Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) Page 14

  Ian couldn't recall their wedding night in sufficient detail to know what he had shown her, but her seductive tone convinced him he must have pleased her. That's all he wanted: to please her, since she delighted him so. He enticed her out of her chemise, and then kissed her luscious breasts, while he continued to tease her with a gentle touch that coaxed a grateful moan from deep in the back of her throat.

  He moved over her then, and brought their bodies together with a smooth, sure thrust that seemed strangely familiar. Knowing it couldn't have been that easy the previous night, he thought he was remembering other women and, ashamed of himself, promptly banished the thought. Melissa was the only woman he would ever want, and he gloried in the warmth of her response, and fell asleep snuggled in her arms.

  Ian's tender loving left Melissa languidly combing his curls, rather than euphoric, but knowing he had not questioned her virginity relieved her of a heavy burden of dread. He was the dearest of men and, even if she never loved him with the enthusiasm he had shown her, it would be another of her secrets, rather than a truth that would cause him pain.

  Chapter 9

  The forest had always been Hunter's home, and he had roamed it with the effortless enthusiasm of a deer, but now that the French had entered the Ohio Valley, and clearly intended to stay, he grew far more cautious. He had always taken his early morning patrols seriously, but now that a confrontation with advancing French soldiers could come at any time, he became acutely aware of the possibility that men out scouting for the French might see him. He would have thought himself a great fool if he were taken prisoner, and he intended to avoid such a humiliation.

  Now, before moving forward, he climbed the tallest tree and scanned the horizon for telltale wisps of smoke that would indicate a campfire. There were still men trapping furs, so smoke in itself might only mean their presence, rather than that of troops in the area. Whether or not there were campfires that needed to be investigated, he remained aloft to study the terrain thoroughly. He was searching for anything unusual: birds that suddenly took flight, or a waving motion in the foliage caused by frightened animals fleeing human pursuit.

  Each morning his careful observation failed to disclose any ominous signs, but he continued to exercise care when he began to explore on foot. He relied not only on the sharpness of his eyes and ears, but also on his intuition to warn him of danger. Certain he would sense the presence of the enemy before they could be seen or heard, he often sat quietly and waited for the forest to reveal its secrets. It was only after he felt its natural calm remained undisturbed, that he returned to camp.

  Washington's men were carving out a road wide enough for wagons and cannon, and their progress through the mountains was tortuously slow. Because the French had cannon, Hunter understood the British need, but he envied the ease with which the French had floated theirs down the Allegheny River. In his view, the French had far too many advantages, but he had to admire the courage of his traveling companions when, according to Ensign Ward, the force that opposed them was nearly ten times their size.

  Hunter heard his name being called as he entered camp, and turned to see a burly young man approaching. No one had dared to bother him since the day he had broken Vernon Avey's arm, but he was instantly on guard. "What do you want?" he asked.

  "Whoa, Indian, there's no reason for you to get mad at me. My name's Thomas McGee. Some of us were talking this morning, and we got to wondering who's the best man in camp with an ax. Now I said the only way to settle that question is to have a contest. We find trees of equal size, and see which man can fell his first. Some of the men think you would win, others don't, but a difference of opinion is what makes a contest exciting. You want to try it?"

  Anxious to see the competition, men had already begun to gather, but Hunter didn't feel like doing such hard work just to entertain them. "What do the officers say?"

  "There's no reason to bother them," Thomas replied. "We're supposed to be chopping down trees, aren't we?"

  That was certainly true. All the men were working from dawn to dusk to widen the trappers' path through the forest. How two of the trees were removed couldn't be of much interest to their officers, but Hunter had another objection. "Are the men going to place bets?"

  Thomas was shocked. "Well, of course, they're going to make bets!" he answered. "That's part of the fun."

  "I'll do it, if I'm given a quarter of the money won on me," Hunter offered.

  "A quarter! Hell, nobody will agree to that."

  Hunter shrugged. "Then have someone else do it."

  The men began to voice their opinions in the matter, and it soon became apparent that without Hunter, there would be no contest, and their spokesman had to give in. "All right, you get your quarter of the amount won on you. Is there anything else you want?"

  "Yes, I want to choose the trees, as well as my ax, and I want time to sharpen it."

  A respectful murmur passed through the crowd, for now everyone realized that Hunter was not merely strong, but also clever. "We've already chosen the trees, but I guess you can pick two others, if you don't like them. As for the ax, each man ought to work with his favorite, and they ought to be sharp."

  "Do you want to do this now?"

  "Sure, as soon as you're ready."

  "Who's the other man?"

  "Carl Schmidt, you must know him."

  Having heard his name, Carl pushed his way through the crowd. He was a brawny young man with a ready smile, good-natured and strong, but not overly bright. He walked up to Hunter and offered his hand. He was the same height as the Indian, but easily outweighed him by thirty pounds. Big and tough, his grin showed what he thought of his chances of winning.

  Hunter shook Carl's hand, but quickly released it. "Make them give you a quarter of the money, if you win," he urged him.

  Carl turned to Thomas McGee. "If he gets a quarter, don't I get a quarter, too?"

  "Of course, Carl," McGee assured him. "We'd not cheat you."

  Carl believed him, but Hunter doubted he would have seen any money had he not asked for it. Carl had already selected an ax, and Hunter went through the others, carefully judging not only the weight, but also the feel of the handle. When he found one he liked, he sat down and sharpened the blade with a whetstone. Ignoring the men standing around discussing the match, he worked with a methodical rhythm until the ax had a sharper edge than it had possessed when new.

  He then set the whetstone aside and stood. Thomas McGee immediately came over to lead him down the trail to the pine trees he'd chosen, and while the trunks were not so thick as to make the contest exhausting, they were too closely spaced to suit Hunter. He shook his head and, after a careful search, pointed out two others of approximately the same girth, but standing farther apart.

  "These are better," he announced without detailing his reason.

  "Trees is trees, Indian," Thomas scoffed, but he didn't argue with Hunter's selection, and neither did Carl.

  When they were ready to begin, Carl wore a look of intense concentration. He spread his legs to assume a carefully balanced stance and raised his ax to shoulder height, while Hunter was completely relaxed, apparently not caring who won. While the majority of bets had been placed on Carl, Hunter had nearly as many vocal supporters, and they began to cheer him on as soon as Thomas McGee gave the signal to begin.

  In a matter of seconds, the difference between the two men became clear. Carl was slamming his ax into the tree with the agitated frenzy of a crazed woodpecker, sending chips of bark flying in all directions, while Hunter worked in an easy rhythm that sliced more deeply into the heart of the tree with each cleanly swung stroke. Had the trees been saplings, Carl might have succeeded in felling his first, but these trees required not speed, but endurance, and as he tired, Carl gradually began to slow his furious pace, while Hunter continued to swing his ax low and hard at the same steady rate. When his tree was the first to fall, no one was surprised.

  Hunter then gestured graciously for Carl to c
ontinue. With his face red with both embarrassment and effort, he struggled to chop down his tree. When Carl had finally accomplished his task, Hunter offered his hand. While Carl shook it, he couldn't look the Indian in the eye, and turned away to hide his tears. Hunter had expected to win, and felt no real elation in his victory or any sympathy for Carl in his loss.

  "I'd like my money now," he told McGee.

  Clearly in awe, Thomas counted it out and handed it to him. "Where did you learn to use an ax?"

  "I am Seneca," Hunter reminded him. "Our children play at chopping down bigger trees than these."

  Thomas considered that reply for a moment, and then shook his head in dismay. "Somehow, I doubt there's much you can't do."

  If Hunter was aware of any gaps in his knowledge, he didn't share them with Thomas McGee. Instead, he smiled and, carrying his winnings and ax, walked back toward camp, while the men who had bet on him kept on cheering.

  The noise of the contest had drawn Byron's interest, and he met Hunter on the trail. "It looks as though you're as good with an ax as you are at fighting."

  "That's not difficult."

  "Try and be careful," Byron warned. "The men are working hard, and they can use a little fun, but don't let them talk you into anything you'd rather not do. The men you beat won't forget how foolish you made them look."

  Unable to work, Vernon Avey had remained back at Will's Creek, so Hunter wasn't concerned about him. As for Carl Schmidt, he had not seemed hostile, just disheartened that he had lost. "I know you and Elliott are my only friends here," he confided. "I don't trust any of the others."

  "You can trust Washington," Byron assured him.

  "Perhaps."

  "Just remember what I said. Every man you beat will harbor a grudge against you, and in time that might grow to be a dangerous number."

  Thinking that by then he would be a very wealthy Indian, Hunter could only smile rather than shiver in dread.

  * * *

  Alanna didn't have to ask Melissa if she enjoyed being married, because she had never seen her look happier. At the same time, there was a disconcerting difference in her cousin that she couldn't name. One moment she seemed more mature, more thoughtful, and in the next, wistful to the point of tears, although she never actually cried.

  The announcement of her engagement to Ian and their plans for a May wedding had brought enthusiastic good wishes rather than censure, when his military service was given as the reason for their haste. Aunt Rachel's friends were all eager to help. The Frederick sisters, along with Alanna, were to be bridesmaids. The only regret was that Byron and Elliott would be unable to attend.

  Melissa was intent upon having a whole new wardrobe by her wedding day, and Rachel, Alanna, and she spent almost as much time at Sally Lester's shop as they did at home. There were fabrics to select, as well as endless yards of lace and pretty ribbons which had to be chosen for the subtlety of their color and fineness of stitch, followed by many hours of fittings. For Alanna, who had had scant interest in clothes a month prior, it was all a bit overwhelming at first, but she soon got caught up in the fun, since so much of it was focused on Melissa, rather than her.

  She could sit back and watch her cousin preen, without feeling any uncomfortable assault on her own shyness. She was content simply to watch, and to occasionally offer an opinion, while Melissa and her mother made so many demands Sally Lester's staff was kept sewing until their fingers bled. Melissa was going to have not only a beautiful wedding, but a wardrobe any woman in Virginia would envy.

  One afternoon, Randolph O'Neil was waiting outside the dressmaker's shop. "Good afternoon, ladies. Would you care to join me for tea?" He gestured toward the elegant tearoom across the street. Renowned for its delectable pastries, it was one of Rachel Barclay's favorite places, and she readily agreed.

  "How sweet of you to invite us, Mr. O'Neil. We'd love to join, you." Rachel took his arm as they crossed the street, leaving Melissa and Alanna to walk together.

  "I should have told her he's interested in you," Melissa whispered.

  "That would be cruel," Alanna argued. "They're friends, and I'm sure he must like your mother very much. She has both beauty and charm, and I have neither, besides, she spends a great deal of money in his shop."

  "He was waiting to see you, not her," Melissa insisted. "I saw him walk by Sally's shop at least three times. Just watch."

  With what appeared to be merely a random choice, Randolph seated himself between Alanna and Rachel. Amused, Melissa winked at her cousin, and then directed her comment to Randolph. "Ian and I hope you'll be able to attend the wedding, Mr. O'Neil."

  "I'm looking forward to it," he assured her. "Your cousin owes me a dance."

  Noting Alanna's blush, Melissa couldn't help but probe. "Really, and why is that?"

  Expecting Alanna to explain, Randolph hesitated a moment, but when she appeared to be too shy to speak, he did. "I asked her to dance the night of the Governor's Ball, but unfortunately you'd been taken ill, and Alanna had to leave early."

  Rachel was not at all pleased by Randolph's mention of that night, and hurriedly changed the subject. "You'll be able to dance until dawn at the reception, Mr. O'Neil. Now tell us just what sort of things you'll be carrying in your shop in the fall. I know Melissa and Ian are sure to receive a great many beautiful wedding gifts, but I'd like to give them something special for their first Christmas together."

  "It won't be a surprise if he suggests things with me listening, Mama."

  "She's right," Randolph agreed, "but I'll look for something especially nice, and save it for you."

  "Thank you." Rachel reached out to touch his sleeve as she spoke. Their refreshments were served, and for the next few minutes, the conversation centered upon how delicious they were. She was a perceptive woman, and noted just how frequently Randolph's glance strayed toward her niece. She was accustomed to men admiring her daughter that openly, but he was the first who had ever shown an interest in Alanna and that he was one of Williamsburg's most prosperous merchants delighted her.

  She did her best to involve Alanna in the remainder of the conversation, and as soon as they had bid Randolph goodbye and entered their carriage for the ride home, she reached out to pat her niece's knee. "I didn't realize Randolph O'Neil was so taken with you. Do you like him, too?"

  Alanna felt as though she were being shoved in a totally wrong direction, and mentally dug in her heels. "He's attractive and personable, Aunt Rachel, but other than as a friend, I've no interest in him. I won't be impolite, but I shan't encourage his affection, when I can't return it."

  Distressed, Rachel pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment, but her expression soon brightened. "Don't you worry, sweetheart. Weddings are the perfect place to meet eligible men, and perhaps one will please you."

  Alanna glanced out the window rather than argue, but she didn't want to be pleased. She just wanted to be left alone.

  * * *

  In anticipation of their marriage, Ian rented a house on Francis Street, and a thrilled Melissa promptly took Alanna to see it. It was a charming, white frame cottage with green shutters, and while it was very small compared with the home in which she had grown up, Melissa couldn't wait to move into it. Supplied with the minimum in furnishings by the owner, it provided Melissa with ample opportunity to express her own tastes in decorating.

  "I'll wait until after the wedding to buy what I want," she told Alanna, "because we're sure to receive many lovely things as gifts, and I don't want to duplicate them, but I want this house to be as perfect as Mother's."

  "I'll help you with the garden," Alanna volunteered. "You've never liked working with flowers as much as I do."

  "That's certainly true, thank you. I want to plant azaleas and camellias across the front, and a rose garden in the back. I suppose I'll have to raise a few vegetables, but they're no trouble, are they?"

  "No, and won't Ian help you?"

  "Yes, I'm sure he will. This is only a temporary home, of
course. We'll build one of our own soon, but since we've told everyone we're marrying now because Ian may be transferred, we can't buy land and start building a house. Everyone would consider us either daft or liars, if we did."

  "What if Ian really is transferred?"

  "Then I'll go with him," Melissa replied. "Did you think I'd let him go off by himself?"

  "No, of course not. I just wondered if you'd made some plans."

  Melissa feared she'd been too curt. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm so excited about the wedding, that it's difficult to think about anything else, and I certainly don't want to begin worrying about being parted from Ian."

  "I'm going to miss you," Alanna confided. "We've been together since we were children, and—"

  "And now it's time to grow up," Melissa enthused brightly. "Please don't become maudlin over my marriage. I want everyone to be as happy as Ian and me. Now come on, let's go, we've so much to do and—" She turned toward the door and, suddenly growing dizzy, Melissa reached out to grab Alanna's hand to steady herself.

  "Melissa, what's wrong?"

  Melissa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ian was gone when she awakened in the mornings, so he was unaware that she had begun to experience morning sickness. Now it seemed dizzy spells were going to plague her, too. "It's nothing, just the excitement is all. I'm fine."

  She looked too pale for Alanna to believe her. "I think we better sit down and rest a minute. You really don't look well, and you don't want to be ill for your wedding."

  Melissa didn't feel up to protesting her cousin's suggestion. She sank down into the nearest chair, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Only a few days remained before the wedding, and she wasn't worried about missing it. "Can you keep a secret?"

  "Yes, but if it's something important, perhaps you ought to tell Ian or your parents rather than me."

  "Oh, Alanna, you're so incredibly naive, but it's charming. Truly it is." She sat up and, after a suspenseful pause, confided in her. "It's too soon for me to be sure as yet, so please don't tell anyone, but I think Ian and I will become parents as quickly as my mother and father did."