It amazed June how feeling so unlike herself could make her so happy. She still couldn’t believe what she and Ted had done right out in the open, in the shade of the hilltop, where anyone could have stumbled across them. Thankfully, no one had. No one had disturbed them that night either, when they had settled into bed, almost as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Ted had reached out for her, and, heaven help her, she had surged into his arms. He’d been even more commanding with her, in the best possible way, than he’d been on the hillside, and she’d found herself sighing and mewling with pleasure as he made love to her. She’d also caught herself hoping and praying that his seed would take hold so that his baby would grow inside of her. That way, no one, not even her father, could ever argue that she wasn’t really Ted’s ever again.

She rested a hand over her belly, smiling to herself, as she headed down to the kitchen well before dawn. It was the day of the summer festival, and she had a pie to bake. As aggravated as she was that her father and brothers kept insisting they had a right to the pie and the prize money that could come of it—and admittedly, June had won first prize for savory pies five years running—she still wanted to compete. It would be a pleasure to win this year. The prize money could buy supplies for the pub, but more than that, it would be good advertising.

She paused as she shoveled coal into the stove to prepare it for baking. What a joy it was to work for a cause you loved. Her heart fluttered in her chest the way it hadn’t since she was a girl, and she pressed a hand to her belly again. If someone had told her a fortnight ago that she would find herself falling hopelessly in love with Ted Folley, she would have laughed in their face. Even more if they’d told her she’d be living in a safe and happy home, enjoying every moment of her hard work.

As she left the stove to head to the icebox and the mince mixture she’d prepared the day before, she caught herself humming. That brought a smile to her face. She hummed the same tunes her mother used to while she was working. That made June’s heart feel larger than it had in ages. It would have been wonderful if her mother could have lived long enough to see her so happy. She hoped that wherever her mother was, smiling down on her from heaven, she was proud of the choices June had made.

Her thoughts were so comfortable and pleasant and the work of building the pie so satisfying that she ignored the creaks and squeaks in the pub. Old buildings were full of sounds, and it didn’t dawn on her that anything could be amiss. She was so absorbed in her work that when a pair of hard, strong arms clamped around her and a hand slapped over the lower half of her mouth, she was too startled to scream. The stench of unwashed clothes and bodies filled her nose, letting her know instantly it wasn’t Ted who had her.

“That looks like a winner.” Her father stepped into her line of sight, nodding at the mostly-finished pie on the table in front of her. He wore a greedy, toothy smile and didn’t have an ounce of sympathy or caring in his eyes. “You, boy, bring it with us.”

“Yes, dad.” Billy stepped up to the table, pale as a sheet, his eyes glassy and red, and picked up the pie, baking tray and all.

“We need to get out before the tosser hears us,” Wat growled. He was the one who held her captive. June made a noise, attempting to demand that Wat let her go, but he only squeezed her more tightly. “Shut up, you,” he grumbled against her ear. He drew in a long breath, sniffing her. “You smell almost good enough to eat.”

June’s knees gave out. There was no mistaking the intent in her brother’s tone. Fear harsher than anything she’d known filled her. She struggled to break free.

Her father sent a scathing frown Wat’s way, clicking his teeth. “Don’t be disgusting, boy. She’s your sister, not some tart.”

“But, dad—”

“Shut your gob,” her father silenced him. “Let’s get her back home before we’re seen.”

“I’ve got the note,” Chaz added. June could just barely see him putting a piece of paper on the table out of the corner of her eye.

“Good,” her father said. “Let’s move.”

Try as she did to call out for Ted or fight or even stomp on Wat’s foot in an attempt to break free, she was helpless. As soon as she was shuffled out the kitchen door into the blackened alley behind the pub, they took off at a run, whisking her away from everything she’d come to love.

Ted drifted up out of sleep in a contented haze. Things had gone better than he ever would have dared to imagine the day before. Aside from the brief interruption during their picnic, June had been relaxed, open, and calm. And after she’d told her family off, she’d been so much more.

He turned to his back, eyes still closed, smiling to himself. Being with June had been everything he’d dreamed it would be. Her body was just as warm and responsive as he’d imagined, and the sounds of pleasure she’d made still sang in his ears. He’d been so caught up in the excitement of the moment that he’d lost his head a little, making love to her with all the passion of a man who had waited too long for love.

His smile faded a bit. He hadn’t been too forceful with her, had he? Perhaps he shouldn’t have rushed into things so fast during their picnic. But June had seemed so ready for him. She’d even smiled and brushed her fingers through his hair as they lay on the blanket in the shade afterwards, recovering. And she hadn’t flinched away from him when he’d reached for her when they’d gone to bed for the night, even though she must have known what was coming. He’d taken his time with her then, kissing and touching and making sure she enjoyed herself as much as he had. Her responses hadn’t just been his imagination, had they?

He shook the doubt-filled thoughts from his head and swung his legs around to get out of bed. June wasn’t there, but it wasn’t unusual for her to get up early to start the kitchen fires and get to work. Judging by the clock above his mantel, he’d had a bit of a lie-in himself. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too put out about that.

His grin returned as he headed to the water-closet to use the toilet and clean himself up. Things would be perfect between them now, like they always should have been. It would take a bit more work, he was sure. Women who had been mistreated the way June had didn’t change their fears overnight. That was the foremost lesson he’d learned in the past fortnight. But for the first time, hope loomed larger in him than fear. They would be happy together. They could run the pub together, have a family, and make the perfect life for themselves.

It wasn’t until he was dressed and brushing his hair that he realized how silent things were. Usually, even if she was trying not to disturb him, Ted could hear June making noise down in the kitchen as she went about her duties. There weren’t any guests staying in the pub’s extra rooms at the moment—though several had asked, seeing as the summer festival was that day—which made the pub seem even more silent.

Frowning, Ted headed downstairs. There were still no sounds as he descended to the hall, then headed to the kitchen. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something wasn’t right. Sure enough, when he rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen, it was empty. Warmth radiated from the stove, and the table had flour and cooking pots, bowls, and ingredients on it, but June wasn’t there.

“June?” Ted called, as if she would appear out of nowhere. He walked to the window, looking out to see if she was in the back garden, but it was empty. “June?” He headed through the kitchen and the hall to look in the front rooms of the pub, but they were deserted as well.

Something definitely wasn’t right. Scratching his head, Ted headed back to the kitchen. June wouldn’t simply disappear, would she? He hadn’t been that big of a boor the night before, had he? A thousand doubts assailed him. He had been too forceful after all. She hadn’t been ready to be intimate with him that way. He’d pushed her into things without consideration for her, and now she’d fled from him.

As persistent as the thoughts were, they didn’t quite make sense to him. She wouldn’t just walk out on him because she’d hated sharing his bed, would she?

As he scanned the kitchen a second, fruitless time, his glance fell on a folded piece of paper on the table. He’d assumed it was a recipe card, but something propelled him forward. He snatched it up, unfolded it, and read.

“I’m leaving you, Ted. I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m going home to the bosom of my loving family. June.”

Ted frowned, turning the simple letter over. The note was written in pencil, and in very poor handwriting. It didn’t seem like it could be June’s, but if he were honest, he hadn’t seen her handwriting in years. She’d always written neatly in school, but there was no telling what time and hardship had done.

He read the message again, frowning deeper. She didn’t say anything that would indicate he’d assaulted her and she’d left in offense. The note contained no explanation at all. It didn’t feel right in any way. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that June’s father or one of her brothers wrote the note for her. But why would they? When was the last time they were at the pub?

The more he thought about it, the more Ted’s confusion grew. He balled the note in his fist, then threw it back on the table. It wasn’t like June to leave without saying something at all. He had to talk to her, to get a real answer about why she’d left. And since the note said she’d gone home to her family, that was where he would go too.

He marched out the kitchen door and through the alley to the street. It was the morning of the summer festival, and already the streets were busier than usual with people running to and fro, carrying baskets and crates of goods and contest entries, leading livestock to the town square to be judged, and greeting their neighbors with smiles and cheer. The scene was at complete odds with the jumble of anxiety filling Ted’s gut.

“Ted, I’m glad I caught you.” Andrew Noble rushed up to him as Ted was about to cross the street and start out toward the Lakes house. “I need your help.”

“Can it wait?” Ted asked, trying to move on. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“I just need you to tell people that you’ve seen me at the festival later,” Andrew went on.

Ted paused at last to study him. His friend looked nearly as agitated as he felt. His brow was furrowed, and he kept looking over his shoulder. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” Andrew said. “I just need you to tell people, especially Robert Crimpley, that you’ve seen me around the festival, should he ask.”

“I take it you aren’t going to be around the festival, then?”

Andrew shook his head. “Aggie and I….” He let out a breath. “It’s complicated. I’ll write to you and tell you all about it later.”

“Write to me?” Ted asked, baffled. Andrew thumped his arm and started to rush off, but Ted called after him with, “Have you seen June this morning?”

Andrew paused, turning back to Ted. “Yes,” he said, puzzled, as though it was strange for Ted to ask. “She was up at her father’s house, sweeping the front porch. Why, is something wrong?” Andrew broke into a teasing grin. “You two have a spat?”

Deep self-consciousness hit Ted. June had left him, and the moment everyone found out, they would tease him within an inch of his life. They would say they knew he’d never be able to hold onto her.

“Something like that,” he mumbled, glancing away. He ran a hand through his hair, staring up the path he’d been intending to take until running into Andrew. Maybe June didn’t want to see him. If she had left him, he might just be causing trouble by showing up on her doorstep, demanding answers. But he would never know if he didn’t check.

He walked on, forgetting to say a proper goodbye to Andrew. A few more people stopped him on his march through the town, asking how his beer was for this year’s competition or complimenting him on June’s cooking. He barely heard any of it, and pushed on without so much as a word.

He didn’t stop until he neared the Lakes house, but as soon as it was in sight, his courage failed him. What if June truly didn’t want him anymore? After everything they’d shared the night before, he wasn’t sure he could bear it.

With all the memories of how prickly she’d been two weeks ago, when their marriage may or may not have started, he crept toward the house. Had he tricked himself into believing she’d come to care for him and that she’d been happy under his roof? He didn’t think so, but there was enough doubt there to keep him from marching up to the front door to announce himself. Instead, like he’d done so many times before, he crept around to the kitchen window. It was open, so all he had to do was press his back against the side of the house and listen.

“See?” he heard Roger say inside. “This is more like it. You serving us breakfast, the kitchen tidy and in order, and everyone in their place.”

“More bacon,” Wat grumbled.

“More tea for me,” Chaz said.

There was a pause, and Billy said, “I’m so happy you’re home, June.”

June said nothing, but there was a quick thump and clatter that suggested to Ted she’d plunked something down on the table for her father and brothers.

“How’s that pie coming along?” Roger asked after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of sloppy eating.

“It won’t be done for another hour,” June replied. She sounded hollow and tired.

Ted flexed his hands at his sides, wondering if he should barge in and say something, do something. He started toward the door. But June wasn’t screaming and carrying on, so he hesitated. She wasn’t trying to get out of the house. She was making breakfast, the same as she probably had every day before she’d come with him. If he pounded on the door, demanding she come home, would she think he was no better than her father or brothers? And yet, the note she’d left at the pub still had his back itching with worry.

Confused, his heart feeling ten times heavier than it should, Ted inched silently away from the window. He made it almost to the lane, then paused and glanced over his shoulder at the house. It still didn’t feel right that she’d left so abruptly, but she wasn’t in any sort of serious danger. She was baking a pie for the summer festival competition, after all. She couldn’t be a prisoner. But if she was in trouble and he left, he would be letting her down.

He shook his head and started back toward the house.

“Ted, I’m glad I found you.”

Ted jerked to a stop and glanced back to the lane, where Basil and Elaine were driving a small wagon loaded with Basil’s beer.

“Would you have a moment to help me?” Basil asked. “This being my first competition, I’m not sure where to take all this.” He tilted his head to the back of the wagon.

“I told Basil that you were the one to ask,” Elaine added.

Ted was torn in two. He owed a lot to Basil, especially now that he held such a lofty position. But June might need him. He let out a tense breath and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, weighing his choices. June was safe for now. Time was on their side. He didn’t need to solve the riddle immediately, and Basil was asking for his help. With a wince and a grumble of irritation, he headed toward Basil’s wagon.

“It’s not that difficult,” he said as he fell into step beside the wagon as they rolled on.

As wrong as it felt to walk away from June, Ted’s feet kept moving forward. If something really wasn’t right, she would come back to him. Perhaps she’d only gone home to set things right in her family’s house, and when she was finished helping them, she’d return to the pub. But those thoughts didn’t feel right either. Nothing felt right. Nothing at all.

Once they made it to the town square and he directed Basil toward the beer booth, Ted wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He wandered for a few minutes before clenching his jaw. He’d made the wrong decision. June was his first priority and always would be. He swore under his breath and marched back toward the road that would take him to June.

“I’m looking forward to your entry in the beer competition this year, Ted,” Mr. Crimpley said, stopping Ted in his tracks before he reached the edge of the square. “Though I hear you’ll have stiff competition this year.”

“I…um…I suppose so,” Ted mumbled, glancing past Crimpley to the road. He half hoped to see June running toward him, but as crowded as the street was, none of the people in it were June.

“I hear Lord Waltham is entering the beer competition this year,” Crimpley went on, still trying to talk to him as Ted continued walking on. “You’ll have a hard time besting him, I’m sure.”

“His brew is all right,” Ted said, distracted.

“I don’t think his brew has anything to do with it. He’s an earl now,” Crimpley said. “Well, he always was an earl.”

Ted ignored him, pushing forward. He had to focus on the things he could control in the moment.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ted was stopped again by Nathan Fletcher, who organized the beer competition at the festival each year.

Bristling with impatience, Ted said, “I need to fetch June.”

Nathan shook his head. “We need your beer for the competition, and we need it now. Judging will start any minute now. You don’t want to miss the competition, do you? It’s the best advertisement for your business that you could ask for.”

Ted couldn’t have cared less about the competition, but the pressure that pounded down on him from all sides was overwhelming. The pub was only a block away. It would take him all of ten minutes to fetch the crate of beer bottles. Even if delaying rushing to June felt like a betrayal.

Rushing as fast as he dared, he headed back to the pub, fetched the beer, and carried it to the town square. The whole time, all he could think about was dropping everything and running back to the Lakes house to rescue June, again. She had to be in trouble. That was the only answer. The note had to be a fake. He was wasting his time by doing anything that didn’t involve barging down Roger Lakes’ door to bring her home to the pub, where she belonged.

He approached the table where entries of beer for the contest were being logged, fully prepared to leave his crate of bottles there and head back to the Lakes house, when the sound of Roger Lakes’ laughter nearly caused him to stumble.

“That’s it,” Roger said. “My June made it special. I’m sure it’ll be a winner.”

Ted stepped to the side to find Roger handing over a large, steaming pie to the women organizing the table hosting the pie competition. His sons hovered nearby, drooling over the other food entries that were being dropped off for the various competitions. June was nowhere in sight, though.

“Where is she?” Ted demanded, setting his crate on the beer table and marching toward Roger without a second glance. “Where’s June?”

Roger turned to him with a smile that was more of a sneer. He crossed his arms, looking down his nose at Ted with a combination of victory and disdain. “She left you, you great oaf.”

“I don’t think she did,” Ted said, surprised by the certainty in his voice. “I think you interfered with her somehow.”

“Did not.” Wat stepped over to his father’s side, crossing his arms and glaring viciously at Ted. “She’s back where she belongs.”

“She belongs with me,” Ted said.

“Tell that to her,” Roger sniffed.

“I will. I’ll go to your house and tell her right now.” Ted turned and started to march off.

“You can’t do that.” Wat jumped into his path. The anxious look in his eyes made Ted’s blood run cold.

“What have you done to her?” he seethed, ready to fight Wat if he had to, if it would get him to June’s side.

“We, uh, didn’t do anything,” Wat said.

Ted glared at the man and stepped around him, marching on.

“You stay away from our property,” Roger chased after him. “I’ll have the law on you if you trespass.”

“I want my wife,” Ted said, pushing on.

“She’s not your wife. She’s my daughter,” Roger insisted, catching up to his side. “You stay away from her.”

Ted turned to shake him off, but before he could think of something strong enough to express how deeply he despised each and every male of the Lakes clan, he caught sight of June charging toward them, dress soiled, hair coming out of the simple knot at the back of her head, and fury in her eyes.