Lord Rogue

by Patricia Rice

  That idea struck Travis like a slap on the face. Of course, she would want to meet his father. What woman could resist meeting British nobility? The world his father offered was more her world than his. Perhaps if he could offer it to her, it would right his earlier wrongs, and they could find a semblance of happiness again. He was no fool. He knew what his father wanted. Once the noble Lord Royster remarried and had a second son to carry on the line, he had not shed a tear when his ill-mannered, half-breed first-born had walked out of his life. Only now, that ill-bred first son was the only male heir he had.

  Having just learned the pain and joy of bringing a child into the world, Travis could understand some of his father’s grief at losing the son of his old age. Leaning against the door frame, Travis nodded wearily at his father- in-law’s wisdom.

  “When Alicia is well, I will talk to her. I make no more promise than that.”

  A door opened above them, and Travis was halfway up the stairs before the doctor could traverse the hallway. “How is she? May I see her?”

  Dr. Farrar nodded his head. “She is asking for you. You did a good job last night. Both mother and child are exhausted, but otherwise fine.”

  He had scarcely finished this speech before Travis was on his way to the bedroom.

  Uncertainly trying to guide her starving son to her bared breast, Alicia glanced up at Travis’s hasty entrance. She blushed and reached for the shawl on the bedside stand, but he was quicker than she. He placed the soft wool around her shoulders and brought it down around the bundle she held in her arms. His gaze fastened on the sight of his son kneading Alicia’s breast as his mouth finally located the tender nipple.

  Alicia cried out in surprise at the eagerness of his tug, and Travis chuckled. She sent him a baleful glance, but allowed him to arrange the pillows more comfortably behind her back.

  “We could call him Hercules,” he suggested, settling on the edge of the bed beside her.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Feathers ruffled by his possessive air, Alicia reacted without thought. She had forgotten Travis’s arrogant assurance, but despite her momentary irritation she was grateful for his presence.

  Travis shrugged, amused. “It is better than Maximillian or ‘Hey, you.’ We have to call him something.”

  “One of your names is Delaney. Wouldn’t that do? It has a nice sound to it.”

  “Delaney Travis? They’d laugh him out of school. Besides, it would get shortened to Dell.”

  “Dale,” Alicia corrected. At his quizzical look she explained, “Around here they can’t even pronounce Dell. It would sound like Dale.”

  Travis grinned. “You haven’t changed. You don’t dispute my right to be here, or scream and curse and throw things at me for my absence, but you would argue until you dropped to have the last word. Dale, then,” he agreed.

  “Delaney,” she amended firmly.

  His laughter startled the infant lordling into a wail, but one look at Travis’s face and Alicia relaxed, soothing the babe with a crooning voice. He might not love her, but he came when she needed him. That ought to count for something.

  With a house full of guests and no servants, Letitia took charge.

  The two British soldiers were persuaded to part with their uniforms lest the farmhands take umbrage, and then they were billeted in Auguste and Becky’s cottage. She and Chester took over the room Travis had once used—now furnished with a stately Queen Anne bed and highboy—and Jeffrey Scott was given the guest room. Travis had a choice of the nursery or Alicia’s chamber. Without giving it a second thought, he rigged a pallet in the larger room. Alicia made no protest.

  Visitors flowed through the front doors like a river. All the farmhands had to stomp across the polished floors to shake the proud father’s hand and admire the squalling progeny. Dr. Farrar notified St. Louis society, and the unusually warm November weather allowed most to travel southward to offer congratulations and eye the father with curiosity. Mrs. Lalende and Bessie Clayton traveled together bearing gifts from the girls and teachers at the school and Bessie’s famous pies. All stopped to admire the gracious home that had appeared in the midst of wilderness and to press invitations on the young couple and their guests.

  The arrival of Travis at the same time as the British soldiers had impressed society at large with the truth of his title.

  The appearance of Bear Mountain and Homasinee with their son almost overwhelmed even Letitia’s gracious hospitality, however. As the maid who answered the door shrieked and ran for the kitchen, Letitia appeared in the hall and stared in confusion at the buckskin and feather-clad visitors in the doorway. They stared back with equal confusion, giving Letitia time to spy the retinue of half-naked savages reclining in the yard behind them. Mercifully Travis ran down the stairs to save the day.

  Before the visit ended, Letitia was holding the bronze-skinned, black-haired baby with delight. She declared later she could almost see a family resemblance, throwing Alicia into a fit of jealousy and crippling Travis with laughter.

  The debonair Mr. Scott observed all. Travis had yet to commit himself to anything, evading the topic of his father and New Orleans with references to Alicia’s health. The agent caught Travis coming out of the kitchen one day and gestured for him to halt a moment. Travis eyed him impatiently.

  “Have you had time to discuss your trip to New Orleans with your wife yet? I must write your father and tell him something.”

  “She cannot even be allowed downstairs yet. I see no reason to trouble her with any decision. Traveling in midwinter is not a wise idea in any case.”

  “The weather has been mild and will be milder yet south of here. It would be healthier for your wife and child,” Scott reminded him.

  “The decision as to whether or not to go is Alicia’s, but I will decide when and how.” Curtly Travis ended the conversation.

  He found Alicia in a rocking chair beside the fire, the maroon velvet robe wrapped around her as she admired the sleeping infant in the cradle. She glanced up as Travis entered and met his troubled frown with concern.

  “What is it? Have they let one of the horses loose again? I’ve told them—”

  Travis grinned and pressed a husbandly peck against her cheek, then scooped the infant from his bed to cradle him in his arms. “Auguste has told me how you have nearly nagged him to his grave. You’ll have to confine your complaints to me from now on, I guess.”

  “You mean to stay this time?” she asked.

  “I mean to stay,” Travis agreed, touching a finger to his son’s cheek. “All bets are off, all promises ended.”

  Alicia brushed at suspicious moisture in her eye. “Then I gladly return the reins to you. I know nothing of managing men or a farm. If it isn’t the horses, what has made you frown?”

  Travis glanced into the pale oval of Alicia’s face, wishing he understood her tears, but he thanked the heavens for preserving her life. Now he must do what he could to protect her from all other harm. He returned the child to his cradle and settled into a chair across from her.

  “You have met Mr. Scott?” He knew she had. His father’s agent had been eager to see the child and meet the mother. Travis suspected everything went into letters to his father.

  “Yes. Fancy your father sending someone all the way out here to meet me. Does he approve?”

  “That wasn’t his only reason, my dear. My father is even now in New Orleans, waiting for us to join him.” At Alicia’s quizzical glance Travis explained the reason for his father’s arrival.

  When he was done, Alicia watched him. “You will have to see him.”

  Travis set his jaw and met blue eyes defiantly. “I go nowhere without you.”

  Looking startled and vaguely pleased, Alicia made no comment. It would be December before she was well enough to travel. Whether it would be safe for Dale to travel with them was another consideration.

  Jeffrey Scott shrewdly timed a visit to Alicia when Travis was not there. He admired the dark-haired, long-limbed b
abe as proudly as if he were a godparent, then worked the conversation around to New Orleans.

  “Lord Delaney tells me he will not travel without you, and I must agree. His father is quite anxious to meet you, but I fear his lordship doubts your desire to go with him. Have you some objection to meeting your father-in-law?”

  Alicia looked at him with astonishment. “Of course not. I will do whatever Travis wishes. He has made no mention of his plans to me, and I have expressed no opinion on the matter. The choice of whether to see his father belongs entirely to Travis.”

  Jeffrey Scott nodded approvingly. “I knew you were a sensible woman. His lordship fears you do not wish to leave your home and family, but the opportunities for him are enormous if a reconciliation could be made. I know you would not want to stand in his way.”

  Alicia ignored the sinking feeling produced by these words. If Travis wished to return to his home and family, she would not stand in his way, but all she knew and loved was here.

  That night, as Travis arranged his blankets in the corner of their room, Alicia took a deep breath and inquired, “When do you intend to visit your father?”

  Travis slowly finished folding his blanket, then poked the fire. “As soon as you are well enough to travel, I suppose,” he admitted grudgingly.

  Alicia checked the leap of her heart. Then he had meant what he said—he would not leave her alone again. It was for Delaney’s sake, she knew, but it fed her hopes.

  Offering a tremulous smile, she surrendered all other dreams in pursuit of this one. “I will ask Dr. Farrar in the morning.”

  Chapter 38

  By the first week of December Travis had the keelboat scrubbed and sealed and prepared for the long journey to New Orleans. Doctor Farrar had announced his patients were improving rapidly, and if they could be kept warm and dry and rested, he would not object to their traveling.

  Travis scrutinized every detail of the planning for this trip, and when the time came, he insisted on carrying Alicia to the boat himself. Snuggled inside her fur-lined pelisse, she objected to this patronization, but the sensation of Travis’s strong arms around her once again silenced argument. Clinging to his broad shoulders, she allowed herself to be carried aboard but insisted on remaining on deck to wave farewell.

  The crowded boat offered limited accommodations for a winter trip, and Chester, Letitia, Auguste, and Becky chose to stay behind. As the boat drifted into the current, tears fell and farewells were exchanged. Then the river carried them around a bend and out of sight.

  As Alicia turned away from the last sight of their home, Travis wrapped an arm around her waist. The wind off the river blew her hood from her hair, and the pale winter sun gleamed on rich chestnut tresses and frail features colored pink by the brisk breeze. There had been little chance of intimacy between them these past weeks while she recovered, and there would be even less chance now on the narrow boat. Perhaps it was better this way. They would have time to start all over again. Only this time, they would be sharing the same cabin.

  “I don’t want you getting cold, my love. Come inside, out of the wind.” Travis steered her toward the cabin.

  Alicia glanced up to Travis’s dark, sculpted face with curiosity. Since his return he had showered her with endearments and concern, but there had been nothing more physical between them than a peck on the cheek. She knew the doctor had warned him she was not ready to share his bed yet, but Travis gave no indication that he even wanted to do so. Admittedly, he came to her room every night, but it was only to sleep on a pallet on the floor. She still slept in the grandeur of their marriage bed, alone.

  “How long will it take to reach New Orleans?” she asked as they entered the cabin. Dale slept peacefully in his cradle beside the bed.

  “A month, maybe more, depending on the weather and the current. I fear it is a poor way for you to spend Christmas.”

  A month. She would be well then. There would be no other women on board to pleasure him. Did she wish to seduce him to her bed when they arrived in New Orleans? “I have never seen New Orleans. I should think meeting your father and seeing the city will be a lovely Christmas present.”

  Travis grinned ruefully. “I will have to do better than that. As Lady Delaney you will need to be decked in gold and jewels, and I have given you nothing. You will pardon the lateness of the gift if I wait until New Orleans to find the proper ornaments?”

  Alicia glanced up, half smiling; then seeing he was serious, she shook her head. “I have a trunk full of jewels if they are needed. Give me time to adjust to the fact that you are not only half horse and half alligator, but half aristocrat too, and I will garb myself accordingly.”

  Travis’s appreciative grin warmed Alicia’s insides, and his parting remark left her shaken.

  “Whatever else I may be, I’m a man, and you’re my woman. Don’t let all the other nonsense get in the way.”

  He walked out, leaving Alicia speechless. His woman! The man had his nerve! But even as she thought it, her cheeks glowed with pleasure. It was almost good to know the Indian still ruled the viscount.

  The journey downriver was swift and oppressively warm for December. The comet’s light had diminished in the night sky. The superstitious crew observed it warily, aware of the wild predictions that the fiery light would scorch the earth or crash into the mountains. Coupled with nature’s unusual behavior, anything could be expected.

  As his men rolled up in blankets around the fire on deck at night, Travis contemplated sharing the warmth of Alicia’s bed. He had left her curled between the feather ticking and quilts. He could imagine himself beside her, holding her within the curve of his body. The temptation to demand more was too great, however, and he settled into the unsatisfactory blanket roll beside the brazier.

  Word of the battle at Tippecanoe between Governor Harrison and the Shawnee tribes in the Ohio Territory had been received several weeks earlier, and the crew maintained a watch for signs of further trouble. Familiar with the various northern tribes, Travis detected signs of movement among them, but it was winter and the farther south they went, the fewer traces were noticeable. He had the uneasy feeling that trouble would reach them by spring, but he would in all likelihood be far away by then, playing the role of English lord. He might never know the outcome of the tensions building along the upper river.

  He might also be on the wrong side of war if and when it came. The cries for action against Britain had become more vehement these last months, though the Americans had no navy and few troops. How would he be able to take his place in an aristocratic society determined to wipe out the frontier life he had known the better part of his years? The thought chilled him, but Travis was determined to do what was best for his small family. Alicia deserved the privileges of rank and society, and his son should be made aware of them. He was the only one who would not fit in.

  The weather continued oddly humid as the swift current carried them past the mouth of the Ohio and the spit of land that marked the edge of Kentucky. Flocks of trumpeter swans erupted from the forest for no apparent reason, beating the air with the sound of thunder and providing amusement for the crew’s rifles, until Alicia cried for them to leave the beautiful beasts alone. They desisted, but grumbled uneasily as other flocks of ducks and geese took to the air, unprovoked by gunshot or human presence, squawking and flying aimlessly.

  The hackles on the back of Travis’s neck rose when they stopped to make camp that night—a herd of deer stood boldly and awaited his approach rather than running. He had lived off this land for many years and never seen such a thing. Instinct told him to get the hell out, but darkness had arrived, and he had a boat load of hungry people waiting to be fed. A deer would be too large to prepare. From the shelter of the trees he felled two ducks in quick succession, and wondered at the ease of his kill.

  Glancing at the darkening sky, Travis calculated the distance to New Orleans. This was mid-December. They had passed the small town of New Madrid, Missouri about noon that day
. They were making good time and should be at New Orleans by the beginning of January if things continued as they were. Their supplies would last that long easily. He would prefer to avoid the notorious docks under the cliffs at Natchez if at all possible.

  He had ordered the boat anchored on the Tennessee side of the river, beneath bluffs that provided some protection from the dangers on land. As the crew cooked the day’s catch, Travis checked the hawser, circled the deck to make certain their cargo was secured, and continued to eye the threatening sky. No sign of the comet tonight. The thick air obliterated all sight of the stars. The weather was ripe for a vicious thunderstorm if he read the warnings rightly. They should be sheltered beneath the overhang.

  Satisfied that they were as secure as he could make them, Travis joined Alicia in the cabin. The company of his father’s agent and the two British soldiers put a damper on any attempt to woo his wife. Travis picked at his food and ate silently while the men entertained Alicia with the tales of their journey to St. Louis. Alicia’s apparent interest heightened their oratory skills, Travis noted with ill humor. She still had little idea of the effect she had on men, and he’d be damned if he’d let her know the power she possessed in this wilderness.

  When the infant cried, however, the guests excused themselves and retreated to the shelter Travis had built for them on deck. Relieved of their presence, Travis relaxed and stretched his moccasins across the cabin floor while Alicia retreated among the quilts to feed their son. For the first time in a long while, he felt at home.

  When Alicia looked up again, Travis had fallen asleep among the cushions from the banquette, and she smiled. In sleep his harsh features relaxed, and he was even more handsome than when awake. A dark lock of hair fell over his high, bronzed forehead, and his black brows slashed across his angular face, emphasizing the sharp cheekbones in their shadow. All in all, though, she preferred it when his eyes were open and alive with interest, and his mouth curved upward in that intimate smile he sometimes bestowed upon her. Perhaps he was not conventionally handsome, but she feared her lonesome, vulnerable heart had surrendered to him, fool that she was.