by Beth Trissel
Jack left explanations to Thomas. Brewster could stew over her the whole evening for all he cared.
“Thrown from her mount,” her uncle said. “If we could find a spot near the hearth?”
“Certainly.” Brewster sprang at the occupants of two stools, shooing them aside to make room for Jack and Karin.
She wanly smiled her appreciation at their zealous host. “Thank you kindly, Mister Brewster.”
He staggered as though she’d robbed him of breath. What would the man do under the force of a truly dazzling smile, faint? Jack wondered, and sat in the vacated seats. He noted the grudging lines at Brewster’s mouth from having to oblige such an unwanted guest.
Taking advantage of his choice position, Jack propped Karin beside him and circled a possessive arm around her. He waved Thomas toward the gathering. “You’ve done enough. Go eat, drink, join in the revelry.”
“Have care.” Thomas cast him a reproving look before he turned aside.
Clearly, Thomas thought Jack too cocky and perhaps he was. But now, with Karin at his side, he didn’t care about anything else except keeping her close.
Brewster sidled from boot to boot, his gaze still on her. “Might I fetch some ale or whiskey to warm you, Miss McNeal?”
“She’s had plenty of spirits,” Jack intervened.
Brewster angled a frown at him then lightened his expression for her. “Some pastry, perhaps?”
Karin nodded and he bounded off.
“Like a hound after a rabbit,” Jack muttered.
“He means well.” She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “The fire feels heavenly.”
Jack tucked her into his chest. “What of me?”
“Too good,” she admitted.
He chuckled softly.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not still vexed with you.”
“Of course.” Though she felt anything but irate at the moment.
She cocked her head at him, eyes cast with a soft light. “I’m just tempted to forget a little.” Brandy and the knock on her head seemed to have enhanced her natural candor.
“As am I.”
Seemingly puzzled, she asked, “Are you vexed too?”
“By this whole insane day.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” he said.
“But, I’m not the one who—”
He smiled and bent nearer, brushing her parted lips. She shut her eyes and leaned in closer to his kiss. A thrill ripped through him, and he closed hungry lips over her willing mouth. He was famished and not only for food, the lips beneath his, so sweet.
An almost palpable wave of disapproval traveled the room, but Jack didn’t back off. If she were warm and fed, he’d carry her away right now, but where? Did wolves await them or a raging bear? Frustration mounted in him alongside his deepening desire. “I neglected to tell you something earlier,” he confessed against her mouth.
“What?”
“I’m fear I’m terribly in love.”
“Really? With me?”
Before he could answer in tenderness or teasing, their host chose that moment to return with a steaming plate of chicken pie. Jack drew back from Karin just in time to see Brewster nearly chuck it at him.
His mother’s timely arrival interrupted any attempt Brewster might make to express himself in more forceful terms. He thrust the plate at Karin and strode off, but Jack wasn’t convinced he’d removed himself in any permanent sense.
Shifting troubled eyes between them, Sarah passed him a brimming mug, pewter spoons, and trencher piled high with beef stew. “How handsome you two look together. Though not all are in agreement, I’m afraid.”
“How strongly do they disagree, Mama?” he asked calmly.
Just now I would say Brewster’s nose is well out of joint. Jeb Tate is glowering, though I doubt he would try anything after the way you lit into him earlier. At least, not alone.”
“He’s not alone in his sentiments.”
“No. Others are casting sour glances your way. Perhaps I should sit with the lass until folks come round?”
“Folks will only do that when they respect me. We welcome the food, Mama. Please return to your friends.”
Uncertainty flitted over her face, but Jack refused to take cover behind his mother’s skirts. She left with abundant reluctance in her expression. He passed Karin a spoon. “Eat up. You need your strength.”
The apprehension in her eyes mirrored his mother’s. “So do you, I fear.”
So far, no man had troubled him, but Jack watched his back as if scouting for ambush among the trees. He dipped his spoon into the meaty stew and lifted it to his lips. “I’m in the lion’s den, right enough. I don’t know how much longer I dare remain here.”
“You are not leaving me behind,” she whispered.
“On that point, we’re agreed. Although I have no idea where to take you except back to the McNeal’s homestead.”
“If you think to leave me there while you take off after you know who, you had better think again, sir.”
He arched his brows at her. “That so, my spunky little miss?”
“I shall set out and find you, Jack McCray.”
He snorted. “A skilled tracker now, are you?”
She fixed him with steely resolve. “‘Whither thou goest I shall go.’ ”
“Don’t go quoting scripture at me. Have you any notion what we’re up against?”
She swallowed hard. “Better than anyone here.”
“Women can be a great deal of trouble on a journey.”
“I’m not just any woman.”
“No. You are a particularly troublesome one with a crazed bear after you.”
She scooped up a bite of pastry, licking a drop of gravy while weighing him with a soulful gaze. “But worth all the bother, am I not?”
He knew then that she’d won.
She spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “Have you a plan that doesn’t involve killing my father?”
“More of a wild hope really. And I never wanted to kill him, only as a last resort.”
“Find another way, then.”
“I’m ever the schemer, sweetheart. Perhaps if I, or we, reach Shequenor before he destroys us—”
“I think he will not,” she interjected.
“He came damn close. He’s on a rampage. But maybe we can soothe the troubled beast, so to speak. We have the necklace he wants and Peki. Perhaps if we return those—”
Her eyes widened. “You would give back Peki?”
“Not with any joy, but to save you. Maybe then, you know who will leave us in peace.”
The look she gave Jack restored some of the heroic luster he’d lost. “I badly want you lodged somewhere safe while I see to this. But God help me, I don’t know where that may be, or who can guard you better than I.”
“There is no such place or person apart from you. Let us venture on this quest together, Jack.”
“You make it seem so very romantic, as though we are going in search of the Holy Grail.”
“Near enough for me, if we can see my father in his real form and perhaps redeem him. Please don’t leave me behind.”
He weighed her plea, badly wanting to kiss the lips that uttered it. “As I can’t very well protect you from any distance, I agree to your coming. And you may be able to reach out to him where no one else can. But you must heed me, Karin. Agreed?”
She nodded, her eyes bright with the trust Jack fervently hoped wasn’t misplaced. Ultimately, he would do as he must with Shequenor.
“First rule when on the run is to eat whenever you have the chance. You never know when the opportunity will come again.” That said, he passed the spoon back and forth between them and shared his dish. Karin did the same with her chicken pie. He wolfed down his portion. This sure beat hunting, cleaning, and cooking his dinner. Upending the mug, he drank thirstily then indulged her in a long swallow of ale. “Better now?”
She answered with a smile tha
t left him shamefully weak.
“Jack!”
Damn. That bellow belonged to Joseph.
He swiveled his head to see little brother stride into the room. Now, Jack had trouble, and Brewster just gained a staunch ally.
Chapter Fourteen
Karin looked around at Joseph’s thunderous arrival. She never thought she’d regard him as the enemy, but at that moment, the way his eyes bored into her and Jack, she felt her hackles rise like a dog backed into a corner.
A fight was brewing and not just with Joseph. The pressure that charged the air before a storm oppressed the crowd gone still. It didn’t help when the music ceased and every dancer froze in mid-step. Heads turned with the tense regard of folks not inclined to await judgment. Their solutions were more immediate.
“Tory” and “Blue Licks” escaped accusing lips, Kyle Brewster and his slitty-eyed father among them. Word of Jack’s transgression had swiftly spread. Many were passing a harsh judgment on him as she’d done earlier. Oh, but he was Jack! Not that they cared.
Karin did the only sensible thing she could think of. Reaching her arms around his neck, she held on tightly. “Let’s leave now,” she said in his ear.
He remained seated, his keen gaze scouting the irate assembly. “There are a number of obstacles to that, darling.”
Surprisingly, or not so surprising, most of the women seemed to assess him in a more open fashion. That could only further irritate the men.
Joseph stalked up to them. “Taking cover behind her, are you.”
“Am I, Karin?” Jack asked off-handedly, although she sensed the tension in his hard shoulders.
If she had the ears of a horse, they’d be laid back flat against her head. “I am not letting go.”
Jack calmly said, “It seems I’m confined. Could we keep this matter between the two of us, Joseph?”
The younger man colored the hue of a flaming coal. He bent low and thrust his face into Jack’s. “We’re well beyond that. How dare you march in here and flaunt yourself with her? She’s supposed to be my girl, and would have been if not for you.”
“Joseph, I never agreed,” Karin attempted.
He raked his hand through wind-blown hair. “Nearly. Until he turned up.”
Uncle Thomas pushed his way through gaping onlookers and men with arms crossed over broad chests, their mouths clamped. “I asked her to consider you, Joseph. ’Twas only to that she agreed. Let Jack be.”
“Will you take the traitor’s part?” Joseph sneered.
“He’s your brother,” her uncle reasoned.
“A bloody Tory!” Jeb Tate challenged, now that he had reinforcements.
Uncle Thomas didn’t let that hinder him. Swinging into action, he charged at the name caller.
Too late, Jeb turned to run.
Seizing him by the scruff of his neck, Uncle Thomas hauled him around, twisted his shirt into a knot, and jerked Jeb up face-to-face with his scowl. The lesser man’s mustache quivered and he twitched in his hold. “Stay out of this, Tate. It’s a family matter.”
“Damn right!” Grandpa bellowed from the back of the room.
Thomas released Jeb who thudded onto the floor and the dumbstruck assembly parted to let the senior McNeal pass. The boards creaked under his boots as he stumped to his irate relations. Sarah ran to her husband in a swirl of petticoats, tears glistening in her anxious gaze. He wrapped an arm around her and leveled a weathered eye at Joseph. “You want to let bygones be bygones or fight Jack now?”
Joseph didn’t hesitate. “Fight.”
Uncle Thomas shook his head at him. “Damn foolish challenging a seasoned soldier.”
“Tory soldier,” Joseph countered to accompanying hoots.
“Oh, Joseph. Can you not be more forgiving?” his mother pleaded.
“Leave’ em be, Sarah.” Grandpa lowered his gaze to Karin. “Come with me, lass. Let them settle this.”
Then Karin did as she never had before. Looking her grandfather in the eyes, she refused. “Fighting solves nothing.”
“It’ll put an end to this discord. Now do as I say.”
“If McCray wants to fight a seasoned soldier he can take on this Patriot,” Kyle Brewster invited.
Hoarse cheers rose.
Karin regarded the brooding circle she’d once considered friends, among them several family members, including Uncle Paul. She clung to Jack. “No. Let Jack and me leave now. We’ll not trouble you folks again.”
Grandpa stared at her along with the better part of the gathering. “Just where do you think to go, lass?”
“To my father.”
The term ‘thunderstruck’ took on a whole new meaning. “Your what?”
Sarah sagged against her husband.
Jack clapped a hand over Karin’s mouth. “Hush that talk,” he hissed, and then proclaimed, “I’m ready to fight Joseph and anyone else who covets a licking. Even you, Brewster.” He rolled off his chair and got to his feet, pulling Karin up with him. “Take her aside, Thomas,” he said in a subdued tone.
Karin wanted to shout her outrage, but found herself handed from Jack to her uncle. Thomas pulled her through the mob, for that’s what the festive gathering had dissolved into. Shouts sounded for Joseph as people fell back toward plastered log walls to give the combatants more room. If Mister and Mrs. Brewster minded the fight breaking loose in their home, their objections were overruled.
She overhead some grudging support for Jack. “He did right well in the race,” one man allowed. “Kept his own with that rascal flailing the whip about. I dunno what happened to him at the end. Some say a bear took after him. He don’t look tore up so he must have had the better end of that match.”
Most males were angrily opposed to Jack, though. He couldn’t possibly take on the whole lot of them. “Stop this, please,” she pleaded with Uncle Thomas.
He eyed the crowd in disgust. “Wish I could. There’s nothing for it but to wait this out. Don’t fret, lass. Jack’s been up against worse.”
Karin wasn’t so sure and judging by the worry in her uncle’s gaze, neither was he. Not only that, but she’d hoped Jack would gain some acceptance among these men who should be his kin, not upraised fists.
Joseph threw the first punch, skillfully dodged by Jack. Karin came to an equally rapid decision. She’d slip outside and saddle up Peki. The stallion knew her and would trust her. She sidled toward the door, praying Uncle Thomas’s attention was diverted. No one else seemed to notice her stealthy retreat. All eyes were on the fight.
Tempestuous wasn’t a word Karin ever thought to use for herself, nor furtive. But passion governed as she stole through the fevered throng. She had no qualms about the powder horn and shot pouch she borrowed from those hung on pegs inside the door. Jack would need powder, shot, and a musket and his were at the McNeal’s homestead. For the first time in years, that wasn’t where Karin was going.
The smack of fist on bone cracked behind her, followed by the roar of blood-lust. She darted a glance to see Jack reel from a blow to the jaw.
“Oh.” She sympathized, wincing at the grimace distorting his reddened face.
Maybe Joseph threw a lucky punch, or caught Jack off-guard. Either way, she’d better hurry. Brewster still waited to fight him and other men stood in line, the hulking louts. So far, Uncle Thomas hadn’t missed her.
Cracking open the door, she tiptoed out onto the cold stoop, her breath white in the frosty air. It was good she was well bundled. She spotted Uncle Paul’s long rifle propped against the wall of the house among an assembly of muskets. He seemed fated to provide for her today. Struggling under the rifle’s weight, she bore it down the steps toward the shadowed outline of the stable. Now, to get Peki.
Turn the horses for home, her grandfather liked to say.
In a way, Karin was.
****
“Not fair!” someone shouted.
Jack cast a contemptuous look at the rabid circle. They wanted blood, let them have it. They’d as
good as declared war on him. And in his harsh experience, war wasn’t fair. Although some idiots dutifully lined up to be fired at. Jack wasn’t one for marching into battle in formation, sounding the bugle and beating the drum. He fought Indian style—as most of these men probably had during the revolution—and plowed into the nearest body. A well-aimed clout sent that man hurtling. Others scattered. He’d make it clear that anyone itching for a go at him better watch out.
Damn. Joseph got a bit of his back with that last wallop. Jack saw sparks before his eyes and the room spun for an instant. Growling faces revolved in an unfriendly blur. This wasn’t how he’d hoped to while away the evening.
Shaking off the blow, he sprang aside to evade Joseph’s next strike. His jaw ached and he’d had enough of this punishment, but more awaited him by the looks of it. Men lined up, keen to avenge comrades felled at Blue Licks, or incensed that Jack got the girl. Either way, he’d not live to savor another kiss if he didn’t outfight and outwit these white warriors.
