Lovestorm by Judith E. French Page B

rampant gossip because she had spent weeks in the company of a red savage. It would be necessary to begin her life as wife and mistress of Edward Lindsey with as much decorum as possible in this uncivilized colony. Any doubts Edward had about her morals would be soothed as soon as they bedded. Her maidenhead was intact, and he would be the one to part it. As long as her husband believed she was pure, it wouldn’t matter what others speculated.
    Elizabeth’s maid, Bridget, had told her before she left England that even virgin brides didn’t always bleed enough to please jealous bridegrooms. With a little coaxing, the sassy wench had passed on a trick that she’d claimed Irish colleens had used for time out of time.
    â€œNot that I’d be suggestin’ ye would ha’ need o’ such a scheme yerself, m’lady,” Bridget had exclaimed with an exaggerated wink. “ ‘Tis just a bit o’ blarney.” She’d grinned broadly, exposing a missing tooth. “But they do say a lady should go nowhere wi’out her sewin’ bag—not even to her marriage bed.”
    Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared up at the myriad of twinkling lights that spilled across the heavens. Often on clear nights, Cain had pointed out groups of stars and told her stories about them—the rabbit, a pair of twin hunters, an eagle, and a throwing stick. She would miss their evenings together—she would miss Cain. She was going back to a life he could have no part of, but she knew that he would be hard to forget.
    They had come close to being much more than captor and captive; they had nearly become lovers. For a minute, Elizabeth let herself wonder what if. What if Cain had never agreed to return her to Jamestown? What if she had remained with him and become his wife?
    She exhaled sharply and shook her head. The shock of the shipwreck and her ordeal in the longboat had doubtlessly addled her brain. She’d been confused and ill, unable to reason. The physical attraction she’d felt for Cain must have been the result of that emotional turmoil. They were as unsuited to each other as a wolf would be to one of King Charles’s spaniels.
    She wiggled to get comfortable on the sand and noticed a star low in the east. Puzzled, she peered through the darkness at the unusually bright flicker and sat up. The star seemed so close. No, it’s not a star, it’s a light, she thought. “A boat lantern!”
    Suddenly, Cain materialized beside her. “Shhh,” he warned. “Make no sound.”
    â€œBut it looks like-”
    â€œShhh,” he ordered sternly. “Danger.”
    The strains of human voices echoed across the water, but it was too great a distance for Elizabeth to understand what they were saying.
    â€œIt is a boat,” she whispered, shivering with excitement.
    Cain caught her wrist. “Come!” Pulling her along, he hurried toward the low shrub pines at the center of the island. “Trust me, Eliz-a-beth.”
    Once they reached the first trees, Cain began to run, dragging her after him. Bushes scratched her face and arms and caught in her hair. Finally, when she stumbled on the uneven ground, he slowed his pace. Elizabeth was breathing hard when he finally stopped beside a fallen cedar tree.
    Quickly, he tore aside the branches. “In here. Hide,” he commanded.
    â€œWhy? They may be Englishmen.”
    â€œOr Spaniards.” He shoved her into the hole and piled the branches on top of her. “Ships come to this place for water. Stay here and make no sound.”
    â€œYou’re leaving me alone?”
    â€œI must move the dugout.”
    Elizabeth felt something alive walking on the back of her neck. She stifled the urge to scream and swatted at it. She looked back at Cain, but he was gone, as elusive as the pale sliver of moonlight that pierced her hiding place.
    She squirmed trying to find a comfortable spot, and the