So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3) Read online

  So Rare a Gift is just that, a delicious offering of romance, intrigue, and conflicting loyalties that spans two tumultuous continents. Drawing the reader in with heart-racing action, Anna and Henry are endearing, layered characters journeying down a memorable path of faith and freedom during America’s founding. Amber Perry’s passion for colonial history and romance is never more apparent than in this novel, sure to please new fans!

  ~ Laura Frantz, Christy Award nominated author of The Mistress of Tall Acre and The Ballantyne Legacy Series

  So Rare a Gift

  By Amber Lynn Perry

  Copyright 2016 Amber Lynn Perry

  Cover Design, Indie Cover Design and Tekeme Studios

  Cover Photos, Danyell Diaz Photography

  Published by Liberty Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in printed reviews and articles.

  Author/publisher contact information:

  www.amberlynnperry.com

  Dedicated to those who strive for a righteous cause.

  May you always have strength to live fearlessly.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “You know why I have called you here, do you not?”

  Mouth tight and hands daintily knit at her middle, Anna Rone measured every intake of air as she stared at the man who had fathered her. She had not returned to Wellhaven but thirty minutes past and already he had summoned her. “I do, sir.” The very thought made her stomach coil.

  “Then we shall make this brief.” Rush Martin rose from his chair and rounded the large desk, the hazy afternoon sun casting forlorn shadows across the book-laden shelves. “Charles Worth has asked for your hand in marriage.”

  Rush shifted his mouth side to side, as if he chewed on the words he prepared to speak. Never once moving his gaze from hers, he brushed past all formalities or any fatherly sentiment. “I trust you have learned from your past mistakes.” He stopped only inches from her, not even the hint of a smile on his worn face. With a patronizing tap on her shoulder, he loomed over her, the afternoon meal on his breath souring his words. “You have another opportunity before you. Do not disappoint me again.”

  Bleeding sincerity through her smile, Anna masked the hatred. He had not seen her in three years and these were the first words he chose to speak? But then, why should such a thing surprise her? “Forgive me, Father, but I do not recall that I had done any wrong. I did as you wished.”

  “Only after much trouble.” The dark mahogany bookshelves and exotic trinkets that lined her father’s study oozed an unwelcome aura that matched well the dry brown of Rush’s eyes. He dropped his hand from her shoulder, that familiar rise of disgust clouding his features. “Do not feign ignorance. Enough shame has come upon this family in the past ten years because of you and your brother. I will not have any more of your actions further tarnish our reputation.”

  A sharp laugh burst from her lips, but she could produce no words. He would imprison her again, would he? She would not submit. Not this time. But the means of escape, the way in which her heart’s desire would be granted had yet to enlighten her mind. Lord, I pray thee, show me a way.

  Only his lips moved while the rest of his face remained vacant when he answered. “I expect a Martin to know their place. It seems you have never known yours.”

  “Perhaps I was simply discontent with my allotment. Or should I say, my assignment.” She stared at him, but she didn’t see him. Instead, that night, so many memories ago, consumed her vision and crashed upon her like a mountainside of earth. Cool air rushing past, ribbons of moonlight, budding hope, the heaving breath of her mount as she raced to freedom. A shock of fear and the sudden prison of knowing what might have been and would never be when her flight was discovered. And thwarted.

  She snapped from the past and lifted her chin. “What father, truly caring for his daughter, would subject her to a marriage devoid of all that would provide the necessities of life. And I no more than a child.”

  “You were sixteen, hardly a child! And after ten years of marriage you ought to know how fortunate you are. Even in death your husband thought of your welfare, just as I always did, though you choose not to believe it.” Voice booming like a crash of thunder, Rush gestured to the door. “Edwin Rone gave you everything you could ever desire. Every necessity he provided.”

  “Aye.” Anna answered as calm as if they discussed gardens over afternoon tea. “Physical necessities to be sure, but not love. Not caring and devotion and companionship. Not kindness and sincerity. Not those necessities that a happy marriage would gift to both husband and wife.” Slowly, her grasp of composure began to slip, her tone pitching upward. “I was his ornament. Someone to hold his arm at parties and converse with across the dining table.” Volume rising, courage spinning, Anna met him gaze for gaze. “Do I not have a say in my future? Can I not craft my own destiny? Samuel advised against such a marriage then, as I am sure he would advise against it now.”

  Face suddenly crimson, Rush stepped back and pointed a crooked finger. His voice scraped so low it rumbled the floor at her feet. “You will not mention your brother’s name. We are not speaking of him. We are speaking of your future and nothing else.” A cloud drifted past the sun, shading the opulent study with heavy gloom. “If you think for a moment you can augment my intentions for you by reminding me of times past, then you are more ignorant than I believed. Anna, can you not see? My actions are securing a way that your barren womb will not be a hindrance to your finding a companion. If I did not do so you would have no one to care for you—no roof over your head, no food in your belly.”

  Throat too thick to speak, Anna stared down at the Persian rug beneath her shoes. Closing her eyes, she found the ever-ready place in her memory where happiness lived and clung to it as he continued. “Anyone who knows the family—and here, that is nearly everyone that matters—knows the illnesses you suffered as a child. They know you cannot bear children. What man wants a woman who cannot provide a son?”

  Glancing up, she soothed the tender parts of her that shrunk back in his presence, before nudging them behind her growing resolve. “I am well aware of what hinders my securing a husband. But perhaps if you allowed me to find someone of my choosing—”

  “Do not begin to suggest you do not need my patronage. Without me you would be nothing. ’Twas I who gave you your pleasant looks and without that no one would have you at all.” His eyes trailed her face as if he were inspecting a piece of fine china for cracks. “You have grown older. Still pleasant enough, but at six and twenty you are lucky to have any man interested in you at all.” He stepped nearer. “And listen well. I will not abide any more of your—”

  “If you are worried that I shall once again attempt to flee, then worry no longer. I have no intention of doing so.” She lied as big as the heavy sun in the sky. But her years with Edwin had taught her well when to mask the truth of her words. “Despite my misgivings I accept the arrangement.”

  No emotion to be seen on his face or in his eyes, Rush stepped back and moved around the desk. Once again seated in his high-backed chair, he blinked. “Then perhaps you are not as foolish as I believed.” He reached for the quill and dotted it in the silver inkwell. “You will make Lord Worth a fine wife, as you did your first husband. And the fortune you take with you will give added stock to the Martin name for Charles Worth is nearly as rich as the King of France.”

  Anna clutched her hands tighter. As if I care for such
things. The trappings of wealth have never held interest for me.

  He scrolled something across the paper at his desk almost as if she were no longer standing merely feet away. Anna’s chest threatened to collapse, but she inhaled, searching out those happy childhood memories that brought smiles to her sorrowed past. Across the room on the wall, a portrait of Samuel dominated the space above the shelves. Young and handsome, wearing his red officer’s uniform, her brother remained as she remembered him—strong, vital. Alive. Not as he had left them, in the shame of self-inflicted death.

  “Do not think it.” Rush looked up and folded the paper. “Do not even begin to think it.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Her acting skills had so sharpened over the years that even she almost believed the surprise in her voice. Though she knew exactly what he meant and had every intention of thinking of nothing else.

  “I know that look in your eye.” Rush twirled a stick of emerald wax over a flame before circling the melted tip against the folds of the paper. He glanced briefly at the portrait and shook his head. “Too long you have wasted precious funds in your vain attempt to exonerate your brother.” He removed his ring and pressed it into the wax before pausing to stare at her. “He killed himself, Anna.”

  The words burned. “You do not believe that. I know you do not. And neither do I. Samuel was not like that. If you will only—”

  “Silence!” Rush pushed up, the chair grinding across the floor. “I refuse to honor his demise by attempting to discover anything at all.”

  The fresh wounds that throbbed in her heart pressed the words from her mouth. “If your pride hadn’t been so quick to accept the news you might have thought to—”

  “He was not the man you remember, Anna.”

  “I do not believe it!”

  “Believe what you will, but that will not change the facts.” He moved around the desk and waved the paper in the space between them. “Your new husband will be here in three days, at which time the marriage will be performed.”

  Suddenly numb, Anna stared at the green seal on the paper. The figure of a dragon, tail up and mouth open stared back at her. So much like her father.

  He opened the door and motioned for her to exit. “Thomasina will see you to your room.”

  Even if she could have answered, she would not have. The man did not deserve any more of her energy, even for the slightest of words.

  Eager to be rid of the foul heaviness that surrounded her, Anna made for the stairs. Must she live a life of painted smiles and empty laughs until the day she exhaled her last breath? Was there truly no way to be free from such a fate? There must be a way out, Lord.

  “And Anna,” Rush said.

  She paused, not looking back.

  “You are wrong to think you cannot make your own destiny. After your marriage you shall have enough wealth to do anything you wish.”

  Gazing at him over her shoulder, she noticed the light from the window behind his desk resting on one of his many trinkets—a model ship—and a flash of genius enlightened her mind.

  “Thank you, Father.” She dipped her head and masked the frenzy of excitement with an illuminated smile.

  But I shall not have need of it. I shall be in America.

  ~~~

  Rush stared after her, his pride cracked. Anna’s mouth had spoken the words he’d wished to hear, but her eyes belied all else.

  You shall not go against me. Not this time.

  A figure appeared beside him from the shadow of the hall. “You summoned me?”

  Rush turned, staying silent only long enough for the servant to come beside him. “I would speak to you, Warren.”

  The head gamekeeper’s gaze narrowed. He stepped beside Rush in the doorway but no further. The man’s height brought him nose to nose with Rush, and his indignant timbre matched the ire flaming in Rush’s chest. “Speak your business here or speak it not at all.”

  Pricks of anger heated Rush’s back. He curled his fingers and relaxed his grip, glancing up the stairs where Anna had gone then back again at Warren. Pressing out a bitter breath as he accepted the irony, he sneered. Why was it that this man was the only one he could trust—and at the same time, the only one he couldn’t?

  Warren tilted his head, impatience oozing from his eyes and arrogance from the breadth of his shoulders. Rush’s eye twitched. Of what did a simple gamekeeper have to be so proud?

  “You feel yourself equal to me.” Rush glared, keeping his voice void of the hatred that surged.

  “Nay.” The man stood straighter, the knife in his voice stabbing Rush clear through. “I feel myself above you.”

  Warren turned to go, but Rush gripped his arm. “You will not leave until I have said my piece.”

  Arms bent, fists round, Warren sneered.

  Rush pushed him inside the study and slammed the door. “She plans to run again. I see it in her eyes.”

  “Can you blame her?” Warren stood still, expressionless. “What would you have me do about it? That is why you have called me here is it not?” He paused, the muscles in his face hardening. “How can you be sure I will do your bidding? Might I not as easily steal her away from you?”

  A cloud moved in front of the sun, darkening the room and Rush’s soul as well. Unable to stand his enemy’s presence without the abiding desire to strangle him, Rush made his purpose impossible to misunderstand. “Do not think me ignorant of the vow you made to my wife.” Still Warren stared, unmoving. Rush continued. “You may not wish to follow my orders, but I know you would not wish to break your tender promise to Catanna, even after her departure from this life.”

  A vein in Warren’s neck bulged.

  Seething, Rush spoke through his teeth leaning near enough to feel Warren’s breath on his skin. “I want only what is best for her.”

  “You want money.”

  “I want the Martin name not to be sullied as it has been since the day I married Catanna Bello.”

  Warren lunged, snatching Rush’s throat, his nostrils flaring, spit flying as he spoke. “Do not speak of her that way.”

  Air refused to enter, but Rush cooled his straining lungs. Warren wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing his grip was so strong. He spoke, though strained. “I speak only the truth, as well you know it.”

  Warren’s face twitched as if he wished he could kill with his eyes alone. He released his grip with a shove. “I know more than you ever will.”

  Gasping, Rush corrected his cravat. Jaw twitching, he straightened. “You owe me everything, Warren Fox. Without me you could never have lived such a life, and now I require something in return. If you decline, I will find another, more willing party. And…I venture to guess you would not be pleased with my choice.”

  That produced the desired effect, even if it was only in the slight pinch of Warren’s mouth. “Go on.”

  Rush stepped closer, his voice low enough to rumble the earth. “Wherever she goes, follow her. And bring her back to me.”

  ~~~

  The angry throbbing in Henry’s arm pulled a groan from his throat as he tore across the clearing. Running nearly blind from the consuming pain, he fixed his gaze on a grove of trees twenty yards ahead. His salvation. Breath surging, heartbeat drumming loud in his ears, all other sounds seemed merely an echo. They shall not have me.

  Yanking the red coat from his shoulders, he growled at the burning in his flesh as he wrenched free from the one thing that would most easily identify him to his pursuers. He left it where it fell and pushed harder toward the wood, daring a glance across the field at the wagon from whence he’d escaped. ’Twas only a spec on the horizon now, but the yells and barks of his hunters made it seem they were but inches from his heels.

  He could almost taste the sweetness of freedom when at last the trees encircled him. He stopped, gasping. Scouring the unfamiliar wood, he gripped his arm and ground his teeth, a warm stream of blood oozing between his fingers. To the left, a cabin, barn, and water-well rested
like weatherworn gravestones, crumbling and forgotten. The sounds behind him grew louder, and he dashed to the shelter only to stop seconds later. Those dogs would find his scent no matter where he went.

  Henry’s muscles cramped. They shall not have me.

  The barking intensified and he raced for the well, the only place he might remain hidden from sight—and smell. Clinging to the rope with his one good arm, he carefully lowered himself to the water below. Before long the hollow sounds of his boots scraping against the wall bounced off the standing liquid. Pushing against one side with his back and one foot against the other, he tested the depth of the water before releasing his position. Only inches deep. One small blessing in this tangle of misfortunes.

  “Brown, check the shack! You, Ward, look inside the barn.”

  Henry’s breath died at the sound of Paul Stockton’s deep tone. Blood seeped stronger through Henry’s fingers while his pulse charged with hate. Nay. Hate was too kind a word.

  “You’re sympathetic with their cause, Donaldson,” Paul continued. His volume grew as he drew nearer. “You helped that woman escape. I know it. Otherwise, you would not have run.”

  The wound on Henry’s arm throbbed, slandering the bullet that had left the seeping gash. Memories of that night surged to the front of his mind. Kitty running. Nathaniel whirling to shoot the enemy. The crack of gun shots and clouds of white smoke. Blinding pain. Shackles. And now, the bottom of a well.

  His enemy continued the tirade. “You knew she was guilty, and yet you let her run—nay, you aided her in fleeing the punishment she deserves.”

  Paul’s accusation pressed Henry’s hatred deeper.

  Guilty only of acting with courage in the defense of that which she believed to be right. Naught else. Henry glanced up, praying the darkness would deepen farther and fully shield him from view of the one who wished death upon him.