White Eagle's Touch (14 page)

He almost moaned aloud. The thought was pleasant almost beyond belief. Still, he could not do it. Not yet, anyway. Even if she weren’t the niece of his friend, she was still engaged to another. He couldn’t make love to her until she had broken her engagement. Or could he?

White Eagle thought that, perhaps, he was tiptoeing around this thing when he should trample right over it. Mayhap the stirring within their hearts was significant enough to allow him to use his physical…attributes…to woo her… Perhaps.

He would have to see.

White Eagle picked out a spot nearby where he could observe her unnoticed.

He had failed to realize that Shines Like Moonlight’s awareness of things around her had heightened: She saw him at once.

An unusual happening for a white person, it being a known fact that most Indians were observed by the white man only when the red man desired to be seen.

But he could not fool this woman. Odd. In truth, it had been this way from the very first moment they had come into contact with one another again. They had both been more than aware of the other’s presence.

She gazed at him now, and she said under her breath, “Why are you here?”

He didn’t respond, his glance at her amused. She continued. “Last night I thought I needed your help. This morning I have decided I can do without it. Now, go away.”

Still, he said nothing, his gaze continuing to probe hers.

She raised her voice. “Did you hear me, White Eagle? I said go away.”

He narrowed his brows at her, frowning. He said, “Do not speak my name.”

“Oh?” she asked. “And why not?”

“It is impolite to do so, and it is not done amongst my people. Someday I will tell you why.”

“Someday I might not listen. I demand that you tell me now or leave me at once.”

He didn’t move, but continued to gaze at her, pretending nonchalance.

However, in truth, he took pleasure in her indignation; he admired her persistence. Not that it would do her any good with him, but he enjoyed her effort, nonetheless.

“Did you hear me?”

He just stared at her.

“Miss Wellington?” It was Kenneth McKenzie, a man the Indians neither liked nor disliked. That they suffered him because of his excellence in trade was a well-known fact.

It was apparent this morning, however, that the man had thrown on his clothes in a hurry, an indicator that he could be counted among those who had overindulged the previous evening.

McKenzie said to Shines Like Moonlight, “What’s this I hear about you traveling to Fort McKenzie?”

She raised her chin. “I go to see my uncle.”

McKenzie frowned. “But, lass, that is unnecessary. Why, only last night your fiancé told me that he had written your uncle quite a favorable note and I—”

“A note will not do. I insist that I go to see my uncle myself. I told this to my fiancé last night.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes.”

McKenzie ran his fingers over his chin, his brow furrowed. “Now, lass, I’m not sure that the marquess understood you correctly on that. I believe he’s still asleep…the effects of the merriment last night, you understand. He won’t like this. Won’t like this at all, I don’t believe.”

“Yes, well,” she said. “That can’t be helped. Has Prince Maximilian yet awakened?”

“I don’t know, lass. But see here, there is no reason for you to worry. I know that Prince Maximilian will be more than happy to deliver a message for you, and you can await your uncle here in a style more befitting a woman of your station. Now, wouldn’t that be more to your liking?”

“No,” she said, but White Eagle could see that the man hadn’t even heard her, or at least this white chief, McKenzie, pretended that he hadn’t.

“What’s this I hear?” It was the other white man, the white man whom all here, including the great McKenzie, deferred to, although White Eagle could little understand the why of it. This man looked anything but a chief. Practically toothless, he was a small, squat man, wearing white man’s leggings which were covered in grease and a black coat that showed signs of being as old as the man, himself.

“Ah, Prince Maximilian—”

“Baron Bransburgh, M’Kenzie. I like to be called Bransburgh while I’m here in America…not prince.”

“Aye, I will try to remember. Now it appears we have a problem here with Miss Wellington.”

The prince looked over toward Shines Like Moonlight.

“I see little problem with Miss Wellington.”

“Well, not her personally, you understand, she wants to, that is, she has decided to travel to my other fort.”

“I see no problem with that.”

“Don’t you? Well, I guess that settles that, then. She can go with you—”

“With me, did you say?”

“Why, yes, that is exactly what I was—”

“Out of the question. Out of the question, indeed.”

Katrina thrust out her chin. “Mr. McKenzie means well, Your Grace…ah, Baron Bransburgh, though I fear he overstates my case. I would simply like to accompany you to Fort McKenzie, where my uncle is presently residing. That is all.”

“But that is quite impossible, my dear.”

“Impossible?”

“Why, yes. There is absolutely no room for you aboard the keelboat. Not with my secretary, Mr. Drydopple, and my friend, Mr. Bodmer, also coming aboard. I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“But I wouldn’t take up more than a single compartment.”

“Wouldn’t hear of it, my dear, simply wouldn’t hear of it. Mr. Drydopple”—the prince turned to his secretary—“go awaken the Marquess of Leicester at once and bring him here to me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Katrina said.

The prince held up his hand. “I disagree, Miss Wellington. I quite disagree. You must know about the note your fiancé gave me last night. Is it possible that you feel more confident if the marquess were to travel with me, himself, yes? Is that what causes you this distress this morning?”

“No, Your Grace, truly, it is not. I only wish to go to my uncle myself. That is all.”

The prince shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Mr. Drydopple suddenly appeared back at the prince’s side.

“Yes, Mr. Drydopple?”

“Your Grace, the Marquess of Leicester requests that I tell you that he cannot join you until much later, since he has just arisen and is in need of dressing.”

The prince, who was a small man, squared back his shoulders and drew himself up until he looked twice his normal height. He thrust out his chin and pulled in his belly, and, when he spoke, he fairly bellowed, “You are to bring the marquess to me now. I do not care if you bring him to me in his altogether or in the clothes in which he sleeps. Do you hear? He is to come here this very minute. We seem to have a problem which very much involves him.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” And with this said, Mr. Drydopple disappeared to do the prince’s bidding.

“Pardon, my dear,” said the prince. “I don’t believe your fiancé understands the urgency of this situation.”

She nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”

They waited. After a moment the prince said, “Tell me about your uncle. What does he look like?”

“I don’t know, Your Grace.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t remember him. I was much too young the last time that I saw him. All I know is that he and my father and mother came here from Europe, via New York City, of course.”

“Did they?” The prince suddenly looked at her as though she had proclaimed something profound. He stared.

From behind them, a deeply accented English voice said, “Your Grace, Miss Wellington. I have come here as you have requested. Now, what is all this fuss?” The marquess had arrived, his two men following close behind him.

The prince barely gave the man a glance as he said, “Sir, are you aware that your fiancée, Miss Wellington, wishes to travel with me to Fort McKenzie?”

“What?” The marquess sent Katrina a startled glance. “Why, that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” countered Katrina. “Why is it ridiculous? I told you only last night that I might likely go.”

“And I said no, if I recall correctly. I would send a note to your uncle, instead.”

“Yes, I know, but that is not favorable with me.”

The marquess gave her an annoyed look before, shaking his head, he mimicked in a high voice, “‘That is not favorable with me.’”

Katrina drew back quickly, her hand coming up to clutch at her neck, her eyes wide. “My lord.”

“Lord Leicester.”

“Marquess.”

The marquess glanced at the others who were present, seeming to see, as though for the first time, the disapproving glances of the prince and Bodmer, Kenneth McKenzie, even the engages and voyageurs who were standing off to the side.

The marquess sighed. “Forgive me, my sweet, if I was just now rude. I have a ghastly headache, and it has been quite a long night, one strewn with harrowing nightmares. And to add to this, I have had to dress hurriedly without taking my usual bath. Why, I am just not myself this morning.”

Katrina nodded.

“Now, my dear, about this awful business…”

“Awful?”

“Perhaps that is the wrong choice of words. Dreadful,” the marquess reconsidered. “There, is that better?”

“It is not awful, my lord, nor is it dreadful. I merely wish to travel up the river to see my uncle. I would ask that you accompany me since my uncle has expressed an interest in meeting you, but I believe the prince is trying to encourage you to go there in my place, since he does not sanction my taking the trip.”

“Go there in your place, my dear? I hardly think so. I see no reason that I should make that trip. Really, sending a note does just as much good as appearing there personally. It would take as long for me to go there and see your uncle as it would for Prince Maximilian to deliver a note and have your uncle travel back here. This was, after all, the original arrangement, was it not?”

Katrina raised her chin. “Yes, it was. Nevertheless, I am determined to travel upriver to Fort McKenzie.”

The marquess said nothing for several moments. He appeared most odd-looking, too; his face and neck turning a deep shade of red. White Eagle had never seen anything like it and it made him wonder if the man might not burst.

At length, however, the marquess spoke, enunciating every word carefully, as he said, “You will do as I say.”

White Eagle grinned. This man did not know Shines Like Moonlight well, not well at all.

Katrina, however, did nothing more than calmly shake her head at the marquess before she voiced, “I do not think so.”

“Now, see here, Lord Leicester, Miss Wellington,” it was the prince speaking. “There is no need for bickering. Surely we can come to some arrangement.”

The marquess sighed. “Yes, Your Grace, you are right, and I am acting abominably. It is the morning. I am not used to them…mornings, that is. Please, do forgive me.” And it was odd to note that the marquess asked the question not of his fiancée, as one would have expected, but of the prince.

“Very well. Now,” said Prince Maximilian, “this is why I suggested you be aroused and brought to me. I believe that the solution is simple:
You
shall travel up the river with me, Lord Leicester, while the lady stays here.”

The marquess’s nostrils flared, and his lips came together in a thin line. He said, “But Your Grace, how could I travel with you in that small boat? Why, there is barely enough room for you, let alone all my hounds and my men.”

The marquess gave Katrina a satisfied look while the prince glanced over in the direction of the kennel, where, even now, the hounds could be heard barking and wailing. Said the prince, “We could accommodate your men, but not the mongrels.”

“Mongrels? Really.” The marquess puffed himself up. “I really couldn’t go anywhere without my hounds, Your Grace, thank you all the same.”

The prince shrugged and, turning toward Katrina, said, “I am sorry, Miss Wellington, I tried.”

Katrina glanced down at the ground. She looked lost, defeated, and White Eagle willed her to look up, to gaze over toward him.

It took a few moments of silent entreaty; but at last, she must have heard his unspoken command, for she raised her glance, just a little, to look at him, her gaze locking onto his.

And he stared back at her.

Come with me.

He hadn’t voiced the words; they remained only an intention. However, as she parted her lips, her dark eyes still holding his glance, he realized she must have understood.

For she said, as the others were beginning to move away, leaving her, “No.” She uttered the word quietly at first, though she didn’t look at the men. She stared only at
him.
But then with more intonation, she voiced, “No, we don’t
have
to stay here.” Her gaze held fast on to
his,
as she added, “There is another way.”

“Oh?” this from Prince Maximilian, who had swung around, causing the others in the party to do the same. “And what might that other way be, Miss Wellington?”