This Side of Heaven by Karen Robards Page A

muslin around its wide oval neckline, and the white muslin sleeves of her chemise were visible to the elbow. The overskirt, which was fashionably looped up in back, was of the same pink cotton as the bodice, while the linen underskirt was maroon and white-striped. It had once been an elegant dress, commissioned at the same time as the rest of her wardrobe. All her gowns had been designed to attract attention as well as play up her unusual beauty. Her father had taken a great deal of pleasure in escorting her about whatever town they had happened to find themselves in, making sure that she was well seen by day in order to lure opponents to his table at night. But her weight loss had rendered it too large, and it showed signs of wear about the hem. The high-heeled shoes that went with it she had left off in favor of more practical flat ones of light brown leather. As a result, the hem trailed even more than it might have; fortunately she had at last had a chance to get at her pins and had fastened up the underskirt just enough to free her feet. Certainly no one could take exception to the small amount of ankle that her makeshift remedy displayed. Besides, who would there be to see?
    The brisk wind raised chill bumps along her arms, and Caroline spent a useless moment regretting the loss of her cloak. She had no other; before the comingof winter she must procure some cloth and make one. Or perhaps some of Elizabeth’s garments remained that she could make use of. Caroline felt a momentary pang for the loss of the sister she had barely known. Then she dismissed the emotion; never again, she reminded herself, would she look to the past.
    As she walked along, she cast sideways glances at the forest that seemed far more menacing now that she was alone. Follow the stream, Matt had said. Well, she would, so long as that stream cut through cleared ground. Not for anything did she mean to venture alone into the woods. The Mathiesons could starve first!
    Fortunately, the stream stayed in the open. Caroline hurried, trying not to start nervously at every unfamiliar sound. Her shoulders ached as the bucket and jug grew heavier with each step. The countryside was vast, the trees tall as mountains. Everything in this new world seemed bigger than its English counterpart! As she thought about that, Caroline pictured the well-muscled height of the Mathiesons and added silently, even the men.
    Something moved in the forest. Something large, which seemed to be traveling parallel to her path. She caught the merest glimpse of it from the corner of her eye. Her head pivoted to her left, her eyes searching the leafy undergrowth. But now that she was looking at it directly, not a twig stirred.
    Still, the movement had not come from her imagination. She was sure of that.
    The weight of the bucket and jug ceased to bother her as she quickened her step. Constant quick glancesat the forest yielded the same results: nothing. Yet she could not rid herself of the notion that someone, or something, was watching her.
    The stream led over a grassy knob. Caroline vowed that if she did not see the men from its top, she was heading back to the house. But the hideous thought occurred, would she be any safer then? Whatever was following her—if indeed something was—would in all likelihood turn around when she did.
    Fear built inside her as she hurried up the knob. Her palms grew slippery with it even as her throat went dry. Gaining the top of the knob, she looked back over her shoulder—and found to her horror that something had, indeed, been watching her. Or, rather, someone.
    A savage, naked except for a cloth swathing his loins and a few stripes of bright paint, stood beneath the overhanging trees. His skin was a deep clay color, his hair hung black and lank to his shoulders, and his face was as harsh as a hunting hawk’s. He was watching her intently, and even as Caroline registered his presence he began to move toward her, his swift stride