My Lord Beaumont

by Unknown

  Adrian was standing in water up to his waist. For one panicked moment, she thought he'd discarded his breeches, but then she saw, as he moved towards her, that he still wore them, and she relaxed somewhat. Wading carefully out until the water reached mid-calf, she sat down and lifted a handful of water to her burning, throbbing cheek. The water wasn't really cold, but it was cool and soothing. She scooped up another handful and closed her eyes.

  "Here," Adrian said quietly.

  She opened her eyes and saw that he'd knelt beside her and was holding out his handkerchief. She studied him for a long moment and finally took the dampened square of cloth and held it to her cheek.

  Instead of moving away when she'd taken his offering, Adrian scooped up a handful of water and began rubbing it along her arm. An involuntary shudder went through her. She bit her lip, feeling faintly ill. "I can do that," she said stiffly, focusing her eyes stubbornly on the handkerchief as she dampened it again and put it to her cheek.

  "I know," he said gently. "But I'd like to. Will you allow it?"

  She closed her eyes, unable to think up a reply that wouldn't sound either childish or surly. She said nothing therefore, neither accepting or rejecting his offer, and, after a moment, he continued, taking her silence as acquiescence. Stiff at first, she'd just begun to relax fractionally when he slid his hand up her back beneath the shirt. She tensed all over again, but if he noticed, he gave no indication of it, continuing to rub soothing circles along her back, stopping to knead the tense muscles for several moments, then rubbing again.

  After a time, she began to truly relax. His soothing, kneading hands had taken much of the soreness from her abused body. More than that, there was that it the way he touched her, of gentleness, of acceptance, that washed the feeling of being unclean from her even as it washed away the dirt from her skin.

  She tensed again when he pushed her back against his knee, but it was an instinctive effort to catch her balance more than anything else, and she relaxed again as soon as she felt the security of his knee against the base of her skull. He washed her hair then, running his fingers through it carefully to remove the tangles and the bits and pieces of leaves and twigs that had caught in it when Bull had knocked her to the ground, then massaging her skull with skilled fingers and palms. She relaxed almost to the point of drowsiness, having long since lost all desire to avoid his touch.

  Even when he wrung the excess water from her hair and removed his hands altogether, she didn't stir. She had no desire to do so. She wanted to stay as she was.

  When he took the handkerchief from her, she turned her face away. She didn't want him to look at the unsightly mess that Bull had made of her cheek. He stopped her, gently, but insistently, urging her to face him, and she lifted drowsy lids to give him a look that held shame, embarrassment, and reproof in equal parts. He smiled faintly in understanding and bent his head, brushing his lips lightly over her bruised cheek, feather light, soothing, caressing. It brought a rush of stinging tears to her eyes. She swallowed convulsively against the hard, painful knot in her throat, trying to blink the blinding tears away.

  "I'll hold you while you cry," he offered gently.

  It was her undoing. She turned her face into his shoulder and wept wrenching, painful tears, clutching him tightly as if she half feared he would release her even though he held her as tightly as she held him. He said nothing at first, only holding her. When the wracking sobs had exhausted themselves into nothing more than loud sniffs and quiet weeping, he set himself to soothe her by word and touch until finally she quieted altogether.

  She felt totally drained, too exhausted even to move. He seemed to sense this for he lifted her into his arms and waded out with her, settling himself on the riverbank with her on his lap. She cuddled against him contentedly and promptly fell asleep.

  When she woke, it was almost full dark. Adrian was studying the river, in deep thought, and she studied his face at her leisure. After a few moments, he seemed to sense her eyes upon him, and he looked down at her, his face still shuttered and unreadable. "We should get back."

  She nodded and averted her gaze as she sat up, wondering at his thoughts and if they had anything to do with her. It seemed, if they were, his thoughts were not pleasant ones, for he'd withdrawn from her once more. She sighed deeply and started to rise.

  She gasped when he snatched her back, looking up at him in surprise. He smiled and bent his head to steal a disappointingly quick kiss before he pushed her to her feet and rose. She smiled a little tentatively, more than a little puzzled at his actions that seemed so contradictory, affectionate one moment and distant the next.

  He took her shoulders and pulled her close for a slightly more lingering kiss, releasing her almost as quickly. "Get dressed," he said with a faint smile at her look, which was still puzzled and more than a little disappointed.

  She turned away finally to do his bidding. She hadn't taken two steps, however, when he swatted her playfully on her backside. She jumped and whirled to face him, gawking. It seemed so totally uncharacteristic that for several moments she half suspected it hadn't been playful at all.

  He laughed outright at the look on her face and sat down again to pull his boots on. After studying him a moment, she turned finally and went to dress.

  The smell of roasted meat greeted them long before they stepped into camp. Danielle's stomach rumbled appreciatively at the odor. She clutched it and sent a quick look at Adrian to see if he'd heard. He had. His eyes laughed at her, but he said nothing, merely urging her onward.

  They saw, when they stepped into the clearing, that McDermont and Panther had returned. They sat near the campfire with Lavinia and Captain Tyler, apparently having just helped themselves to the roast venison. McDermont gestured with the piece he had skewered on the end of his dirk. "Pardon lass. My lord. It was more than a body could stand only to watch the prettiest haunch of venison I've seen in a while and not steal a march on you by having a piece. We've been traveling light and fast and haven't spared the time for hunting."

  Adrian cocked a curious eyebrow at this last remark but forbore asking the obvious question. He smiled faintly. "By all means. Feel free to help yourself. We don't stand on ceremony." He turned then to Danielle, who'd hung back, feeling awkward and embarrassed after the incident earlier, particularly in front of the strangers among them, and summoned her before turning to help himself and her to a piece of the venison.

  McDermont chuckled. "It does go by the way here on occasion."

  "Indeed?" Adrian returned with wry humor, fingering his beard as he scanned his ragged clothing ruefully. "I can not imagine why."

  Danielle, having thanked Adrian in a subdued voice for her venison, moved to a place a little apart from everyone else and sat down cross legged.

  "Here, lass," McDermont said in a friendly way, reaching across to hand her some sort of fluffy, yellowish white substance. "Popped Indian corn, compliments of Panther here. It's a rare treat, so it is."

  Danielle sent him a tentative smile and took the offering, staring down at it a little dubiously. Turning, she lifted her brows questioningly at Adrian, who looked it over and shrugged infinitesimally, took a piece and tasted it. She lifted a piece, studied it curiously for several moments, and popped it into her own mouth, tasting it experimentally. When she looked up, she discovered both Panther and McDermont were watching her and she blushed, but smiled at McDermont. "It's good," she said with a touch of surprise.

  McDermont chuckled but shook his head. "Aye, lass. Did you think I meant to play a nasty trick on you?"

  She leaned forward, as if to whisper a secret. "Aye, man. It crossed my mind, so it did."

  McDermont's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, but in a moment he laughed good naturedly, slapping his knee. "Whist, lass! That's a lovely accent you've got there! Did you pick it up in Aberdeen perchance?"

  "Aye, man," she said, mock-serious, and popped the rest of the corn into her mouth. Swallowing,
she slued a look at him and grinned impishly. "Or thereabouts."

  His eyes gleamed with appreciative amusement. "You got the knack of it lass, so you did. But that's no real feat. Can you speak a bit o' Indian, do you think? You've heard that, I'll wager, as many times as you've heard me Scot's brogue."

  Adrian sat forward and passed McDermont the wine skin he'd produced to top off their feast. "There is a vast difference between adopting an accent and speaking another language, however," he said dryly.

  "So there is," he replied to Adrian's remark. "But I kin she's a smart lass, and I figured she wouldn't mind a wee bit of a challenge."

  Danielle frowned thoughtfully, trying to recall some of the conversation she'd heard pass between McDermont and Panther. It was difficult, since much that she'd heard had been directly after the incident with Bull, and she hadn't really been in any condition to listen. Moreover, the words, spoken with fluency, seemed to flow together. McDermont had just taken up the wine skin and begun to drink from it when the word she'd been looking for came to her. She pronounced it with a touch of triumph.

  McDermont spit his wine into the fire, seized with a sudden fit of coughing.

  Danielle stared at him in puzzlement, looked at Adrian questioningly, and finally looked at Panther. His face was expressionless. She was to learn later that his people considered open displays of emotion both unseemly and ill-mannered. But his eyes gleamed with what she knew was amusement, and she felt her face heating with embarrassment. "What did I say?" she demanded of McDermont, who'd finally stopped coughing.

  McDermont cleared his throat and tried to look puzzled. He might have known, he thought with amusement, that the lass would pick up on the one word of all those that had been spoken that was most inappropriate. He had no intention of embarrassing her by telling her she'd said 'naked', however. And he didn't want to answer uncomfortable questions Lord Beaumont was liable to ask either. "I couldn't say. I don't recognize that one, lass."

  Panther, who'd followed the conversation, asked McDermont with amusement if he'd suddenly gone deaf.

  McDermont turned to give him a disapproving frown. "No," he said flatly, in Muskogean. "This is not a matter for humor, friend."

  "I consider it great humor, friend McDermont," Panther responded, allowing himself a faint smile.

  Danielle, who knew darned well she'd gotten the word right, that McDermont had recognized it, and that it was probably something she'd just as soon not know anyway, had discarded her pique by the time McDermont returned his attention to her. She said the word 'no.' "What does that mean?"

  "It's the Muskogean word for 'no'," McDermont told her, nodding in approval, and because he could see she was on the point of asking him what else he'd said, distracted her by pointing to the campfire and giving her the Muskogean word for it.

  Danielle repeated it obediently, then frowned. "That's what Panther called me today, isn't it?"

  McDermont, whose hair was red, as well, though of a far lighter color, smiled wryly and agreed that Panther had called her flame haired. He pointed to the venison then and gave her the Indian word for that.

  Panther spoke at this point, and McDermont turned to him. He was grinning a little sheepishly when he turned back to Danielle. "Panther says, if you want to learn the tongue of his people, you should learn it from one of the people, else you'll speak Muskogean with a bit o' Scots brogue."

  Danielle chuckled dutifully but sent Adrian an uncomfortable look. He'd said nothing, and she wondered, suddenly conscience stricken, if he would object to her friendliness with McDermont. She saw that he was looking at Panther, but after a moment his eyes dropped to her, and he smiled faintly. "What a curious child you are, my dear," he said wryly. "Go. Find wisdom. We may have need of it."

  She bit her lip but rose after a moment's hesitation and exchanged places with McDermont.

  "I confess, McDermont, I'm eaten with curiosity myself. And I have waited with baited breath for you to explain why you've traveled so far, so fast..to no avail," she heard Adrian tell McDermont plaintively. "It's most tiresome of you to force me to ask."

  She turned to see that McDermont was grinning, but he sobered quickly. "Ye've seen no Spanish, have ye?"

  Adrian lifted his brows. "A small party only..And I didn't see them myself. I was..ah..occupied at the time." He sent Danielle a piercing look then and she, remembering that time along the St. Johns, blushed and looked away. "Why?"

  McDermont nodded. "I'm surprised ye saw them. Governor Montiano is concentrating all his forces at St. Augustine. They're after invading Georgia."

  "And Oglethorpe is unaware of this?"

  "Aye. He's aware. We've been playing at cat and mouse for a bit now, however. And although we've been expecting an invasion, we didn't know when to expect it."

  "And we know now?"

  "We've a fair notion. There's a Spanish Armada off St. Augustine now. They'd not be there now but for the bloody great storm that's holding them inland. Once they've more favorable winds, they'll be coming fer us..And they'll burn every town from here to Charles Town in Carolina if we don't stop them..Not that they'll stop at that if they can take out Frederica and Charles Town, fer there'll be nothing to stop them then from wiping out all the British holdings."

  Danielle heard no more, though they discussed it well into the night; the number of men Oglethorpe had mustered, the fortifications. She turned her attention fully upon Panther then, who'd been listening to the exchange as well, and probed the fascinating puzzle of learning his native tongue. She'd long heard tales of the Red man that inhabited the new world and she meant to finally assuage her curiosity about them. And the best way to do that, of course, was to ask them.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The party broke camp the next morning and headed east, following the flow of the St. Marys river. It was nearly dusk three days later when they reached the mouth, where the St. Marys emptied into the sea. Both Danielle and Lavinia were exhausted, and neither had the inclination to pretend otherwise for, distance aside, the terrain they'd covered had been far more difficult to negotiate than anything heretofore. It was unanimously decided, therefore, to rest upon the morrow to further their travels. Accordingly, they rose early the following day and made their way to the place where Panther and McDermont had left the dugout canoe that had carried them on the first leg of their expedition southward.

  Despite Adrian's incomprehensible moodiness, Danielle floated through the first day aboard the dugout in a state approaching euphoria. This had nothing to do with the fact that they at last had transportation other than their feet. She didn't care for the dugout, to put it mildly. It seemed a hazardous mode of transportation at best. At worst, a surefire way of finishing what fate had attempted twice before.

  Rather, her state of happiness was wholly attributable to the gift her new friend Panther had given her. Adrian's moodiness, had she but realized it, was attributable to the same source.

  The first thing her sleep blurred vision had settled upon when she'd woke that morning was a pair of leather shoes, much like the moccasins Panther wore, beside her.

  For long, long moments, she simply stared at them, seized by the almost forgotten joy of Christmas morn at the Christian Home when every child had woke to find that Father Christmas had come during the night and left a treat on their pillow. The brief fantasy vanished, leaving in its wake only puzzlement. She sat up and looked around then, wondering where they'd come from and who they belonged to. Panther, she saw, was crouched beside a tree not two yards from where she'd slept, watching her keenly.

  It came to her on that instant that they were a gift from him..and still she simply stared at them in disbelief. Finally, she nerved herself to ask him who the shoes belonged to, using a combination of gestures, English and the few words he'd taught her of his language over the past few days.

  Panther informed her almost gruffly that they were for her. All doubt being swept aside, Danielle felt the warmth
of joy and gratitude swell inside her, almost, but not quite, edging out her disbelief. "Truly?" she asked in a breathless voice that was little more than a whisper. At his curt nod, a smile of absolute brilliance lit her face and she turned to study her treasure, picking them up at last to examine them.

  Shoes! She found it hard to accept her good fortune even with Panther's assurances. She'd never owned a pair of shoes in her life. Never thought to own a pair. With trembling fingers, she tested the texture and was amazed at how soft the leather was, how fine.

  She might have examined them all day except that it came to her that she'd forgotten her manners. She hastened to remedy it. Turning to Panther once more, she thanked him with grave formality, wishing she knew enough of his language to expound on her deep appreciation other than a simple 'thank you'.

  Another less happy thought occurred to her then. Unconsciously she clutched her treasure to her chest protectively as her eyes flew to Adrian in consternation. It occurred to her that Adrian might not quite like her accepting a gift from another man, however harmless, and that it might be improper for her to do so.

  He was watching her, she discovered, his face set in that frustratingly unreadable mask he wore so often. Dismay assailed her. She felt certain he meant her not to have them. Rebellion followed quickly, the determination to keep them regardless of his wishes in the matter. In a moment, however, that tiny spark flickered and died out. A reluctant acceptance took its place, the realization that she would accede to his will, whatever it happened to be. There was very little, she'd found, that was really worth a battle of wills with Adrian. Win or lose, it inevitably left her with a feeling of defeat, since she could have no joy of having her way when Adrian withdrew into the cold silence he used so effectively against her.

  Every thought and emotion shown in her expressions as they came and went, so that she might have spoken them aloud. She was too flustered to realize she'd given so much away, or to consider hiding her feelings on the matter, and it caused a violence of feelings within Adrian's breast that were so intense as to make him feel almost physically unwell.