"Jane," she whispered, wiping her split lip with the cuff of her dress as she made her way to the bed. She winced as the rough wool abraded the tender flesh. "Oh, Jane."

That beautiful face was bruised; the life was gone from those vibrant green eyes. Instead she stared at the shadows the fire threw on the slanted ceiling, her expression lifeless. Except for the tears. They kept running down her face.

"Jane." Not knowing what else to do, she gathered the weeping girl in her arms and simply held her while she sobbed. And thought, irreverently, that Emma's broad, cobby little body was perfect for this type of nurturing.

Jane's dress was torn, her face bruised, her lip split. Her eye would be black by morning; it was swelling shut. What should have been the happiest day of her life had turned to a nightmare.

A white-hot rage burned in Amelia's heart as she rocked the girl, back and forth, whispering words of comfort, remembering what her father had said when she'd skinned both knees trying to learn to ride her first bike. Only this was so much worse.

By the time Jane let her peel the covers back, Amelia already knew what she would find. Blood was flecked on the linen, Jane's chemise, her thighs. Blood that signified her virginity. Robert had taken that, as well.

Perhaps it was more of Emma's consciousness coming through her, but Amelia knew what they had to do.

"We're going back to Lindsey House, Jane-"

"No! Oh, no!"

"Come on. Let me make the decisions for now. You're in no condition."

In the end, their decision was made for them by the innkeeper and his wife. Rushing upstairs after the commotion was safely over, they both demanded to know who was going to be responsible for settling up the bill.

Jane just stared at the two of them, her lifeless green eyes dull and uncomprehending.

Amelia decided to bluff it out. Neither of them looked that tough, and what could they do that would be any worse than what Jane had been through? Throw them out?

"He took base advantage of the lady," Amelia said quietly as she gathered up Jane's bag, her few possessions. "We'll both be leaving now, and not troubling you further."

"But what about the money?" the innkeeper's wife demanded. Jane started to sob again, and Amelia realized that the innkeeper was cowed by his overbearing wife.

She addressed her comments toward the wife. "As God is my witness, you should be ashamed of yourselves for what you allowed to transpire beneath this roof tonight." Before she was halfway through her statement, she was pushing Jane out the door and toward the stairs.

Something happened when the young woman started to move. It was as if part of her came back to life. Her pace quickened, and even though Amelia realized she was barefoot, she didn't dare try to go back for her shoes.

"I want my money!" the innkeeper's wife demanded. "Filthy little whores!" Her face was turning an ugly mottled color, and Amelia hoped they could get out the door of the inn without her trying to pull their hair out by the roots.

The rain was still coming down in torrents when both women dashed out the front entrance and toward the road. Amelia put her arm around Jane and supported her, trying to keep her upright. Her bare feet kept slipping and sliding in the oozing, sticky mud.

Lightning arched and crackled through the night sky, illuminating everything around them. Amelia counted to three, then heard the deep rumble of thunder. Too close. And here they were in the middle of a forest with immense trees, perfect lightning rods, all around them.

Jane turned her face up to the rain, and it was as if the heavens wept with her. Her vivid hair, already soaked, streamed wildly down her back. Her left eye was almost completely swollen shut now, her lower lip a grotesque puff.

She worked her bloody lips clumsily, trying to speak.

"Don't say anything," Amelia began.

"I heab you-at dah dor."

/ heard you. At the door.

Amelia nodded, signifying understanding.

Jane's fingers tightened on her arm, only this time she wasn't forcing her to follow her. This time she was merely trying to keep her balance.

"Tank you, Em-ma."

"You're welcome."

Jane Stanton started to cry again, but she kept walking.

Chapter Three

Know the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it.

– Lord Chesterfield

She felt as if the world were coming to an end.

Rain poured down, slicing through the dark sky. Amelia kept her arm firmly around Jane's waist, forcing the girl to take step after step as they made their torturous way along the side of the muddy road. And it wasn't as if Jane dragged her down. The woman was a fighter; she wouldn't give up. Though Amelia had her doubts as to whether Jane wanted to go back to Lindsey House. She rather doubted it. Jane probably wanted to put as much distance between herself and those odious innkeepers as possible.

The one thing Amelia hadn't counted on was meeting up with any sort of danger.

She sensed the hoofbeats before the riders came into sight. Acting purely on instinct, she dragged Jane into the shelter of a nearby tree, hiding them behind its massive trunk. Several riders, seven or eight of them, came into view, their horses galloping clumsily through the mud. From what Amelia could see of them in the rain and darkness, they seemed to be dressed in a rather ragged fashion, and she surmised that their mounts were probably stolen.

What men like these would choose to do to two women, alone on the road, was anyone's guess. She just didn't want to find out. Her breathing sounded loud to her own ears, but she knew they couldn't hear her over the fury of the rain and wind. The sheeting water also obliterated any tracks they might have made.

The riders galloped past, and Amelia resolved to watch the road, both ahead and behind them. No one was going to get a chance to hurt Jane again.

They walked further down the road, alone for the next hour, before she heard hoofbeats again. This time, both she and Jane dove for the nearby underbrush, seeking the safety and shelter of the thick forest.

But the rider, a lone man on a black stallion, looked strangely familiar. As did the horse. Amelia's heart started to race as she recognized them both. And she should have-she'd spent so much time in the great hall admiring his portrait, astride that same stallion.

Leaving Jane in the shelter of a giant oak, she ran out into the road. Lightning split the heavens, illuminating their small stretch of highway, as she screamed into the night sky.

"Jonathan Lindsey!"

Somehow, despite the noise and the rain, the thunder and lightning, the weakness and exhaustion of her voice, he heard her. The stallion wheeled, controlled by his master's hands. The great animal galloped in her direction, and had barely come to a stop before Jonathan vaulted down out of the saddle and was standing beside her.

Amelia had to look up into his face, and his resemblance to Hugh absolutely overwhelmed her. For a moment she couldn't speak as she took in the sight of his face, his eyes, his dark hair plastered back from his face, soaked by the rain.

Those eyes, so fierce and dark and blue. Intent and passionate and worried.

"Jane?"

"Right over here."

She wondered how they were all going to get back to Lindsey House on one animal, then surmised she was probably in for the longest and wettest walk of her life. After all, Jane was still in shock, after what she'd been through. The girl needed immediate attention.

"Jane!" When he reached her, he went down on his knees, pulled her into his arms, and held her against his strong chest. Jane began to weep as Amelia remembered another time, by the boathouse, when Hugh had held her in his arms and promised to show her every day how much he loved her.