by Unknown
The major source of pain, she finally concluded, was her face. Her whole mouth hurt, lips, tongue, even her teeth. Her nose throbbed, and her skull pulsated with pain. She hurt like pure hell, but she didn't think it was going to kill her. The savage would probably do that when he finished with Bull.
She opened her eyes at the thought, just in time to see Lavinia come around with a start, sit up with a jerk, scramble to her feet, and take to her heels. She called out to her, but if Lavinia even heard her, it didn't check her flight. Danielle stared after her in consternation. Not for a moment did she think Lavinia would be back with help, certainly not in time to do her any good.
She transferred her gaze to the fight, wondering if she could manage to get to her feet without passing out, wondering if she could run if she did. The battle, she saw with a sinking heart, was done. Bull had lost.
The savage came erect, breathing a little unevenly as he stared down at his vanquished foe. He was tall, she saw, perhaps a little taller than Adrian, and as leanly muscular as a cat. He had more in common with a feline than that however. He was obviously a silent, deadly stalker.
He uttered an exultant cry of triumph then and knelt once more. Danielle felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, unable to watch what she knew was about to happen. Suspense got the better of her after a moment, however, and she opened one eye a crack to discover what was happening. It was then that she discovered that he'd only knelt to clean his knife. He stood again, sheathing it and a feeling of profound relief washed over her. He would not, surely, have put it away unless he was through with it.
He turned, his dark eyes sweeping the area, and she knew he was searching for her. She thought then she might have been able to leap to her feet and run, except the surge of strength fled when his eyes settled upon her, and she began to feel as consistent as jelly.
She drew her knees up to her chest as he started towards her. Partly, it was in an unconscious effort to push herself to her feet and partly it was purely a gesture of defensiveness.
He came to her slowly, watching her face intently. But there was nothing of wariness in his approach. It was more like one would approach an injured or half-wild animal, Danielle realized fairly quickly.
She swallowed audibly when he squatted before her, staring at him wide-eyed, afraid even to blink her eyes for fear he'd be upon her in that instant.
He grasped her chin firmly but not painfully. At least, it wouldn't have hurt if her face hadn't already been a mass of pain. She winced, and he released her, reaching down next to take one of her hands and examining her arm with interest. Apparently satisfied, he dropped that arm and lifted the other, testing it from wrist to shoulder.
It flashed through her mind in a moment of terror to wonder if he was one of those man-eating savages she'd heard tales of, for his poking and prodding was hideously similar to the way she'd seen housewives testing poultry at the market. But then, incredible as it seemed, it came to her that he was checking her for injury. Slowly her terror began to fade and a tentative hope began to take its place.
As terror receded, curiosity took hold, for she'd long been fascinated by the tales she'd heard about the aborigines of this land and couldn't, even in her fear, forbear studying him.
In a way, she was both relieved and disappointed by what she saw. His flesh was the color of pale teak, all of it that she could see. Which was most of it, for he wore nothing more than a loin cloth of some soft, tan material that looked like doeskin, secured at his waist by a leather thong. At that, it covered only his privates, for his long, lean, flanks were as bare as the rest of him.
Both her relief and her disappointment stemmed from the fact that, except for the color of his skin, she could see that he looked little different than a white man. His hair, pulled tightly back from his face and drawn upwards, was gathered to form a rounded knot almost on the top of his head, held in place by another leather thong and decorated with three eagle feathers, two angled downward at the back of his head, and a third protruding slightly to one side. It looked more coarse than her own hair, but it was no blacker than Adrian's, and it was plainly hair, not fur.
Nor did his features really differ drastically from any white man's. His nose was a noble blade, distinctly aquiline, his cheekbones high and pronounced, his jaw and chin firmly aggressive. His eyes were nearly as black as his hair and more angularly oblong than rounded.
In truth, he was a handsome creature, both of face and form. For although he was slender, he was made of nothing but muscle and sinew, without an ounce of excess flesh or fat. And, although he was virtually hairless, which seemed odd to one accustomed to men who were anything but, he was proportioned no differently than white men.
She really had expected to find that the savages were more animal than human, in form as well as ways. She felt as if she'd been grossly misled. He was as human as she was.
She realized that he'd been studying her as intently as she'd studied him. It was a disconcerting realization, and she flushed slightly as she met his keenly watchful gaze. He spoke to her then. At least, she thought that was what he was doing. It didn't sound like anything she'd ever heard before, and she merely gaped at him without comprehension. His black brows drew together in a slight frown. "Up," he said then, quite clearly and motioned.
That startled her more than the guttural language he'd spoken before. She was struggling to comply when it occurred to her that he was asking her if she could, not commanding her to do so. It was a relief, of course, but as she was half way up already, she decided she could manage the rest. She leaned dizzily against the tree when she'd finished, closing her eyes against the images that danced and swayed nauseatingly before her vision. She felt the Indian's hands upon her shoulders, steadying her. In the next moment, they dropped away.
"Step away from him, Danielle," Adrian said in a quiet, deadly voice, and she opened her eyes and gaped at him in surprise.
It wasn't that she was surprised to see him. She saw nothing astonishing in the fact that he'd heard the commotion and come. She wasn't even particularly surprised that he'd come upon them so silently she hadn't even been aware of him until he'd spoken. What startled her was the pistol in his hand and the look of deadly intent in his eyes. And the stranger, dressed in the regalia of the Highlander, who had come to an abrupt halt several yards behind him. The stranger seemed at once so out of place in his bright tartan and yet so strangely at home that she wondered for a moment if the blow had addled her wits.
Her eyes returned to Adrian as he spoke again, and she realized that he would shoot the Indian the moment she did as he said. The Indian apparently realized it as well, for although he'd tensed at the first sound of Adrian's voice, she sensed in him now a gathering of strength, as if he were poised to spring. His hand moved to the knife at his waist and without conscious thought or even a realization of who she meant to protect, she stayed his hand, covering it with her own as she stepped in front of him. She felt the Indian's startled eyes upon her and the blazing, baffled force of Adrian's as well. "Don't! He saved my life."
"Here man! Ye can't shoot Panther. He's a friendly!" the Scotsman said at almost the same moment, starting forward.
Adrian glanced from Danielle to the Indian behind her and back again. "What happened?" he asked tightly.
Danielle told him, as nearly as she could recall. She didn't try to piece together the conspiracy she was quite certain had been practiced upon her. Somehow, the tale made her feel tainted herself, as if she was guilty of something. She knew she wasn't. She knew she'd done nothing to provoke such an attack, but she couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. And so she omitted Lavinia's incriminating remarks.
Lavinia incriminated herself. Coming up with Captain Tyler, she arrived just as Danielle was finishing her tale and leapt immediately to the conclusion that Danielle had told all. "She's lying!" She protested hotly. "I had nothing to do with it. Why, I even went to get help!"
Adrian turned a coldly assessing gaze upon her, lifting one dark brow questioningly. "No? How curious that you feel compelled to deny a charge that was never made. I find that almost as curious as the fact that it took you longer to return with help than it took McDermont and myself to arrive. Surely we were further away?"
Lavinia gaped at him in shocked dismay. "But . . . but . . . she told you . . . I heard her."
"She told me that Bull attacked her and that our friend there," he indicated Panther, "saved me the trouble of killing him by slitting his throat."
Lavinia whirled to stare at the Indian in horror. She shuttered. "He killed . . . he's dead?"
"Very," Adrian said dryly, having walked over and examined the body with detached interest and nudged it a couple of times with the toe of his boot. He looked up then, his eyes honing in on Danielle. Sliding his pistol into his waistband, he closed the distance between them, touching her chin lightly to tip her face up for his inspection. His look became murderous when he saw the extent of the damage, for one whole side of her face was already swollen and discolored.
The look frightened Danielle. It made her wonder if, perhaps, he thought she'd done something to provoke the attack. Men had a way, she knew, of jumping to that conclusion, always assuming that at least part of the blame was the woman's. And Adrian had never believed she was virtuous, even when she had been. Now that she wasn't, might he not think the very worst?
She was on the point of protesting her innocence, when she recalled the words he'd spoken to Lavinia. She hadn't been accused. Wouldn't she look guiltier still if she protested her innocence when it hadn't even been called in question?
"I'm more glad than I can say that you were saved from worse," Adrian said then. "But I am very, very sorry our friend took care of Bull. He should have died much more slowly." He paused for several moments and his hand dropped to his side. "I should have been here," he added with quiet violence. "I should never have left you alone."
Danielle felt a surge of both relief and gratitude that Adrian believed in her. And beyond that, consternation that he blamed himself for something he could not have prevented.
She could think of nothing that might ease his misplaced feelings of guilt, nothing that would convince him that he hadn't failed her. Nor could she assuage that errant, jealous anger she sensed instinctively in him, that another man had guarded what he considered to be his alone.
At best, Adrian would look upon such assurances with skeptical amusement. At worst, he would only see them as an attempt to placate him and be angered by them. And so she merely looked away, saying nothing at all.
Panther had moved away from them, conversing in that same guttural language he'd used before with the Highlander, McDermont. The highlander frowned, nodding now and then, spoke in his turn and then listened again.
He came forward as Adrian turned away from Danielle and lifted a questioning brow. "Panther tells pretty much the same tale as the lass here. We'd agreed to approach your camp from different directions since we didn't know who we were coming upon. He came upon the two women . . . ." He paused here for so long that Danielle knew with a horrible certainty that Panther had told him he'd come upon her bathing. She feared he would say as much, feared Adrian's reaction. Because she thought it might arouse unpleasant suspicions about her again, and because she felt certain that Adrian, if he knew the Indian had seen her, would kill him only for that trespass.
Apparently, the Highlander considered it a possibility as well, for after only a brief hesitation, he continued, ". . . and saw the man watching them. He did nothing because he wasn't certain of what was going on just then. But when the man stepped from the bushes and grabbed the lass . . . ." He paused, issuing an eloquent shrug. "He says he's certain that woman," he indicated Lavinia, "knew of the man's presence, because she showed no surprise at all when he stepped from the brush. He suggests you beat her and teach her the error of her ways. I'm inclined to agree with him, man. I don't care for conniving women myself. Were she mine, I'd not let her get away with such."
Adrian eyed Lavinia coldly. She quailed and looked wildly around, as if searching for a place to run or hide. Realizing she had no where to go, she merely edged a little closer to the captain. "The suggestion is tempting, very tempting. Unfortunately, I can not. She isn't mine to do with, thank God. If she were, I'd make a gift of her to your friend, Panther, and let him teach her the error of her ways, for I've no more use for women such as she than you do."
Panther spoke again then. Evidently, he could follow their conversation, regardless of the fact that he'd shown very little inclination to speak their language. The Highlander frowned and what appeared to be a heated exchange, at least on McDermont's part, ensued.
"What is it?" Adrian asked when finally they both fell silent.
The Highlander's expression was unreadable. "He wants to know if the flame-haired lass be yours."
Adrian lifted his head, his eyes narrowing upon the Indian man. "Why?"
McDermont shifted uncomfortably. "He wants her for his huti."
Adrian's startled eyes flew back to the Scotsman. "I beg your pardon?"
"His household, man. He's willing to bargain for her."
Adrian's eyes narrowed again. "Indeed?" The word practically dripped icicles.
McDermont frowned. "It's not an insult or meant to be. He's done battle for the lass. By his customs, he would have the right to claim her. But he knows our customs are different. He offers to trade for that reason. I don't say I agree with him, man. I'm only telling you what he asked me to say. But, I'll tell you now, if you value the lass, you owe him a gift at the least."
If possible, Adrian's expression became stonier. "I'm well aware of my obligations, thank you, McDermont. He'll have a gift, a rich one, when I can acquire one. He will not have Danielle, however. I will not barter, nor sell, nor give her. She is mine."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Disposing of Bull's body presented a problem. Stymied at first by the lack of any means for burial, they finally settled upon a solution they were comfortable with. And Barnabus 'Bull' Thompson was thrown, with some attempt at ceremony, into the St. Marys to be carried out to sea, which Captain Tyler assured himself and the others, was right and proper, him being a sailor.
It was nearly dusk when finally they returned to their campsite, and very little of the work of preparing it had been done. Captain Tyler and Lavinia were ordered to remedy it, posthaste. Danielle was ordered to rest, which she did without protest as she still felt far from well. Adrian went off to collect the young buck he and McDermont had been in the process of cleaning when they'd heard Danielle's scream, Adrian having come upon McDermont shortly after he'd gone off to hunt. And McDermont and Panther went off to collect the supplies they'd left in a tree for safekeeping while they'd come to investigate the party of travelers they'd been trailing for a day and a half.
When Adrian returned some time later, it was with the carcass of a good-sized buck slung across his shoulders. He hung the carcass in the crook of a tree, cut the haunches from it and skinned them, then skewered them with a hickory branch and placed them over the cook fire. Summoning Danielle, he left Lavinia to tend the meat and walked down to the river to bathe.
He said nothing along the way. There had been a strain between them since the incident with Bull that the hours since had done little to lessen. Danielle would've given much to ease it, if only she'd known how. Since she wasn't entirely certain of the cause, however, she thought it best to keep her silence rather than to stumble blindly about in the dark.
It didn't occur to her that it was jealousy that had caused his moodiness, but such was the case. Adrian had done his best to shrug it off since, consciously, he could not bring himself to believe that the Indian was any serious threat as a rival. Subconsciously, it continued to rankle, however, and though he considered that he'd recovered himself remarkably well, his sangfroid over the matter was obvious to no one b
ut himself.
His reticence was not all a matter of jealousy. He knew that Danielle was not only hurt, but that she'd been badly shaken by the incident with Bull. And at least part of his apparent moodiness was no more than his concentration on solving the problem of how to deal with Danielle's distress. However, by the time they'd arrived at a likely looking spot along the river, he'd decided upon a solution he felt comfortable with. He had only, he thought wryly, to convince Danielle.
"Will you bathe?" he asked neutrally, stripping off first his boots and then his shirt.
Danielle shook her head and took a seat on the bank, angling herself carefully so that her damaged face was away from him. She knew very well that she needed to bathe again, but she ached too much to feel like tackling such a chore just now, and she didn't want to chance any contact with Adrian.
Adrian studied her in silence for several moments and finally moved to the river's edge and rinsed the deer blood from his shirt. When he'd finished, he squeezed the excess water from it, shook it, and extended it towards Danielle. "You can bathe in this."
Danielle studied the shirt and then Adrian. "I'd rather not," she finally said stiffly.
She thought she detected a touch of sympathy in Adrian's eyes, but his expression was uncompromising. "You will do it, however."
She took the shirt, glaring at him and resisting an urge to throw a tantrum. Finally, she rose stiffly and moved behind a bushy shrub to change. She emerged with great reluctance a good bit later, having dawdled until Adrian demanded to know what was keeping her, and made her way carefully down the bank to the water's edge.
