She was powerless, but she did not have to surrender. She clung to the blankets and forced her body into stillness as Travis spent his kisses and caresses on an unresponsive statue. When his fingers produced no reaction, Travis trailed his lips lower, yielding the peaks to conquer the valleys.
A path of fire burned across her abdomen, and Alicia gasped and tried to wriggle away as she realized his intent. Travis caught her hips with his hands and slid lower, using his tongue to produce the response he desired.
Alicia had never experienced this sensation, and she whimpered as the moist heat of Travis’s mouth invaded and conquered the vulnerable cleft between her thighs. Beneath the pressure of his hands, she parted her legs, and her hips rose of their own accord to greet this subtle victor. Her body’s needs betrayed her, and tears slid from the corner of her eyes as Travis plied his victory well.
Travis took advantage of her submission to gain the ultimate success. Rising to lean over her, his entrance was swift. Alicia cried her defeat as his body moved within hers, warning her of the futility of this fight.
As he came to a shuddering explosion inside her, Alicia knew of a certainty that if she did not already bear his child, she soon would. He had filled her and claimed her and there would be no escape. Tomorrow he might return to his other lover, but for the rest of her life, she would be his.
And she wept.
Chapter 30
When Alicia awoke, it was to an empty bed. Blankets had been carefully arranged around her to keep her warm, but there was no sign of Travis. Or her clothes.
The first mild stirrings of nausea prevented any sudden movement. She feared this symptom as much as she had wanted it earlier. Perhaps it was just the unaccustomed food. Now that Travis held her prisoner, pregnancy would be a cage from which there would be no escape. Alicia searched the room in search of her clothes.
The pretty muslin gown had disappeared. A neatly folded stack of deerskin lay beside the bed, and Alicia eyed it with loathing. She could guess what it represented, and her pride rebelled at donning this uniform of subservience. He meant to make her his squaw, but she would not do it.
The alternative, however, became painfully clear when Travis entered the hut a short time later. After stacking his load of kindling next to the wall, he stared down at her still wrapped in blankets. Alicia felt the heat of his black gaze stripping away the rough woolens, and she clutched them tighter.
Grabbing his shirttails, Travis pulled the linen over his head. “If you are inclined to spend the day there, I will be more than happy to join you.”
Frantically Alicia sat up. “No, Travis. Don’t.” She inched away from him.
Lowering his arms, Travis pointed at the stack of clothing. “Those will be more suitable while we are here. Put them on and start breakfast. I will be back shortly.”
He strode out without another word, leaving Alicia glaring at the deerskin. If he thought she would parade about half naked for his prurient enjoyment, he would be mightily disappointed.
She lifted the top garment, a long, fringed skirt similar to what Homasinee had worn. It tied with leather thongs, adjusting to any waistline; a convenience to a growing one, Alicia judged cynically. Slipping it on, she learned the open flap made leg movement easy, though exposing an unseemly amount of calf and ankle.
Beneath the skirt lay a simple cotton tunic without sleeves or collar. She had not seen any of the women in camp wearing such a garment, but she felt relief at its inclusion. Heavy blankets would have made a poor substitute. Still, after she had pulled it over her head, Alicia wondered if she should not wrap the blanket around her anyway. The thin material did little to disguise her unfettered breasts, and her arms felt bare and vulnerable without even a shawl to cover them. Once she had wrapped the beaded belt about her waist to hold in the billowing material, she had accomplished no more than disguising her skin. The dark aureoles of her breasts pressed visibly against the cotton, and the cut of the tunic emphasized every curve.
Despairing of ever living in decency again, Alicia slipped on the leather moccasins left for her and studied the hut. There was no washstand, no discreetly hidden chamber pot, no basin of water available. Before she even contemplated fixing food, she had to wash and relieve herself. The urgency of her bladder outweighed the churning in her stomach, and she dearly wished to rid herself of the stench of last night’s activities. She refused to call it lovemaking.
Lifting her chin and trying not to show her self-consciousness, Alicia stooped to leave the wigwam and find the river. Travis could try his best to strip her of civilization and reduce her to the level of a heathen savage, but there were some things too deeply ingrained to remove. The need for cleanliness was one of them.
As Travis left his cousin’s hut with a bowl of cornmeal, he watched Alicia’s progress through the village. Noting her direction, he guessed her intention. Leaving the bowl inside the hut, he followed at a discreet distance. The clothing he had provided for her hung well on her tall, slender frame, and he admired the graceful sway of her hips as she strode over the rough terrain. Judging from the lascivious smirks on the faces of the hunters emerging from their huts for the day, others appreciated the sight also. Cursing, Travis glared his warning at any appearing to look too closely. He had been too long from this world and had forgotten the easy acceptance of sexuality here. If he had not already claimed her, Alicia would be easy prey to every man here. His stride grew faster.
Travis did nothing more than stand guard as Alicia lifted her skirt and waded out into the river. The current was strong, but she had chosen a shallow eddy that would be safe enough. He tried not to watch as she threw the skirt to shore and waded out farther, but the urge to join her there was almost crippling. Never before had one woman driven him to such obsessive lengths, and he struggled to control his raging desire. He had meant to teach Alicia a lesson, but he was rapidly learning things about himself that he did not wish to know—his civilization was a thin veneer.
Just when he thought he could endure it no longer, Alicia waded back to shore and wrapped up in her skirt. When he saw her safely on the road back to the village, Travis stripped off his own clothing and dived into the icy river. Short of raping her, there was only one solution to his problem, but even the icy bath could not rid him of the burning desire flowing through his veins.
Alicia glanced up warily as he returned to the hut. The breakfast ingredients he provided were not what she was accustomed to, no doubt, but she was apparently as hungry as he. She breaded the fish with some of the cornmeal, and made a flat cake out of the rest.
Travis ate her offering in silence. He could scarcely keep his gaze from straying to the hard points of Alicia’s breasts pushing at the thin material of her blouse. Why had he never discovered the temptations of this mode of dress before?
In his youth, he had lain with whichever maiden smiled upon him, and then had gone about his business without another thought. Why did Alicia have the power to drive him mad with longing, even when he had possessed her as thoroughly as a man could possess a woman? Why did her partially covered breasts drive him insane when he scarcely noticed the nudity of the other women outside the hut? Even Homasinee had long since failed to arouse this kind of interest in him. If he admitted it to himself, she had never aroused in him this savage hunger and protectiveness.
He must prove to her the justness of his claim. He had failed to make his case yesterday because he had allowed his desires to rule his actions. He would not make the same mistake twice. Alicia had been brought up having everything her own way. He would have to teach her that she couldn’t make up her own rules.
“If we are to stay here, I will have to do my part in bringing home food. While I am out, you may help the other women in the field or stay with Homasinee and help her. Which would you prefer?” He did not tell her Homasinee had been assigned the chores given to old women or child- bearing ones. He preferred that Alicia stay in the village.
Alicia glared. “I
want to go home.”
Travis raised one eyebrow. “You are prepared to go before a preacher and admit you are mine?”
“I will do no such thing!” Alicia stalked to the far corner of the room. “You cannot hold me prisoner forever. Send me home before you bring trouble on your friends.”
“I anticipate no trouble. Our pledge was binding, and your father cannot object if I choose to take you to my family. You are not mistreated, and you have your choice of homes. We are wedded legally here, and so far, this is where you have chosen to stay. Say the word, and I will return you to the farm, where we may be legally wed under the white man’s laws.”
“I will not marry a savage! I want to go home—to Philadelphia. I am not your wife and can never be your wife. Why can you not understand that?”
“I have very little, Alicia, and I keep what is mine, and whether you will it or no, you are mine. We will stay here until you accept that.”
Travis walked out, leaving Alicia to decide for herself how she would spend the day. She contemplated following the river upstream until she reached help or St. Louis, whichever came first, but she knew nothing of surviving in the wilderness, and the life within her was too precious to risk. She had run that first time and learned the consequences. She wanted this child, even if she wished its father in hell.
She chose to stay with Homasinee. The Indian woman seemed surprised to see her, but accepted Alicia’s offer of help in exchange for learning something of the Algonquin language. Alicia helped arrange the pallet so Homasinee might recline comfortably with her feet raised while directing Alicia in what needed to be done. The mindless tasks gave plenty of opportunity for exchanging tentative words.
Homasinee’s understanding of English was greater than her desire to speak it, but Alicia interpreted her words and gestures with some success. Like any woman, Homasinee was curious about why Travis had brought his white bride here, and why they spent so little time in their marriage bed. When Alicia understood this last question, she blushed and looked away. It seemed even Indians had the equivalent of a honeymoon.
Alicia did not try to explain that she was prisoner, not wife. It was obvious to all that Travis took her as wife, and the complexity of explaining the difference in a foreign language was beyond her ability. Homasinee laughed at Alicia’s uninformative shrug, declaring that Travis was like the moon and stars and wind in the trees. He did as he pleased and no one could stop him.
That seemed an apt enough description of Travis’s masculine arrogance, and his appearance later that afternoon confirmed it. Having caught more than his quota of game, he returned early, before his cousin. After exchanging a few words with Homasinee, he gestured for Alicia to follow him.
He led her back to the wigwam, where he had started a fire and heated a large pot of water. Alicia glanced at him questioningly, wondering if he meant her to cook something in that awkward pot.
Travis shrugged at her glance. “I would introduce you to the amenities of the bathhouse, but I do not think you would appreciate communal sweating. Nor do I think your constitution strong enough to risk a dive in the cold river afterward. This is the best I have to offer in exchange. Do not tarry long. I am starved and will make my own ablutions in the river.”
Alicia stared after him as Travis disappeared out the door. She would never understand him, not if she lived for a thousand years.
Without further question she disrobed and made the most of this impromptu bath. When she had sponged herself as clean as she could, she dipped her hair in the water and worked the harsh soap he had provided through it.
Travis returned while she bent over the pot, working the lather out. Alicia was still naked when he knelt beside her to help.
Trapped, she could not refuse his offer, but as soon as the last drop of soap had been wrung from her hair, she reached for the blanket. Travis stayed her hand. His dark gaze told her all she needed to know, and she trembled as he reached to unfasten his buckskin trousers.
“No, Travis,” she whispered, backing away. He wore no shirt, and his broad shoulders still glistened with the moisture of his bath. The dark rings of the tattoo upon his arm flexed as he removed the remainder of his clothing.
Travis did not reply, but merely grasped her by the arm and lifted her to her feet. The heat of his bronzed skin seared hers as he drew her against him. With a groan she felt the hardness rising against her belly, but she had learned the folly of struggling. He could take her body, but she would never surrender her soul.
She was not so certain of that some hours later when she lay beside Travis’s sleeping figure in the nighttime darkness. An owl hooted in the trees, and a million chirping, whirring insects filled the air with music. She still felt the imprint of his body, knew the heat of his life’s fluid within her. He had taken her not once, but several times. His lust had seemed insatiable, and she had consented to it. Not only consented, but responded shamelessly.
Travis’s arm lay across her, trapping her at his side, one hand still circling her breast, and she did not move away. How long before her mind and heart succumbed to this addiction of her body? How long before he owned her soul?
Alicia blushed as Travis stirred in his sleep and unconsciously caressed her aroused nipple. Just that small gesture woke the ache between her legs, and she knew she had only to touch him, and he would be there to satisfy her. As long as he was within her reach, she could not escape. Her soul was lost, consumed by a desire worse than any addiction to opium or whiskey. No matter how wrong her mind told her this was, her body ached for the completeness Travis gave her. Hell could not be worse.
Chapter 31
Travis’s cousin woke them at daybreak. He paid scant heed as Alicia scrambled to cover her nudity with blankets. His dark face pale and pinched about the mouth, he spoke a few sharp words to Travis. Still groggy, Travis reacted slowly, forcing his cousin to repeat his words. Then nodding, he sent Bear Mountain away.
“Homasinee is in pain. My cousin fears she will lose the child. He thinks you can help her.” Sitting up, Travis groped for his pants.
Alicia’s gaze followed him with bewilderment. “How can I help? I know nothing of babies. She needs a doctor.”
“I know.” Curtly Travis jerked off her blankets and threw clothes at her. “We’ll have to take her to St. Louis.”
Alicia grabbed for the buckskin skirt she had scorned the day before. “How will we do that? I should think travel would be dangerous in her condition.” She wrapped the skirt on and reached for the tunic.
Travis scowled at the eager light in her eyes. He had not given her time to brush her hair last night, and it hung in wild profusion over her shoulders and down her back. Had it not been for her fair skin, she would look almost native in that outfit. Knowing she wore nothing beneath it satisfied him momentarily.
“We will have to return by keelboat. A message will get to Auguste by mid-morning. There’s enough crew at the farm to manage a short trip.”
Homasinee smiled weakly as they entered. Alicia knelt beside her while the men spoke in low tones. Seeing Homasinee’s anxiety obliterated Alicia’s small hopes of freedom. It did not matter what St. Louis society thought. Her first concern had to be saving this child.
Under Homasinee’s direction she brewed a bark tea and brought it to her patient. There seemed to be no bleeding as yet, and Alicia brought blankets and furs to prop up Homasinee’s feet and head and make her comfortable. She was aware that Travis had left, but she knew he would be back.
He was in and out the rest of the morning, checking to see if anything was needed, reassuring his cousin, joking with Homasinee.
By noon word of the boat’s arrival reached them. As Travis arranged for furs and blankets to be taken to the boat to supplement the ones already there, Alicia tried to reassure the other woman’s fear.
When Travis appeared in the doorway, demanding to know the reason for their delay, Alicia looked up at him with anger and frustration.
“She is
terrified. How do you expect me to explain to her where she will be going and what the doctor will do? You’re her lover. She will listen to you.”
Travis’s black brows rose, but he entered to cajole their terrified patient. Alicia retreated to the entrance and so heard the uproar outside before the room’s other occupants. Lifting the door flap, she glanced out, and did not conceal her gasp.
Travis was on his feet in an instant, following her gaze and cursing. From the path through the woods rode Chester Stanford, Dr. Bernard Farrar, and the minister from Alicia’s church, the first two bearing rifles.
In dismay Alicia glanced down at her state of undress and then up to Travis’s set face. With terrible certainty she knew all decision had been stripped from her. There never had been a choice. A terrible fear for the future yawned before her, but she slipped into the hut’s interior and retrieved the pelisse she had left there two nights before. She would meet her fate respectably covered.
Travis stepped out, silencing the angry shouts and commands between the villagers and the intruders. An expression of relief swept across Stanford’s face, to be replaced by grimness.
Trotting his horse down the dirt-packed street, he confronted Travis. “Where is my daughter?”
Alicia appeared in the doorway wrapped in a woolen pelisse on a brilliant day of sunshine. Her hair streamed down her back and shoulders. “I am here,” she stated coldly. Her father was as much to blame for this fiasco as Travis. She swung her gaze to the two white men hovering in the background. “Dr. Farrar, your services are needed inside.”
The young physician swung down from his horse and accompanied Alicia inside. The thin flap of animal hide over the doorway did not keep out angry voices.
“I am not going to ask what this is about.” Her father’s words carried with a controlled fury that she recognized. “I have a rifle and I know how to use it, but I trust you know your responsibility in this matter. I would prefer to see my daughter married in the church, but I will see it done right here and now if there are any objections. The choice is yours.”
Lord Rogue Page 26
