“This is madness, you know,” Rachel said.

      Frederick chuckled. “But it is a merry madness, do you not agree?”

      Rachel looked down, as if trying to hide her face. “I would not have you disappoint your parents.”

      How had she uncovered the core of his dilemma? Could he surrender all his former dreams to marry Rachel? “But may a man not decide his own destiny? Must he always seek his parents’ approval?”

      Her brow wrinkled, as if she were considering his question. “You must count the cost, Mr. Moberly. You have more to lose than I. No doubt your father will disown you.”

      “Perhaps so. But what of you? I would not have you suffer on my account.”

      “I risk only my heart, as women have done since time began.”

      “If your heart suffered, I would grieve being the cause of it. As a younger son, I will inherit no part of my father’s fortune. Perhaps it is time for me to earn my own.”

      “Why then, sir, I believe our friendship might prosper, after all.”

      LOUISE M. GOUGE

      has been married to her husband, David, for forty-four years. They have four children and six grandchildren. Louise always had an active imagination, thinking up stories for her friends, classmates and family, but seldom writing them down. At a friend’s insistence, in 1984 she finally began to type up her latest idea. Before trying to find a publisher, Louise returned to college, earning a BA in English/creative writing and a master’s degree in liberal studies. She reworked the novel based on what she had learned and sold it to a major Christian publisher. Louise then worked in television marketing for a short time before becoming a college English/humanities instructor. She has had seven novels published, five of which have earned multiple awards, including the 2006 Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award. Please visit her Web site at www.louisemgouge.com.

      Louise M. Gouge

      Love Thine Enemy

      Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom.

      —Psalms 51:6

      To Kristy Dykes (1951–2008), a godly, gifted

       author who encouraged me to write about Florida, her home state and mine. Kristy was a beautiful Christian lady, a light in my life and in the lives of countless others. She is greatly missed by all who knew her.

      Also, to my husband, David, who accompanied

       me on my research trips and found some excellent tidbits for this book. Thank you, my darling.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Questions For Discussion

      Chapter One

      St. Johns Settlement, East Florida Colony

      May 1775

      Through the window of her father’s store, Rachel watched the Englishmen ride their handsome steeds up the sandy street of St. Johns Settlement. Their well-cut coats and haughty bearing—as if they owned the world—made their identities unmistakable.

      “Make them pass by, Lord,” she whispered, “for surely I’ll not be able to speak a Christian word to them if they come in here.” She glanced over her shoulder at Papa to see if he had heard her, but he was focusing his attention on a newly opened crate of goods.

      Rachel turned back to the window. To her dismay, the two young men dismounted right in front of the store. One snapped his fingers at a small black boy and motioned for him to care for the horses.

      Her dismay turned to anger. How did they know the boy could take time to do the task? Did they care that the child might be beaten by his owner if he lingered in town?

      “What draws yer scrutiny, daughter?” Papa approached to look out the window. “Aha. Just as I hoped. From the cut of his clothes, that’s Mr. Moberly, no mistake. Make haste, child. Go behind the counter and set out those fine tins of snuff and the brass buckles. Oh, and the wig powder and whalebone combs. Mayhap these gentlemen have wives who long for such luxuries here in the wilderness.”

      The delight in his voice brought back Rachel’s dismay, even as she hurried to obey. Until six months ago, Papa had been a man of great dignity, a respected whaler who commanded his own ship. Why should he make obeisance to these wretches? These popinjays?

      When the two men entered, the jangling bells on the front door grated against her nerves, inciting anger once more. But for Papa’s sake, she would attempt to control it.

      “What did I tell you, Oliver? Isn’t this superb?” The taller of the two men glanced about the room. “Look at all these wares.”

      Rachel noticed the slight lift of his eyebrows when he saw her, but he turned his attention to Papa.

      “Mr. Folger, I presume?”

      “Aye, milord, I am he. How may I serve ye, sir?”

      The young man chuckled. “First of all, I am not ‘milord.’”

      “Not yet.” His companion held his nose high, as if something smelled bad. “But soon.”

      The taller man shrugged. “Perhaps when the plantation proves as successful as Lord Egmount’s.” He reached out to Papa. “I’m Frederick Moberly, sir, His Majesty’s magistrate for St. Johns Settlement and manager of Bennington Plantation. This is my friend and business associate, Oliver Corwin.”

      For the briefest moment, Papa seemed uncertain, but then he gripped the gentleman’s hand and shook it with enthusiasm. “How do ye, my good sirs? I’m pleased to meet ye both.”

      “And I’m pleased to see your fine store ready for business.” Moberly surveyed the shelves and counters. And again his glance stopped at Rachel.

      Papa cleared his throat. “My daughter, Miss Folger.”

      Moberly swept off his brimmed hat and bent forward in a courtly bow, revealing black hair pulled back