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However, the question remained…and what of Roderick? They should have put more thought into Roderick, thoughts that grew stronger as her belly began to swell. The boy believed he was Godwin’s son. She wanted him to go on believing that…she wanted Roderick to be unaffected by the love Godwin and she had for one another. Was that even possible?
If she accused Roderick’s mother of such a crime…what of him?
She had to face the facts. She was a woman plucked from all nearer ties, and wounded by the force of another woman’s cunning wickedness. She was confused by her own needs. In the past, she had never seen herself as a fighter. A fighter had never been in her nature, so how could she call on such a trait now? How could she return and stand up to Sara?
She confessed all these doubts to Maurice and discovered, for she was a woman and knew the signs, for he had fallen in love with her.
What had she done? She saw it in his eyes. No. Oh no. Hurting Maurice was the last thing she wanted to do, and she could see that was what she was about to do.
He was good and kind and she was doomed to hurt him! She was a devil, she suddenly thought. She hurt everyone she touched.
* * * * *
Maurice watched Heather from the far end of his vessel and he longed to tell her how he felt. She was so young. He was eight and thirty. He was too old for her, and surely, he could fight what he felt?
He had squandered his youth in his studies, in his love for sailing, and in his shyness. Ah, he had been useless in the art of romance. He remembered his first affaire du Coeur. His brother had dragged him to the French court and a young beauty had captured his eyes and held him riveted. She had teased and flirted with him, wrenching his heart from his chest and easily making it her own.
He was a second son. Only a second son. His brother held the title, the estates, and the bulk of the money. His brother was married and all these things would pass to his brother’s first born son. This was common knowledge. The beauty knew this.
No one at the time reckoned with the Reign of Terror.
His beloved gave her hand to another. He did not blame her. He had nothing but love to offer her. His income would never be enough to keep her in the style to which she was accustomed. It was the way of his world.
Still, he pined for her a very long time. And now, much against his will, he was in love again. This time, the woman of his dreams carried another man’s child and thought of no one but that particular man. Why had the fates treated him thusly?
She was exquisite. She leaned against the bulwarks, her long flame colored hair blowing in the wind, as was the blue silks borrowed from his sister.
She shaded her eyes from the sun as he approached, then she turned to give him a welcoming smile.
“I know you have been giving a great deal of thought to your situation. What have you decided?” he asked.
“Oh, don’t ask me that, dear sir.” Heather hung her head.
“Why, don’t you know? Could it be your feelings…have changed?” he asked, and she heard the hope in his tone.
How could she hurt him? “It is so very hard to know the answer. You see, I am aware that our love, mine and Godwin’s, was in some ways quite wicked.” She stalled him from objecting. “I make no excuses for us. I tell myself that his wife is evil and hurt him from the start. But it is more than that. I think if I returned to him…it would put Godwin’s life in danger. You cannot know the look in her eyes when she cast me on the smugglers. You cannot know the determination she is capable of wielding.”
“Indeed, but she committed a crime, you can bear witness against this Sara person,” he answered. He took her arms and held her in place. “Heather, my sweet Heather. I don’t want you to have regrets.”
“How can I make the right decision? If I bore witness against her, it would ruin Roderick…he is but a boy.”
“Mon dieu, mais oui, but that is on her, not you,” he offered, and shook his head. “You are too good.”
“That doesn’t matter, does it? The boy would still suffer the consequences of her actions…perhaps forever. His name would be blighted by her actions.”
“But what of your child? Should not l’enfant you carry…bear a name?” he persisted.
They had hashed this same conversation out many times. She was weary. Her conclusion was always the same. She could not keep her child from Godwin and yet…how could she return? She didn’t have an answer. She turned her back to Maurice and stared at the lovely waters.
The voyage had taken over a month. They had hit some bad weather, which had stalled them a few days, but now she was about to embark on another chapter of her life. She had two choices. Maurice had given her two choices. What was the right one?
How she loved her baby already. The right thing for her child and for her was to be with Godwin. Should she write him…tell him what happened? How could she be sure he would get her letter with Sara in the house?
While she silently argued with herself, and kept her eye away from Maurice, he turned her to face him and whispered desperately, “Heather, don’t go back, ma chérie…you know in your heart, oui, you know life now for you has changed. Stay with me, be my wife. You must know how I feel?”
She looked directly at him. His grey eyes were full with love and that drove a knife into her heart. Whatever she decided, it would hurt him. She did not love Maurice. She loved Godwin, thus, if she stayed with him, he would never know true love. If she left, it would hurt him…she knew for a very long time. “Maurice, listen to me,” she said softly. “I carry another man’s child. I carry the dreams of another man’s arms…I…”
“Non, I tell you, I will make you love me,” he begged.
