Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (12 page)

"No, that would cause me to have to answer too many questions. I feel fine now. Please, let me down."

Gently Dakota set Breanna on her feet and gave her a warm smile. Before she could thank him for his kindness, he nudged his mount forward and rode away.

She stared after him, wondering if their paths would ever cross again. She was sorry she hadn't even asked his name.

Now she was feeling even more alone than before, and she had the sensation that her only friend was riding out of her life forever.

11

Slipping in the side door, Breanna went directly to her room, where she found Etta anxiously awaiting her return.

"My lady, we was frightened half out of our wits, fearing you was injured. Were you hurt? Do you want me to send for the doctor?"

"Don't fuss, Etta. I just want to lie down for a while and be left alone. If you really want to be helpful, bring a cool cloth for my head."

"But, my lady, don't you know his lordship, your husband, has arrived?" Etta questioned in an excited voice.

Breanna was peeling off her glove and she tensed; every nerve in her body seemed to throb with fear. "He's here?"

"Yes, my lady. Everyone is so curious about him, but we have yet to catch a glimpse of him. "

Breanna stared at the streak of light, from the dying sun, that filtered between the draperies. So, that which she had been dreading had come to pass. She felt numb until she realized what this could mean for her, and then she felt pure panic. She tossed her gloves on the dressing table and spoke to Etta.

"Prepare my bath and lay out my orchid gown," she said, knowing she needed to look her best to build up her confidence and control her fear. Her first instinct was to flee, to get away from the man whose very presence struck terror in her heart!

***

The candles burned low in the wall sconce as Breanna descended the stairs. At the bottom of the long winding staircase, she gripped the railing, then forced one foot in front of the other. She had been informed by Etta that her husband and two other men awaited her pleasure in the formal sitting room. Closing her eyes, she tried not to form a mental picture of her husband, knowing her imagination had caused her terror on numerous occasions.

Her footsteps lagged as she approached the open door. Drawing in a deep breath, she called upon all her courage to face what she must.

As Breanna crossed the room, she saw three gentlemen standing near the fireplace. On hearing her, they all turned in her direction.

Breanna glanced first at the older man with white hair, who looked strangely out of place and uncomfortable in his black suit. She dismissed him, knowing he was not young enough to be her husband.

Next her eyes went to the man with light brown hair. His soft blue eyes held a wealth of warmth as he smiled at her. Suddenly she was flooded with relief—all this time she had been expecting her husband to look like an Indian, and of course he wouldn't, since he was English.

"Lord Remington," she said, dipping into a quick curtsy.

John laughed and shook his head. "I am indeed sorry that I am not he, my lady. I am John Donegal, your husband's cousin. This gentleman," he said, indicating the hunter, "is Levi Gunther, and this," he said, indicating the man who stood to his left, "is your husband."

Breanna nodded politely to the old hunter before her eyes moved reluctantly to the man who stood in the shadows. Her heart stopped beating as he stepped forward and she felt the room spinning. Dear Lord, it was the same man who had aided her after her fall this afternoon! She shook her head to clear it, her muddled mind not accepting that this man she had been attracted to was her husband.

Dakota had watched Breanna advance across the room, knowing the dread she was feeling. When she drew near, he could hear the whisper of her silk gown. He gloried in the way the candlelight played on her red-gold hair. It was difficult for him to comprehend that this exquisite creature belonged to him. Now, seeing her confusion, he was sorry that he hadn't confessed to her earlier that he was her husband.

In a graceful movement that showed her long arched neck, Breanna dipped in a curtsy. "My lord, I believe we met this afternoon, although you failed to properly introduce yourself."

He took her hand, holding it in a firm clasp, not missing the proud tilt of her head. "I feared the shock would be too great for you in your condition. As you began to tell me about your husband's shortcomings, I did not think it wise to interrupt you. You did not seem inclined to meet . . . what did you call your husband? A . . . what?"

Her golden eyes sparkled with anger. "I believe I referred to you as a savage, my lord."

John chuckled, and Levi turned away to hide his smile.

"Don't let my cousin bait you, my lady," John said with humor. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, and I look forward to being of service to you."

Breanna was angry and tried to control the urge to walk out of the room. How could she be expected to make polite conversation when what she really wanted to do was strike out at the man whom she believed had humiliated her? How dare his lordship play such an unchivalrous trick on her!

Dakota watched Breanna, realizing what she was feeling. He wished he had the words to make Breanna smile and forget their first meeting. Inside he was tied up in knots, knowing he had deceived her.

At that moment, dinner was announced, and John offered Breanna his arm. "I claim the right to escort my new cousin to dinner."

Dakota felt a pang of jealousy, an emotion new to him, and one that he did not welcome. This was his wife, his woman.

Over dinner, John did most of the talking. Several times Breanna would feel Dakota's probing glance and look up to catch him watching her.

Once, Dakota spread his napkin on his lap and picked up his fork. Through lowered lashes, his eyes challenged Breanna to remember their conversation earlier in the afternoon.

Breanna's face flushed, and she felt the sting of embarrassment as she remembered telling him that her husband would probably eat with his fingers. With deep humiliation, she lowered her head, wishing the earth would open and swallow her.

Somehow she managed to get through dinner, but she didn't taste the food. After the dessert had been served, they all adjourned to the sitting room, and Breanna sat in the chair nearest the fire, her hands folded demurely in her lap. She knew the situation would have been awkward had not John Donegal kept the conversation flowing. As it was, she could not bring herself to meet her husband's eyes.

"Why is it that I never met you in London, Lady Breanna?" John inquired. "Surely you had a London season?"

"No, I had never been in London until the Marquess sent for me." Her eyes finally met Dakota's. "How is your grandfather's health, my lord?"

"He is in ill health."

Tension was thick in the room.

"Well," John said, nudging Levi. "It's been a long day for me. I believe I'll take my leave of you. How about you, Levi?"

"Yep. It has been a long day." Levi stood up and stretched his arms over his head. "Be seeing you tomorrow, Mrs. Remington—er, my lady."

Breanna helplessly watched the two men depart, feeling trapped. She turned frightened eyes to her husband, wondering what he would expect of her now that they were alone.

Her anger came to her rescue. "I am not happy with you, my lord. How could you take advantage of me and encourage my confidences this afternoon? It was not a chivalrous action."

"My lady, at first my intention was not to deceive you. I was concerned about your fall. I admit I took unfair advantage of you since I knew who you were and you had no knowledge of my identity. Will you forgive me?"

"Well, I . . . yes, I suppose."

Dakota stood up slowly and moved to the fireplace, where he towered above Breanna. Resting his arm on the mantel, he glanced down at her. "You need have no fear of me. I have never harmed a woman, nor is that my intention with you."

"I . . . what do you expect of me?" she had the courage to ask.

"I don't know. Like you, this marriage was thrust upon me. We are strangers that just happen to be tied together by the whim of a desperate old man."

"Yes," she agreed, still not trusting him.

He searched her face. "Forgive me for not asking sooner, but do you suffer from your fall today?"

"No, my head hurts only when I touch it." She watched him move to the chair across from her and sit down. As she had earlier in the day, when he held her on the horse in front of him, Breanna felt drawn to this man in some mysterious way. He was nothing like the man she had expected.

"I don't know what to say to you . . . Breanna." He looked at her questioningly. "May I call you Breanna?"

"Of course, you have that right."

His green eyes were almost hypnotic, and Breanna felt herself being drawn even closer to him. "You are my husband," she reminded him.

He toyed with the cuff of his shirt. "I don't feel like your husband, Breanna. After our conversation this afternoon, I realized that you were frightened of me." His eyes flashed. "I also recall you said some very unflattering things about me."

She sat forward, now on the defensive. "That was your own fault, my lord. You should have announced who you were. You took unfair advantage of me and deserved what you heard" she said with spirit.

He smiled slightly. "I assume you were pleased to discover I know how to eat with a fork"

"You are not a gentleman, or you would not remind me of that."

His eyes darkened. "You may as well know this from the start, Breanna, I am not like the gentlemen of your acquaintance. If you strip off this fancy wearing apparel, you will find a man who would fit your description of a savage. I make no apologies for what I am. But I do understand your reluctance to this marriage. Like you, I had little say in the matter."

Breanna was still suspicious of him. "This afternoon, when you told me you were married, you said your wife probably had a temper. Would you mind explaining that?" she asked defiantly.

He smiled. "I was referring to the fire in your hair, and I thought you might have a temper to match. It was said in jest."

"I warn you, I do have a temper. And I do not take kindly to a jest when it is aimed at me."

He resumed a serious expression, while controlling the twitch of his lips. "I shall certainly bear that in mind for future reference."

She sighed heavily. "Your grandfather has us both trapped in a situation over which we have no control. What shall we do?"

"For the moment, nothing. I have many things to learn and many other responsibilities to assume. Perhaps you and I could start off by becoming friends, Breanna."

She could hardly believe her ears. "Do you mean that we . . . that you and I . . ."

"Yes, you and I shall sleep apart. I would find no joy in taking a frightened woman to my bed, and even less pleasure in knowing she was forced to be there."

Relief washed over her. "My lord, I believe that is a very sensible solution."

His lip curled. "Would you say it was a civilized decision?"

"Please, my lord, do not remind me of my uncharitable remarks this afternoon. They were made out of fear."

He stood up, took her hand, and assisted her to her feet. "You have had a disturbing and emotional day, Breanna. I suggest you go to bed and get a good night's sleep"

She felt her hand tremble in his. Suddenly she wondered if he found her unattractive. Was that why he didn't wish to share her bed?

"Yes, my lord," she murmured, freeing her hand and making a hasty retreat. What was the matter with her? She should be happy that he had given her a period of grace—but she wasn't —she definitely was not. The troubling emotion she felt was one of being rejected!

Dakota watched Breanna move gracefully across the room. The sweet haunting aroma of some strange perfume lingered, and he could still feel the softness of her skin. He realized how far apart they were. They should have been born into the same environment, but circumstances had placed them an ocean apart. He couldn't analyze his feelings, but the thought of her sent his head reeling and sent a trembling thrill through his body. In giving her time to adjust to him as her husband, he was also allowing himself time to discover what she expected of him.

He walked across the room and almost bumped into an old man who was lingering in the hallway. The man's eyes were alive and searching, and were glowing with respect. "I'm Baxley, my lord. I was valet to your father, his lordship, and would feel honored if you would allow me to serve you as well."

Dakota nodded absently, since his mind was still filled with visions of his young bride.

"I accompanied his lordship and her ladyship to America, my lord. Are there any questions I could answer for you since I was in their service for so long?"

Dakota looked into the man's eager eyes. "I know next to nothing about my parents." He reached in his pocket and withdrew the golden locket that held the miniature of them both. "I have always kept this with me, I don't even know why."

"If your lordship will accompany me, I will show you."

Dakota agreed with a stiff nod, and followed the old retainer down the hallway past the stairs.

Baxley pushed the door open and Dakota stepped into the room with its smell of leather and dust* It was a library where shelves of leather-bound books lined the wall. A warm fire was glowing in the fireplace.

"I prepared the room for you just as I once did for his lordship. When he was at Weatherford Hall, this was his favorite room. He and her ladyship spent most of their time here. The animal heads on the wall came from their many expeditions around the world."