one
Colchester, 1884
AFTER HAVING BEEN assaulted by a horde of famished ants, swarms of wasps, and even a giant lizard that had no business living in the current geological era, and in England of all places, Cora understood why her late mother had always said that picnics were for reckless people. She admitted defeat to Mother Nature and stood up from the blanket under the tree, brushing breadcrumbs and ants from her skirt. Enough wilderness for today. She needed a bit of civilisation.
“Do you want to leave already, Mama?” Although almost ten, David stammered and still had problems speaking fluently, courtesy of his father’s cruel behaviour.
She caressed his unruly auburn curls. “You stay here with Mrs. Marshall and have fun. I’ll take a tour of the church over there where hopefully there are no wild creatures.” She pointed at the mediaeval church rising from the middle of a meadow with a tall bell tower. “Unless you want to come with me.”
David scrunched up his face, wrinkling the freckles over his nose. “No, thank you.”
She kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be right back.”
“Your ladyship.” Mrs. Marshall nodded as she kept playing cards with David.
Cora inhaled the sweet scent of wildflowers and pine resin, wondering when the last time she’d been so calm and free had been. Perhaps before her marriage or immediately after it, which was unfair to her son. David was one of the best things— no, the only good thing her wretched marriage gave her. She would go through her ordeal with Jacob ten times over only to have David.
The sudden darkness in the church blinded her for a moment. When her sight adjusted, she made out the tall oval windows and the dark wooden pews carrying the scars of thousands of supplicants. Simple yet warm and welcoming.
It was odd to feel at home in an old church she’d never been to before. Although the tension usually tightening her chest left her whenever she stepped out of her house. Not really her house. Her husband’s house. And she didn’t consider Jacob her husband either. A husband was supposed to cherish and protect his wife and son. From that point of view, she and Jacob were strangers, sharing the same accommodation.
Her footsteps echoed off the high-vaulted ceiling, and the flames from the candles trembled as she walked past them down the aisle. The cold air sent a chill down her spine, but she didn’t mind it. Jacob’s house in London had many stoves and fireplaces, yet her heart never warmed there.
She stopped in front of a stained-glass window depicting a blooming lily. The sunlight filtering through the glass cast a riot of colours on her dull grey dress. She played with the elusive patches of light that danced over her skirt as if the universe itself tried to cheer her up. The church tilted for a split second, and she put a hand on a Grecian column for support. Dash it. Had the ground quaked, or was she dizzy? She couldn’t tell. The constant tension at home, the arguments with Jacob, and her worries for David’s safety made her feel disconnected from the world, numb. Only her love for David pushed her through her bleakdays that had no promising future. A door shut, and she held her breath, searching the dark corners.
“Is anyone there?” Her voice resounded through the church.
A large shadow came out of a dimly lit nook, and a tall man wrapped in a cloak swept into view, jolting her. What if Jacob had come to Colchester to force her to come back to London?
She couldn’t help but cry out and step back. Her legs hit a pew, and she lost her balance. The man lunged. Lord, he was going to hit her. Her pulse spiked, but her legs locked. She covered her neck with her hands and screamed, mentally bracing herself for the pain to come. But none came. Strong fingers closed around her shoulder and steadied her with a kindness she’d rarely met. Controlling her breathing, she dared to gaze up.
“Madam?” The man’s deep baritone matched what little she’d seen of him. “I’m sorry I gave you a fright.” He released her shoulder and moved back.
She straightened and found herself staring at a pair of intense emerald eyes. Everything about the man was intense from his impressive build to his thick, curly black hair forming a curtain over strong eyebrows.
Goodness, she’d screamed in his face. “I didn’t see you. That’s all.”
“I saw you tottering, and you dropped this.” He handed her a woollen glove, staring at her as if worried she might bite him.
“Thank you.” She snatched the glove from his hand with a gesture harsher than she meant.
The folds of his cloak drew apart, revealing the clothes underneath. He wore the madder red uniform of the army, but that was where her military knowledge ended. He could be a general, a private, or belong to any given rank, and she wouldn’t distinguish one from another. But she was alone with him. Not even the vicar was present. A cold sensation coiled around herneck, but her anxiety had nothing to do with propriety. He was a good foot taller than she and twice her size, with hands that could squeeze her throat without effort. He could easily overpower her, drag her to a dark corner, and do as he pleased with her. No. Not every man was like Jacob; she ought to remember that.
“Are you all right, madam?” He stepped further back, but if he thought he looked less menacing, he was sorely mistaken.
“I’d better leave.” She dropped a quick curtsy. “Good day, sir. Thank you for the glove.”
“Don’t leave on my account. I disturbed you. Please stay. I was about to leave anyway to catch the next train. I must return to my garrison in London.” He bowed, hat under his arm. “Madam.”
“Sir.” She stepped aside to let him pass.
As he brushed past her, she caught a whiff of his spicy, clean musk, so refreshing compared to Jacob’s smell of tobacco and cruelty. He glanced at her from over his shoulder. Maybe she imagined things, but she could swear his stare meant to say she was an odd woman. Well, screaming for no reason while stumbling over her own feet surely hadn’t made her appear sane. Despite his build, he was light on his feet, which made no sound in the empty church.
The man had barely time to take a few steps away from her before the ground quaked hard enough to make her wobble again. No, this time it wasn’t her dizziness. The ground lurched like an untamed horse. The walls groaned and cracked in a grinding of stone against stone that shot a shiver down her neck. Debris rained from the ceiling, and dust obscured the sunlight as the beautiful stained-glass window shattered. Her mind lagged behind, not quick enough to realise that the earthquake was real.
“Madam.” The man wrapped himself around her and dragged her under the marble altar in one smooth move. Hishard body smashed against hers, and she raised her arms instinctively against the assault.
David. She struggled, wrestling against the man’s strong arms. “Let me go. My son.”
