Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) Page 4

  Another six kisses and Melissa and Hunter lay in the grass in a tangled embrace. She felt the Indian's hands moving over her, gently tracing the contours of her lush figure as no white man had ever dared attempt. When his fingertips circled her breast, she knew she ought to be outraged by his touch, but it was far too thrilling to inspire even a murmur of complaint. She raised her arms to encircle his neck, and when she loosened the leather thong with which he tied his hair, his gleaming black mane spilled over them like ebony rain. Warmed by the sun, it formed an erotic curtain that shut out the light and instantly plunged them into the dark world of dreams.

  Melissa had never been kissed with such devouring grace, and each time Hunter's tongue caressed hers, she felt more a part of him. She slid her hands along his broad shoulders and down his spine to caress his muscular back. She wondered again if his dark skin was decorated with tattoos. In a silent response to her unspoken question, he pulled his shirt off over his head, and she saw that his golden brown skin was unmarked by any design or flaw. As his lips again found hers, she tasted the answer to all her questions in his kiss, and ceased to think at all.

  Hunter had had no intention of stopping with kisses, when Melissa's response was so passionate. He wanted so much more, but the sound of approaching riders jarred them both from their romantic reverie. Hunter placed a fingertip on Melissa's kiss-swollen lips to keep her still, before glancing over his shoulder toward the road. When he saw Byron and Elliott riding by, he could scarcely believe his eyes. He waited until they had passed, then leapt to his feet and pulled Melissa to hers.

  "That was your brothers. Is there a way we can still beat them home?"

  Melissa had expected Byron and Elliott to remain at the Raleigh Tavern all afternoon, and unable to believe Hunter had seen them, she edged past him to take a look for herself. She recognized her brothers only too well, however, and appalled by how close they had come to discovering her with Hunter, she hurriedly pulled her clothes back into place.

  "There's a narrow trail through the fields. If we hurry, we can still be home first."

  Hunter slipped on his shirt and retied his hair, as he started toward his mount. "You lead the way, I'll follow."

  Melissa had not expected a few stolen kisses to get so wildly out of hand, and she was shaking so badly she needed his help to get into her saddle. She dared not imagine what her brothers would have done had they found her with Hunter, and the terror of that possibility inspired such a wild ride that they arrived home in plenty of time. She rode straight into the barn, slid off her mare's back, removed the purchases she had stored behind her saddle, and handed her reins to one of the stable boys. Hunter drew his mount to a halt at the stable doors, uncinched his saddle, yanked it off, and grabbing up a brush, began to curry his horse's glistening coat with long, savage strokes.

  Melissa dared not waste a minute, and rushed by Hunter with no more than a hint of a wave. She gulped in air as she walked toward the kitchen, and by the time she reached it, she could draw breath enough to speak to Alanna, who had just finished making candles. The spicy scent of bayberry filled the air, and drawn to the sweet coziness of the kitchen, Melissa tarried by the door.

  "I brought you some ribbon," she announced.

  Polly McBride, and two of her daughters, Catherine and Rosemary, worked in the kitchen. She noted Melissa's presence only because it made a difference in how much food they would need to send to the house for the midday meal. "Thought you and your brothers were staying in town, Miss Melissa."

  "We came home earlier than expected," Melissa managed to explain.

  Alanna assumed the color in her cousin's cheeks was due to exposure to the sun and would have given it no further thought, had she not noticed a sprig of grass caught in one of the ribbons adorning Melissa's cap. She stepped close, and after removing it, sent Melissa a questioning glance. When Melissa's face flooded with an incriminating blush, Alanna was puzzled as to the cause, but before she could comment, she saw Hunter approaching.

  He paused several steps away from the kitchen door. "If they're looking for me, tell Byron and Elliott I'll be down at the dock."

  Alanna expected Melissa to respond, and when her cousin only nodded shyly before quickly looking away, she grew even more suspicious. She stepped outside to watch Hunter walk away. There had been something in his manner just now that she hadn't seen earlier that day. It certainly hadn't been diffidence, but could it possibly have been guilt? she wondered.

  Alanna twirled the curious sprig of grass between her fingers, and when she noticed the horror with which her cousin was regarding her gesture, she grew faint. She reached out for the kitchen door to steady herself and prayed that her suspicions could not possibly be true. Melissa was a flirt, but surely she could not have been with Hunter.

  "Just where are Byron and Elliott?" Alanna finally had the presence of mind to ask.

  "We came home by ourselves, but I'm sure they'll be here soon."

  "You were alone with Hunter?" Alanna whispered accusingly.

  Finally seizing the initiative, Melissa reached out to yank the sprig of grass from Alanna's hand and quickly tossed it aside. "So what if I was? It's a lovely day, and we had a pleasant ride. Now come on, let's go up to the house and get ready to eat."

  Even knowing that Hunter was down at the dock rather than waiting in the house, Alanna had never felt less like eating, and she remained right where she was.

  Chapter 3

  A perceptive person, Polly McBride noted Alanna's reluctance to follow Melissa and easily guessed why. A tall, buxom woman, who handled all her chores at a careful, deliberate pace, in both appearance and manner she was completely at odds with Hunter's mental image of a female cook. She had been with the Barclays twenty years, and was a warm and sympathetic friend to them all.

  "It ain't right having an Indian here," she mumbled loudly enough for the pensive young woman to overhear.

  "He's a talented scout," Alanna responded.

  "His talents don't matter," Polly argued. "He ought not to have been invited here. It was Indians who left you an orphan."

  Alanna argued without enthusiasm. "It wasn't his tribe."

  "Indians is Indians, Miss Alanna," the cook swore.

  And Melissa was Melissa, Alanna thought to herself, which was an even more terrifying thought. If Melissa had foolishly encouraged Hunter's attentions, she was toying with his emotions when she could not possibly accurately predict his reaction. Her cousin was not merely being incredibly stupid, she was creating a situation which could easily have disastrous consequences for them all.

  Byron and Elliott's arrival brought an end to Alanna's preoccupied mood. She returned their waves, and they drew to a halt just outside the kitchen door. "Did Melissa and Hunter get home all right?" Elliott called out.

  Alanna was uncertain just how such an ambiguous question ought to be answered, but after a moment's hesitation offered a response that supplied the truth, if perhaps not all of it. "Yes, they're here. Hunter said he'd be down at the dock, if you need him."

  Elliott turned to his older brother. "You see, there was no reason to leave the Raleigh so soon. I told you they'd be fine."

  A surly frown was Byron's only reply, and when he rode on toward the barn, Elliott urged his mount to follow. Alanna knew they trusted her, and while she had not lied to them, she had certainly hidden her feelings. She was deeply distressed not only by her suspicions, but also by her inability to confide in the two young men. Not wanting company, she wandered around to the flower garden on the west side of the house, rather than her usual spot by the well. She waited on a bench there until she was certain the midday meal had been eaten, and Melissa would have gone upstairs to their room to rest.

  Hoping to make Melissa see the danger in continuing a flirtation with Hunter, Alanna then slipped in the backdoor and hurried up to their room. She had minimal experience with young men compared to Melissa, but what she did know made it impossible for her to keep still. "So that I w
on't misunderstand," she began tactfully, "would you please tell me what happened between you and Hunter this morning?"

  Melissa had been sorting through her handkerchiefs before adding her latest purchases to her collection. Interpreting Alanna's genuine concern as nothing more than blatant prying, she paused to control her temper before looking up. "You have a wonderfully creative imagination, but it's led you astray this time," she countered with sweetly laced sarcasm. "Hunter and I are no more than friends."

  "Do you roll around in the grass with all your friends?"

  Shocked by the accuracy of her cousin's accusation, Melissa instantly grew indignant. "We did no such thing," she denied sharply. "How could you even suggest that I would stoop to cavorting with an Indian brave in such a shameful fashion?"

  Alanna merely shrugged. "Tell me what you did do then."

  "I already have. We rode home together. There's nothing more to tell. If I picked up a blade of grass on the way, it was undoubtedly blowing in the wind."

  "There's no breeze today."

  Totally losing patience with her inquisitive cousin, Melissa plunked her new handkerchiefs atop the others and angrily shoved the dresser drawer closed. "Let's not fight over an Indian who'll swiftly be gone," she bargained. "Why don't I ask Ian to bring one of his friends with him the next time he comes to dinner? I'm sure they're all as nice as he is and I'd like for you to have a beau, too."

  Melissa's abrupt change of subject wasn't lost on Alanna, but she could readily see by the defiant tilt of her cousin's chin that she was not going to reveal anything of any importance that afternoon. She prayed that Melissa was right, and that Hunter would be gone before anything dangerously improper occurred between them. It was plain the warning she had meant to deliver would fall on deaf ears, and reluctantly, she ceased to try.

  "Ian's friends are undoubtedly nice," she agreed, "but I'm not interested in meeting them."

  "Do you plan to spend your entire life alone?"

  "I'm not alone here," Alanna pointed out.

  "No, of course not." Melissa dismissed her objection with a nervous wave. "You're not alone in the strictest sense of the word, but you most certainly are in every way that matters. Don't you wish to marry and have children?"

  Alanna could not even look at a small child without feeling a sickening sense of dread. All she had to do was close her eyes to instantly view the bloody scene where her baby brother and sisters had died. The cursed image had been burned into her memory for all time.

  "No, I don't think I'll ever marry. I'm content here, and your parents have told me innumerable times that I need never leave."

  "Well, of course not," Melissa cried. "They'd never make you go, but don't you want to live your own life?"

  "I already do."

  Melissa was delighted by how easily she had distracted Alanna from her appalling innuendos, but failed to recognize that her inquiries were equally unsettling to her cousin. "Here are the new ribbons. I bought pink and yellow for me, and lavender and blue for you."

  Alanna reached out to take the satin streamers. "Thank you. It was kind of you to think of me."

  "Nonsense. You should have come into town with us."

  "Perhaps next time."

  "Yes, do." Grateful to have extricated herself from an embarrassing confrontation, Melissa breathed a sigh of relief as she turned away. Alanna's fear of Indians was certainly understandable, but she did not share it. In her view, Hunter was a fascinating man, and she immediately began to plot another opportunity for them to be alone together.

  * * *

  Hunter spent the afternoon with Elliott preparing for the upcoming trip, but thoughts of Melissa's supple grace were never far from his mind. From what he could tell, the Barclays lived a good life on their plantation, and without too much difficulty he could picture himself becoming part of it between forays into the wilderness. John Barclay was one of the organizers of the Ohio Company, the group sponsoring the exploration of the Ohio Valley. Hunter thought he might be able to exploit that tie as a reason for frequent visits, without any mention of the man's beautiful daughter.

  Then again, he had not seen enough of his friends' father to know whether or not John Barclay would be easy to fool. Hoping to remedy that situation, he began to ask discreet questions. "Don't most of the plantations have slaves?"

  "Yes, they do."

  "Then why haven't I seen any here?"

  Elliott frowned slightly as he struggled to provide a coherent answer. "Our grandfather owned quite a few," he admitted, "but when he died, Father set them all free. That's a decision he's never discussed with us, but whenever he's questioned about it, I've heard him mention that in the beginning the plantation was worked by indentured servants from England. He claims to prefer to surround himself with the same hardworking class of men. We no longer have bondsmen, but we pay good wages, and have loyal workers as a result."

  Hunter sincerely believed he could be described as hardworking, and made a mental note to see that his value to the militia was mentioned frequently in whatever letters Byron and Elliott sent home. Because they were already convinced of his ability as a scout, he thought he could inspire them to praise his talents in their letters. He would never be one of John Barclay's men, however, because his first loyalty would always be to the Seneca.

  "Do you consider Jacob loyal?" the Indian inquired.

  "Our blacksmith? Yes, he's been with us for years and years. His wife is our cook and their daughters help her in the kitchen. Their son works with the cooper. We have several whole families working for us. The cooper's wife is the laundress, as an example. The household staff all belong to one family. Only the field hands are single men."

  Hunter nodded thoughtfully, for it was becoming increasingly easy to imagine himself spending a great deal of time at the Barclay plantation. A young woman as affectionate as Melissa would prompt lengthy stays, but he knew she was far too pampered a lady to find happiness visiting a Seneca village. No, if they were to fall in love, then he would have to become part of her world, as she would never be comfortable in his.

  While that was a daunting thought, he liked the company of white men, and did not think living amongst them would create any great hardship for him. Besides, he could return home as often as he chose. To continue to come and go as he pleased was precisely how he intended to live his life, and he was certain he could keep Melissa too content to complain about his habits.

  "Does Ian Scott intend to marry your sister?" he asked suddenly.

  Because that question bore no relation to the subject Elliott had believed was under discussion, he was understandably perplexed, but recovered quickly. "He might. I really can't say. Melissa has always been popular and I don't believe she is any more fond of Ian than she is of her other beaus."

  "There are other men interested in her?"

  "Of course," Elliott insisted with a hearty chuckle. "Young women as pretty as Melissa are always eagerly sought after."

  Not wanting Elliott to discover he had a serious interest in Melissa just yet, Hunter deliberately pretended his curiosity about the comely blonde had been satisfied. "What about Alanna? Is she too shy to have beaus?"

  "I spend a great deal of my time worrying about her," Elliott confided unhappily. "She's so dear to us, but perhaps we've sheltered her more than we should. When she first came to us, she was so easily frightened, that I'm afraid we spoiled her terribly. She isn't demanding now, of course, but still, if we'd done more to encourage her to be as independent as Melissa, she might not be as shy as she is today."

  Hunter cleverly turned their discussion to the subject of the Ohio Valley, but he remained preoccupied with how best to impress Melissa so that she would be anxiously awaiting his return. When she displayed an annoying indifference to him at supper, he was not only dismayed, but disgusted. He could readily understand her reluctance to openly display her feelings for him, but thought ignoring him completely was a poor way to behave. He held that sorry opinion until
they left the dining room to go across the hall into the parlor, and she brushed by him to slip a tightly folded message into his hand.

  Believing it to be a fervent plea for a meeting later, Hunter's spirits soared. Then he had to bear an agonizing wait as Rachel and Melissa treated them all to another harpsichord recital. It wasn't until everyone retired to bed that he finally had a chance to read the note. He was ashamed not to have thought of a way to get a similar message to Melissa, but as soon as the house was quiet, he went down to the dock where she had suggested they meet.

  By the time she finally appeared, Hunter was thoroughly sick of waiting for her. "Did you think I would stand here all night?" he scolded, but when he drew her into his arms and discovered she was wearing only a light shawl over a cotton nightgown, his anger dissolved in the heat of desire.

  Melissa reached up on her tiptoes to kiss away his frown. "I'm sorry. It took forever for Alanna to fall asleep and usually she's asleep before I've finished brushing out my hair."

  "Would she tell your parents if she discovered you'd left the house to meet me?"

  "No, I don't believe so, but I'd never hear the end of it from her."

  "What does that mean?"

  "She'd not approve and she would try to talk me out of seeing you."

  Melissa had let her hair fall free, and Hunter slid his fingers through the fair curls at her temples to keep her face pressed to his as he kissed her. He then wrapped her in an affectionate embrace. "Are you afraid she'll convince you that seeing me is wrong?"

  Melissa responded with a throaty giggle. "I already know it's wrong," she teased, "but I'm here anyway."

  She felt so good in his arms that Hunter rested his chin atop her head and continued to hold her close. "Why is it wrong?" he asked.

  The warm softness of his buckskins invited her caress, and Melissa rubbed against him with the unabashed joy of a contented cat. "Why?" she murmured seductively. "It's wrong because the envious people who want to keep lovers apart constantly say it's wrong. That's the only reason I can see."