tight embrace. He spun her around and planted several kisses on her throat. "I would like to meet that man. I would like to meet him so that I could make sure he had acquired your dimensions in a purely innocent fashion."

"Purely innocent, Robert. I promise," she whispered against his lips.

He sighed and placed a kiss on each of her eyelids before taking the trousers from her hand with a smile. "I know, Rachel. I know."

She brushed a few stray hairs from his forehead and then turned to search for a shirt. "I don't understand why you would believe me when it comes to things like that. If I was in your position I would be fiercely jealous."

He took the shirt from her and slipped out of his nightshirt. "Well, Rachel, to be perfectly honest, I've already dealt with the jealousy issue. You must realize that it's hard for a sixteen-year-old to not be around the girl that he's intended to marry. I was sure you were kissing other men, or being untrue to me - or things of that sort - until God told me that I had to trust you as well as Him. I hadn't been doing either."

"But I didn't even know about you," Rachel reminded him. She watched him dress into the soft linen shirt and thought of that first kiss she'd shared with Todd with a pang of regret. Todd had been the same age as Robert when they had shared that first, innocent kiss. "How was I supposed to be true when I didn't know about you?" She asked the question softly, almost as if she were convincing herself that the kiss had been as acceptable as it had been innocent.

Robert smiled and took her hands. "Yes, my love, I know. But that is beside the point. Jealousy is the result of a lack of trust."

"In God you mean."

Robert nodded and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Exactly. He was in control of the situation, and yet I wasn't trusting in His decisions. I thought that I would know better and that led to jealousy and resentment. Jealousy because I didn't trust Him to keep you true and pure. Resentment because He wouldn't make it possible for me to be with you that instant."

Rachel wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes as she listened to the beat of his heart. "And to think I didn't even know you existed."

"You'd met me once before, actually."

Rachel pushed away and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Really? When?"

He kissed her hands and turned to retrieve his shoes from the side of the bed. "You must have been only seven or eight years old. My family had been invited to one of your birthday parties. I guess it was a special one because you were going to be giving a piano recital as well."

"But you said that you'd never met me," Rachel reminded. She handed him his suit jacket.

"I know. I didn't remember that meeting until just recently. It was one of the many memories that kept me going while you were so far away."

A sad smile seemed to shadow Rachel's eyes and Robert placed a kiss on her forehead. "Don't think about it, my love. You went away, yes, but we're together again and that is how God wanted it to be."

Rachel nodded slowly and then her eyebrows dropped in a puzzled frown. "I don't recall the birthday, Robert. Tell me what happened."

He smiled and then drew her over to the love seat that was off to one side of the large suite. "Well, let me see. I must have been about 10 years old then, and I wasn't too happy with the entire birthday affair."

Rachel laughed. "Why not?"

"There weren't too many boys present. In fact," Robert added with a slight frown, "there weren't too many people there at all. I can't recall the reason."

"I wasn't a very out-going child," she confessed softly. "I usually just stayed at home and watched my mother do her crafts. I didn't feel the desire to make any other acquaintances and Maggie didn't become a part of the household until I was at least eleven."

"I was the opposite, much to my parents displeasure. I was constantly bringing home strange boys from town and we would play war games, or whatever else we felt was appropriate at the time." He laughed with a shake of his head. "It nearly sent my father into a foaming frenzy."

"I can see that quite clearly," Rachel chuckled.

He nibbled at her ear. "No comments while I'm telling my story, dearest."

"Yes, sir," Rachel agreed dutifully.

"Anyway," Robert continued with a sigh, "I was in a bad mood and did all I could to make your life miserable." Rachel's eyebrow raised and Robert nodded. "I know, I know. You don't believe me. I was a little monster, though, and had you in tears several times before the day was out."

"You didn't."

"I did."

"What did you do?"

"I don't remember, Rachel," he chuckled. "All I know is that I got the paddling of my life from my father that night."

"I'm sorry."

"That's quite all right, my dear. I can definitely say that I deserved every smack."

"And you're such a better person because of it," Rachel snickered. She suddenly sat up, took his hand, and drug him too his feet. "I just remembered that you have to shave!"

Robert brought a hand up to his jaw with a chuckle and shook his head. "You'd think I'd have remembered, at least. It's understandable for you to forget because you've never had to shave before. What's my excuse?"

Rachel waved it aside and led him to the vanity table. "There's a first time for everything." She sat him down, took up the shaving foam, and gave him a pointed look before continuing. "But only if you trust me."

He smiled and brought one of her hands to his lips. "I trust you, my love."

* * *

"Children," Rachel said as she led Robert slowly into the room. They sat at attention and watched the two of them enter with curiosity evident on their cherub-like faces. "Children, I would like to introduce you to a very special man."

One of the younger girls shyly raised her hand and Rachel pointed to her with a smile.

"Madame, is he your...." She hesitated at the word. "Is he your... husband," she finally said in an unsure tone of voice.

"Bon. Tres Bon," Rachel said with a wide smile. "Yes, Marie, this is my husband."

"Has he come to take you from us, Madame?"

Rachel sent the young boy a sad look. "I'm afraid so, Jean-Claude, but only because my father is very ill and I must go to him."

"Will he die, Madame," several of the children asked in hushed tones.

Rachel opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came. She felt Robert's hand take hers and sent him a tearful look with a shake of her head as she turned away from the children, still grasping his hand as if it were the lifeline she needed.

"He has been ill for a long time," Robert told the children in a quiet voice.

"Will Madame be like us if he dies," a small boy asked with tears in his wide blue eyes.

Robert nodded. "Yes. She will be like all of you if he dies. Which means that you must all be strong for her. You must teach her how to remember her father so that he will never be far from her heart. Do you think you will be able to do that for Madame?"

Everyone nodded their heads and rose from their seats to surround Rachel. They took hold of her hands and skirts and looked up at her with their innocent eyes filled with tears of understanding and mourning. Rachel looked down at them, the tears coursing down her cheeks, and she knelt to take all of them into her arms, her sobs mingling with theirs. Robert rested a hand on her back and didn't hide the tears of his own.

* * *

Robert stepped off the train and immediately turned to help Rachel from the private carriage. The sun was shining, but she didn't notice as she gripped his hand. A dull gaze met his, dark with concern, and she tried to force a smile.

"Do you think we're too late," she whispered.

He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and let his hand linger on the side of her face. "I don't know, Rachel, but you know we must go whether he's passed on or not. You must put this behind you."

She closed her eyes, took in an unsteady breath, and nodded. "I'm just afraid it's too late. That he won't hear me. That he won't listen."

"Don't give in to the fear, my love. The Lord has worked in his heart. Just trust Him. If it's time for you two to come together as a family, then it's time for God to work His miracle." Robert brushed the tears from her cheeks with his handkerchief and brought her hand up to his lips. "Come, Rachel. The coach is waiting."

She opened her eyes with a slight smile and clasped his hand as she followed him to her father's coach. Robert helped her up and then climbed in beside her, taking her hand in his. Rachel felt the firm pressure of his palm pressing against hers and began to relax. But the fact that she had so little time to make things right before her father died bothered her. There were still so many things she needed to do. Yet, she would only barely have time to let him know of her safe arrival home. Rachel closed her eyes with a sigh and felt Robert's grip tighten. She had said so many horrible things to both of them. Would her father forgive her as Robert had?

Rachel began to pray then, leaving all her fears at the feet of the One whom had brought her so far. The months alone in Le Havre teaching the orphans had taught her that. It had shown her that if she were to rely on what she believed the way would become so much harder. So those times she had so wanted to make her own decision had been when she had chosen to go down on her knees to pray.

And now she was home.

"We're here, my love."

Rachel looked down at Robert's upturned face as he waited for her to take his hand, and gave him a smile. He may not have completely understood why she was so frightened of her father, but he was trying and that was what touched her heart the most.

She stepped from the coach and absently straightened her skirts. "This scenario seems so vaguely familiar."

Robert offered her his elbow. "You know what they say: 'Those who don't learn from the past are destined to repeat it.'"

The two climbed the large front steps into the main hall, let Oliver take their hats and other traveling paraphernalia, and then proceeded up the main staircase to her father's room. Oliver slipped in first, then reappeared a few moments later with a nod.

"Do you want to be alone, Rachel?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, Robert. I need your strength as well as the Lord's."

There was a moment of silence and then he made a motion to Oliver who nodded and proceeded downstairs. Robert took Rachel's hand and led her to a padded bench.

"What is it," she asked.

"I don't believe strength is what you need when you go in to your father."

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated, as if trying to gather the words to say, then took hold of her other hand. "Show yourself to him, Rachel. Show him that part of you that I have come to adore. Let him see the tears and tenderness. Let him see the regret and forgiveness for it will make him feel so much more free to show that part of himself you remember as a child."

She lowered her head, but Robert tipped it up with a gentle touch. "Don't be ashamed of that part of you I love the most, Rachel. Let him feel totally and completely included in your life. No secrets. No hidden feelings. Open yourself to him."

He kissed her softly and pulled back with a smile. Rachel brought his hand up to her cheek after pressing it against her lips.

"Once again you've come to my rescue, Robert," she told him in a quiet voice. "Once again I thank God for your faith."

He wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace, holding her to him for a few quiet moments, and then he stood and helped her to her feet.

"Shall we say hello to our father," he asked.

She nodded, gripping his hand even tighter as they made their way to his room. Robert opened the door for her and closed it softly behind him, following Rachel into the dimly lit room with a firm grip on her hand. If not for that simple touch of compassion and support, she would have collapsed at the sight of her father. Pale skin. Sunken eyes. Murmuring incoherent sentences under his breath. Sweat drenched hair sticking to his face. Body withering away before her eyes.

Rachel brought her free hand to her mouth, stifling the gasp of despair. She rushed to his side, releasing Robert's hand to grasp her father's. "Papa, can you hear me?"

His eyes opened, still full of the spark that was his life, and he gave her a stern look. "Rachel, why have you been gone so long? The board's been waiting to start up again."

"I know, Papa, and I apologize. I've seen the error of my ways, though, and I've come home," she said gently. "How are you?"

"I've seen better days," he said in a gruff voice as he clenched her hand. "But I'm getting better all the time."

Rachel looked up at the doctor and he shook his head. "Of course, Papa," she agreed with a sad smile when she looked down at him again.

"What's this 'papa' nonsense? You haven't called me that for years."

"Yes? Well, I haven't seen you for years, either. Not really. Just consider it making up for lost time." She smoothed some hair out of his eyes and her smile softened. "I love you, Papa, and I've missed you so. I've done so many things wrong. So many things that I know hurt you, and I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Papa."

He examined her face in a moment of silence, then let a hint of a smile lift his lips. "It's good to have you home, angel."

Rachel heard Robert leave the room. "Papa--"

"No, angel. Don't speak. Don't say another word until you've heard what I have to say."

Rachel watched his pain-filled eyes and tightened her grip on his hand.

"Your mamma wanted me to let you come home, but I wouldn't listen to her. I still couldn't see what you were capable of and so I pushed you too hard. All because I was afraid. All because I didn't trust you or God. I've been a fool, angel, and you're the only one who's suffered. I can't ever tell you how sorry I am because there hasn't been a word invented that describes what I feel."

Rachel dropped her eyes and the tears flowed freely.

"Robert said you didn't hate me, but I just couldn't force myself to believe it until… Oh, angel, I am so sorry for what I did to you. Please, please, forgive this stubborn old man."

Rachel wrapped her arms around him and sobbed. "Of course I forgive you, papa. I don't know why I didn't understand what you were trying to do. You were trying to provide for me and I was ungrateful and fought you at every turn all because I was too selfish to care otherwise. I'm sorry, papa."

His arms surrounded her and her sobs were echoed by his own.

* * *

Robert closed the door behind him with a deep breath, trying to block the pain he felt at seeing his new father wasting away. 'And Rachel,' he thought to himself, 'why must she suffer like this?' He shook his head and went downstairs, then turned for the garden. 'Time to think, that's what I need,' he told himself. 'Time to think.' That her father would actually die had never fixated itself into his mind until he had stepped into his bedroom that moment.

"What are we going to do," he prayed aloud.

He'd never been given the proper amount of time to plan their future. Of course Rachel would assume the business, but what exactly was expected of him? He couldn't follow through with his father's original plans now. He refused to be a puppet on a string. 'I need to discuss this with Rachel,' he decided with a quick nod. 'But at a time like this?'

Robert clenched his fists behind his back and looked up at heaven with closed eyes. He had never been one to flinch under the weight of responsibility, but he felt as if he was being crushed at this moment. 'Lord,' he prayed. 'Lord, I'm drowning under it all. Help me! Show me what I'm to do. Direct my decisions to be Yours. Light my path.'

Follow your heart and spirit, beloved child, for they know My will

Robert nodded just as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to the eyes of Oliver, who made a motion to the house with a shake of his head. Robert dashed past him to Mr. Samson's room.

* * *

"Papa?" Rachel called to him as she continued to sit at his bedside. Panic rose in her throat and she squeezed his hand tighter. "Papa, it's Rachel. Can you hear me?"

"Rachel?" His eyes fluttered open slower this time and he struggled to fix his gaze on her as his hand clutched hers. "Rachel? You're home?"

She gave him a watery smile, the tears coursing down her cheeks as she watched him die in front of her.

"I'm home, Papa," she whispered. "I'm home to tell you that I love you. That I will always love you."

He swallowed hard and his grip barely tightened on hers as he seemed to fight for breath. "You understand, angel, don't you? I've done all this because I love you. Because I wanted the best for you. I didn't want you hurt or left alone without money to care for yourself. You know that, Rachel. Right?"

She nodded and leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek before pressing hers against his face. "I know, Papa. I know. Just rest now. Please rest."

Rachel felt Robert's hand on her shoulder and let the sobs come as her father breathed his last.

* * *

"It was a lovely funeral. They all had such wonderful stories to tell about Papa, don't you think," Rachel asked.

She watched Robert as he seemed to stare down at the ocean in awe and then gave him a smile before shaking her head as she followed his gaze. They were headed back to Le Havre to continue their life there. Robert would take her father's place as chairman of the board, running the business from an office opened there, and Rachel planned to build another orphanage for the children that had no place to call home.

She would name it after her father.

Maggie and Oliver would stay behind and make sure the new orphanage received the new management needed to run smoothly. Then, when they felt the appropriate people had been found to handle the responsibility, and the family homes had been seen to properly, they would join Rachel and Robert in Le Havre.

"Robert, what are you looking at down there? You act as if you've never seen the water before."

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist. "I haven't."

"What," she asked in surprise as she snuggled closer to him. "But you went to France and then came back with me. What do you mean you've never seen it."

"Those were the first times in over fifteen years that I've been this close to water," he said without taking his eyes from the ocean below. "I've always been terrified of it."

Rachel blinked and looked up at him in shock. "You came for me even though... You love me that much?"

Robert nodded and kissed her softly. "I told you I would die for you, Rachel, and when I stepped aboard that ship bound for France I truly thought I would. The Lord told me it was time to go to you, so I went without hesitation."

"What made you so afraid of the water?"

"Do you remember that passenger ship disaster so many years ago? The ship lost at sea halfway to Europe?" Rachel nodded her head and he continued. "Well, I was on that ship with my parents. In fact, I believed I was the only survivor while I was stranded in a small lifeboat with one other person. I believed my parents to be dead and swore I'd never set foot near the water again." He fell silent a moment. "That was how I found the Lord. That was how my mother died."

"You lost your mother," Rachel whispered. "But I thought Barbara was your mother."

"No, my father married again just a few years ago." Robert lowered his head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Rachel. It's still a painful memory for me."

Rachel put a comforting hand on his back. "I know what it's like to lose someone when you're not there to say good-bye."

"That's why you're perfect for me," he said as he pressed his lips against her hair. "That's why I love you more every day."

"I wondered how that was possible until I released all the hate and bitterness I'd kept trapped inside. Then I understood. That was when I truly loved you."

Robert turned her away from the railing, taking hold of her hand with a smile down at her as he brought it up his lips. "Shall we walk, my love?"

Rachel pressed his hand against her cheek with a nod. "Wherever you lead, I will follow," she whispered.

They turned, walking the top deck hand in hand as they began their journey of life together with laughter and love.