Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (38 page)

Elliott continued to glare at Hunter, while he tried to decide how to answer Alanna's question without admitting she had guessed the truth. Finally he found a way. "I did come here because of the boy. Hunter's the one who started this. You ought to be angry with him, not me."

Alanna glanced over her shoulder at Hunter. The whole right side of his face was now awash in blood, and tending his wound was suddenly more important than convincing Elliott to stop trading accusations. "Come over here and sit down," she ordered brusquely. "It won't do any of us any good, if you bleed to death."

Hunter was beginning to feel sick to his stomach and when Elliott relaxed his stance, he ceased to worry about him. He followed Alanna back to the front of his house, and sat down beside the barrel of rainwater where he had washed up earlier. He still had Peter Bright's bloody handkerchief and handed it to her.

"Don't you have anything else?" she asked.

Hunter just shook his head and leaned back against the barrel.

Elliott stepped forward to offer his clean handkerchief. "Here, use this."

Alanna dropped Peter's soiled handkerchief and dipped Elliott's into the rainwater. After wringing it out, she knelt beside Hunter and held it against his brow. "You should probably have stitches."

Hunter replied with a distracted grunt.

"I suppose you think gruesome scars are handsome?"

She was only inches away, and when Hunter looked up at her, the concern mirrored in her beautiful green eyes surprised him. "You should have been the one to write," he said again.

"She had better things to do with her time," Elliott answered for her.

"Just you hush, Elliott," Alanna scolded.

"Can't you see what he's doing?" Elliott chided. "He's not content to have ruined Melissa's life. Now he's trying to do the same thing to you."

Unwilling to believe Hunter would ever consider seducing her, even if he felt up to it, which she doubted, Alanna rose, rinsed out the handkerchief, and used it to wipe the blood from Hunter's face. This time she took great care to concentrate on her task without really looking at him, but touching him brought a flush to her cheeks that wasn't due to embarrassment. His skin was warm, and his blood was as red as Melissa's. With that realization, his face began to swim before her eyes.

"I'm afraid I can't do this," she whispered, but before she could hand the handkerchief to Hunter, she fainted across his lap.

"Now look what you've done!" Elliott cried. He knelt beside Hunter, meaning to take Alanna from his arms, but the Indian pulled her into a tight embrace. "Let me have her," Elliott demanded. "I'll take her inside where she can lie down."

"No, she's better off out here in the air."

Thinking that might be true, Elliott still had an objection. "Well, it's certainly not going to help her any to wake up and get another look at you. Had someone split your head with an ax, I doubt you'd look worse."

Hunter handed Elliott the damp handkerchief. "Then rinse this out, and I'll take care of myself."

"She's my woman. You understand that?"

"I once asked Melissa if you two were in love. She said no."

"Well that was another of her mistakes, because we
are."
Elliott grabbed the handkerchief, decided it was beyond rinsing, and went inside the long house to fetch another from his valise.

Left alone with Alanna, if only for a few seconds, Hunter leaned down to kiss her lips lightly. Thinking it might be the only opportunity he would ever have to take such a liberty, he quickly kissed her again, but when Elliott returned, he was staring off into the forest, rather than gazing at the beautiful young woman in his arms.

Chapter 17

As the smoky haze of unconsciousness began to lighten, Alanna gradually became aware of the tangy scent of pine filling the air, and then the high-pitched chatter of squirrels dashing from tree to tree in an endless game of tag. In a soothing contrast to their raucous rhythm, she felt the slow, steady beat of Hunter's heart through his soft buckskin shirt.

How had she come to be in his arms? she wondered. That was the last place she belonged, but his easy embrace was so comfortable, she continued to lie still. He was tracing gentle circles across her back, which felt too good to end; and she was also far more tired than she had thought.

Hunter saw Alanna's eyelashes flutter slightly, but made no move to shake her awake. He had not held a woman in a long time, and she felt too warm and sweet to release until he absolutely had to. Elliott was talking about the need for him to relinquish all claim to his son, but he was only half-listening.

After months of striving to banish any thought of the Barclays from his mind, he had been badly startled by the sudden arrival of two of them, and most especially these two. The news of Melissa's death had awakened painful memories, and to talk of a son he would never see was nearly unbearable. He allowed none of his anguish to show in his face, but he felt every bit of it deeply.

When Hunter began to caress her nape lightly with his fingertips, Alanna opened her eyes. Not because his touch didn't feel wonderful, it did, but she did not want to give him the impression that once awake she would welcome more of his affection. Obviously aware that she had been feigning unconsciousness for several minutes, he responded with an amused grin. Aghast that he would surely think she had been enjoying his caress, she struggled to sit up without touching him, but it was impossible not to rest her hands on his broad chest. When their eyes met, she saw something more than the hint of laughter in his dark gaze and, unwilling to explore just what it might be, she took Elliott's hand when he offered it.

Once on her feet, Alanna struggled to gather her composure. She pulled her cap back into place and adjusted the folds of her gown. It was a simple gray dress designed for traveling, but not for reclining in the dirt, and she quickly brushed away the leaves and soil that clung to her skirt. When she had run out of ways to primp, she spoke to her cousin rather than the handsome Indian who was still seated on the ground.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"You needn't apologize," Hunter assured her. "I'm not fond of the sight of blood either, especially when it's mine."

Still nonplussed, Alanna again turned to Elliott. "Where were we?"

Elliott relayed only what suited him. "You were scolding us both for behaving badly, but I'll put our argument aside if Hunter will." When Hunter nodded slightly, he continued. "Not knowing what would be available here, I brought writing materials. I think we can come up with a satisfactory statement in a few minutes time. After it's signed, Alanna and I will go back to the barge to be ready for the return trip to New York tomorrow."

Hunter thought that over for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, that's a poor plan. The crew of the barge will all be drunk tonight and Alanna won't be safe on board. Stay here with me instead."

"That's really very thoughtful of you," Alanna replied, "but the crew was respectful on the voyage here, so I'm not afraid of them."

"Did the captain allow drinking?"

"I really didn't notice. Did you, Elliott?"

Elliott scuffed the toe of his shoe in the dirt. "The crew were all sober, but Hunter's probably right. They're a rough lot, and once drunk, what few manners they have will undoubtedly disappear. Does the trading post have lodgings for travelers?"

Having recovered his strength, Hunter rose with an easy stretch. "They have a few rooms, but it's no place for a lady. I know my house isn't nearly as grand as yours, but you'll be safe here. I can hang hides to make a separate room for Alanna, so she needn't sleep with us. I have venison to roast for supper. Are you hungry?"

Elliott doubted that either of them were truly safe with Hunter, but if the frontiersmen who had been watching the Indian fight were a fair sample of the trading post's clientele, he did not want Alanna near that rude bunch either. Not pleased with the choice forced upon him, he tried to make the best of it. "Will you be comfortable staying here?" he asked Alanna.

"Is the trading post really so bad?" she inquired. "I saw several ladies there, and they didn't appear to be in any danger."

Hunter winked at Elliott. "Their kind never is, but no one else ever calls them ladies."

Now realizing that the women she had mistaken for trappers' wives were not a respectable sort, Alanna came to the same conclusion as Elliott. After all, he would be there, so she'd not have to be alone with Hunter. "It's very kind of you to offer us a place to stay. I hope we won't be in your way."

Hunter's gaze swept over her slowly before he shook his head. "I will enjoy your company."

Elliott was amazed by how easily the Indian filled a simple phrase with innuendo. He was anxious to leave, but first they had business to conduct. "To answer your question, we're both hungry, but I'd like to get the statement out of the way before supper."

"The barge will not leave until noon tomorrow," Hunter reminded him, "and I'd like some time to think. I want what is best for..." he paused to regard Alanna with a rueful glance, "Christian."

Impatient to have the matter settled, Elliott wasn't at all pleased by Hunter's request. Fearing he would risk losing the Indian's cooperation if he argued, however, he tried to smile as he agreed. "Of course. I didn't mean to rush you. There's plenty of time for you to come to a decision before we leave tomorrow. Now what can we do to help you prepare supper?"

"I don't ask my guests to cook. Rest, go to the trading post if you like. I'll call you when supper is ready."

Neither Elliott nor Alanna had any desire to peruse the trading post's wares, so they sat outside the long house talking quietly until it was time to eat. Hunter produced not only venison roasted to perfection, but corncakes dripping with maple syrup. He had ale for Elliott and offered to buy wine for Alanna, but she assured him it was unnecessary.

Alanna had not expected such a delicious meal, and paid Hunter a sincere compliment. "You're a marvelous cook. I wish all of Polly's meals were this tasty."

Seneca men did not cook unless they lacked a woman to handle the chore, and Hunter took no pride in his culinary skill. He uttered a distracted word of thanks and offered his guests another corncake, which both accepted. He had not been particularly hungry at the start of the meal, but the novelty of having company soon increased his appetite. It wasn't until they had all finished eating and he had gathered up the pewter plates and utensils, that he began to regret inviting them to stay with him. He had asked for time to think, but how could he think clearly with them there?

Alanna was fascinated by the way the fire's golden light sculpted Hunter's features with constantly changing shadows. For much of the meal he had appeared to be preoccupied, but she would not fault him for being less than a charming host. All of them harbored bitter feelings, but she was grateful she had been able to convince her male companions to behave as gentlemen. She doubted many people would believe an Indian brave was even capable of such courtesy, and especially not one who had seduced a white woman, but Hunter had an intelligence and depth she could not help but admire. She then began to wonder if Christian wouldn't miss out on a valuable part of his heritage, if he never knew his father.

"Hunter," she called softly. "Christian is as much your son as he is Melissa's, and I hope you won't think that we're forgetting that fact or being unfair to you. Is there a Seneca maiden you might marry to provide a mother for him?"

Unable to understand how Alanna could ask him something so personal, Hunter simply stared at her for a long moment. She was lovely, but it hurt to look at her when she asked such foolish questions. He had to swallow hard before he could force himself to reply, but his words still rang with contempt. "I wanted Melissa for my wife, but she did not want me for a husband and denied I was the father of her child. If I ever take a wife, it will be because she pleases me, not because I need her to raise Melissa's son."

Not having meant to revive his hatred of Melissa, Alanna hastened to apologize. "I didn't mean to insult you."

"No? What did you expect? Did you think I would welcome your advice? You're little more than a child. What gives you the right to tell me who I should take as a wife?"