Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (12 page)

Melissa had been right, Alanna noted, for not only was Randolph O'Neil a nice man, his eyes were a vivid blue. Had he been closer to her age, she would have thought him handsome, but all she saw was a dear man who was old enough to be her father, and that precluded any romantic possibilities, had she wanted them, which she didn't. She liked him though, and it showed in her smile.

"I'm afraid I've neglected my wardrobe the last few years. This is Melissa's gown, and I'll tell her how much you liked it. I'm hoping to have some new gowns made soon, and I'll remember that you said I looked nice in pink."

Completely captivated by Alanna's quiet charm, Randolph strove to make an intelligent reply, but John Barclay spoke to him first and when he turned to respond, Ian Scott and Graham Tyler came forward to talk with Alanna. He had to step back to make room for them, and his opportunity to impress her was lost. Alanna had a maturity that appealed to him, and determined to get to know her better, he concentrated his efforts on strengthening his friendship with John and Rachel.

"Why didn't Melissa come to church?" Ian asked.

By comparison, Ian's greeting made Randolph's clumsy compliment appear devoted, and while Alanna could see by the Englishman's expression how worried he was, she could not excuse his rudeness. "I'm very well, thank you, and how are you?" she replied.

Flustered for an instant, Ian quickly recovered. "Good morning, Alanna. I didn't mean to ignore you, but when I saw you and not Melissa, I couldn't help but be concerned. Is she ill?"

Rather than speculate on the cause of the continued distress Alanna had watched Melissa hide from others, she provided Ian with a concise report, and then added a suggestion. "I'm sure she'll feel better by this afternoon, should you wish to call on her."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, I do." Graham Tyler had been staring at her throughout that exchange, and she had not meant to exclude him. "Good morning, Lieutenant."

"Good morning, Miss Barclay," Graham greeted her, his grin wide. "You were so lovely in blue the other evening, but now I think pink is truly your color. Perhaps pastels flatter all blondes, but—"

Alanna attempted to feign interest as Graham continued to describe her as a fair beauty. He was attractive, and his gray eyes sparkled with admiration as he spoke, but she simply did not care to hear what he had to say. Although Randolph O'Neil was speaking with her uncle, he was still looking her way, and she began to regret letting Melissa talk her into having new gowns made. Not that she wished to embarrass her aunt and uncle with her old clothes, if truly she had, but if new gowns brought more unwanted attentions, then why should she buy them?

Her aunt and uncle had a great many friends, and it seemed as though each and every one wished to speak with them that morning, giving Graham an extended opportunity to talk with Alanna. His discussion of ladies' fashions reminded him of his three sisters, each of whom had her own interests, which ranged from playing the harp, and raising ponies, to painting watercolor seascapes. They sounded as though they might actually be delightful young women, but Graham described them in such minute detail, Alanna was again bored witless rather than entertained. When finally her uncle announced it was time to leave for home, she bid Graham goodbye in mid-sentence and hurried to their carriage.

As soon as Alanna arrived home, she traded Melissa's gown for one of her own. When new, the fabric had been a deep rose hue, but now it was faded to a soft shell pink. Comfortably worn, it required neither hoop nor an extravagant number of petticoats, and she wished she had worn it to church rather than a satin gown. Melissa was still in bed, and Alanna encouraged her to rise.

"Ian was disappointed not to see you at church. I think he may come by this afternoon. Of course, if you're still in bed, your mother won't allow him to come upstairs to see you."

Melissa threw back the covers. "Well, why didn't you say so?"

"I just did."

"I mean sooner, the instant you came through the door." Melissa raised her hands to her hair, felt the wild disarray of her sleep-tossed curls, sat down at her dressing table, and quickly went to work with her hairbrush. "Was he invited to dinner?"

"No, there will just be the four of us." Thank God, Alanna thought. She didn't remember Randolph O'Neil ever coming there to dine, but he had spoken with her aunt and uncle for so long, she would not have been surprised had he been invited that day. She walked up behind Melissa.

"You were right about Mr. O'Neil. He does like me more than I had realized. Is there a polite way to discourage a man's attentions that won't offend him?"

Melissa shot her cousin an exasperated glance in the mirror. "The man is absolutely perfect for you. Why would you want to discourage him?"

"I realize women usually wed men several years older than themselves, but—"

"Father is a dozen years older than Mother."

"Yes, I know, but even if Randolph were only twelve years older than me, I still wouldn't be interested in him."

"Whom do you like best, Randolph or Graham?"

"Randolph."

"Then you do like him," Melissa teased.

"Yes, I like him, but not the way you like Ian. As for Graham, I didn't think he had left any subject uncovered at the party, but this morning he told me more about his sisters than I will ever need to know."

Melissa leaned closer to the mirror to study her reflection. Despite her indiscretion, her prettiness was undimmed and reassured, she made Alanna a promise. "When Ian arrives, I'll invite him to stroll through the garden, and I'll make it plain to him that you'd rather not see Graham again. He might be with Ian today, but since this will be the last time, you can be nice to him, can't you?"

"I'd sooner throw myself into the river and drown."

When Melissa had contemplated just such a dire fate, she had been serious, and she did not find Alanna's comment in the least bit amusing. "Jokes about suicide are in extremely poor taste, Alanna. Don't make another."

Because they were so close in age, Melissa seldom spoke down to her, and predictably, Alanna rebelled. She left their room and went downstairs to ask her aunt's advice on how a young lady might tactfully rid herself of a boring admirer.

* * *

To Alanna's delight, Ian came calling alone that afternoon, and she went down by the river to read a favorite book while Melissa entertained the British officer. After daydreaming about Ian all morning, Melissa had been so thrilled to see him she had almost wept. As soon as they left the parlor to take a stroll in the garden, she reached for his hand.

"I'm so happy you came to see me today. We had such a wonderful time the other night, and I had hoped that you'd come to call on me again soon."

Ian was accustomed to Melissa's every gesture being flirtatious, but there was something else in her manner that day. Had he not known her better, he would have thought it desperation, but in the case of such a popular young woman, he discounted the possibility as absurd. As they entered a long row of azaleas, he pulled her around to face him and reached out to touch her forehead lightly.

"You don't feel feverish," he exclaimed. "To what do I owe this sudden enthusiasm for my company?"

Well aware of how thin a line existed between appealing femininity and a pathetic demand for attention, Melissa played her part with stunning success. She glanced down shyly, and then stared up at Ian through the dark veil of her lashes. It was one of her most irresistible poses and, predictably, Ian's expression instantly turned adoring.

"Is it wrong of me to admit how much I've missed you?" she asked.

"Certainly not, but—"

Melissa placed a fingertip on his lips. "No, don't say it," she whispered. "If you can't return my affection, just go, you needn't embarrass us both by putting your rejection into words."

Ian could scarcely believe his ears. Having been invited to Melissa's home, he was the envy of every man he knew, but he had been Byron and Elliott's friend first, not hers. He knew that she found him amusing, but he had never thought anything serious would come of their flirtation, when she could have her pick of Virginia's wealthy men. But if she had fallen for him—which he dared not hope—he would never refuse her love.

Watching her closely, he raised her hand from his lips and placed a kiss in her palm. When her eyes began to fill with tears, he felt he had his answer. There was an old oak tree not ten feet away, and he led her around to the far side, where they couldn't be observed from the house. He doubted her parents were spying on them, but he did not want to take the chance of being banished from their property either. He knew he ought to recite some bit of romantic poetry, but all he truly wanted to do was kiss her, and when she came into his arms without the slightest hesitation, he did.

Ian's first tentative kiss was warm and tender, but Hunter had taught Melissa the thrill of passion, and she was no longer satisfied with such a sweet gesture of devotion. She raised her arms to encircle his neck, relaxed against him, and then ran the tip of her tongue over his lower lip, seductively coaxing him into abandoning all sense of reserve. She wasn't merely acting, for she did truly care for him, and her affection was sincere.

Never guessing the enchantress in his arms had been tutored by a savage, Ian opened his mouth to slide his tongue over hers and, hungry for the taste of her, kissed her with the wild abandon she had so skillfully inspired. Lost in desire, he stood balanced against the gnarled old tree, so captivated by the woman he adored, that not a single thought of her purpose entered his mind. He noticed only the tantalizing fragrance of her perfume, the silken softness of her skin, and the delicious taste of her kiss.

Melissa, however, was all too aware of the warmth of the day, the shrill cry of a mockingbird overhead, and the roughness of Ian's red coat. She had not been aware of a single such distraction when Hunter had kissed her, but while Ian's kiss was definitely pleasant, it was not nearly as exciting as the Indian's had been. She thought perhaps with practice they would reach the thrilling accord she had found at Hunter's first touch, but when Ian paused to catch his breath after more than a dozen kisses, she felt just as detached as during the first.

The hint of tears still glistened in Melissa's eyes, and believing she had somehow misunderstood him, Ian pressed her cheek close to his chest as he spoke. "I'm not nearly good enough for you. You know that, don't you?"

She was standing in a British officer's arms, but failing miserably to forget a forbidden romance with an Indian, and Melissa knew she wasn't nearly good enough for Ian. He saw only the attractive young woman he had admired, but inside she felt far from worthy of his love. She slid her arms around his waist and held on tight. She knew she could fool him, forever if need be. The question was, why had she ever thought she could fool herself?

"Melissa?"

"Hm?"

Ian gave her another joyous hug. "Have I spoken too soon?"

To Melissa's way of thinking, he had not spoken soon enough to save her from a lifetime of shame. There was always the river, but death frightened her far more than living a lie. She couldn't speak, but when she looked up at Ian, he bent down to kiss her again, and not expecting more than the sweet sensation she had felt before, she was no longer disappointed. She felt safe with Ian. She knew she could depend on him, and he would never betray her trust. The next time he drew away, she found it easy to smile.

"Was I unforgivably bold?" she asked.

"Not at all. Was I?"

Melissa reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "No, but I think we ought to continue our walk."

She tried to slip out of his arms, but Ian refused to release her. "Wait a minute," he scolded. "I realize I've gone about this all wrong, but if the love that flavors your kiss is real, shouldn't I ask for your father's permission to marry you? If he's going to refuse me—which he well might—I'd rather he did so today, before leaving you becomes impossible."

Melissa had not expected to prompt a proposal from Ian so soon, and while she was grateful for it, she wasn't ready to involve her parents as yet. "I'm positive my father likes you, but we haven't known each other long, and I don't want him to object to you for that reason. Let's give him a few more weeks to appreciate what a fine man you are, and then when you approach him, there will be no danger that you'll be refused."

"And if he gives his permission, is there any danger you'll refuse me?"

While Melissa dared not admit what thoughtful consideration she had given the question, Ian was her first choice, and she wanted him to know it. "If I give you my answer now, will you become so insufferably conceited that I'll wish I'd kept you guessing?"

Charmed as always, Ian began to laugh. "You know me very well, don't you?"

"I should hope so," Melissa replied with mock seriousness. "It's not every man I kiss as passionately as I did you." That in truth, his affection had left her emotions untouched, was something she would never admit. She liked him enormously, and surely her feelings would soon deepen into love. "Let's go down by the river. The view's very beautiful, and there are several secluded spots were we might stop and talk without fear of interruption."

Ian caught her hand and let her lead the way. "Yes, we really do have a great deal to discuss, don't we? I had hoped only to see you this afternoon. I'm really not prepared to present a plan for the rest of our lives."