The only thing he knew with any certainty was that all his inner wrestling ceased when he was with Serena. With her, he was able to believe that life had meaning. With her, the haunting ghosts dissipated.

The meeting ended and Drake stood and stretched, much as the other men beside him. He had met many of these Quakers and had they been fighting men he would have welcomed any of them at his back, so completely loyal and honest they were. But they were not fighting men, would never raise arms for their country or their brother, which was another of the many mysteries he found himself thinking on.

Today a new fellow he had never seen before had joined them. Tall and lean, with straight white-blond hair that was long and combed back from a broad forehead. His piercing blue eyes had locked onto Drake's upon meeting. Drake read both intelligence and a questioning a.s.sessment in them. Nodding to the man now, Drake turned and followed Josiah into the fellowship hall where they had their weekly pitch-in.

Serena's laugh startled him, causing him to turn sharply. He had only heard her laugh like that with him, but there she stood, with the man he'd noticed, her hand on his sleeve in an old and familiar way.

"Christopher Kingsley," Josiah supplied from behind his shoulder.

The man was always reading his mind, and it was disconcerting. He had always prized himself on his ability to be aloof and unreadable. "Who is he?" Drake knew his voice held the tone of a jealous suitor, but there was no sense hiding it from Josiah.

"A farmer. Lives in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. His parents came over from Germany with a land grant in the valley, but died before reaching it. Christopher inherited the grant and settled there. He comes to Philadelphia once a quarter to take care of business matters."

"That's not the only reason he comes, is it?"

Serena smiled up into the man's face, and Drake felt it all the way down to his stomach. Jealousy, he decided, was a wretched feeling.

"Thou seest the truth of it."

"And what does her father think of the good farmer?" The sneer behind the word farmer cast Drake in a bad light he knew, but it came out nonetheless.

"He is a good man. A man of our faith and a man she has known for many years. I think he would make her . . . content."

Drake turned to Josiah, eyes wide. Serena's father so rarely sounded unsure of anything he said that it came as a shock that he might not be certain of this. "But not ecstatically happy, perhaps?"

Josiah sighed and for a moment looked older than his forty-some years. "A challenged life," he hesitated, "can be more rewarding than a contented one. But a parent is loath to see a child endure suffering. 'Twould be a sacrifice."

He looked into Josiah's eyes, understanding jolting through him. "I would never hurt her."

"Until thou art well settled within thyself, thou wouldst. Even whole, I think so."

Anger filled him, had him blowing air through his clamped teeth. Drake looked over at Serena, saw the way her dusky green eyes glowed as she spoke, the way she gestured with her hands . . . all so known to him, so beloved. He looked back at Josiah, his voice low and harsh. "You wrong me, sir. She is . . . she is all that is light to me. Do you understand? She is the only hope I have." It sounded pitiful. His eyes almost swam with the emotion of it. Here, in this crowded room, with strangers possibly looking on, he had come as close to declaring what lurked in his heart as he ever would.

Josiah's eyes did fill with tears. "She can help thee, son. But thou must seek deeper and further for Truth. Only the One who made thee knows how to fill thee. Serena will fail if thou puttest her in that place." Josiah's eyes blazed with certain truth.

Drake couldn't endure the intensity. He had to get out of there! He spun and headed for the door. Serena tried to stop him as he swept pa.s.sed her, but he shrugged her off as he tore out of the room.

Air . . . he needed the fresh, cold air so that he could feel his lungs and rid himself of this sensation that he couldn't breathe. Taking great gulping breaths, the fog of it surrounding him, he stood outside in the yard of the meetinghouse and forced himself to calm down. When his heart slowed, he started walking.

He walked the streets of Philadelphia, seeing and yet not seeing the largest city in the colonies for an hour or more, trying to outpace the haunting words that he would not, could not examine too closely.

He walked along the sh.o.r.e of the Delaware River and marveled what man could do in a few short years. Where once there was wilderness and Indian camps, now giant ships moored, swaying majestically at the docks. Warehouses and shipyards lined the sh.o.r.e. Neat and freshly painted houses and shops filled the streets, sitting like little jewels in the crown that was Philadelphia. Finally, he found himself in an alley looking up at a sign that made him laugh despite the heaviness of his heart. Man Full of Trouble tavern, complete with a sign of a man carrying his wife piggyback. Shrugging, he went in.

He couldn't ask for a place more fitting to his current mood.

Inside the brick building was a semi-dark room, with crude wooden tables and chairs. A long bar ran along one end, but Drake choose a quiet table in a back corner. Josiah had been paying him a small wage aside from room and board, and Drake was glad he had brought some money with him.

It wasn't long before the man behind the counter came over and asked in a friendly voice, "What might ye be havin' sir?"

Drake ordered an ale, counting out the coins in his pocket. It was strange, having to concern himself with the amount of coin on his person. Never in his life had he had to be frugal. Now . . . he could soon run out.

Halfway through the brew the door burst open to admit a tall, red-headed man. Drake barely glanced up, so deep in morbid thought, until he heard the booming voice. "Drake Winslow? Is it you, then, man?"

Drake looked up into the face of Daniel McLaughlin, the Scotsman and his one friend from the voyage over. He stood and shook Daniel's hand, getting a hearty clap on the shoulder in response.

"Daniel, I didn't expect to see you again. How are you?"

The Scot sat down and motioned for a drink from the barkeep. Lowering his voice, he leaned in. "I have a tale for your ears, the likes of which you willna soon forget." He grinned from ear to ear. "But first, where did you end up? If you don't mind my sayin' it, I thought you might be too far gone by the time we reached the sh.o.r.e, and that's the G.o.d's honest truth of it." He motioned at Drake. "But you look fit!"

"I am, thanks to an angel of mercy. She nursed me back, but I have yet to decide whether to thank her." Drake gave him a self-deprecating grin.

"Sounds like love to me. What's her name?"

"Serena Winter. A Quaker, if you can believe that. Her father has taken me on as a silversmith apprentice. I'm currently residing with them."

Daniel whistled low. "You had better luck than most of those poor souls we traveled with. Have you heard anything of the others?"

Drake shook his head. "Just the few who were sick in the hold with me. The Quaker families have provided for them as well. Come now, what happened to you?"

Daniel grinned lopsidedly and leaned in. "Actually, I've been looking for you. I believe I have something that is yours, my friend."

"What's that?"

"A medium-sized brown trunk."

Drake sat up eagerly. "Does it have money in it? About four hundred pounds?"

Daniel whistled again. "I knew there was more to you than met the eye." He shook his head. "Sorry to say it dinna come into my possession with money in it, but-" he dug into a pocket and pulled out a heavy, gold signet ring-"I'm betting this is yours, is it not?"

Drake's fingers wrapped around the ring, gripping it, afraid to look at it. "Yes. Tell me everything, Daniel. I will hunt down the blackguards who robbed me."

Daniel settled back into his chair. "Well, we dinna all get the treatment a man such as yourself got in the hold thar, with a pretty la.s.s hovering over you. The rest of us were herded up like cattle by the slave drivers."

Drake nodded. "Serena told me about them. A wretched business."

Daniel nodded and grinned. "Oh yes, wretched indeed, but I got my say in the end. There were four of them, big meaty, brainless sorts. I tried to pummel my way out on top deck of the ship, but they got the better of me. Divided us into four groups, they did. A Mr. Joseph Linney was my group's boss, which I don't mind telling you was a gift from heaven above."

Daniel laughed, taking a long pull from his cup and slapping his thigh.

"He drove us west of the city, farm to farm, through little towns and villages. This land is amazing, Drake, untouched and wild, just waiting for a man to tame. They drove us hard, though. We were getting weaker and hungry all the time-none of us looking our best and dinna he like it that way."

Drake shook his head in disgust.

"Like I said, he wasna too bright. I soon devised a way of looking a little mad, a condition that would worsen should any prospective employer come to look us over." Daniel struck a dumb face, one eye roving to and fro while the other looked glazed.

Drake laughed quietly.

"A little talent I picked up in my school days. Always sent the la.s.ses running home with delightful screams."

"I'll bet it did." Drake interjecting, laughing despite the sorry tale.

"So, finally, it was down to just me and Mr. Linney. He was getting a mite put out with me and suspecting my game. He told me he would find the worst, most despicable job in the next town and just give me away as I wasna worth any more of his trouble. About that time, I noticed a fine trunk on the back of his horse. It looked familiar and I guessed it might be yours. So, being the crafty Scotsman that I am, I concocted a plan to steal it back and escape any plight the good Mr. Linney had for me.

Drake shook his head with a smile. "Would that it had been filled with not only my money, but the proceeds of all the indentures."

Daniel nodded. "I had hoped to find something to sustain me. When we stumbled into the next town, sure enough, as I hoped, we headed for the first tavern. I'm counting on Linney's powerful thirst for whiskey to aid me, you see? Once there, it wasna hard to goad him into trying to out drink me, and by the time night fell, the man could barely stagger across the street to the boardinghouse. I took the trunk under my arm and half carried him to his bed. Making like I was the slave driver and he the idiot indentured, I instructed the woman who owned the place to lock him in till midmorning as I wanted to sleep in."

Drake leaned back in his chair, laughter shaking him. "You didn't!"

"Aye, I must confess brilliance struck."

"And the landlady was, of course, charmed by your good looks and charming manners and believed you," Drake drawled out, shaking his head in admiration.

Daniel shrugged. "It wasna too difficult. Soon as I had my room, I quickly went through the trunk. When I found the ring, I knew it was yours. I don't know how Linney got ahold of it, but at the time I was glad. I did not think it could hurt my cause to borrow some of your belongings, and don't you own some fine things! It wasna too hard to act the spoiled Englishman on my trip back to Philadelphia. I kept my mouth shut, stared at everyone like an English blueblood-a gesture of which you are a master, if you don't mind my sayin'." He grinned. "It worked like a blessed charm. I had people scurrying to do my biddin' within a day of practice."

Drake frowned. "You didn't meet any other gentry and try to pa.s.s yourself off as me, did you?"

Daniel leaned in. "Nay, but come, man, tell me. Are you what that ring says you are. Are you an English n.o.bleman, then?"

Drake shook his head. "No, Daniel. I was never more than an illegitimate boy who believed he would someday be a duke." A harsh crack of laughter escaped him. "But that's another long story and I want to hear the rest of yours. I am happy my belongings came to your aid. Pray continue."

Daniel took a long drink, wiping the foam from his upper lip with his sleeve. "I don't know as I could have done it without your fine belongings. I owe you, Drake, G.o.d's truth I do. And that's about the end of my tale. I made my way back here hoping to find work and you. Imagine my surprise to run into you here."

Drake looked at the ring, sliding it on his finger. It felt right, a familiar and comforting weight, but he knew it no longer belonged there. "We're both fortunate. Where are you staying?"

"Last night I slept in a barn. I'm down to my last shilling-" he nodded at his ale-"and drinking that."

"Here." Drake dug into his pocket and slid some coins across the table. "To get you through until you can find work. I might be able to help with that. The Friends are extremely well connected and have a soft heart toward the downtrodden. What sort of work would you like?"

Daniel shrugged. "Smithing don't sound bad. Do you like it?"

Drake raised one eyebrow as a harsh laugh escaped him. "It took me three weeks to learn how to make b.u.t.tons. I'm afraid my skills lie elsewhere. But I will see what I can find for you." He stood up and drained his mug. "I need to be getting back soon, so let us quit this place. Take me to my trunk."

SERENA SUPPRESSED ANOTHER yawn, eyes watering. It was hard to concentrate on what Christopher had to say when she was so concerned about Drake. Where was he? Would he come back? Her father a.s.sured her Drake just needed a little time to himself. After all, they had kept him tight under their wing since they'd met. She couldn't blame him for wanting to be on his own, but still . . . what was he doing so late on a Sunday evening? And why had he rushed out and brushed her off so at meeting?"

"Serena? Didst thou hear me?"

Christopher's patient smile was belied by the concern weighing his features.

"I am sorry, Christopher. Thou hast caught me wool-gathering. Please, go on."

"I was telling thee about my new barn. But then, I can see that thou art not very interested in such things. I apologize. It grows late. I should go?"

There was much in that question. They had been friends for a long time and Serena knew that one day, when Christopher felt his farm was ready to support her, he would ask her to become his wife. Looking into his startlingly blue eyes she realized Christopher had come to his own conclusions. He had already heard the story about Drake. Serena struggled with an honest response. Toying nervously with a fold in her skirt, she suddenly stilled her hands and took a deep breath. "I am sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"II have, of late . . . found myself unaccountably attached to my father's new apprentice. Pray-" she looked up at him, her brows drawing together-"believe me when I say I didn't mean for it to happen."

"He is not a Friend, Serena. Hast thou thought this through? Thou wouldst be excommunicated."

Serena had hardly dared dream of Drake asking her to marry him, but the excitement that rushed through her body at the thought of being his wife eclipsed all else. "I only know what I feel for him. I am sorry."

Christopher stood and raked his fingers through his hair. For a second, Serena saw him as others might-tall and lean and attractive, strong, sure and good. He would make someone a very good husband someday. "Perhaps I am dazzled by the unknown. Please, hold me in the Light."

Christopher did not look very happy with that speech, or her request to hold her in the Light, to pray for her. But he nodded quickly, put on his hat and said, sadness and levity bracing up his words, "Thou knowest where to find me if thou needst me for any reason, Serena." He reached out to touch her cheek, his thumb skimming the line of her jaw, his eyes pain-stricken, then turned and walked off the front porch to his buggy in the street.

She watched him go into the darkness, his shoulders set, back straight, and a bittersweet feeling a.s.sailed her. Was she making a mistake? She could call him back. He would marry her if she gave him the slightest indication that she returned his feelings. She watched with a sick feeling while he climbed into his buggy, but the words to call him back stuck in her throat as untruth.

As he rode away, Serena saw a dark form standing in the shadows of the old oak tree. Her heart gave a leap. It was Drake. Had he heard her? She took a step toward him.

"You should marry him." His voice was like the deep of the night-dark and velvety, filled with danger. She inhaled the thrill it evoked in her.

She continued her steps into the shadows, stood in front of him, and gazed up into his dear face. The wind blew through the giant old tree he was standing under, allowing the glow of the moon to reach his face only occasionally. It was a cold light, washing out all the color in the world, leaving them looking at each other in shades of gray, casting the sharp planes of Drake's cheekbones into harsh relief, making him seem a creature of the night and more dangerous than she'd ever seen him look.

The coldness of the light reached his eyes, sending a shiver up her spine. Why would he look at her so when all she wanted was to smooth away the stark set of his features and see him give her that melting smile. Instead she replied, "Yes, I should . . . but I do not think I love him."

Drake's gaze roved her face like a whispered caress. "You are not sure?"

Serena tipped her head, longing to see past the shadows of his eyes. "I thought I might grow to love him . . . someday. I thought I should love him. I respect him."

"That is more than most marriages are based upon. You could do worse."

"I have said as much to myself many times, and even more of late."

"Why send him away then?"

Serena's gaze dropped to Drake's chest as she shook her head. She couldn't say it. Just the thought set her cheeks aflame.

"I know how you could tell for certain."

There was a wicked smile in his voice that sent another shaft of thrill through her. She shivered. "How?"

"Have you kissed him?"

She took a sudden indrawn breath. "No, of course not. Wwhy should I kiss him?"

He reached for her then, pulling her close, grasping her face between his palms. "Because if he cannot make you feel like this, then you will never love him."

She waited as his lips hovered over hers, the moon itself seeming to pause in its revolution looking down upon them with the stars in sudden interest. Serena wanted this-wanted him-with an intensity she hadn't dreamed she possessed. He held her captive with the black depths of his eyes. There lay a road to a place of sensual abandonment, but a way fraught with the rocky cliffs of uncertainty and adversity. Acceptance meant surrendering this life for the unknown. Dare she accept his challenge? Dare she throw her lot in with a man who was still, in so many ways, a dark and dangerous stranger?

His breath moved over her face, and she strained to reach him, to touch him. The relief when his lips finally touched hers was profound. Like the last time, she swam in a maelstrom of whirling emotions. Unfamiliar sounds came from her throat because of the force of his mouth as she gave free rein to the desire to press into him. She breathed him in, wanting to be as close as she could, clinging to his broad shoulders.

Suddenly he broke the contact. Hands gripping her arms, he gasped out a challenge. "Can he do that? Have you felt that with him?"

Her senses spinning, she tried to make sense of his words. "Who?"

Suddenly he was a savage stranger, giving her a shake. "Can he make you feel like that?"