Though Molly had lived through an exhausting day, she slept fitfully. She couldn’t ignore the fact that thinking Andrew dead, she’d married a kind man and given birth to three children, While she’d been sheltered and loved, he’d been enslaved, tortured, and struggled to stay alive and returned to find her married and his son belonging to another man.

Andrew found no peace in his cot in Bartle’s cabin. He’d dreamed of his escape and return to Molly for years, imagining their joyous reunion. By now, she’d have completed her time. He’d known, he’d likely have to complete his bond, but she’d be free, possibly able to help him buy out of his situation early. They could still have had a good life. He’d been hurt to find she’d moved up in the world. Beyond that, there was the awful possibility after her marriage to the master that he’d find himself bound to her. He had no idea what their situation might be.

He tossed in misery, vacillating between hurt, humiliation and miserable anger that she hadn’t waited for him and knowing she’d not had that choice. He couldn’t deny that they’d both been pawns. She’d come up in the world while he remained at the bottom of the heap.

He couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t have made the same choice, given the opportunity. Had he had a choice in those dark days, he’d have seized upon opportunity for escape, even if it meant not coming back to her.