Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (37 page)

His mouth full of sandy soil, Jonah spit and sputtered. Humiliated, he chose to give up rather than risk having his neck snapped by a foul-tempered Indian he had never expected to be so strong and fast. "Enough," he moaned grudgingly.

Hunter released him with another rude shove that sent Jonah's face slamming into the ground. The brave then rose and stepped away, but remained wary, just in case Jonah regretted his defeat and attempted another go at him. It wasn't until Jonah got to his feet and started off in the opposite direction, that Hunter began to relax.

Peter Bright handed Hunter a handkerchief. "That cut looks bad."

"It'll heal," Hunter insisted, but it was painful. He pressed the handkerchief against his brow to stem the flow of blood, while he searched the crowd for Blind Snake. He was positive he had seen the same evil snarl on the brave's face that he'd worn when he had waved a bloody scalp and shouted his name, but the Abenaki was nowhere to be found.

"Did you see an Indian here this afternoon?"

Peter looked puzzled. "Only you."

Peter was a good soul, but not the smartest man at the trading post, and Hunter didn't scold him for giving such a ridiculous answer. Not trusting the men who had organized the fight to give him a fair share, he waited while the money was being counted. It wasn't until he had pocketed his earnings that he turned toward the trading post, and saw Alanna and Elliott standing on the steps. He didn't know which of them looked more surprised, but what he saw in their shocked expressions looked close to disgust, and he knew they hadn't been favorably impressed to find him fighting.

He lifted the handkerchief from the cut, and when he felt no new blood oozing toward his eye, he stuffed the bloodstained square of linen into his belt. He picked up his shirt and carried it over to the bottom of the stairs. He eyed the Virginians with a suspicious glance, and waited for them to explain their reason for being there.

Elliott had seen enough of the fight to be reminded of the vicious streak Hunter had displayed last summer. He had admired the Indian's prowess then. Now, he thought him mean rather than courageous. "Didn't you receive my letters?" he asked accusingly.

"I got them."

"Then why didn't you answer?"

Hunter shook the dust from his shirt. "I had nothing to say."

Stunned by the inappropriateness of his response, Alanna could not help but stare. Physically, Hunter was still the same exceptionally handsome man—half-clothed, even more so—but his manner had changed so dramatically she scarcely knew what to expect. When he looked up at her, his icy gaze chilled her clear through.

"You had nothing to say about your own son?" she asked.

As surprised as when he'd first seen them, Hunter had to force himself to react calmly, rather than gape like a witless fool. "I have no children."

"I thought you said you got my letters," Elliott exclaimed.

Again searching for Blind Snake, Hunter glanced away, but there was still no sign of the belligerent brave. "I didn't read them," he finally admitted.

Alanna found it difficult to believe this aloof stranger was Christian's father, and she was deeply disappointed in him. When he had last bid her goodbye, she had actually believed that he really cared what happened to her. Apparently his kiss had meant nothing. "You told me if I ever needed you, to write to you here."

"You weren't the one who wrote to me."

His tone was insulting, and Alanna reacted with equal sarcasm. "You mean you would have answered had I written the letters rather than Elliott?"

Hunter continued to regard Alanna with an insolent gaze. He had not expected accusations from her, but there was a new pride to her bearing that had been absent in their last meeting. They had both changed in the intervening months, but he thought the difference in her an improvement.

"Yes," he replied. "I gave you my word. If you came all this way to hear me say I have no son, then I'm sorry for your trouble."

"You're not half as sorry as we are," Elliott declared. "Melissa's dead, and her son needs a father."

"That's her husband's concern, not mine."

Hunter had shown as little reaction to the mention of Melissa's death, as he had to the announcement of his son's birth. Alanna wondered if he was even listening to them. "The boy is clearly yours, Hunter."

No longer merely annoyed, Hunter's tone turned bitterly sarcastic. "No. Melissa swore to me the babe was Ian's."

Disgusted, he started to turn away, but Alanna hurried down the steps and caught his elbow. "Don't you care that Melissa's dead, or that you have a son?"

Her hand looked very small and white against the burnished copper of his arm. Knowing the color of their skin was the least of their differences, Hunter made no attempt to hide his distress, as he replied in a voice too low for Elliott to overhear. "Why didn't
you
write to me?"

That he would criticize the manner in which they had tried to contact him, rather than respond to the message their letters had contained, astonished Alanna. "You really don't care about Melissa or your son, do you?"

That she had ignored his question, incensed Hunter all the more. "Why should I? Melissa cared nothing for me."

Elliott walked up behind her, but Alanna wasn't content to allow him to handle what she feared was a rapidly deteriorating situation. Hoping that perhaps Hunter was as flustered by their news as she had been by Elliott's mention of marriage, she softened her tone. "Please, take some time to think about what we've said. Can we meet again later and talk?"

"I have nothing more to say."

"Well, we have," Elliott informed him coldly. "Go clean up and meet us back here in an hour."

Hunter didn't have to glance around the courtyard to know they ware being observed. He could feel it. No one had dared come close enough to overhear them, and he did not want to present any curious bystanders with an opportunity to do so. "No, come with me to my house. We can talk there."

Alanna and Elliott hesitated a moment, but when Hunter turned away and did not look back, they followed. Not expecting an extended visit, each had brought only a small bag, and Elliott carried them easily. Dismayed, Alanna whispered to her cousin, "How can he not care?"

Elliott just shook his head to warn her to be silent. Torn between the anger that made him want to rip Hunter limb from limb, and relief at the fact that the Indian had shown no interest in rearing his son, Elliott tried to decide how best to proceed. At the very least, he wanted Hunter's written statement that he was renouncing all claim to his child. Then, having provided Alanna with the assurance that she would be the one to raise Christian, he hoped he could convince her to become his wife.

When they reached his long house, Hunter held aside the hide draped over the doorway and gestured for them to precede him. Neither of his reluctant guests had ever seen such a dwelling, much less entered one, but they ducked slightly and stepped inside. With the only illumination coming from the coals glowing in the fire pit and the opening in the roof above, the interior was dim.

The contrast to the bright, sunlit rooms where Alanna hoped to raise Christian gave her a moment's pause. Gradually her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and she noticed Hunter hadn't followed them into his home. She looked around and noted the bundles of furs rolled up beneath the platforms, which lined the walls.

"It looks as though Hunter has been busy."

Elliott set their luggage down on the nearest platform. "It isn't the first time. No one can call the man lazy."

Alanna was too embarrassed to respond to what was clearly a reference to the speed with which Hunter had seduced Melissa, and changed the subject. "Are we handling this badly?" she asked instead.

"Probably, but that may be the only way such a deplorable situation can be handled."

At a loss for what to do or say, Alanna perched herself down next to her valise. The months of dread were over, but Hunter's indifference had shocked and disappointed her. "I was so certain that he really cared for Melissa, but now..."

When she didn't continue, Elliott finished her sentence for her. "Now it's plain he cares for nothing but himself. We worked so hard on the wording of those letters and he didn't even read them. It's plain we care far more about Christian than he ever will."

Hunter entered before Alanna could reply. He had washed up outside, and his hair, still wet, was tied neatly at his nape. He'd shaken the dust from his pants, donned his shirt, and despite the cut through his brow, now looked the way she had remembered him.

"Why were you fighting?" she asked.

"Because I'm good at it."

"You wouldn't have been hurt, if you were all that good," Elliott pointed out.

Preoccupied, Hunter chose to ignore that taunt. "Do you remember the Indians who attacked the end of our column last July, and killed the wounded?"

"Of course."

"One of them was here this afternoon. I want to go look for him."

"Do it later," Elliott advised. "We've something far more important to settle right here."

Elliott sat down next to Alanna, but Hunter remained standing. "Let Ian settle it," the brave said.

"He's gone home to London," Alanna explained. "We hired a woman to look after your son, and waited for you to come for him. If you'd read our letters, you would have known that. Because you didn't respond, we felt we had to come here."

"You should have stayed home."

"Would you rather have never known that you had fathered a child?"

When Hunter looked away, apparently bored by her question, Alanna lost patience with him. "Christian is a beautiful boy. I know you'd be proud of him."

"Christian?" Hunter laughed. "I'd never name a son that."

Hoping that sarcastic boast could be construed as interest, Alanna tried again. "Christian was my brother's name. That's why Melissa chose it, but if you'd rather call him something else, you certainly may."

"I have no need of names, because I have no son."

Hunter was being flippant, and Elliott decided to adopt the same attitude. "Fine," he agreed. "Then you should have no objection to saying so in writing, so the boy can be adopted by another man."

Such a request struck Hunter as absurd. "If I swear the boy is not mine, and Melissa swore to me that he wasn't, won't you have to search for a man who will claim the child?"

"There is no other man," Elliott informed him. "The boy is clearly yours."

"But you want me to say that he isn't?"

"Forgive me if I confused you. All we need for you to say is that you have no wish to raise Christian. Then another man can legally assume that responsibility."

"Not Ian?"

"No, not Ian, although the boy owes his life to him, as it was Ian who delivered the child after Melissa died. It wasn't until later that he realized the baby he had saved wasn't his."

"Then Melissa lied to him, too."

"She was my sister, Hunter. Try and remember that."

Hunter looked Elliott straight in the eye. "She was a lying bitch, and any tears you shed for her were wasted."

Elliott leapt to his feet with his arms outstretched, clearly going for Hunter's throat, but the Indian backed away, drawing him outside where his home and possessions would suffer no damage during an exchange of blows. The small clearing in front of his house formed a perfect arena, but after having had one fight that day, Hunter had little enthusiasm for another bout.

Alanna followed the men outside. She had seen enough of Hunter's fight with Jonah Bramen to fear that Elliott was badly outmatched, but rather than unleash the brutality she had glimpsed earlier, the Indian dodged her cousin's blows without throwing any of his own. He was agile and escaped being hit with apparent ease. She understood Elliott's wish to defend Melissa, and made no move to interfere, but she looked around for a fallen branch or anything else within reach, which she might use as a club should the need arise.

When Elliott realized that Hunter wasn't going to do more than defend himself, he dropped back. "What's the matter? Won't you fight, if you're not being paid?"

"No. Melissa just isn't worth fighting over."

"You bastard!"

Outraged, Elliott changed his strategy and, rather than attempt to punish Hunter with his fists, he rushed him, grabbed him around the waist, and wrestled him to the ground. He managed to reopen the cut above the Indian's eye, but that was the only harm he did him before Hunter grabbed his wrists, threw him to the side, and scrambled to his feet. He glanced toward Alanna, nodded, and again backed away.

Elliott rose just as quickly and would have gone after him again, but this time Alanna rushed forward to stop him. "Look, he's already hurt, and there's no point in continuing this until you're hurt, too. It won't solve anything."

Elliott pried her fingers from his sleeve. "I won't let him talk that way about Melissa. She's dead because of him, and I don't intend to let him forget it."

Again, Alanna moved between the two men. "I doubt he ever will, but what difference will words make to Melissa? She'll never hear them. I thought we came here to provide for Christian, not to avenge Melissa's death. Or were you just telling me what you knew I wanted to hear?"