He kissed her eyelids and one of his legs lay sprawled across both of hers. “Maggie, do you think I’d ask total fidelity of you if I couldn’t give it in return?”

“Lots of husbands do exactly that,” Maggie mourned.

“Well, I’m not lots of husbands. I’m your husband. And I’m not such a randy bastard that I can’t restrain myself when there’s a need for it.”

Feeling better, Maggie began to laugh. “You’ve never restrained yourself with me,” she accused him.

He raised himself from the sand, pulling Maggie with him, and led her to the shore. They knelt, facing each other, in the shallows, and Maggie let her head fall back as Reeve bathed her in the tepid water, washing away the sand and the residue of their loving, washing away Maggie’s doubts and fears.

An hour later they were dressed again and walking back toward the house through the rustling cane, hand in hand. Maggie could not have been happier, and she was humming when she entered the kitchen to see how dinner was progressing.

Eleanor was racing back and forth between stove and worktable, her hair clinging damply to her cheeks and her neck. Sensing Maggie’s presence, she stopped, holding a kitchen towel in one hand, and took in her rumpled dress and unlaced shoes with a glower of understanding. “Can I help you with anything?” she demanded shortly.

Maggie smiled. “Only the cooking and cleaning,” she said, and then she turned and walked on toward the main house.

The next morning Reeve left the house at dawn to supervise the work in the cane fields, and Maggie began to learn the realities of living on a sugar plantation. She had her breakfast and wrote a long letter to Tansy, and then there was nothing left to do. Elisabeth was busy going over her numbers with Cora, and Eleanor was hardly Maggie’s idea of congenial company.

Maggie decided that a walk was in order and, since snakes were to be avoided, she chose the long driveway for her stroll. If she reached the main road and still felt restless, she would go on.

The banana trees rustled companionably on either side of her, their fruit covered with canvas bags to protect it from the birds. As quiet as Seven Sisters was, Maggie could have spent all her life there without complaint; the peace of the place was healing some mysterious wound of the spirit that she’d never known she’d suffered.

The distant rattle of carriage wheels on the hard dirt of the road made Maggie stop and listen, hoping for a visitor. But the sound faded away and she went on walking.