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dictates.
    She lifted her chin to the wind, smiling slightly, and wondering to herself just why she was so excited to be coming here. The things she had read had fascinated her. She wanted to see the swamps and the hammocks, the spectacular sunsets, the exotic birds. Even feeling the wind aboard the ship, she felt a sense of excitement. It seemed that life, no matter how deadly or dangerous, would be vivid here. Splashed with color. She was eager for the very wildness that was promised and threatened, for the beauty, however savage it might be.
    And however much she might see, she reminded herself ruefully, for assuredly, if Michael Warren had summoned her here, he’d had a reason for doing so. She would probably find herself betrothed again. And thistime Michael would have surely chosen someone old and grizzled—but rich, of course. And strong. Strong enough to force the issue with a reluctant bride, since Michael would be wary of her now himself.
    Never
, she promised herself silently. He could do many things to her. He could not force her to wed, and he never would. This frontier land would not be like Charleston. And Michael would frequently be engaged in battle. There would have to be a greater chance here for her….
    A chance of what? she wondered.
    Freedom
, something whispered in her heart.
    A ship’s whistle suddenly sounded, and Teela became aware of a flurry of activity as orders were shouted, orders to trim the sails and bring the ship about.
    They were approaching land.
    Teela forgot her own reflections as she looked toward the shore, both fascinated and, admittedly, a little dismayed by the view that stretched before her.
    The stockade itself was crude and wooden with high walls and towers, something that almost seemed to grow out of the earth itself. The small community surrounding the fort was little better, just a conclave of poor wooden houses, fences, domestic animals, and dirt roads. But she realized that the poor fledgling city was surrounded by a frame of startling beauty. The river, shimmering green, stretched through the growth of trees and foliage that forged inland, while the bay itself seemed touched by the light of a thousand diamonds, creating a dance of blue and aquamarine upon the horizon. There were beaches, too, encircling the city, white sand beaches that looked as if they were soft silk thrown out to buffer whatever thorns and brambles might he within the land beyond.
    “Miss Warren, we’re nigh to docking,” Teela heard, and turned quickly, first to her left, then right. Her stepfather’s watchdogs were with her, both a little green. Indeed, Trenton, who had spoken,
was
green, his flesh nearly matching the color of his eyes. Poor Buddy wasalmost as white as the sand of the beaches. But despite their distress, both men were back in full uniform.
    “It don’t look like much, I know,” Buddy told her apologetically. He was a freckle-faced farm boy out of Tennessee, born and bred to a military tradition, with the call of duty above even that of honor. But he was a nice young man with a good heart, and she was glad that he tried to cheer her now.
    “It looks wonderful,” she said. It was only partially a lie. The beaches and sea and sky were extraordinary. Only the fort and houses were wretched.
    They’d come into the harbor. Shouts were loud; half naked men leapt about the rigging as the ship was steered and then pulled into her berth. Ropes were thrown to the dock and the ship was secured. The gangway was set down. Before anyone had disembarked, soldiers came quickly aboard, meeting with the captain.
    “News is always the first thing needed,” Trenton said, his voice somber.
    “It’s good news just to see the city standing, and not in ashes,” Buddy agreed.
    The group of soldiers who had come aboard with their messages and information disbanded, and the kindly old naval captain of the ship came hurrying toward Teela. “Fuzz-bucket!” Trenton murmured of the