When she caught a glimpse of Martha LaRouche and her daughter, Babette, she was glad she had made the decision in favor of formality. Although their gowns were the fashion of a decade ago, they had garbed themselves with an eager desire to take advantage of this rare social event. The room rustled with heavy petticoats and taffeta as they rushed to greet their guest.
In no time Alicia found herself describing the world she had left behind to a captivated Babette while Martha and Jacques greeted their remaining guests. At seventeen, the French girl was still awkward and self-conscious, but her dusky beauty would soon attract suitors. Her laughter chimed at Alicia’s description of the meeting of the French and English ambassadors in her aunt’s drawing room. The war between their countries might rage with saber and cannon, but the tongues on the two politicians had cut a wide swath through that evening.
Even though the raw new capital at Washington was to be the seat of government, Philadelphia continued to be the meeting place of the influential. Alicia was accustomed to formal social occasions with aristocrats from all over the world, and she adapted easily to this new culture.
Just as she began to feel secure in her new surroundings, the cabin door opened, and Babette screeched in delight.
“Travis! You came! Mama said you would!”
The young girl threw herself into the arms of a frock-coated gentleman who hugged her with as much enthusiasm as she greeted him.
“Babette, you dangerous little peacock, you grow more beautiful every time I see you. When are you going to marry me?”
Babette laughed and led the newcomer into the room. Recognizing the deep baritone, Alicia stared in disbelief. How could the elegantly attired gentleman with his shining black hair pulled back in a neat queue be the half-naked savage from the river? The chocolate brown velvet coat molded to broad shoulders not requiring padding, and the sophisticated striped waistcoat of gold and ivory satin accented his lean waist as well as good taste. Alicia shied away from gazing at the buckskin breeches conforming to muscled calves and thighs. If they were as exquisitely tailored as the coat, she would not be able to hide her embarrassment.
Instead she gazed upward to the high cheekbones and black eyes of his bronzed countenance, and met a trace of sardonic humor.
“Mrs. Stanford, I believe,” he drawled. “How good it is to make your acquaintance again.”
Speechless, Alicia could scarcely reply, but fortunately Jacques intervened.
Slapping Travis on the back, he laughed. “We had to ask this no-count renegade. He the only one hereabouts who have the fancy coat to wear!”
Amusement curled one corner of Alicia’s mouth as she held out her hand to the Indian. “I suspect I was invited for the same reason. I am pleased to meet you again, Mr. Travis.”
“Oh, no, not Mister! I’m Jacques, he, Travis. We no need titles here,” the Frenchman protested.
Travis’s gaze sauntered from her waves of chestnut hair to her delicate gown. He grinned. “I suspect you are right, Mrs. Stanford. Martha and Babette have a penchant for civilization that the remainder of the community sadly lacks.”
He hugged the giggling young girl at his side. “I dare say they have met their match tonight.” This time, his gaze swept approvingly over her slender black gown that left a shocking expanse of ivory shoulders and arms bared.
Alicia froze under his appreciative gaze and turned to her host. “I don’t believe I have met all your guests. If you would introduce me . . .”
Acknowledging her request, Jacques led her away, giving his puzzled friend only a shrug.
Undeterred, Travis insinuated himself into a seat across the table from Alicia when she sat down to eat. Well-known by Jacques’ guests, he kept the conversation flowing and made certain it included the guest of honor. Since she was so obviously embarrassed by his frank stare, Travis made his presence unobtrusive.
Once she became a part of the conversation, Alicia relaxed and enjoy the evening. The meal was a simple one, consisting of recently harvested vegetables: beans and corn and early squash cooked with chunks of fat and bits of bacon, plus a haunch of venison. Since the trestle table scarcely contained room for all the guests, people roamed about, carrying their tin plates. Some of the men disappeared outside to smoke their pipes and pass a jug, while their womenfolk gossiped by the fireside. Martha and Babette bobbed back and forth from the kitchen, keeping the dishes filled. Alicia held back a smile at the manner in which a tasty loaf of bread was ripped to crumbs before it reached the end of the table.
A fiddler appeared and played a merry tune that was soon joined by the lilting notes of a mouth harp. Well warmed by the juice of a jug, a few men dragged out their wives into a small space cleared on the cabin floor, and the walls rattled with their foot-stomping appreciation of the music. Laughing, clapping, caught up in the fun, others joined them until only Alicia and Jacques remained at the table.
Unaware of her wistful expression as she watched Babette swing around the circle in the arms of her tall Indian partner, Alicia almost jumped at the sound of the deep voice behind her.
“Out here a woman cannot live alone. If she not have family, she must find a man.” A wide, white grin broke across the Frenchman’s dark face as she turned to face him. “And there are many, many men out here to choose from. A widow marries quickly. There is no time for mourning when the logs need chopping and the pot needs meat. Why don’t you dance and make merry like the others?”
Since she had refused every offer to dance, the question was an honest one, but Alicia was incapable of answering. Even she was uncertain of the truth. She could force herself to do many things, but there was no purpose in forcing herself to join the dancers. She would never marry, so she need not submit to the touch of total strangers. She shook her head politely.
“My father is in St. Louis. I am not without family,” she offered in explanation, though she knew she bent the truth. Her father had been in St. Louis five years ago. Whether he still walked this earth at all was a matter of pure speculation.
The evening ended before midnight, and as the guests drifted into the night, and Babette and Martha began cleaning the ruins, Travis appeared to say his farewells.
“I thank you for the evening, Jacques. It will give me something to remember on those long nights down the river.”
Helping Babette fold up a rug so the remnants of someone’s tobacco could be shaken out, Alicia tried to ignore the polished accents coming so strangely from this man she knew to be an uncouth boatman. But her efforts were unsuccessful. The knowledge that he intended to travel downriver compelled her to listen.
“You goin’, then?” the Frenchman asked with interest. “They say Tecumseh and his warriors are refusin’ to treat with Harrison. Them filthy redcoats be promisin’ the heavens to the heathens. Can’t be healthy for travelin’.”
Travis’s thin lips quirked in a wry smile. “That should be no problem for a redcoat renegade like me. You worry too much, Jacques. You’re getting old. I’ve got a hankering for new places. I’ll write you when I find them.”
Jacques snorted. “A river rat never stays one place for long. It will kill you, my friend.”
Before the conversation could get more personal, Alicia intruded. “Did you say you were traveling downriver, Mr. Travis?”
“The boat is nearly done, Mrs. Stanford. I did not build it for amusement.”
Taking a deep breath and avoiding his quizzical stare, she turned to her host. “Have you found Mr. Daniels yet?”
Jacques shrugged. “He no return. I keep looking, but he is a man prefers wilderness to town.” He shook his head to silence his friend. It would not do to tell the lady the man she sought lay in a drunken stupor under the back stairs of a local tavern.
Gathering her courage, sensing that the elusive Mr. Daniels might never return, Alicia confronted the cynical gentleman. “Would there be room for a passenger on this boat of yours, Mr. Travis? I would pay well.”
“Madam, I will
be traveling with a crew of nine men on a river that is so low we may have to pole our way down it. Without rain, we will have to portage around the falls and any sandbars. The discomfort of traveling in such a manner is difficult enough for strong men, but with the added danger of Indians on the warpath and river pirates on the banks, I would not recommend the voyage to anyone, especially a woman traveling alone.”
Stung by his scorn, Alicia drew herself up to her full height, tilting her chin. “You need only promise to curtain off one corner of the cabin for my privacy. I can walk the same as any man if we must. The Indians and the outlaws are a risk I must take no matter when or how I travel. I fear my traveling companions more than other dangers.” She eyed Travis with doubt. “If I may take Jacques’ word that you are capable of behaving with a better degree of courtesy than the cutthroat who left me here, I am willing to take the risk if you are.”
Travis laughed. “I am not so certain I trust myself so much as Jacques does. But if you are foolish enough to accept the risks, I will accept your offer of a generous fee. My cargo may not sell as well in St. Louis as New Orleans, and you will complicate the journey.”
Beginning to shake with joy and fear, Alicia simply nodded. She would pay any price to be as far gone from Philadelphia as she could. The possibility of finding her father filled her with elation, but the danger of the journey marred any notion of happiness. That, and her predicament, kept her feet firmly on the ground. She was a survivor, but some days the struggle made her wonder if it were worth the effort.
With self-assurance Travis turned to his host. “I’ll escort the lady home, Jacques. You rest that foot and take Martha off to bed before she works herself to death. Give both your women a kiss from me.”
Torn between outrage at his presumptuousness and the guess that Babette would prefer to be kissed by the stylish renegade than her father, Alicia lost her chance to control the situation. Repeating her farewells and appreciation, she let herself be led into the starlit night in the company of a man she instinctively knew to be dangerous.
“Where is your earring tonight, Mr. Travis?” she asked as he took her elbow and steered her toward the street.
“You like my earring?” he returned. “I’ll wear it in the morning when you come down to quarrel over the terms of our arrangement.”
“I see no reason why I should speak with you again until it is time to leave. Simply name your price and date of departure.”
“You open yourself to some interesting propositions with that offer, Mrs. Stanford. No wonder Captain Danforth was so irate at your lack of interest. But I will not insult Jacques’ wisdom by naming the terms that first come to mind. Come down to the boat in the morning, and we will talk money and preparations. The nighttime should be reserved for more pleasant things.”
Alicia bridled at the implication, but she would not lower herself to arguing with a creature who probably referred to himself as “half horse, half alligator” like the other keelboatmen.
“I cannot fathom what further preparations might be needed, but if you will not discuss terms tonight, then there is no point in your accompanying me any longer. Thank you for your company, but I can see myself back.”
“I promised Jacques to see you home, and I will, if I must hog-tie you and carry you screaming through the streets. If you are to travel with me, Mrs. Stanford, you must learn to obey orders, or I will put you off on the first island we come to. A boat cannot be run down this river unless all hands are prepared to jump when ordered. Perhaps you had better think twice about signing on with me.”
Shocked at being spoken to in such a manner, Alicia fought back any hasty reply. She needed this arrogant half-breed to take her away from here. It was most vexing to be placed at such a disadvantage, but she would have her own back one of these days. St. Louis was a civilized city. They would listen to a lady’s complaints. Then let this black-eyed monster look at her the way he was doing now. She longed to slap him, but that would be lowering herself to his level.
“I shall do that, Mr. Travis,” she replied as they reached the tavern door. “If I am not down at the river in the morning, you may find another passenger. Good night.”
Stunned by the possibility that she might choose to stay behind rather than travel with him, Travis hesitated long enough to allow her to escape through the door before he had the presence of mind to kiss her, as he had planned. Grimacing at the realization of his own arrogance in assuming she would rather travel with him than stay here, he shoved open the tavern door and followed her in.
She was scurrying toward the stairs when his voice boomed over the murmur of voices at the bar. “It was a pleasant evening, Mrs. Stanford. I look forward to seeing you in the morning!”
Alicia stared at him in dismay, until the reaction of the other men in the room caused her to choke and flee for her chambers. The bigot at the bar was fighting apoplexy at the sight of Travis in his frock-coat standing head and shoulders above the crowd. And the others were pulling themselves up out of half-drunken stupors to stare in disbelief at his cultured tones. The sight of Alicia’s frail silk disappearing up the stairway topped it all off, and within minutes the saloon was in an uproar.
Travis smiled, bowed, and departed.
Upstairs in her locked room, Alicia gazed out the moonlit window to the street below. The midnight terror had her in its grip, and her hand clutched at the tiny rounding between her hipbones. Never, ever would she let another man touch her. Just the thought of it made her tremble until the sickness returned. But this was a man’s world she was entering now. Why had she not thought of that when she fled the horror she left behind?
She had been given fair warning that first night in Pittsburgh. The stagecoach had left her at what had been promised as a respectable hostelry, but the ruffians inhabiting it had been little better than the ones below, including the women.
Closing her eyes against the memory of the knife flashing in the hands of the woman at the bar, Alicia tried to calm herself. She had never seen a knife fight before. The blood . . .! It sickened her to remember it, sickened her to remember a woman had been the one to wield it. But most of all, it sickened her to remember the wild surge of vengeful delight she had felt as the man fell to the floor. Filled with loathing for her reaction, she had fled the room, but the memory haunted her. She now knew the fiend she could become, the kind of person he would make of her if she let him.
Dropping her shawl to the dresser, Alicia stared at the tiny mirror. She could not let the madness inside of her be released. She must fight it with every ounce of pride she had left, though Teddy had left her little. To give in would be to lower herself to the same level as that knife-wielding harlot, and that way lay destruction. She had been raised a lady. Even among savages she must remain a lady, at whatever cost.
Torn between helpless fury at the violence that had been done to her and the need to preserve what remained of her shattered pride, Alicia rocked back and forth in front of the mirror. She could not let another man do that to her again. She would buy the means to prevent that in the morning. Before she went to the river.
Chapter 4
Tucking the small pearl-handled pistol she had just purchased into her bag, Alicia turned to leave the general mercantile store. A well-endowed, somewhat eccentrically garbed woman with flamboyant red hair stopped in the doorway before Alicia could exit and studied her with curiosity.
Alicia had heard of women like this, but protected as she had been, had never met one. The revulsion she felt for what this woman must do for a living provoked an irrational curiosity to know more, but she would have passed silently by had not the other woman spoken first.
“Well, I declare, if it isn’t the little lady what has the whole river talkin’! How do you do, honey? I’m Molly Malone, or so’s they call me, leastways. Meeting Lonetree this morning, ain’t you? Mind if I walk a ways with you?”
Unable to refuse politely as the larger woman followed her, Alicia covered her confusion
with silence. The woman’s nearly lashless eyes looked her over with open curiosity, but there appeared to be no animosity in them.
“Mite on the quiet side, ain’t you, honey? Lonetree’s an odd one. Might be he prefers ’em like that, but I can’t see how a proper lady like you would get mixed up with the likes of him. I’m not meanin’ to be nosy, honey, but I take an interest in my friends.”
Alicia’s footsteps slowed to a halt, and she studied the brash, honest features of this overdressed, overweight woman. The woman’s complexion showed the effects of an excess of liquor and paint, but despite the artificiality of her appearance, there seemed genuine concern for the elusive half-breed in her expression.
“Mrs. Malone, I appreciate your interest, but I fail to understand your meaning. Mr. Lonetree or Travis or whatever he is called has offered to transport me to St. Louis and my father. It is strictly a business arrangement. If there is something else I should know, please feel free to confide in me.
The woman broke into a grin and looked Alicia up and down admiringly. “Well, honey, you got a mite more gumption than that prissy gown gives you credit for, I’ll say that. Maybe Lonetree knows what he’s doin’. Usually does, that’s for certain. Never saw such a man for getting what he wants, providin’ he knows what he wants. But when a man starts putting on fancy duds and goin’ to town instead of taking up a lady’s invitation to her bed, it sure sounds like he knows what he wants. He’s a mite on the wild side, that injun blood in him, I reckon, but he’s a good man. You ain’t going to find none better out here. Always wondered what that boy had in him, but now I see what he’s been after. You don’t want him, just send him back to me. I’ll look after him.”
Incredulous, unwilling to grasp her outrageous implication, Alicia shook her head in disbelief. “I’ll keep your recommendation in mind, Mrs. Malone. I thank you for sharing your thoughts with me.”
Lord Rogue Page 3
