Lord of the Wolves (10 page)

The
newcomer dropped his reins as he approached Kingston and, laughing delightedly,
threw his arms around the glowering frontiersman, saluting him on either cheek
before the other could prevent him. “Sauvage, my friend! My almost brother! How
good it is to find you here and looking fit, how fortunate! What has it been
since last we met? Two months? Why, no, it must be nearly three! Too long,
certainly!” He grinned, all flashing blue eyes, wavy golden hair, and dimples.
“Ho! What is this? Are you not happy to see me? Will you not invite me to join
you? Where the devil have your fine manners gone to?”

Kingston’s
manner was strained. Sarah could feel his tension, a goodly portion of which,
she was certain, had to do with the stranger’s untimely intrusion. “What are
you doing here? No, do not tell me—doubtless, you are in some sort of trouble,
and I do not wish to know the details. Just go away, Angel.”

Angel
paused, perplexed. “Go away? Go away! That’s it? That’s how you greet your
partner? Your almost brother?”

Kingston
folded his arms before him. “Very well, then, go away, damn you.”

Angel
drew himself up. “I am affronted—no, I am hurt. Wounded! To think that after
years of camaraderie and working together you would deny me the hospitality of
your campfire!”

“Be
wounded somewhere else.”

“I
know what this is about. You have never forgiven me for trying to make love to Caroline
on your wedding night.”

“I
am not angry about that,” Kingston corrected. “I realize you are a buffoon, and
cannot help yourself.”

“Why
then, are you acting this way?”

“Suffice
to say, this is not a good time for you to be here.”

There
was a pregnant silence, during which Sarah’s struggles to fasten the myriad of hooks
closing the front of her gown sounded clearly. “Who is there, lurking behind
you?”Angel demanded. “Perdition! Is that a woman? By God, it is. And from what
I can see, a very attractive woman, at that.”

“Your
powers of observation astound me,” Kingston said. “Now, kindly get you gone.”

“One
moment!” Angel countered. “First, drag out your manners and dust them off! It
will do you no good to refuse. I shall not budge an inch until you have
introduced me to the young lady.”

Sarah
had fastened the last of her hooks and twitched her bodice into place by the
time Kingston sighed his surrender and cast a questioning look over his broad
shoulder. “I was hoping to avoid this, but as you can see, it is no use.” He
stepped aside, enough to allow the firelight to shine fully upon Sarah. “Madame,
this is Angel. Angel, Madame.” He turned to his friend. “You got what you
wanted; now kindly leave us.”

“If
I did not know better, I would think you an ignorant savage,” Angel said,
striding forward to bow low over Sarah’s hand. “Dear lady, please allow me to
take charge of this situation, since it seems to be somewhat beyond my friend’s
simple capabilities. He has been alone in the wilderness too long, and has
forgotten all that I once taught him. I am Renoir Phillipe Betrand de
Angelheart, late of Quebec, Montreal, Fort Detroit, and Onondaga... in that
order. And you are?”

“Mrs.
Timothy Marsters,” Sarah returned shyly, “but my Christian name is Sarah.”

“Madame
to you!” Kingston insisted, taking Angel by the arm and propelling him forcibly
toward his mount.

Sarah
struggled to keep pace with him, tugging at his sleeve. “Kingston, please, do
not act in haste! It is terribly rude to send him away. It is late, and Monsieur
de Angelheart would be forced to set up camp in the darkness. Besides, we have
plenty of wood for the fire, and he can have my portion of the venison if need
be. Will you not rethink your decision?”

Kingston
frowned at her; she read the disappointment in his expression. He wanted rid of
Angel for the very same reasons she wanted him to stay: he was talkative, and
charming, and he would provide a buffer between the two of them. Fearful of
what might occur if they were alone again together, she lay her hand upon his
arm and softly begged, “Kingston, please. For my sake.”

“Sarah,”
he said, his voice low and urgent. “Do not ask this of me. If you do not come
back to my arms this instant, I shall die of wanting you.”

Sarah
smiled tremulously. “He is a guest. If we turn him away for the sake of
satisfying our own selfish needs and something untoward should happen, I would
never forgive myself.”

“Nor
would you forgive me,” Kingston replied. He stared down at her, his eyes full
of black fire. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Then, at her answering
nod, “Very well. It seems I can deny you nothing.” He brushed his thumb across
the corner of her mouth. “Would that you shared my weakness.” He faced his
friend. “I trust that you will be leaving early?”

“Kingston!”
Sarah admonished. And then, to their guest, “Please, sir. See to your mount,
then come and sit. You must be weary from your travels.”

“So
kind,
and
so lovely.” Angel cast a triumphant glance at Kingston. “It
makes one wonder how so gracious a lady finds herself in such boorish company.”

Kingston
snorted and, taking up his well-oiled rag, went to sit by the fire. Angel was
unperturbed. “There is no need to look so distressed upon my account,” he said,
loudly enough for Kingston to hear. “I am well accustomed to my host’s evil
humors, and know from whence they stem. They are a direct result of an unhappy
childhood. I, on the other hand, was a blissful babe. That’s why I’m so—”

“Vainglorious?”
Kingston supplied.

“Engaging,”
Angel finished with a toothy grin.

Sarah
immediately brightened. “You know Kingston well?”

“Very
well, indeed. We met ten years ago when I was but a beardless boy of ten and
five. He saved me from disgrace. I had been visiting a friend late one summer
evening, and was climbing out the second story
boudoir
window when
Sauvage happened by, and was there to break my fall.”

“A
friend? She was your lover—a married woman whose husband returned home early
and nearly caught you. Besides, I may have broken your fall, but you broke my
collarbone, and I was abed for three weeks, unable to leave Quebec as I had
planned.”

“Madame
LaTour was my tutor.”

“Undoubtedly!”

Angel
smiled and shrugged as he tied his mount’s reins to a low-hanging branch. “I
took you home and saw you mended, did I not?”

Sarah
giggled, drawing Kingston’s displeasure. “Pray, Madame, do not encourage him!”

“Kingston
is right, of course,” Sarah said, hiding a smile behind her hand. “It is a sin
to covet thy neighbor’s wife.”

Angel
came forth, stretching himself by the fire between Kingston and Sarah. “Indeed,
it is. And where is your husband, my dear?”

Sarah
looked down at her hands. “I am a widow.”

Angel
stroked his bottom lip. “Then you are unattached.”

“Hardly!”
Kingston put in flatly.

Sarah
hastened to explain. “I am betrothed—to Brother John Liebermann, who is one of
the United Brethren, as am I. I am traveling to meet him on the Muskingum.”

“The
Muskingum,” Angel mused. “And you are escorting her. Tell me, my friend, does
this mean that you have abandoned your search for Jean?”

“Jean?”
Sarah repeated.

“Jean
Baer, Sauvage’s—”

“Perhaps
you should see to your mount,” Kingston pointedly suggested. “I noticed when
you arrived that she was limping.”

Angel
frowned and broke off abruptly, leaving Sarah to wonder what he’d been about to
say. “I was hoping that you might be persuaded to have a look at her—unless, of
course, you are still feeling cross with me, and then I shall be forced to sit
and chat with the beautiful Sarah a while longer.”

Angel’s
compliments were lavish, but they made Sarah uncomfortable. “Monsieur is
exceedingly generous, but I have never been beautiful, and I fear that since
the attack, when I lost all of my possessions, I am reduced even further.” She
touched her hair, which tumbled wildly around her shoulders.

For
the first time since his arrival, Angel seemed nonplussed. “You have lost your
looking glass? Your brush and comb?
Mon dieu
, who would do such a thing
to a woman?”

Kingston
answered for her. “
La Bruin.
Madame was travelling west to Harris’s
Ferry, when her party was attacked. They got Ben Bones, among others. Sarah
escaped, with the aid of Kate Seaton.”

Angel
glanced around. “Kathryn is here with you?”

“She
died at a hunting camp several days east of here.”

“A
genuine pity,” Angel said. “I liked her well. Damnable war. It’s bad for the
Provincials, bad for business. Autumn is coming, but instead of preparing to
hunt and gather meat for their families and furs to trade, the western tribes
are off fighting. The fools think the French will provide for them. Pah! And
now, with this business at Fort William Henry—well, that’s why I am getting out
of trade.”

“What
about William Henry?” Kingston said.

“You
have not heard? No, of course, you haven’t. You’ve been far too busy conducting
you own
petite guerre
to keep abreast of news, or gossip.” Kingston
scowled at Angel, who waved the look aside. “The fort fell to Montcalm earlier
this month. Colonel Munro surrendered his sword and marched his troops out of
the fort and directly into an ambush. Montcalm’s Indian allies, impatient with
the white man’s methods of war, took it upon themselves to attack. They began
in the hospital.” He sighed, and shook his head. “I am told that some were
smallpox stricken. By taking their scalps, the Huron may have done to
themselves what the whites and the tribes hostile to them could not.”

“It
is good that you are well away from there,” Kingston said.

“My
thoughts exactly,” Angel concurred. “Besides, it is time for a change. I was
thinking that after I deliver my goods to Weiser, I might go on a prolonged
visit to the continent. Paris is lovely in the fall. And what of you, my friend?
I have prattled on, and you have said nothing about the Muskingum. Surely, you
do not expect to find your nemesis there?”

Angel
looked to Sarah, who looked to Kingston, who stared, seemingly mesmerized, into
the flames. His enemies were numerous, Sarah thought. He could find them almost
anywhere. She thought of the warrior, Killbuck, who lay dead along the wooded
trail to the east, of Kingston’s ferocity when taking the man’s scalp, and
lastly, of his admission concerning Caroline and his son, and knew that
Kingston’s
petite guerre
, his “little war” was just beginning.

Sarah
felt suddenly chilled, but whether from her thoughts, or from Angel’s startling
news about the fall of Fort William Henry, she could not tell. She forced a
smile. “Kingston has but offered to take me to the settlement of Harris’s Ferry.
Once there, I shall seek another guide to take me west.”

“You
will be parting company very soon,” Angel said.

“Indeed,”
Sarah agreed, “and I’ve little doubt that he will be much relieved. I am afraid
I have been quite a trial.”

Kingston
threw down the rag and picked up this rifle. “I’ll go have a look at your
mount,” he told Angel. And then to Sarah, “Madame, be on your guard. De
Angelheart would attempt to talk you right out of your chemise if not for fear
that I would be offended. And even then, he is not to be trusted.”

Angel
was offended. “So much for loyalty! Friendship!”

Ignoring
his outrage, Kingston made his way to Angel’s roan mare. Sarah’s expression, as
she watched him, was troubled.

“Never
in my life have I been so abused, so maligned!” Angel complained. “Please feel
free to confide in me, Sarah. Has the brute mistreated you terribly?”

Sarah
looked down at her hands, and the image of them tangled in Kingston’s dark hair
flashed in her mind. “Actually, he has been quite kind.” How steady her voice
was, how strong, how deceptive. She felt shaky inside, uncertain, after all
that had happened. “Would you tell me about him?”

Angel
rolled his eyes heavenward. “How can this be happening again? I find myself
alone in the company of a beautiful woman, and she wishes to speak of Sauvage?”
A beleaguered sigh and he recovered from his disappointment, settling with remarkable
ease into the role of confidante. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “What
do you wish to know?”

“What
was he like as a young man? And what did you mean about his unhappy childhood?”

He
smiled then, boyishly. “Ah, now I see. You have fallen victim to his air of
dark mystery, been hopelessly ensnared by the aura of tragedy that surrounds
him. You are in love with Sauvage.”

Sarah
was greatly discomfited. “You misunderstand, monsieur. I am betrothed to
Brother John Liebermann.”

“What
has the one thing to do with the other?” he asked. Then, when Sarah said
nothing, he answered her questions. “As a young man, Sauvage was wild inside,
but the wildness was tightly contained. When we met, his father Antoine, had
just died, and Sauvage was very anxious to leave the city and all of its bad
memories behind, and return to his true home on the great river.”