The American Bride - By Karla Darcy Page 0,20

every hundred years a girl is born with hands like yours. It's a great honor, you know. It means that if she ever falls in love with someone across the water she won't have to turn into a frog. Her hands will help her swim."

For a moment the child sat stock-still and then two huge tears rolled down her cheeks and her whole body shook in a shuddering cry. She dropped her cup and wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth in an agony of grief. Alarmed at the child's reaction, Cara scooped the trembling girl on to her lap and rocked and petted her, murmuring words of comfort.

Richard who had been watching with brotherly disinterest, spoke. "Ghisele told Belin she was a witch's spawn and would burn in hell no matter what she did."

"Who is Ghisele?" Cara asked, mentally condemning the woman to eternal damnation.

"She was our old nanny. I think she was a witch herself." Richard sounded more hopeful than worried. "She said that's why our mother didn't want to see Belin. It would be like looking at the Devil."

"Nonsense," Cara snapped.

"Then how come our mother never wanted to have us around?"

Belin had stopped her trembling and now lay still in Cara's lap.

"To be perfectly honest, Richard, I don't know. I didn't know your mother so I can't be sure." Cara knew what she said would be very important in her future dealings with the children. She knew she needed to be honest. "There are some people that just aren't very comfortable around children. They don't know what to say to them so they just take the easy way out and try to stay away from them."

"I never know what to say either," Richard confided, accepting her explanation.

"She didn't want to see my hands. When she looked at them she always cried," Belin accused.

Cara cursed the insensitivity of the children's mother.

"Well, Belin, if you were ashamed of your hands perhaps she felt sorry that you were sad and that made her cry." Cara looked down at the girl in her lap, wanting to hug away all the hurts. "I don't know, Belin. I honestly don't."

Red-rimmed eyes stared into Cara's blue-green ones. Used to ridicule and evasions, the little girl recognized the truth in her governess' reply. Belin blinked, accepting the fact that Cara did not know the answers to some questions and childlike, skipped to another subject.

"Does that mean I can swim?"

"No. Unless you've practiced you won't be able to swim. And by the looks of you, young lady, I don't think you've been near very much water."

"If I'm dirty, no one looks at my hands." The streaked face was wreathed in an enchanting smile and Cara hugged her impulsively.

"So that's your game, is it?" Cara beamed at the girl whose smile transformed her. "I have a proposition for you. If you take a bath and wash your hair tomorrow, I'll teach you both to swim. Is it a bargain?"

Belin hugged Cara for an answer and Richard whooped with delight. The remainder of the evening passed quickly with tales of princes, warriors and other stories culled from Cara's memory of her own childhood.

After the children left for bed Cara changed into her nightgown but found she was too restless to sleep. She rummaged in the wardrobe, groaning at the atrocious plaid woolen robe she found among her acquired wardrobe. Cara belted the bulky material around her waist trying not to trip on the hem which dragged on the floor as she walked barefoot into the schoolroom. Prodding the dying fire with a poker, Cara sighed as the flames rekindled and the heat fought off the chill of the room. Pacing to the windows she smiled at her reflection in the darkened panes. The lacy nightcap looked ludicrous with the serviceable plaid robe. Cara promised herself when she returned to her grandmother's she would burn the offending article.

The hallway door opened sending the flames shooting up in the fireplace. Gasping in fright, Cara swung around as Julian strode across the threshold. Clutching the robe at her throat, she pressed against the windows, her heart pounding as her husband stalked toward her. Cara closed her eyes to shut out the huge figure looming in front of her.

Bracing herself she waited for the assault.

"I am not here to ravish you, Miss Farraday," Julian snapped, offended by the fear on the girl's face. "I've never had a penchant for plaid."

Stiffening at the insult, Cara drew herself up and stared