5 Stars “Author Kathy Fischer-Brown has created lifelike characters that live and breathe during the pioneer days of the late 1700’s…. I recommend this book!” — Jacqueline M Piepenhagen
It was not the murder that had him at odds with himself. She denied having had a hand in it, and perhaps she told the truth. That was not what troubled him. Even if she had killed Rufus, she was not the cold-blooded savage the others would have her be. But as Sparks had said, she provided them with the perfect scapegoat. Under other conditions, perhaps, it might have been different. Had she been one of their own, they might have been willing to admit that there were mitigating circumstances, that she had acted in self-defense. No one could claim that Rufus was a saint.
He had no qualms about taking her away to wait out the storm, even if he became an accessory to her so-called crime. His conscience could abide by that. After all, he acted in the name of justice, to ensure that justice would be served, for he knew that she would never be treated fairly. He wondered if he could make her understand what she was up against.
She was not completely unaware of her situation. She had a tenuous grasp…as far as she could see it, given her upbringing.
That was what lay at the heart of the matter.
She was not of his world. As hard as he tried to overlook this, the obvious kept flying in his face. White as she appeared on the outside, she was as red as they came on the inside. And more, she was stubborn to boot, and not at all the innocent she appeared. Her kiss had proved that. She responded to him like a woman of experience, and that disturbed him three-fold. How in God’s name could he allow himself to become involved with her? With one of them?
But it was too late for second thoughts. Not only had he involved himself deeply, she attracted him now, more strongly than before. Her kiss had left him hungry for more. He needed to exercise discretion lest his desire overpower his reason.