Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (24 page)

Dakota, who stood watching silently as if he were only a bystander, still had not welcomed his wife.

Rye's eyes moved over Lady Breanna Remington, noting the perfection of her youthful skin, the shining mane of hair that looked like strands of gold. She saw youth and innocence, a loveliness that came from within. Jealousy ate at her heart, and her lips curled up in a snarl. "No, I am not your neighbor, I have been staying here." She smiled smugly. "Dakota, when you asked me to help you select a gift for your wife, I didn't realize she was so fair. Had I known, I would have steered you away from emeralds and had you purchase a strand of pearls like the ones you gave me."

"Breanna," John broke in, hoping to save the situation, though it was deteriorating by the minute. "Why don't we all sit down and dine."

John's eyes met Levi's. "Why don't you first take Breanna to Mrs. Crowder so she can freshen up after her journey. We shall wait for you."

Breanna wasn't listening to John; she was staring at her husband in disbelief. "No," she said at last. "I can see I have intruded. I won't be staying."

Dakota moved slowly across the room, taking Breanna's cold hand in his. "You should have let me know you were coming, Breanna."

She refused to allow the tears behind her eyes to fall. "Yes, apparently I should have." She glanced at Lady Rye, and lowered her voice so only Dakota could hear. "Your lady friend is very lovely. However, you have made a grave mistake in bringing her into this house." Breanna whirled around, her chin high, her shoulders back. Pride was the only weapon she had to save her dignity. "Good evening to you all" she whispered through trembling lips.

The room was silent as Breanna moved out the door. Dakota stood, confused, while Levi gave him an angry glare.

"I told Breanna it wasn't true," he said accusingly. "I never had reason to be shamed by you until now." Turning away, Levi went dashing after Breanna.

John's eyes bore into Rye's. "You deliberately allowed Breanna to draw the wrong conclusions." With anger burning in his eyes, he, too, raced after Breanna.

John found her in the entryway slipping into her cape, Levi trying to talk her out of leaving. "Breanna, I know why Dakota is being nice to that woman. When I saw her just now, I was struck by how closely she resembles Running Deer, an Arapaho Indian maiden that was a good friend of Dakota's."

Breanna's head snapped up. "I know about her. She was . . . she . . . Dakota loved Running Deer!"

"Breanna, I want to talk to you," John interrupted, forcefully pulling her into the salon. When she looked up at him, he saw the tears trailing down her cheek, and his heart melted. "It's not what you think. I know it looks bad, but on my word, I swear to you that Dakota is innocent in this. Dakota's only crime is having a generous nature. This woman has used him to her own end, and he hasn't even looked at her as a woman. I promise you this."

She wanted to believe him. "Why has he bought her pearls?" she questioned.

John took a deep breath, glancing at Levi for guidance. The hunter shrugged to intimate that John was on his own.

"Breanna, Rye Saffron is every bit as devious as her brother, perhaps even more so. She appealed to Dakota's kindness by telling him she had nothing to wear and nowhere to stay. I swear to you, Dakota is only guilty of being uninformed of the consequences of aiding a lady he believed to be in distress."

Oh, she wanted so desperately to believe John. After all, had not Dakota pointed out to her on numerous occasions that he was unfamiliar with English customs. Could this be an innocent mistake on his part? "Are you telling the truth, John?" she asked hopefully.

"I swear to you, I am."

"Perhaps I should hear Dakota's side," she conceded.

"If you walk away now, Rye will have accomplished what she set out to do."

"Which is?"

"I admit she has designs on Dakota. You don't want her to win, do you, Breanna?"

"No," Breanna replied, handing her cape to John. "Wait here, I want to talk to my husband."

Dakota was trying to sort out the events in his mind. He knew something was terribly wrong, but he was having trouble pinpointing the problem.

"Shouldn't you go running after your wife, too, Dakota?" Rye said, coming to her feet and tossing her napkin on the table. "My, my, the little wife has so many defenders, does she not?"

Dakota stared at Rye, and for the first time saw her for what she was. "I offered you my hospitality, and you have returned it with half-truths. You have deliberately allowed my wife to think something had happened between you and me."

Rye could see she was losing her only chance to win Dakota. "I love you," she cried, throwing herself into his arms. "I love you so desperately." To her amazement she meant it. For the first time in Rye Saffron's life, she loved a man.

Dakota stood rigid as Rye sprinkled kisses over his face. Feeling like a man who has been made a fool of, he grasped her waist with the intention of pushing her away. That was when he heard the gasp and glanced up at the door to see Breanna standing there, a look of disbelief on her face.

"I—I—" She turned and fled, feeling as if she had received a deathblow to her heart. Running past Levi, she pushed open the front door and ran into the night.

With Levi and John in close pursuit, Breanna dashed around a corner and pressed her body against a building. She didn't want to face anyone at the moment. She was too devastated. Her worst fears had been realized—whether it was because the woman reminded Dakota of his dead Running Deer, or for whatever the reason, it was apparent that he loved Rye Saffron.

23

Breanna felt as if she had walked for hours. Tired, cold, and completely disheartened, she realized she was in a less than fashionable neighborhood and she was lost!

She huddled behind a tree, hoping to block the icy wind that battered her body and stung her face. Her hands were numb with cold, and she could hardly flex her fingers.

If only she hadn't left her cloak behind when she dashed out of the house, she thought miserably. The fog was damp and shrouded the landscape, making it impossible for Breanna to see where she was going. She didn't know where to go or what to do.

She was so cold, but she refused to return to the Weatherford townhouse. If only she had money. She glanced down at her hand where her mother's diamond ring rested. No, she couldn't sell her mother's ring.

She knew Levi and John would still be searching for her; perhaps Dakota had even joined them in their search. She had no desire to see any of them. Feeling more alone than she had ever felt in her life, Breanna knew she had to take a positive action.

With a chill shaking her slight body, she moved quickly past a small park. Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her, and she froze with fear. Suppose it was a footpad? Or worse still, what if it was Dakota?

Breanna paused beneath a pale yellow streetlight that did little to dispel the gloom. Quickly moving into the shadows, she still carried a vision of Dakota holding that woman in his arms. How could he so brazenly flaunt his mistress in her face? She didn't want to think about Dakota, but her memories of that awful event were engraved on her mind, and the pain she felt over being betrayed would not be denied.

The footsteps behind her were drawing closer, and she started to run. With her breath coming out in frosted puffs, Breanna stumbled and caught herself before she fell. She dashed toward the cobblestone street, trying to escape whoever was pursuing her.

Breanna did not hear the carriage that loomed out of the fog. Too late she saw the faint glare of coach lights and the rearing horses. A silent scream built up inside her, but it was never heard as she was knocked to the cobblestones, unconscious.

Miraculously, her body rolled out of the path of the horses' flying hooves.

His Grace, Stephen Glendon, Duke of Clandannon, braced his sister, Mary, as the carriage swerved and came to a teetering halt. "What in the deuce has happened?" he called to the driver, who was fighting to bring the horses under control.

"I'm not sure, your grace. I think we hit something."

"Well, get down and see," the Duke said in an irritated voice. "I don't intend to sit here all night."

Stephen Glendon stared at his sister with a worried frown on his face. She had been ailing for several months, and lately her health seemed to have deteriorated to the point that he feared for her life. He had planned this night at the theater to get her out of the house. Since she lost her young husband three years ago, she seemed to have given up on living. He couldn't interest her in anything.

Stephen noticed how pale Mary looked beneath the carriage lights. "Are you all right, my dear?" he asked.

She glanced out the window. "Don't worry about me, Stephen, I'm fine."

The driver came up to the window. "Your grace, I think you had better come quick. We hit a woman!”

Stephen shoved the door open and jumped to the ground. In the dim light given off by the lantern, he could tell very little about the poor wretch. Bending down, he determined she was only unconscious and not dead because he could feel her warm breath against his hand.

Taking quick action, the Duke gathered her up in his arms and moved back to the carriage. "Bill, get going, but drive carefully. We don't want to have another mishap. We need a doctor as soon as possible because we don't know the extent of this woman's injuries."

Lady Mary gasped when she saw her brother lay the unconscious woman on the seat opposite her. With pain in her heart for the poor unfortunate person, she took her lap robe and placed it over the woman. "Are you sure she isn't—"

"No, she's not dead yet," her brother assured her.

As the carriage jerked forward, Stephen stared down at the red-gold hair that spilled across the green leather seat. The woman's face was covered with blood, so it was impossible to tell what she looked like.

"Oh, please tell the driver to hurry," Lady Mary cried, burying her face against her brother's chest. "Suppose she dies, will it be our fault?"

"We cannot go any faster, Mary, it's too dangerous." His arms closed around her slight body. "I had meant this to be a happy evening for you, my dear." He felt her tremble. "All will be done to ensure the woman will live," he said with more confidence than he actually felt.

"Who do you suppose she is?" Mary asked, taking a peek at the body.

"I am sure when she is able, she will enlighten us on that point."

"What do you think she was doing out so late at night, and in this weather?"

The Duke frowned. "That, too, will be answered in time, if she lives."

Mary's eyes were beseeching. "She just has to live, Stephen. I could not bear it otherwise. There is too much death and sorrow in this world as it is."

The carriage came to a stop before a fashionable gray brick house. The ,Duke carried Breanna inside, waving away the startled footman who attempted to take her from him.

Curious servants gathered in the hallway as the Duke barked out orders. He sent Bill to fetch a doctor, while he carried his burden to an upstairs bedroom.

***

Breanna awoke and turned her head toward the only pinnacle of light in the room. In the dim candle glow, she saw a woman who was unknown to her, sleeping in a chair. A moan escaped Breanna's lips when she touched her throbbing head and found it had been bandaged. When she tried to move, her whole body was racked with pain.

"Don't move," the young woman called out, coming to her feet and standing over Breanna. "You have been injured, and the doctor wants you to lie as still as possible." She lightly touched Breanna's hand and found her patient was finally warm and the terrible chills were gone.

"Try not to worry," Lady Mary told her. "The doctor assured me you are suffering from no more than cuts and bruises. I feel you were very fortunate."

Breanna was totally confused. "Where am I, and who are you?"

Lady Mary dropped down near Breanna, testing the sling the doctor had tied about her right arm. "I am Lady Mary Snow. Do you remember being run down by my brother's carriage?"

Breanna was thoughtful for a moment. "No, I don't remember that at all."

"My brother and I were returning from the theater. It was so foggy that poor Bill, our driver, couldn't see where he was going. You dashed out in front of the horses and were knocked unconscious"

"I . . . hurt," Breanna said through dry lips.

"The doctor left a bottle of laudanum, should your pain become too great. Shall I give you a dose?"

"I . . . no, I have never liked the feeling of being drugged." Breanna was quiet for a moment before she spoke in a bewildered voice. "Now, how did I know that, when I cannot even remember my name?"

Lady Mary placed a comforting hand on Breanna's. "Don't fret about anything tonight. Just try and go to sleep. I will stay beside you in case you need anything."

Somehow Breanna found Lady Mary's voice soothing. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she fell into a troubled sleep.

***

A bright sunlight streamed into the room when Breanna opened her eyes. She blinked, trying to adjust her sight to the brightness. She allowed her eyes to wander over the room. The walls were white with blue trim, and yellow curtains hung at the windows and a lemon yellow rug covered the floor. Breanna was lying in an elaborately carved four-poster bed. The fireplace was glowing with a cheerful fire. This room reflected the owners' good taste.

"So, ma'am, you are awake." A cheerful maid in a stiff black uniform and white apron poked her head around the door. "I have your breakfast if you be hungry."

"I don't seem to be hungry," Breanna replied. "I don't feel like I could swallow a morsel."

Lady Mary came sailing into the room and took the tray from the servant, dismissing her with a nod. "But you must eat, or else you will never build up your strength" she insisted.

The thought of food did not appeal to Breanna, and she wished her head would stop pounding. When Lady Mary placed the tray on a low table, Breanna turned her head away. "I don't want to eat."

Lady Mary placed a supporting arm behind Breanna's shoulders. "Hold on to me and I'll help you sit up. You might find it painful at first, but the doctor says it's for the best."

Breanna gripped Lady Mary's hands and gritted her teeth, wishing the room would stop spinning.

With a cheerful smile, Lady Mary plumped up the pillows and helped Breanna settle weakly against them.

"Now, since your right arm is in a sling, I will feed you." She dipped a spoon into thick cream and drew out a plump strawberry. "You are right-handed, aren't you?" she asked, holding the spoon to Breanna's lips.

"I . . . don't know for sure. I think so."

Breanna took the strawberry in her mouth, finding it delicious.

Lady Mary waited until Breanna chewed and swallowed before she spoke again. "Have you remembered your name, or anything about yourself?"

Breanna stopped chewing. "It's strange, but I do remember some things, but they are all shadowy, and it makes my head ache to think about them." She tried to move and moaned from the pain it caused her. "Yes, I know my name. I believe I am called Breanna."

"That is a lovely and unusual name. Can you recall your surname?"

"Yes, I think so . . . no, it's gone now. I remember . . . running from something or someone." She looked distressed. "It's all so mixed up. I cannot always tell the real from the unreal."

"Don't try to rush it, and do not worry. I feel sure that very soon all of your memory will return."

Breanna observed Lady Mary. She had a fragile bone structure, and her complexion was pale. Her hair was light blond, and her soft eyes were hazel.

"Is this your home?" Breanna wanted to know.

"No, it's my brother's home. I am . . . a widow."

Breanna read a deep sadness in Lady Mary's eyes. "I am so sorry. I should not be intruding on your sorrow."

"No, no. I have been widowed these past three years. My Tom and I . . . he is very difficult to forget. Everyone keeps telling me that I should put him out of my mind, and my brother, Stephen, worries about me like a mother hen. I am just not ready to put Tom aside."

Breanna leaned against the bed poster, allowing the smoothness of the cherry wood to cool her face. "Then don't. He was a part of your life, and apparently you loved him a great deal. Examine the memories you have of your Tom, and think about the good times you had together. While you remember him, he will never truly be dead to you. One day, you will just wake up and realize that he is a beautiful memory, and when you think of him, you will smile."

"Oh, Breanna, you are the first person who has ever understood how I feel. I loved Tom, and I don't want to let him go. At times I just don't want to go on without him."

"You must not talk like that, because you also have an obligation to the living. I'm sure it would hurt your brother to hear you talk thus. Just remember, if anything happened to you, your beautiful memories of Tom would die with you."

"I never thought of it that way." She poked another strawberry at Breanna. "Is it possible that you also lost a husband? You seem to know what I have been going through"

"No, I don't think so," she said, looking down at her diamond ring. "When I examine my grief, it seems to come from the loss of a mother and father."

When Lady Mary offered Breanna another strawberry, Breanna refused with the shake of her head. She did, however, accept the cup of spiced tea that Lady Mary insisted she drink.

All morning, Lady Mary bustled around Breanna, brushing her hair, straightening her bed, and anticipating her every need. In the afternoon, she sat beside Breanna while she slept. Then when she awoke, Lady Mary read her amusing excerpts from The Times.

When Breanna fell asleep again, Lady Mary tiptoed out of the room. Glancing at the hall clock, she saw that she was late for dinner. Patting her hair into place, she entered the dining room to find her brother already seated at the head of the table, an amused smile on his face.

Stephen noticed the rosy glow on his sister's face. He had not seen her this happy in a very long time. "Well, Mary, have you done all that was possible to make our patient comfortable?"

"Yes, and she is an extraordinary person."

The maid entered and set Lady Mary's plate on the table. After the servant had gone, Lady Mary continued. "As I have already told you, she doesn't remember very much about herself. But Dr. Mathers believes she will be completely recovered in a few days."

"So, she still can't remember who she is?" Stephen asked skeptically.

Mary took a bite of fish and shook her head. "No, no yet. She thinks she may have been running away from something or someone."