Chapter 6

“Stupid bitch.” He slapped her viciously, his normally handsome face twisted in a mask of rage. His voice was a chilling contrast to the enraged expression, because it was unnaturally calm, even conversational. “I told you what to do. I told you.”

Helen Bradshaw cowered against the wall, her doe-soft eyes huge and frightened. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. She was in shock. “I—I did what you said, I delivered the message to Julia.” Her voice sounded high and thin to her own ears.

“Couldn’t you have had sense enough to look for her if she wasn’t at the house?” he asked in that eerie tone. “I told you to make sure she received the message at nine o’clock—not at noon. She was too late, goddamn you. And it gave them another chance to be alone together.”

“I’m sorry—”

He slapped her again, with his left hand this time. It was a flat blow with the full strength of his arm behind it, and would have sent her to her knees if she hadn’t been wedged into a corner of the stable.

Helen held a hand to her bleeding mouth and stared at him in growing terror. What had happened to the lover who had brought her such pleasure last night—and all the nights before? It had been a delicious secret, her love affair with an older man. She hadn’t told Lissa or any of her other friends, hugging to herself the knowledge of her own daring behavior.

It hadn’t seemed wrong, even if she’d broken all the rules. He’d sworn he would marry her, after all. And it had been exciting, just as he’d promised, to slip away in order to meet him clandestinely. Barely eighteen, she’d been a virgin, but he had been so loving and gentle that first time, teaching her the ecstasy her body could feel. Teaching her so many exciting, pleasurable things.

It hadn’t seemed wrong. But now she had a vivid mental image of herself lying in a smelly stable with her clothes half off while she moaned and panted beneath him and the taste of bile filled her mouth. Had she really done that? Had she let him— Dear God. Her flesh was crawling at the knowledge that he had done those intimate things to her, touched and—and used her that way.

It was as if she’d been blind until now. She suddenly had a dim, superstitious idea that he’d cast a spell over her. Now it was gone. Now she could see the grotesque darkness of what he really was.

“You ruined everything. Witless cow. I can’t trust you anymore, you understand?”

His eyes were empty, she realized. Dead. Why hadn’t she seen before? “You can,” she gasped, trying to press herself harder into the corner. As if that would help, would protect her somehow. “You can trust me.”

“You’re a bad liar as well as stupid, Helen. That is your name, isn’t it? Helen? You can’t wait to rush out of here and tell someone about me, and we both know it. But I’m afraid I can’t let you do it.”

“Please,” she whispered, the appeal born out of an instinctive certainty of what he meant to do.

“Oh, don’t beg. It’s so undignified. Besides, you should be thanking me. I was generous enough to let you enjoy yourself first. It’s a pity that has to end, and I am sorry about it. You weren’t bad at all, once you got the hang of it. There’s just something about a sweet little virginal lady rolling around in the straw and bucking under me. Never met one yet who couldn’t wait to hike her skirts and spread her legs, as ready for it as a cat in heat. You were no exception.”

Helen nearly gagged, the taste of blood and revulsion thick in her tongue. “Don’t—”

“Don’t what? Don’t shatter all your pretty, romantic illusions?” He shook his head in mild puzzlement. “We rutted in a barn, sweetheart. I dropped my pants, you lifted your skirt, and we used each other.”

“I loved you,” she whispered, tears beginning to trickle down her ashen cheeks. “I—I might even be—I might have a baby.” It was the only thing she could think of that could possibly save her. But he shook his head again, amused this time.

“Nice try. Believe me, if my seed were any good, I’d know by now. It isn’t. I’m one of a kind. Or will be, soon enough.”

She didn’t understand him, except to know he was finished with her. Sobs jerked her slight body, and her voice was terrified when she said, “Please…please don’t hurt me.”

He tilted his head to one side, an empty little smile quirking his lips. “Your mouth’s bleeding.”

“It—it doesn’t matter. I won’t say anything, I promise.”

“Oh, you won’t say anything.” Still smiling, he stepped closer, his hands rising to her pale throat. “You won’t say anything at all.”

It was the longest, most severe heat wave anyone in Richmond could remember, and as July drew to a close it showed no sign of being broken. The sun burned the grass dry and brown, seared the midsummer flowers, and dulled the leaves that hung limp and motionless from the trees. Heat bounced from the pavement to shimmer in the air, so unbearable each afternoon, few stirred out of doors unless they absolutely had to.

All the energy seemed to drain from the city until every living thing moved slowly, and tempers were worn ragged by the heat. The sky was blindingly blue, day after day, with not a wisp of a cloud to hint at rain. Even the James River seemed to draw in on itself, receding from its banks and slowing to a muddy crawl.

The social activities in Richmond more or less ground to a halt. No one wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder in crowded rooms for any reason, and since the demand for ice had seriously depleted the supply, socializing had lost even the attraction of chilled drinks. Most preferred to remain in their relatively cool homes wearing the absolute minimum of clothing while they waited miserably for the weather to break.

Cyrus was one of the few who remained active in the heat. He allowed his work crew at the new house time off during the intolerable midday, but kept them busy in the early mornings and late afternoons. Surprising most of his friends, he bought office space in the city and began to handle his business affairs there rather than out of his house. Until he hired a couple of clerks who seemed to be frantically active, not even his friends had suspected he had so many business affairs.

“When did you buy a sugarcane plantation?” Noel demanded as he stood in Cyrus’s office on a Wednesday afternoon in the first week of August. One of the clerks had just left to file paperwork that had raised the subject.

“Last year.” Cyrus was sitting at a huge oak desk, his coat off and sleeves rolled up as he dealt with more paperwork. He didn’t look at Noel as he asked dryly, “Did you stop by to stick your nose into my business?”

Unoffended, Noel said, “No, I stopped by because you have the coolest office in Richmond. I don’t understand it, since both the windows in here face the southwest, but this is the most comfortable room I’ve found in the city, even in the afternoons. Why is that, Cy?”

“I have no idea.” Cyrus leaned back in his chair and watched his friend move aimlessly around the room for a moment, then said, “I meant to ask you earlier—have they found the Bradshaw girl yet?”

“No. That’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it? A pretty girl from a good family steps out one afternoon to run a few errands, and no one sees her again. If there’d been an accident, she would have been found by now. The whole city’s been searched. The police believe someone’s got her.”

“Or had her,” Cyrus said quietly.

Noel looked at him. “You think she’s dead?”

Cyrus nodded.

“Dammit, so do I. What do we have police for, I’d like to know, if not to prevent that kind of thing?”

“They do what they can. But sometimes evil doesn’t wear a recognizable face.”

Noel gave him a sharp look, then frowned as he drifted restlessly around the room.

After a couple of minutes, Cyrus said, “You didn’t come here to talk about tragic news, my business affairs, or the temperature of my office. What’s on your mind?”

Noel settled finally in the visitor’s chair before the desk, and sighed. He sent his friend a curiously intent look. “I ran into Adam Prescott a little while ago. He wants to bring Drummond to the game tonight.”

Cyrus didn’t change expression. “So?”

“So, I thought you might want to know about it.”

Lifting an eyebrow that was mildly questioning and nothing more, Cyrus waited.

Noel felt frustrated, and sounded it. “Dammit, Cy, I can’t figure out what you’re up to. Ever since their party, Drummond hasn’t missed a chance to buttonhole you. He’s even come here half a dozen times.”

“He wants my political support,” Cyrus said calmly.

“He wants your money,” Noel snapped.

“That too.”

“You have no intention of supporting him, and we both know it. You can’t stand the man, no matter how well you pretend otherwise. So why are you stringing him along? From what I’ve seen, you hesitate and hedge just enough to keep his hopes up. In fact, I’d say you went out of your way to encourage him to believe you might back him politically, all the while being very careful not to commit yourself.”

“It amuses me.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Noel met those black eyes squarely. “What would amuse you would be to break the man’s neck with your own hands.”

After a moment Cyrus gave him a curiously chilling smile. “That would he too easy. I’d much rather break every bone in his body. Inch by inch.”

Noel barely felt his jaw drop, and had to try twice before he could ask, “What’s he done to you?”

“Not a damned thing.”

“For God’s sake, Cy, you don’t express a desire to murder a man—especially like that—unless he’s crossed you in some way!”

“He breathes the same air I do. That’s enough of an offense.”

Noel stared at him, feeling very peculiar. Cyrus was still smiling, but his black eyes were deadly and Noel had never seen them like that. Without even thinking about it, he said, “It’s because of Julia, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Cyrus said flatly.

“Because you want her and she belongs to him?”

“She doesn’t belong to him. She’s tied to him—there’s a difference.”

Noel was conscious of another shock. If any other man had said those words in a voice so intense it shook, he would have believed…But, no. It couldn’t have happened to Cyrus, surely, not so quickly. Managing a protest, Noel said, “Not in the eyes of God or the law.”

“God turned His eyes away from that marriage a long time ago. And the law doesn’t always recognize evil if it wears an appealing face.”

“Evil? Cy, what—”

Cyrus immediately shook his head just once, a clear refusal to explain what he meant, and Noel didn’t repeat the question. But he had another one, and he asked it.

“What is it you mean to do?”

“Strip away the charm. Expose the hideous face underneath.”

Noel wanted to ask And then? but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to hear the answer.

Julia was still puzzled and disturbed by the message that had sent her to Cyrus, and Helen Bradshaw’s disappearance made the questions even more troubling. Until Lissa had returned home that evening in perfect health and spirits, it hadn’t occurred to her the message might have been a deliberate ruse, and when she did consider it, she found the possibility chilling.

A casual question had provided the information that Helen hadn’t gone with the others, and Julia’s butler, Wilson, was positive it had been she who had left the message.

But why? If it had been a deliberate attempt to put Julia in a compromising position by causing her to arrive on Cyrus’s property when Adrian was there, it seemed incredibly involved—particularly for an eighteen-year-old girl who, in any case, had no reason to plan it. There was no malice in Helen that Julia had ever seen, and like many young women, she didn’t notice very much beyond her own self-centered interests. If she had suspected there might be something between Julia and Cyrus, she might have giggled and gossiped, but she wouldn’t have done anything to either confirm or disprove her suspicions.

No, if Helen had indeed left the message, it was because someone else had persuaded her to, and the implication of such a possibility frightened Julia, especially now that Helen had vanished without a trace.

She didn’t want to believe the two things were connected, but she had a sick feeling they were. Pawns were sacrificed; what if Helen had been a pawn? Who could be ruthless enough to use an innocent young girl and then discard her when she was no longer needed? Was she even alive?

If she wasn’t alive, and if she’d been someone’s puppet or pawn, then why? Why had someone used her in such a strange, involved way? Did someone suspect Julia had been unfaithful to her husband, or want it to appear that way? Adrian wouldn’t have done it, she thought; he was too conscious of his public image to arrange such a thing when his friends would be witnesses to the result. But if not Adrian, then who?

It never occurred to Julia to suspect Cyrus, though she wouldn’t realize that for a long time.

She didn’t know what to think, but she was afraid. Adrian was so involved in his political aspirations he seemed to have little time or energy for her. He had more or less left her alone these past days. But sometimes when he looked at her, she had the eerie feeling he was just waiting. That he knew something. It unnerved her all the more because of her own feelings of guilt.

In Cyrus’s arms she had convinced herself his seduction was simply another form of male domination, and the belief had enabled her to withdraw from him. But as the days passed, she slowly realized, to her bitter resentment and shame, that it didn’t matter. He had brought something to life inside her, something she couldn’t define except to call it desire—as astonishing as she found the very idea. His reasons for seducing her had no effect on the result; he had taught her to want him.

Now it tormented her. Her body, awakened by his touch, ached incessantly. Often it throbbed, as if the very center of her being had shifted from heart and mind to the primitive, overwhelming needs of her female flesh. Shockingly erotic dreams languid with heated pleasure disturbed her sleep almost every night, causing her to wake with silent gasps, and she would lay beside Adrian in feverish stillness, bewildered that her imagination could so vividly conjure physical sensations she had never experienced.

Sensations she didn’t even believe were real.

It didn’t seem to matter if she felt no trust for Cyrus, no certainty he was different from Adrian. Her body wanted his, and the force of the need was a compulsion that gained strength, day by day, until it was physically painful to her, until it seemed any risk would be worth taking if she could lie in Cyrus’s arms just once. She didn’t know if giving herself to him would bring pleasure or pain. All she knew was this terrible urgency, the confused but certain conviction that she had to belong to him. She had to.

Soon.

The days crept by, sluggish in the unbearable heat, and Julia struggled to hold on to her fraying self-command. In the face of so many tensions, it felt as if she would be torn apart by them. More and more her mask of calm was a tenuous thing, and when it finally shattered, she could never have guessed that her sister’s loving hand would be responsible for the blow.

“Julia, what’s wrong with Adrian?”

Looking up from her sewing, Julia studied her sister’s troubled face for a moment before asking, “What do you mean?” They were sitting together in the parlor before lunch on the first Friday in August with the shutters closed against the heat of the day, and both had been silent for quite some time.

“He’s so tense. He snapped at you twice last night at supper, and there was something in his face I’ve never seen before.”

Julia hesitated. “The heat, I suppose. Everyone seems to be affected by it.”

Lissa shook her head. “No, it was more than the heat. And you knew it too, because you were afraid of him. It was in your eyes. Don’t tell me I imagined it.”

Again Julia hesitated, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer with the truth. Not all the truth, at any rate. Coolly, she said, “Like most men, Adrian has a temper. It seems to be the fate of a wife to bear the brunt of that, and I’ve learned to be wary.”

“Julia—”

“Lissa, it wouldn’t be fair to Adrian to discuss our marriage with you. Don’t you agree?”

“Is that a polite way of telling me it’s none of my business?” Lissa’s voice was very quiet.

“I suppose.” Julia managed a smile.

Her sister didn’t return it. “I can’t help being worried, Julia. I’ve noticed things lately. Since I’ve been home this summer.”

Julia didn’t want to encourage her sister to continue, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Lissa’s growing feelings for Mark had made her more aware of other people’s relationships. Or was it that Adrian was slipping, showing more of his private nature outside the bedroom?

Lissa went on without being asked or urged. “He doesn’t seem to notice how you feel at all, or care if you’re tired or drained by the heat. You’re so…so careful around him, as if you have to weigh every word. And even though he’s very attentive in public, here in the house he never touches you—I mean, when you’re around the servants or me.”

“The realities of marriage,” Julia said lightly.

“Mark’s parents don’t act like that, and they’ve been married for twenty-five years. He teases her in the sweetest way, and sometimes when you go into a room where they’ve been alone, she’s blushing and he has a little smile on his face—and you know they’ve been kissing and cuddling.”

Julia felt a pang and hoped she didn’t look as wistful as she felt. “Every couple is different, Lissa,” she murmured, wondering if it was true.

“Susie’s parents hold hands when they walk, even if it’s just through the house. Monica’s sister and her husband smile when they catch each other’s eye. Elizabeth and Parker laugh together all the time, and when she was carrying the baby, he did everything he could to make it easier for her. She told me. How he’d rub her back, and help her get around when the baby got so big. How he worried that something would go wrong, and he’d lose her. Now that the baby’s here, they’re like newlyweds again. He’s so gentle and loving.”

Lissa’s green eyes were steady as they held Julia’s. “I always thought Adrian was wonderful, but, Julia…you’re so still when he’s around, like you’re shut inside yourself. Your voice is—is so calm, it’s as if all the feeling has been squeezed out of it. I haven’t heard you laugh in two years. You never even smile as if you mean it. I guess I always saw those things, but I didn’t really think about them until recently. You don’t love him. He doesn’t love you. And I don’t think—I don’t think he’s kind to you.”

Julia looked away, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. “He’s my husband, Lissa.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t be,” Lissa said very softly.

Conscious of shock, Julia stared down at her sewing with blind eyes. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”

“Oh, I know it’s supposed to be wrong. Till death do us part, no matter what. It isn’t easy for a woman to get a divorce, and when she does, people say she’s fast. But you can’t spend the rest of your life with a man who makes you unhappy, no matter what people say. If you made a mistake, you shouldn’t have to go on paying for it.”

“Lissa—”

“Why should you have to? Being in love is such a wonderful feeling. And to see love in a man’s eyes makes anything seem possible. Every woman should know what love is like. You should. You deserve to be married to a man who loves you. Don’t trap yourself in a bad marriage. Julia, if you stay with Adrian, and children come—it’ll be too late. He’d never let you go then.”

“He wouldn’t let me go now,” Julia heard herself say, and though she was appalled she’d said it, there was a certain relief in voicing that certainty aloud.

“Maybe if I talked to him—”

“No!” Julia felt cold with fear as she stared at her sister. It was too late now to pretend; all she could do was try to convince Lissa to remain silent. “If you say one word about any of this to Adrian, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Julia—”

“I mean it, Lissa. You don’t know him. I do. He wouldn’t give me a divorce no matter what anyone said to him, and bringing up the possibility would only make the situation worse for me. Promise me you’ll say nothing to him.”

Lissa stared at her for a long moment, a little pale and very troubled, then nodded slowly. “All right. I promise.”

Julia forced a smile, and knew it looked as strained as it felt. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“Will you? I have a feeling it’s a lot worse than I thought. He hurts you, doesn’t he? At least twice since I’ve been home this summer, you stayed in bed more than a day, and you were so white when I saw you.”

“Lissa, please.”

“I won’t say anything to Adrian, but I can’t help worrying. If he’s hurting you, you have to get away from him. Even if he won’t give you a divorce, can’t you just leave him? He’d look awfully silly staying married to you when you didn’t live with him.”

This time Julia’s smile held a touch of genuine amusement. To the young, most things were simple; Lissa was still very young even if she was maturing rapidly, and her uncomplicated solution seemed a reasonable enough one to her. “Honey, Adrian has a political career to think of, and scandals mean ruin. He wouldn’t allow me to leave him.”

“You could just—just leave. While he was gone during the day. He couldn’t stop you.”

“And go where?” Julia shook her head slightly. “I have no money of my own, and I couldn’t ask any of our acquaintances for help, even if they were willing. Which they wouldn’t be. Lissa, both society and the law consider a wife the property of her husband. How he chooses to treat her is his business, and no one has the right to interfere. There have even been cases where a man killed his wife, admitted it, and was found innocent of any crime because the jury believed he had just cause.”

Lissa was clearly appalled. “You aren’t serious?”

“Entirely.” Julia had read of more than one such case in newspapers, and in a law book in Adrian’s study—where she had gone to find out what her realistic chances for a divorce might be. What she had found had given her no hope at all.

“What did the jury consider just cause?” Lissa wanted to know.

“In the cases I read about, infidelity.”

“Men have mistresses, and wives are expected to accept it. What’s the difference?”

Julia had thought about it, and her reply was dry. “Men make the laws.”

“Something should be done about that,” Lissa exclaimed, outraged.

“A number of women are trying. A constitutional amendment granting the vote to women has been put before Congress during every session since 1878. Unless and until it passes into law, women have no voice in determining other laws.”

“I should have paid more attention in school,” Lissa said, then ruthlessly got the subject back on track. “But Julia, do you mean to say that if a woman was being hurt by her husband, neither the police nor any of her friends could help her?”

“Legally, they haven’t the right. And there are social beliefs, first, that what goes on between husband and wife is a private matter and, second, that the woman is to blame.”

“To blame? For being hurt?”

“For angering her husband.” Julia shrugged a little tiredly. “Never mind that it isn’t rational. Some realities of life aren’t; you’d better accept it. The point is no one would dare to interfere.”

“I know someone who would. Someone who doesn’t give a fig about the law or society. Someone you could go to for help.” Lissa looked a bit startled and puzzled. “How strange I feel so sure of what I’m saying—but I do.”

“Lissa—”

“Cyrus Fortune, Julia. He could—” She broke off abruptly, staring at her sister.

Julia knew she had reacted visibly to the name, and though she struggled desperately for control, she could feel her face burning. Between the past interludes with Cyrus, his insistence that she leave Adrian, and her own shameless thoughts and feelings of late, she was unable to hide the response. It was so ironic. Lissa had named the one man she believed could be trusted—and he was the very man who had tried every form of persuasion short of blackmail or physical force to induce Julia to have an affair with him.

“Julia…”

A bit disjointedly, Julia said, “You must have taken leave of your senses, Lissa. Mr. Fortune has the worst reputation with married women of any man in Richmond. And he has no use for runaway wives; he certainly wouldn’t be pleased to find one on his hands. A man like him wouldn’t want to be bothered with messy problems—”

“Julia, are you in love with him?”

A shaky laugh escaped Julia, and she thought with utter detachment that it had finally happened. She’d finally crossed the line into madness. Nothing else could feel this way. The unexpected conversation with Lissa had added to the tension inside her, until she wanted to cry out, or burst into tears or hysterical laughter—anything to relieve the awful pressure. She was out of control, dreadfully rudderless like the boat that had taken her parents’ lives, and the sensation was terrifying. She didn’t know how much more she could bear.

“Love?” She was unaware of the bitter cynicism in her voice. “No, I’m not in love with him. That wonderful feeling you’ve described is something I don’t believe in. Not for me, not anymore.” Trying to stop her naked flood of words, she clamped her teeth together so hard her jaw ached.

“I—I’m sorry, I just thought the way you looked for a moment…” Lissa didn’t know what to say, and she was frightened. She had never seen her sister anything but calm. Now Julia’s face was paper-white and there was a wild look of despair in her glittering green eyes that made Lissa want to cry. “We’ll find a way for you to be free, Julia. There has to be a way.”

After a long, still moment, Julia put her sewing aside and rose to her feet. In a flat voice, as if nothing unusual had been discussed between them, she said, “I don’t feel like having lunch today. I think I’ll take the buggy out and deliver the things for Mrs. King’s thrift sale.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No. I need to be alone for a while.” Julia walked out of the room. She put on her hat automatically and ordered a horse hitched to her buggy, the box of secondhand goods for the thrift sale loaded. She drove her buggy through the streets a few minutes later in the same numb state. No one seemed to notice anything peculiar about her, and her errand was completed within a half hour.

But Julia didn’t return to the house. Instead, she drove out of the city. She wasn’t aware of choosing a particular direction and paid no attention to her surroundings.

Ever since the conversation with Lissa had begun, she had known time was running out. Lissa was an honest girl not accustomed to hiding what she felt; with the best intentions to keep her promise, she still would be unable to hide her changed attitude from Adrian. He might not notice immediately since he was so preoccupied these days, but he would eventually.

Being Adrian, he would believe two things. He would believe Julia had confided in her sister about his treatment of her, and he would believe Lissa wouldn’t remain quiet about it.

Julia didn’t know what to do. Adrian had always held the threat of hurting Lissa over her head, and he was entirely capable of carrying out the threat. If he became enraged enough—and fearing his public mask had been destroyed or damaged beyond repair would certainly enrage him—then he’d stop at nothing.

She drove on through the early afternoon, barely aware of the scorching heat and blind to the dark gray clouds rolling heavily toward her.

It was after two when Lissa stood at the end of the walkway and looked anxiously up and down the street. The sun still beat mercilessly down on the pavement, but thunder rumbled in the grim storm clouds that were approaching steadily, and the few people on the streets were hurrying to reach their destinations. Lissa was worried about Julia; she should have been home long ago, and with the storm coming…

When she saw Cyrus coming toward her, the relief she felt was almost staggering. She had trusted him from the first moment she had looked into his strange black eyes, and no matter what Julia said, Lissa knew instinctively that he could—he would—help her sister.

“Lissa? What’s wrong? Where’s Julia?”

Lissa found neither the familiarity nor the abrupt questions surprising, and it never occurred to her not to tell him. As soon as he was close enough, she reached out to him, catching his sleeve with unsteady fingers, and felt immediately reassured when his big hand covered them gently.

“Julia went out in the buggy; she should have been home ages ago. With the storm coming—and since Helen disappeared the way she did—I’m worried. Even if nothing has happened to her, Julia was so upset…”

“Why was she upset?” Cyrus asked quietly, his gaze intent on her upturned face.

“It was my fault. I was asking her about Adrian and their marriage. She didn’t want to talk about it, but I kept pushing.”

Cyrus’s long fingers tightened over hers, and something as dangerous as a naked blade flashed in the dark sheen of his eyes. “Has he been hurting her again?”

Lissa blinked in surprise, but once more, she found nothing strange in the question or in his knowledge. “I—I don’t think so. Not recently. She hasn’t stayed in bed all day since before our party. And he’s been so busy he’s hardly been home at all. I told her she should leave him.”

“And she refused,” Cyrus said flatly.

“She’s afraid.” Lissa had been thinking of nothing else since Julia had left, and she felt cold now despite the burning heat of the sun. What she had seen in her sister’s eyes had convinced her more completely than words ever could have that the man she had believed to be so wonderful was in fact a monster. “She told me about cases where a man had killed his wife, and nobody thought he’d done anything wrong. I didn’t understand at first, but I think she knows he’d…he’d kill her before he let her leave him.”

Cyrus looked at her for a moment, then said quietly, “That is not going to happen. Lissa, I want you to go into the house and pack a few things for yourself and Julia. As soon as I bring her back, you’re both coming with me.”

To Lissa, his words brought only relief. She was nodding with unquestioning acceptance even as she said, “Adrian usually gets home around four.”

“He won’t today. I’ve sent him halfway across the state to a political meeting. He shouldn’t get back here before midnight, if then.”

“You sent him?”

“I’ll explain later. Right now I have to find Julia before this storm hits. Don’t worry if we aren’t back when it does; we’ll take shelter and wait it out. You just be ready to leave the moment we return.”

“All right. You won’t let him hurt Julia?”

“No. I’ll take care of you both.”

“I’m going to marry Mark,” she said, because it was somehow important to her that he know that.

“Of course you are,” Cyrus said calmly, patting her hand. “After you finish school.”

Lissa couldn’t help smiling, but all she said was “The storm’s coming; you’d better hurry.” Then she released his sleeve and turned back toward the house, feeling an absolute faith and trust in him so strong that for a very long time she wouldn’t even ask herself where her certainty had come from.

Julia might not have noticed the approaching storm at all if her horse hadn’t shied nervously as a tangle of dry brush blew across the road in front of him. She steadied him, surprised to realize a strong, hot wind was blowing all around her, rustling through parched leaves and grasses. Becoming fully aware of her surroundings, she saw the angry dark clouds blot out the sun to produce an eerie twilight, and heard a low grumble of thunder.

She was a long way from the city.

The road wasn’t particularly wide, but there was no side road she could see in which to turn around. She had no choice but to turn in the too-small space. Her skittish horse fought the reins, growing more nervous with every passing second. She was on the point of getting out of the buggy and leading him when the sense of someone approaching rather than the sounds made her look over her shoulder.

She felt absolutely no surprise at seeing Cyrus. He was riding a big Roman-nosed gray that looked powerful enough to carry even its large rider mile after mile, and both the man and horse seemed impervious to the approaching storm.

Cyrus rode directly to her horse’s head and leaned down to grasp the reins, quieting the agitated animal seemingly by his touch alone rather than by force. Looking back at Julia and raising his voice to be heard over the wind, he said, “We have to take shelter. Hold on.”

Julia wouldn’t have been foolish enough to argue with him even if she hadn’t felt a peculiar sense of destiny. As he led her horse along the road away from Richmond, she realized where—without being the least aware of her destination—she’d been headed.