Across the River by Megan Easley-Walsh

Author:Megan Easley-Walsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Suspense, American Revolution Fiction, English Countryside Novel, Historical Mystery, 18th Century Historical Fiction, Romantic Thriller, Historical Adventure, historical fiction american revolution literary romance historical historical romance adventure nove, historical fiction american revolution, literary romance historical, historical romance adventure novels, historical suspense romance novels, historical fiction england, revolutionary war romance novels, historical romance pirates, high society romance, historical fiction set in england, high society romance england, Action-Packed Historical Mystery, historical thriller europe, daughter of an english lord
Publisher: New Historical Fiction
Published: 2017-04-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty-Three

Coarse ropes embedded themselves in Rebecca's back, as she lay on the hammock. The sky stretched endlessly above. Reclining on the English grass, she had marveled at the expansive blue. Compared to this sky, though, it seemed small in her memory. Towns and forests punctuated the skyline of England, anchoring Rebecca to solid life. Here, there were no bookends to contain the clouds. Endless options seemed the exciting normalcy when at sea.

No longer did Rebecca dread the churn of the waters. Lulled by the waves, which now felt gentle rather than violent, she began to drift into slumber. A mild breeze swayed the hammock.

She felt a brush against her cheek, as someone bent to kiss her.

“Rebecca, you have forgotten me,” Caleb's faraway voice whispered.

He kissed her again.

“You have been untrue.”

“How, Caleb? I would do no such thing.”

“You know very well how,” he said, his words mixing coarsely with his kisses, as sea salt does in water. Rebecca shook her head and struggled to sit up.

“You are in another man's bed,” he said, his lips pressed to hers with hardly enough room to escape.

“No,” she said, “No, no, you have misunderstood. John is only my friend. He built this hammock to teach me.”

“You are certain, Rebecca? Maybe, he is teaching you how to love another man,” he said, taking her hand in his now and kissing it. His lips, dripping with accusation, burned hot against her skin.

“Of course, I am certain! John does not even know who I really am. He thinks that I am a man!”

“You? A man?” Caleb said, pausing to look at her, “you know perfectly well 'tis not true.” His hand trailed from her neck over her chest.

“Caleb, no! Do not give my secret away!” Rebecca said.

“Caleb? Who is Caleb? And what secret are you talking about? You have no secret. The whole world knows you are a girl,” the woman from the docks said.

“Wait, I thought you were my friend,” Rebecca said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Why, Miss Turrington I was indeed right. You are nothing, but a harlot! You certainly keep company with them,” Lord Furton said now, reaching greedily toward her.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” she shouted. With a kick, Rebecca landed in a thud.

“Ay, are you harmed?” John said, stepping nearer.

Rebecca blinked back the heavy curtains of sleep, which had pulled themselves over her eyes. For a brief moment, she waited for him to offer her his hand to help her return to her feet.

Rebecca, do not be foolish! Do you desire to give yourself away? Men do not help each other up!

She scrambled to her feet, embarrassed at having fallen from the hammock. Discomfort settled against her, like wet wool pressed into the skin.

“Fine, yes, thank you,” she said in answer to John's question. Moonlight bathed his face and glimmered at a scar above his eyebrow. It zigzagged over his skin like a bolt of lightning. He looked at her intently and Rebecca felt a clamminess drag itself over her skin.

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