chance of worrying her, then, Marged,” he said. “What if you were caught? Who would run the farm for her?”
“Somehow the Lord provides,” she said simply. She laughed softly. “I am a minister’s daughter, you know. When my husband was taken, I wondered the same thing. But somehow we manage without him. We have to do what we believe in in this life, I am firmly convinced. We cannot always be wondering what will happen if things go wrong. That is the surest road to cowardice.”
It was not going to be easy.
“I married Eurwyn because he was the sort of man who followed his convictions,” she said. “I loved him for it. I never whined and insisted he think of me first before going into danger. And I never blamed him for leaving me alone.”
He felt a stabbing of jealousy for the long-dead Eurwyn Evans, the man she had loved. And the wistful desire to be so loved himself. But such love had to be earned. He had done nothing to earn it.
“A little farther on,” she said, pointing. “At the top of the next rise.”
They rode the rest of the distance in silence. When they reached the gate and the shape of the longhouse could be made out through the darkness, she stayed where she was.
“Here?” he asked her.
“Yes.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper against his ear.
Chapter 14
She was as reluctant to end the night as he was, he realized. She was no more ready to say good night than he.
“Marged,” he said, “I do not doubt your courage or your commitment to the public cause or your personal grievance. I honor you for what you have done tonight.”
“But,” she said. “I hear a but in your voice. Don’t say it. Please. I have admired and respected you so much tonight. Don’t spoil it by talking about a woman’s place. A woman’s place is not always at home. Her place is where she must be. And I must be with my people during these protests, sharing the exertion and the danger—and the exhilaration with them. I must be with you. With Rebecca, that is. Don’t forbid me to go.”
Damnation! All his resolve was melting away. “And if I did?” he asked her. “Would you obey?”
She did not answer for a few moments. “No,” she said at last.
“Rebecca must demand total obedience of her children,” he said. “It is necessary for the success of our cause and for the safety of all. I suppose, then, I must not issue a command that cannot be obeyed. Doing so would merely place us both in an impossible situation, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said. And then more fiercely: “Thank you. Oh, thank you. I knew you were a man I would like almost more than any other.”
His heart turned over at the compliment, though he knew that it was a compliment for Rebecca rather than for the man behind the mask.
“Come,” he said. “It is time you were safe in your bed.” He dismounted, holding her firmly in place with one hand as he did so. Then he reached up both arms and lifted her to the ground.
She stood in front of him, staring up at him. His hands were still at her waist, he realized, though he did not remove them. She looked absurd and rather endearing with her cloth cap covering all her hair and with her blackened face.
He lifted one arm and took off the cap. Any hairpins she had been wearing to hold her hair in place must have come away with it. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in thick waves. He had not seen her with her hair down, he realized, since she was a child.
“I must look a mess,” she said.
He was touched by the vanity of the words, so rare with Marged. She did look a mess. And strangely lovely.
“It is the blackening that really does the trick,” he said.
“Oh.” She brushed the knuckles of one hand ineffectually over one cheek. “I had forgotten that. So you have seen me with part of my mask removed. Let me see you. It is dark and I would never know you to identify.”
“Marged,” he said, taking her hand in his and drawing it away from her face, “I am Rebecca. There is no one behind the mask.” He was about to carry her hand to his lips, but realized that it might be too familiar a gesture. He squeezed it instead. “Good