Without turning around, she spoke. "I have not asked you if I can stay," she reminded him.
"No, you haven't," he agreed.
Breanna did not hear him leave, but when she turned around, he was gone. Now that she was alone, she could allow the tears to fall, and they fell in a great flood down her cheeks.
As last, exhausted and spent, she dried her eyes. Removing the buckskin gown and moccasins, she dressed in her own gown and boots, which went a long way in fortifying her for the task that lay ahead.
The America she had longed to see had become her rival for Dakota's affections. How do I compete with a whole tribe of people? she asked herself. You don't, her mind answered.
***
Breanna moved through the village beside Levi, looking neither to her left nor her right. The Arapaho people had been kind to take her in, especially the old medicine woman, who had nursed her back to health and shared her tepee with her. But Breanna would not be sorry to leave. This was not her world—but the world that had taken Dakota from her.
A young Indian woman stepped into their path, and Breanna looked into soft brown eyes and a lovely face with high cheek bones and midnight-black hair. The girl said something to Levi, which Breanna did not understand. The hunter then turned to Breanna and translated.
"Breanna, this is Running Deer's sister. She is also the wife of Shadow Walker. She wishes me to tell you that her dead sister's spirit can rest now that you have killed her murderer, and that Running Deer will know peace because Dakota has found happiness with you."
Breanna stared long and hard at the Indian woman, not in the least comforted by her words. "Tell her, Levi" she finally replied, "that I send my greetings to her husband, Shadow Walker, and I shall be eternally grateful for his sacrifice on my behalf."
Without waiting for Levi to translate, Breanna nodded politely to the Indian woman and stepped around her. She did not want to be reminded of Dakota's dead love—certainly not at this time. She would need all her courage and strength to ride out of Dakota's life today, for she might never see him again.
When Breanna reached the horses, Baxley greeted her with a smile and took her bundle, securing it to the packhorse.
Dakota stopped talking to John and turned to her. With a firm grip on her waist, he lifted her into the saddle and handed her the reins.
Was this how it would end—coldly and impersonally? She wondered.
His eyes caught and held her glance. "Breanna, it is not my wish to say our good-byes in this public manner, but it is better so."
Her voice was cold. "No need to explain, Dakota. I understand."
His hand closed around her hand that held the reins. "Do you?"
"Yes, I think so."
"I doubt that you do, Breanna. There is so much that is unsaid between us."
She stared at the Wind River, unable to look at Dakota any longer. "I will agree with you on that. But sometimes good-bye is the only thing left to say."
Knowing that if she didn't leave soon, or if he uttered another word to her, she would fling herself into his arms, Breanna set her shoulders and nudged her mount forward.
"Good-bye, Dakota."
John, Levi, and Baxley fell in beside her, and they rode slowly out of the village.
Breanna could feel Dakota's eyes on her, but she did not look around. When she reached the river, she fought the overwhelming urge to ride back to him. Instead, she kicked her heel into her horse's flanks, making the animal plunge into the river.
She became aware that several Arapaho warriors plunged into the river just behind them. She looked at Levi questioningly.
"The Arapaho will ride for several days with us, to assure our safety," he explained.
When Breanna rode up the opposite bank of the river, she looked back just long enough to see Dakota standing on the far shore. He raised his hand in a silent salute, and she responded in kind.
"I don't like the way you two parted," Levi observed.
"It was the only way it could end, Levi."
"Something isn't right here, Breanna."
"Nothing will ever be right again," she said tearfully.
"Dakota would have come with us if you had asked it of him."
"I chose not to pressure him. I had the means to tie Dakota to me, and I chose not to use it. I do not want him unless he comes to me of his own accord."
Breanna urged her mount into a gallop, and Levi had to ride hard to catch her.
"What are you saying?" Levi asked when he finally drew even with her.
"I am saying that I am with child, and I didn't tell Dakota because he would feel obligated to come with me."
Levi looked at her with softened eyes. "If I was a good friend to Dakota, I'd ride back and tell him right now. A man has the right to know when he is going to become a father."
"Promise me that you will keep my secret, Levi. As I said, I do not want Dakota unless he returns to me of his own free will."
Levi shrugged. "Seems like a man should be smart enough to know when he is going to be a father without someone else having to spell it out for him," he said, deciding not to interfere.
Levi was reflective, remembering how Lady Cillia Remington had given birth to Dakota no more than two days' ride from this spot. The old hunter was determined to get Breanna out of this wilderness as quickly as possible, and back to England with all haste. He did not want her child to be born here and risk Breanna suffering from the same fate that had cost Lady Cillia her life.
Winter would soon be upon them, but Levi would drive them hard until he got her back to civilization, to England.
36
Cornwall
Breanna walked along the beach below the hunting lodge, feeling the spring sunshine on her face. Time seemed to pass slowly here where the ever-restless waves had been pounding the cliffs for untold centuries. It somehow made her feel insignificant, as if she were only a pebble on the beach, no more than a passing thought in the blinking of time.
Breanna often came here to the beach. Perhaps it was because she had been so happy here with Dakota. Or perhaps because she could daydream here and imagine that Dakota walked beside her.
Slanting her straw bonnet down over her forehead to protect her skin, Breanna heard someone calling out to her, and she glanced up the cliff to see Levi waving at her.
"Come on down," she called. "You can keep me company."
The old hunter made his way down to her.
Levi saw the tent-like structure that had been erected to protect the baby from the sun and wind. Pausing, he looked inside.
"How's the little one today, Breanna?"
Breanna smiled. "Healthy and growing."
"You know, he's about the best-looking baby I ever saw."
"On behalf of my son, Lord Holden Remington, Viscount of Remington, I thank you."
"That's a mighty big tide for such a little mite."
"Yes, it is, but he will one day bring pride and honor to the name."
"Little Holden looks a lot like his father," Levi observed.
Breanna sat down on the quilt beside her son and lifted him in her arms. "Yes, that has not escaped my notice."
Levi reached out and lightly smoothed the black hair on the infant's head. "I was thinking that little Holden will be two months old tomorrow. It doesn't seem that we've had him that long. He sure has brightened up my life."
Breanna smiled. "I am surprised you remembered the exact date. I had not thought about it."
He gave her a lopsided grin. "I never forget important dates, and I consider little Holden's birth one of the most important."
She placed the baby in Levi's arms and watched the happy smile on his face.
"I feel like I have a stake in this baby," Levi said. "Wasn't it me and John who walked the floor while you were giving birth to him?"
"Yes, it was, my dear friend. I don't know what I would have done these past six months if it hadn't been for you and John."
"I got a letter from John to
day. He says London is not the same without you and me there. But it seems he is courting a wealthy widow, and he thinks she might have marriage on her mind."
Breanna laughed. "How does he feel about that?"
Levi shrugged. "He didn't say."
Breanna placed her cool cheek against Levi's rough one. "I don't know what I would have done without you, Levi. You are so dear to me."
His eyes became misty, and he cleared his throat before he spoke. "I'm right fond of you too, Breanna." He felt the baby's little fist close around his finger and smiled down at the child. "I got me a real family."
"Yes, but one of us is missing," she reminded him.
Levi saw the sadness in her eyes, and it brought an ache to his heart. "I would have thought Dakota would be back by now. But don't you fret none. One day you'll look up, and there he'll be."
"I have cautioned myself not to hope, Levi. I have a feeling that Dakota is where he wants to be. And I am not one to take rejection without being affected by it. Even if Dakota does return. I will not readily receive him. A woman likes to feel as if she is important in her husband's life, and not someone he can so easily cast aside."
"I haven't a thing to say in his defense, Breanna. But had you allowed me to send word to him that he had a son, he would have come home immediately."
"Yes, he would return for a son, but not for me."
Levi shook his head. He could no longer make excuses for Dakota. "It's not my place to convince you of Dakota's feelings; you already know what a fine man he is."
"That has never been in question. If you are going to tell me how noble and honest he is, do not bother—we are all agreed on that point."
Levi knew it was time to change the subject. "I heard a bit of gossip today that you might find amusing."
Breanna laughed. "Why, Levi, I have never known you to be interested in wagging tongues."
"No, but this is different. It's about Lady Rye Saffron."
Breanna knitted her brow. "What's she done, run off with the crown jewels, or perhaps Prince Albert, the Queen's husband?"
Levi chuckled. "Now, Breanna, animosity does not become you."
"No, but it gives me the greatest pleasure. What have you heard about that woman, Levi?" she asked, curious in spite of herself.
"Well, word has it that she's gone off with this married Russian nobleman, who has taken her to Russia with him. It seems that her brother was so enraged at her escapade that he took to his bed, swearing she had disgraced him for the last time."
"How did you hear this?"
"From the most reliable source, of course. I overheard the servants talking."
Breanna smiled. "Yes, a most reliable source." Suddenly her eyes turned sad, and Levi knew she was remembering the day she had overheard the servants gossiping about Dakota and Rye Saffron. "You don't still believe anything happened between Dakota and that woman, do you?"
"No, I know nothing happened between them," she admitted. "As you said, Dakota is an honorable man."
Levi handed the baby back to Breanna and stood up, knowing she probably needed to be alone. "I'm going back to the big house. Do you want me to take little Holden with me?"
"No. I'll bring him home after a while. I like to have him with me."
Levi climbed the cliff, wondering why Dakota had not returned and hoping he wouldn't stay away too long. Breanna was not the kind of woman who should be neglected. She was too headstrong, too independent, and she had too much pride.
***
Levi was coming from the stable when he heard the sound of an approaching rider. As he walked toward the house, his face lit up with happiness when he saw Dakota dismount. Rushing forward, the old hunter grabbed Dakota's arm and shook it so hard he almost wrung it off.
"I'm glad you decided to come home, Dakota."
Dakota smiled. "I'm home to stay, Levi. I had many things to attend to before I could leave, else I would have come sooner."
His green eyes moved to the house, searchingly. "Where is Breanna?"
"Did you expect her to just be sitting around, waiting for you?" the hunter asked accusingly.
"You of all people should know I could not return until everything was settled with Arapaho."
"You have done right by them, it's now time to do right by Breanna."
"Don't rush me, Levi," Dakota said. "I know better than you what my obligations are."
Levi's heart softened, and he wondered if Dakota knew about the baby. "Did you stop at the London house?"
"No, my ship docked at Plymouth and I came directly here."
"You will find Breanna at the hunting lodge. I just left her, and she was walking on the beach."
"How is she, Levi?"
"Why don't you go and find that out for yourself."
***
Breanna kissed the soft cheek of her sleeping son, loving him in the very depths of her heart. She had convinced herself that this child might be the only part of Dakota she would ever have.
Placing the baby in the shade of the tent, she stood up, her eyes tracing the far horizon. Loneliness settled on her shoulders as she once more remembered how happy she had been here with Dakota. Was this to be the extent of her life, drawing on borrowed memories from yesterday?
***
Dakota's eyes ran hungrily over his wife as she walked along the deserted beach. How he had ached for her. His life had been an empty void without her. Even though he could not see her face from this distance, he could feel her loneliness like a knife in his own heart.
His footsteps were noiseless as he hurried down the cliff toward her, his heartbeat racing, his eyes shining with anticipation.
Breanna felt another's presence so strongly that she whirled around, her heart drumming, her pulse pounding. When she saw Dakota striding toward her, her hands balled into fists and her nails cut into her palms from the tight grip she was keeping on herself.
She fought against the need to run into her husband's arms, to feel him hold her and tell her that he wanted her in his life.
Her eyes ran over him, noting his hair had been neatly trimmed and that he wore no headband. His buckskins had been exchanged for gray trousers and a powder-blue waistcoat. The sleeves of his white shirt had been carelessly rolled up and revealed his tanned, muscled arms.
All this she saw in the flickering of a second, and she wondered if it was symbolic. Had he, of his own free will, traded his old way of life for a life here in England? No one had ordered his return. Dared she hope that he was here because it was his choice?
Dakota halted an arm's length away from Breanna. There was something different about her, he thought, a new maturity. If possible, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. He saw in her golden eyes skepticism and a certain amount of accusation, which he knew that he deserved.
"How are you, Breanna?" He hadn't meant to say that; he had rehearsed in his mind how he would rush to her, take her in his arms, and declare his love for her openly and proudly.
"I am faring well, Dakota. I do not have to ask about you. You appear to be well."
He tried to lessen the tension between them by smiling. "I see you still prefer the hunting lodge to the big house."
"I am not living at the hunting lodge. I just like to come here sometimes . . . to . . . because it is secluded and I can think more clearly."
His eyes drew her gaze. "Do you think of me while you are here?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"Dare I hope that you have pleasant thoughts of me?"
Her eyes dulled. 'You have no right to ask that of me, Dakota. Why didn't you just stay in America? That seems to be where you are the happiest."
He reached out and took a wisp of red-gold hair and tucked it behind her ear. "I have missed you, Breanna," he whispered, pain lacing his words.
"Did you? I find that difficult to believe. One would have thought there was plenty to distract you from England . . . And me."
Dakota wanted to take her, shake her, and make her und
erstand how he needed her. He wanted to tell her about the empty months when he had thought he could not get through another day without seeing her, holding her in his arms, making passionate love to her. He wanted to force Breanna to admit that she had missed him also.
At that moment, Dakota heard a faint sound like an infant crying, and he swung around, looking about until he located where the sound was coming from. He saw the makeshift tent flapping in the gentle breeze, and surmised the child was there.
Breanna moved in the direction of the tent, and Dakota fell into step beside her. "Is that a servant's baby?" He looked about him, as if trying to locate the infant's mother.
Breanna did not bother to answer him as she went down on her knees and lifted her son in her arms.
Dakota dropped down beside her, resenting the intrusion of the child. There was so much he wanted to say to Breanna, and he wanted to say it now before he lost his nerve.
Breanna cooed softly to the child and immediately the crying stopped.
"Here," she said, thrusting the child at Dakota. "Hold him while I shake the sand from the blanket."
"No, I do not know anything about babies," he admitted, horrified when she placed the child in his arms against his protest. He held the child awkwardly at first, then finally he pulled it closer to his body so he could support it. When the child's head bobbed, Dakota's hold tightened and the baby started to cry.
"Give the baby back to its mother, Breanna. I want to be alone with you. There is so much I want to say to you."
Anger sparked to life within her golden eyes. "You have not asked me the child's name, Dakota."
He glanced down at the round little face, thinking offhandedly that it was a beautiful child, but feeling little interest in it otherwise.
"Tell me the child's name if you must. But then come with me to the hunting lodge. I want to be alone with you, Breanna."
"The baby that you seem so anxious to abandon is named Holden Remington. He is the new Viscount of Remington."
Dakota's throat was working convulsively as he realized the significance of what she was telling him. Now he looked at the child searchingly, and he could scarcely breathe when he saw the green eyes, so like his own, staring back at him.
Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) Page 34
