Lovestorm by Judith E. French Page A

distract him from the anguish in his heart.
    At last he slowed and sank down on the warm sand. The sound of the surf was loud in his ears as the image of Eliz-a-beth’s tearstained face rose to haunt him. I will hate you for the rest of my life, she had said.
    â€³K’dalhole, Eliz-a-beth,” he whispered hoarsely. “I love you.” He choked back the sadness that threatened to overwhelm him. “I love you . . . but it is not enough.”
    For long moments he sat there, letting handfuls of sand run through his fingers. Then he stood up and began to retrace his steps.
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    The sun was directly overhead when Cain reached the campsite. Elizabeth was waiting for him by the water’s edge, watching with reproachful eyes as he drew near.
    â€œI take you back to your people on the next tide,” he told her.
    Her eyes widened in astonishment. “You’ll take me?”
    â€œI have said it.”
    â€œOh. I—”
    Cain silenced her with a fierce look. “I take you to Jamestown. See this Englishman you wish to have as husband. Search his soul and your own. For the time of one turning of the moon I leave you to him, then I come again. The choice be yours, Eliz-a-beth.”
    Her face lit with joy as she took a hesitant step toward him. “Thank you, Cain.”
    â€œDo not thank me. I was wrong. Only a woman free to follow her own heart can be true wife to Shaakhan Kihittuun.”

    For five days, Cain paddled the small boat along the coast. Elizabeth sat in front of him, watching the sea birds and the passing shoreline, lost in her own thoughts. Cain seldom spoke to her, and he never sang as he had done on their earlier ventures at sea.
    They rode the tides southward, paddling for six hours, then pulling the dugout onto the sand to wait for the change of tide in another six hours. Elizabeth slept in fits and snatches—Cain seemed to never sleep. Although they saw no sign of human life, he grew more vigilant with each day’s passing.
    The weather remained fair, so they could camp on the beach at night with only the overturned boat as shelter. After the first three days, Cain refused to light a fire. They survived on dried fish, corn cakes, and a chewy mixture of dried meat, bear fat, and berries that he called pemmican. Twice, he left her alone while he went inland to find fresh water.
    The third time Cain went in search of water it was late at night, and they had beached the dugout on a small, wooded island. Elizabeth curled up in her deerskin and closed her eyes. If she slept, she wouldn’t hear the night noises or stare fearfully out into the darkness. This time, however, sleep wouldn’t come.
    Her initial excitement at the prospect of returning to her own world had dampened with each league they’d traveled. She had to admit to herself that she felt some regret in leaving the Eden she’d shared with Cain. She wondered what it would be like to rise to the clamor of bustling servants and be cinched into tight garments each morning, rather than awakening to birdsong and slipping a single loose dress over her head.
    Reaching Jamestown would mean the end of a freedom she had experienced in the wilderness but had never known in England. A lady of her station had a certain position to maintain. If she wished to keep her respectability, she must establish a staff of chaste female servants and wellborn ladies-in-waiting. She would spend her days surrounded by other people. Each hour of her day would be filled with routine activity—instructing the cook and housemaids, entertaining, being fitted for gowns by the mantuamaker, having her hair styled, and attending church services. There would be no leisurely walks alone on a pristine beach, no nights sitting before a flickering fire with the echoes of an eagle-bone flute wafting on the salt air.
    Doubtless, she and her betrothed would be wed as soon as the banns could be cried. She would be the subject of