Free Once Beloved by Amara Royce

allowing us to ride with you on your return to Marksby. You are too kind.” She had to pause to fight against choking on that last statement. She could say the words, but she couldn’t muster the energy to mean them. She really couldn’t. The boy she’d known as Daniel had been kind; this man was the Daniel who’d shouted curses at her when he’d caught her and Isaiah making their escape. “You said yourself that it would be a mistake for me to return. Why then are you delivering me there yourself?”
    â€œBecause you’re maddeningly determined to go. And, of all the absurd plans you’ve considered for getting there, this one will ensure you arrive safe and sound.”
    â€œSafe and sound? And ready for the villagers to eviscerate me?”
    He shrugged with what she could only interpret as smugness. Ugh! Infuriating man!
    â€œEven more reason for me to ask, then. Why are you helping me? This arrangement must be as distasteful to you as it is to me. Why suffer it when there are other methods of travel my niece and I may use instead?”
    â€œ ’Appen I wish to be able to witness the worldly prodigal daughter’s return to Marksby. ’Appen I find the payment of my traveling expenses appealing, since it’s my destination anyway. Or maybe I believe myself to be a man of honor who holds great respect for your grandmother. And maybe I wouldn’t be able to consider myself my mother’s son if I turned my back on a resident of Marksby in need—a woman, to boot—even a scapegrace like you.”
    â€œYou hate me so much, even now.” He didn’t deny it, and she had to suppress a shiver as the depth of his feeling struck her.
    â€œWhy would you return after all this time?” he shot back.
    â€œGran. Only in truly dire circumstances would she correspond with me. The last time she contacted my sister was to inform us of our father’s death. I’ve sent her letters, but I don’t know if she’s ever read any of them.”
    â€œMrs. Martin, why’d you turn your back on your family? Why’d you never return before now? Your niece has a right to the truth of her beloved aunt’s character.”
    â€œTread with caution. You cannot know what went on between me and my parents. Do you think I did not try to mend the rift? For more than a year, I sent my parents letters every week trying to explain, begging them to understand. When my first son was born, my heart ached to share the news with them. I sent word but never heard a response. Most of my letters were returned to me, refused by my parents. My husband began to suspect that my father took perverse pleasure from making us pay the postage both ways. If your claim is that I am an inconstant strumpet . . .” She heard a feminine gasp behind her and whirled around to see Vanessa standing a few feet away. The girl’s curiosity never ceased. Well, what better time for a lesson. “Vanessa, bear this in mind. When others wish to shame you with their snide whispers and innuendos, face them head-on. When they would cower in veiled language, call them out for it. Do not let them label you.” She braced herself and faced Mr. Lanfield again. “Now . . . if your claim, sir, is that I am an inconstant and immoral strumpet, I must point out that you do not know me. You know of an incident that happened twenty years ago, and you continue to judge me as though time stood still from the day I left Marksby.”
    â€œNot at all, Mrs. Martin. I consider it my moral duty not to judge.”
    She looked into his eyes, unable to find an adequate response.
    â€œThank you,” she said simply.
    â€œâ€™Tis naught.” He turned back to the horse. “I’d best go check Talos’s shoes. We’ve a long way to go yet.”
    â€œWait!” She caught his arm and froze. His arm, thick with muscle, tensed at her touch. The sensation, combined with