The boys who'd been skating on the frozen pond at the far end of the meadow heard the shots and were coming to investigate.

Boys from the village. Would they recognize her even in the dark? Would they talk? And would that talk get back to her grandfather and every one of the selectmen of the village? Fear quickened the beat of her heart. Oh, why had she been so foolish? Even to escape the prison of her grandfather's home?

Jonah shielded her with his big body, casting her more deeply in shadow. The din of the approaching boys shattered the forest's peace and frightened her more.

"Go," he said. "Before you land yourself in more trouble."

Her heart twisted. So, he understood. To be caught with him alone in these woods would mean nothing short of disaster. "Th-thank you."

Even in the dark, the light in Jonah's eyes gleamed. "Remember this. You owe me, Tessa Bradford. There is no good deed done without a price."

A chill snaked down Tessa's spine. His words frightened her. He frightened her. What did he mean? What price would he expect for saving her life? Feeling as if she'd just bargained with the devil, Tessa slipped into the shadows and escaped just as the boys gathered around Jonah, already spinning tales of heroism.

Chapter Two

Jonah stepped foot in the pitch-black room, apprehension a tight ball in his chest. He'd been too long from this house in which he'd grown from boy to man, too long disappointing the one man he loved above all. "Father?"

"I am here, boy."

Jonah's conscience twisted at the raspy sound of his once strong papa's voice. He stepped carefully, moving by feel rather than memory through the parlor. Strange to think he'd come home for good.

"I have been awaiting your return." Father's breath drew short and shallow, filling the dark room.

I have failed him. The knowledge defeated what still lived in his heart. Jonah's throat filled. I should have come home. I should have made Fathers life easier. And yet being a soldier, that's what Father had wanted for his firstborn son.

"I would have been home sooner." Jonah fisted his hands. "There were… complications."

"Always are in war."

"I was wounded," he confessed. But held back the truth that would shame his father, that he had not liked soldiering.

"As long as you have all your parts, son." Father's chuckle came like a cough, but humor still sparkled in his voice "I can think of only one appendage a man cannot live without."

" Tis true." Jonah saw nothing humorous about his father's health, about the sadness filling the room like smoke. "I have come to care for you, Papa."

" 'Tis high time too, boy." Withered hands, once so powerful, gripped his-hard and needy, the way a child might. "I have missed you, Jonah."

"That is why I've come home." He felt both the aching loneliness and the weakness in his father's grip. All these years while he'd been gone proving himself, his father had turned into an old sick man.

I never should have left him. I never should have-

"Now that you are here, will you stay, boy?"

"I intend to be the son you need, as always." Jonah felt resolve ball in his chest, tight and sustaining. Promises. They did not come easy to him, but when he gave his word, he would die before breaking it. "Tell me what you want, Father, and I will do it."

A cough rent the air, filling Jonah's heart with dread. The frail man sputtered for breath, then settled back in his chair, exhausted. The moonlight slipping through the diamond shaped windowpanes illuminated the weary circles beneath his half-closed eyes.

When he spoke, his voice was a scarce whisper. "This land is everything, Jonah. My father claimed this piece of earth not by handing over money in exchange for it, nay, he paid for it with his life, with the strength in his back, clearing this wilderness with naught more than an ax. He braved starvation and illness and wild animals. He earned this land with every drop of his blood and sweat shed for it. I have fought my battles for this land, too."

"Father, I-"

"Jonah, I raised you to be independent, an American, to think for yourself. When you, as a grown man, asked to leave, I let you go. For ten long years you have made your way in the world and I asked nothing of you until now."

Admiration for his father burned in his chest. Jonah's throat closed, and he tightened his grip on the old man's hands. He loved his father, who had loved him all his life no matter the mistakes he made, who always forgave him. A son-a man-could not ask for more.

"Find yourself a wife, Jonah, bring her here before I die. Fill this house with children. Promise me. You are my first son, Jonah. This land is your inheritance, and family is your duty."

Father fell silent, yet the moonlight did not hide the gleam of tears on his cheeks.

Jonah settled heavily to his knees. The words balled in his throat, words he'd meant to tell his father. Of the killing a soldier had to do. Of his life. Of why he could truly never call any place home again.

But duty-and the sadness on his father's face-kept him silent about his past.

"I vow it, Father. I will take a wife."


* * *

Her cloak was ruined. There was no saving it. The thick stain of blood from the wolf had soaked into the weave of the fabric. No amount of her homemade lye soap would remove it, even though she'd been scrubbing for two long hours.

Tessa hung her head, defeated. Dawn would come and with it a new day. How would she explain the ruined garment? She had no other. Surely Grandfather would notice her lack of a cloak during this morning's frigid walk to Sunday meeting.

She stood and hung the ruined length of wool to dry in the cow's stall. No one in the family would notice it there. With a heavy heart, she lifted the bucket of lye water.

Did she regret last night? She was foolish for her adventure, but she'd only wanted a brief escape from her grandfather's unhappy home. To skate on the ice and be free, just for a spell. Then the boys came and she had been scurrying off when Jonah Hunter found her.

Jonah Hunter. He was a handsome one. And what a foolish thought! She was too old for romance. No one, especially one so fine, would marry her. She was lucky to live under her stern grandfather's roof, even if she still wished… oh, how she wished, for what could never be.

But what if Jonah Hunter spoke of her midnight adventure? Tessa's meager hopes sank. If he did and Grandfather learned of what she'd done, then there would be no more midnight adventures, no swirling alone on the ice beneath the stars.

The cow shifted in her stall. The horse kicked, hoof against wood. Something was wrong. It was too early for Grandfather to be up for his chores. A scraping sound rasped along the edge of the stable.

Another hungry wolf? Mayhap a bear? She gripped her pail more tightly and hurried toward the unbolted door. The rasping sound ceased. Tessa froze, listening. Mayhap whatever it was had vanished, been frightened by the sound of her approach.

A groan of wood. A whisper of the leather hinges. Something was opening the door. In the flickering lantern light she could see a tall shadow, a big hand nudging the door wider.

"Grandfather?" she whispered.

"Not in your wildest dreams." Jonah Hunter strode into the stable, dressed in a large black coat that fell to the top of his fine leather boots.

"You." Her step faltered. "You have no right to step foot near me, Jonah Hunter."

"After saving your life, I have every right. You owe me, Tessa Bradford. And I require payment. Now."

"Payment?" Fear fluttered in her chest. What did he want?

"Yes, payment." He stalked closer, all darkness and might.

"Now? I have no money."

"I do not require money." Still he approached.

She shrank into the shadows. He didn't want any money? "Then what do you want?"

"You, Tessa Bradford." His voice shivered over her like candlelight, brief but caressing. "I want you."

Heavens, he wanted her virginity. Tessa froze. Air caught in her chest. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak. Did he think he could just walk in here and demand her virtue?

"Where is your cloak?"

He towered over her, enormous in the shadows. Tongues of weak light caressed half his face. Standing partly in the light and shadowed by the dark, he seemed more beast than man.

Tessa's hand flew to her throat. Every instinct clenched tight in her gut. It was sensible to be afraid. Rumors of Jonah's imminent return to Baybrooke had grown to legends. Major Hunter, who had killed Indians, saved mothers and helpless babes from scalping, fought bravely for the Crown and the colonies.

No man with eyes so dark could be trusted.

"My cloak is wet." Her throat choked out the words, "R-ruined. F-from the wolf."

Jonah shrugged off his cloak and swung the fine length of cloth around her shoulders. "Here, this will keep you warm. The night is cold and we have a far way to go."

"Go? But I have my chores here." Tessa lifted her chin.

"Then they will wait until you return." His fingers curled around the back of her neck, hot and possessive.

The thought of touching him made panic squeeze tight in her chest She dropped her bucket, the lye water spilling into the straw at her feet. She swallowed, time slowing as her gaze focused on the wide column of his neck. A strong pulse beat beneath his dark skin. Jonah Hunter was a vital man, with a man's appetites.

"Please." Fear beat at her heart.

The strength of his fingers cupped the base of her skull and nudged her head back. Her gaze collided with his.