Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (17 page)

He smiled and pushed a damp curl from her forehead. "You said some very unflattering things about your husband that afternoon. I would have been a fool to admit I was he."

A smile lit her eyes. "Yes, I was dreadful, and I hope you have forgiven me for my blunder"

He raised her hand to his lips and placed a warm kiss there. "You are forgiven, my lady."

They continued on to the lodge, and when they reached the front steps, Breanna hesitated again, unwilling to end their conversation. "Were you surprised to find that I was your wife?"

He laughed aloud, remembering the image he'd had of his wife. "I can say in all honesty that I was overcome with immediate relief when I discovered you were my wife. I had pictured you quite differently."

"Had you?"

"Yes, I can assure you that I had."

He reached around her and opened the door. "After you, my lady wife."

She moved inside, not wanting to go to her room but knowing it was expected of her. "Shall I see you in the morning, Dakota?"

"It's already morning. You swam the night away, Breanna."

"Yes, I suppose I did."

"If you like, we will go riding, say about seven? We can pack a lunch to take along with us."

Excitement laced her words. "Oh, yes. I would like that very much."

He steered her to her bedroom door and opened it for her. "Try to get some sleep. I will see that you are awakened in plenty of time to get ready for our adventure."

Breanna entered her room and closed the door behind her. Leaning against the door, she smiled happily. She wondered if there had ever been a man such as Dakota. He was everything she had ever dreamed of in a husband, and more. She lay on the bed, wrapped in his shirt because she was reluctant to part with it, feeling his nearness in every part of her body.

"Dakota," she whispered, "I know what love feels like, because I believe I love you!"

16

Breanna rode through the thundering waves, her pulse racing, her heart pounding, her red-gold hair flying in the wind.

Dakota pulled up his mount and watched her from a distance. He had never seen a more beautiful sight. There were so many sides to Breanna. He had seen the innocent child, the reluctant wife, and now a bewitching siren.

Nudging his horse in the flanks, he shot forward to join her. For several moments they rode along the shoreline until they came to a cliff that jutted out into the ocean, blocking their forward progress.

Breanna smiled at Dakota. "It would seem our excursion is at an end.0

"If we can't go forward, we will go back. How would you like to explore those caves we saw just beyond the bend?"

"Oh, could we?"

"Yes, but only if we do not venture too far into the interior, and we must retreat before high tide. John told me that people have drowned in those caves."

"We still have several hours until high tide," Breanna reminded him.

He could read the eagerness in her eyes and smiled to himself as they galloped back the way they had come.

Breanna slid from her horse and ran to the mouth of the cavern while Dakota secured their horses.

He took her hand and ushered her inside. They had to step from stone to stone so they wouldn't get their feet wet. Like shining crystal chandeliers, the icicle-shaped stalactites caught the light and shot out brilliant rainbow colors on the cave wall. Several shallow ponds had been formed in the limestone and she could see tiny minnows swimming about.

"This is magnificent," Breanna declared, turning around in a circle. "I have never seen anything like this, have you?"

"I have been in mountain caves, but nothing like these caverns. However, I have read books that tell of such wonders as this."

She sat down on a limestone rock, pondering his words. "It would seem that you have read books on almost every subject"

He dropped down beside her, his clear gaze probing her eyes. "I hope that does not make me a bore."

Breanna picked up a smooth pebble and skipped it across the pond. "I have not found you to be a bore, Dakota. In fact, I find you—" Her face reddened.

"Yes" he said, smiling.

"Was . . . was it very confusing for you having two sets of parents?" she stammered, changing the subject abruptly.

He smiled. "You cannot imagine. But you must understand that I always wanted to be an Arapaho. There was a time when I rebelled against everything that reminded me that I was white."

"Was there an Indian girl you were interested in?"

Long lashes swept over his eyes, and she sensed a hesitation in him. "Yes. Her name was Running Deer. She died in my arms, killed by my Indian brother, Black Otter."

She saw pain in his eyes as he spoke about a tragedy such as she could only imagine. "How awful for you. Did you love her very much?" She dreaded hearing his answer, but she had to know.

"Love wears many different faces, Breanna. There is the love you had for your parents, your brother and his family. There is the love I hope you will have for your husband, and eventually your children. I have always found it difficult to measure love. The Arapaho have a saying. You can fill a jug with love — give a handful to this person —a handful to that person and two handfuls to someone else. Yet when you gaze into the jug, you will find it is still full to the brim with love."

She thought about what he said, realizing he had not answered her at all. She still had no idea how he had felt about Running Deer. Did he suffer because his love had been killed? Did he still grieve because she died in his arms? Breanna wished she had never asked him about the Indian girl, because now she would always wonder if she had to compete with the ghost of a lost love.

"What became of Black Otter?" she asked, moving on to what she thought would be a less painful subject.

"Black Otter was put to death for his crime. You see, Running Deer was the daughter of the chief of my tribe, and she was well loved by all."

"Look," Breanna said, standing up suddenly, not wanting to hear any more about Running Deer. "I believe the tide is rising."

Dakota came to his feet and took Breanna's hand. "Come, it is time for us to leave. In another hour, this cave will be filled with water."

The water was ankle deep by the time Breanna stepped out into the bright sunlight. She moved over to Joya and patted the white mare. "We have not eaten our lunch, Dakota. I have had such a wonderful time that I did not realize it was well after the noon hour."

"Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes, very much."

"How would you like to ride into the village after we have eaten?"

"I would love it."

While they ate, Breanna told Dakota about her life at Kenton. She did not hesitate to explain about her brother's gambling or how he had lost the family fortune.

Dakota's back was braced against a big boulder. "I am told that I have more money and holdings than a family could spend in three generations. Would it please you if I gave your brother enough money so he and his family could live comfortably?"

Breanna was wiping her mouth on a soft white napkin. "No! That is the one thing you must not do. If Fielding is ever to learn a lesson, he must not have things made easy for him."

"Your reasoning is sound. But if the time should come when you wish to help your brother, you have only to ask it of me."

Breanna felt her heart swell with love for this man. He was so caring and thoughtful of others; she only hoped she would one day be worthy to be his wife.

She watched Dakota gain his feet with the agility of a feline. As he flexed his muscles, Breanna felt hot and cold at the same time. Here was a man of sensitivity, yet she knew that he was only a hair's breadth away from reverting to his primitive instincts. She had the feeling that if you took away his gentlemanly garments, his manner would change, and Dakota would become as untamed as the wild land where he had been born, and as fierce and unpredictable as the Indian tribe that had fostered him into manhood.

Dakota offered Breanna his hand and pulled her to her feet. "Shall we ride into the village now?" , "Yes, I'd like that," she said, almost sorry that she would now have to share him with others. She was fascinated by this man. She could listen to him talk all day. She thanked the lucky star that had cast her in the role of Dakota Remington's wife.

***

Breanna could feel the turmoil in the very air she breathed as they entered the small fishing village of Weatherford. At first the only sound that could be heard was their horses' hooves clattering on the cobblestone streets. Old salts stopped mending their nets, women and children came out of their houses, silently staring at Dakota and Breanna.

She was astonished that the whole village was soon following along behind them, but there were no smiles on the villagers' faces.

Breanna and Dakota halted their mounts in front of an old Norman church with its gray steeples and six bell towers. When Dakota helped Breanna to the ground, the crowd closed in around them.

One man, bolder than the others, stepped forward. "Be you the new lord and lady up at the big house?" He spoke in a heavy accent, his dark eyes searching and suspicious.

"Yes," Dakota answered. "I am the Viscount of Remington and this is my Viscountess."

"We heard you was here, my lord. The village's been too long without guidance. We got trouble, and we was wondering if you plan to do anything about it?"

Dakota stared at the man. "What kind of trouble? Tell me what it is, so 111 know if I can help."

The man's lip curled. "That's what your grandfather always said, and he didn't do nothing for us. He hasn't even been here in over ten years"

"Tell me about your trouble," Dakota said again.

"Well it's from the village of Saffron down the way. Since we had no lord to take our part, the Saffron fishermen and their lord forced us out of our private fishing waters and the magistrate won't hear our grievances. Some of our villagers have even been killed trying to get back what belongs to us."

Dakota moved closer to the fisherman and was soon the center of twenty-odd men, while the women moved around Breanna, their bold glances hostile and cold.

Breanna noticed the gaunt faces of the children, the suspicion on the women's faces, and the hostility in the men's eyes.

One of the women, who was wearing a sober black gown, unrelieved except for a narrow white collar, spoke up boldly. "I'm Mary Ouster, the vicar's wife. You aren't from around these parts, are you, my lady?"

"No, I am not from Cornwall," Breanna answered, moving a step closer to Dakota.

"I thought not," Mary Ouster replied. "You look like London born to me." By the tone of her voice, Breanna knew the woman was not paying her a compliment.

Breanna looked to Dakota for guidance, but he seemed to be engrossed in what the men were telling him. She could feel the animosity from the villagers and wondered if Dakota was aware of it also.

After a few moments of conversing with the men, Dakota moved toward Breanna. "Stay at my side," he whispered. "Act as if you aren't afraid."

"But why should-"

"Do as I say," he demanded. Then he lifted Breanna onto her horse and mounted his own. "You will hear from me," he said in a voice that was loud enough to carry to all the men. "Do nothing until then."

Breanna saw the embittered glances cast their way. She heard their mumbled words. "Why should we trust him? We trusted his grandfather, and he did nothing to help us."

Breanna breathed a sigh of relief as they rode out of the village. "What was that all about?" she asked. The day had been so perfect, and now a cloud hung over her happiness.

"I had no idea what being the Viscount of Remington entailed. I am ashamed to say my grandfather has neglected the villagers for years. They have been left to fend for themselves, with no one to champion their cause. As a result, I am afraid they have fallen upon hard times. Did you notice how hungry the children looked, Breanna? No child should ever go hungry."

He was quiet for a moment, remembering the past. "Never, not even in the Arapahos' leanest years, have I seen such suffering."

Breanna's heart softened even more toward him. Never had she known anyone to feel others' pain as Dakota did.

She frowned. "They did not look like they would welcome any help from you or me, Dakota. Still I cannot imagine eating until something is done about their hunger."

Dakota was glad that Breanna had sympathy for the villagers. "I will see that food is taken to the village tonight," he assured her. "You are not to worry about the problem. Tomorrow I will exercise my rights as lord, and see how much power that wields. I can only hope that the villagers of Saffron and their lord consider me as important as John always tells me I am," he said with an attempt at humor.

He was silent during the remainder of their ride back to the hunting lodge, and Breanna felt him shutting her out. She wanted to be a part of his plan to help the villagers, but apparently his plans did not include her.

Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon as they reached the hunting lodge. Even the weather seemed ready to dishearten Breanna's spirit.

She wondered if Dakota would use his power to bring prosperity back to the village that was under his protection. Beneath the hostility she had felt in the village, Breanna had also sensed that the people were like children who looked to Dakota for guidance. She thought it had been wrong of the old Marquess to abandon his responsibilities and leave the village to flounder on its own.

"You have heavy obligations, Dakota," she said in a throaty voice.

He nodded in agreement. "I am only beginning to understand that." He then dismounted and swung her to the ground. "You go inside, Breanna, while I ride to Weatherford Hall to make arrangements for food to be transported to the village."

She frowned. "Don't go to the village alone, Dakota. I was frightened while we were there today. Why should they feel such loathing for you and me when they don't even know us?"

His green eyes narrowed. "That wasn't loathing you saw in their faces, Breanna, it was disillusionment." He gave her a slight smile. "I should be back in time to dine with you."

She watched him wheel his mount and ride away, wishing he had asked her to accompany him.

***

That night, as Breanna and Dakota dined in the small alcove behind the hunting lodge, he assured her that food had been delivered to the villagers.

As they finished their meal, the first drops of rain began to fall, and before they made the dash to the lodge, they were both soaked to the skin.

As Dakota tenderly brushed beads of water from her face, Breanna was glad that he had sent the servants back to the main house and they were alone.

She stood before the big window, watching the rain pelt against the pane. The wind came up in great gusts, and the waves splashed high against the cliff. Breanna turned fever-bright eyes to Dakota, who had been watching the way her wet gown clung to her upper body, outlining her firm, young breasts.