by Unknown
He'd known Danielle had been deprived all her life of even what he considered the basic essentials. And yet, until he'd seen her near delirious joy over so simple a thing as a crude pair of shoes, he realized that he hadn't really known. Or felt it in such a painful way that it took an effort to resist the urge to draw her to him tightly, protectively and promise her everything he had to give.
Jealousy vied with that nebulous, undefined emotion, and that, too, was confusing. He didn't, at first, even recognize it for what it was. He had not known jealousy before, not such as this terrible, gnawing at his vitals and mind, so that pain and anger, not reason, strove to rule him. It had been bad enough when she'd shielded the Indian from him. He'd felt then the urge to thrust her aside and tear him to pieces with his bare hands, but he had been able to see reason. To say that he hadn't liked the way she'd looked at Panther when she discovered him to be the donor of the gift was to put it mildly.
It wasn't only that he'd trespassed where he had no right, he'd given insult in doing so. No man could provide so personal an item to a woman not his own without doing so. Had it been any other man, he would've thrown down an immediate challenge at the insult to Danielle. Even in his blinding anger however, it occurred to him that the Indian was not aware that, to an Englishman, giving so personal a gift implied a woman's lack of virtue. He was aware too, that he, in his present condition, lacked the clear head he needed to consider the matter with reason, and so he held his tongue.
"Should I . . . keep them, do you think?" Danielle asked him hesitantly.
"You already accepted, did you not? And very sweetly, I might add," he said neutrally, knowing the moment the words were out he might have saved himself the trouble of trying to sound unmoved. Nothing but jealousy could have inspired that last asinine remark. He felt a flush of irritation mount his cheeks.
Danielle's jaw dropped in dismay. She wasn't deceived in the least by the even tone. He was not happy with her. Worse, as he'd point out, the fact that she'd already accepted, and with such enthusiasm, would make it very embarrassing and uncomfortable for everyone to make an about face now and insist that she couldn't take them. She began to realize, however, that she'd behaved unacceptably. He wanted her to behave like the ladies he knew and perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn't the 'thing' for a lady to accept such a gift. She wished desperately that she'd considered that before.
She glanced down at the shoes then with longing but finally sighed deeply, regretfully. She didn't really need them. She'd gotten along just fine without shoes lo these many years. But . . . oh! How she wanted them! They were by far the prettiest things she'd ever even almost had! For several moments she thought that she would shame herself by crying like a child thwarted of its treat.
She mastered the urge with an effort and turned to McDermont, blushing fierily when she realized that he, too, had been watching her. His eyes were sympathetic, and still it embarrassed her.
It couldn't be so very hard. All she need do was make Panther understand that she wasn't rejecting his gift out of scorn or ingratitude, but because it wasn't acceptable to do so. "I don't want to insult Panther," she told McDermont anxiously. "How may I explain to Panther that it isn't proper for me to accept, but that I appreciate his thoughtfulness more than I can say?"
Adrian, who'd been crouched before the smoldering embers of their campfire, came to his feet with controlled violence. Christ! he thought angrily. If she'd tried to make him feel more like an unconscionable bastard, she couldn't have succeeded any better. He was jealous. He recognized it now for what it was, though it didn't make it any easier to deal with. Still, he'd never, in blackest anger, been completely blind to reason. He'd realized that she should keep them, had said as much, though it had cost him.
The plain fact was, once he'd gotten a grip on the worst of his anger, he'd known he couldn't deprive her of something she badly needed only because it wounded his pride that another had provided when he couldn't. She needed the shoes.
"That isn't necessary," he made himself say, quietly and evenly. "Under any other circumstances, it would be highly improper to accept so personal a gift from any man not connected to you by blood or the bond of marriage." Here his eyes went to Panther for a long, challenging moment, for he suspected Panther knew the white man's ways well, and had only decided to ignore them in favor, perhaps, of his own people's ways.
"However, as Panther is plainly ignorant of this breech of acceptable behavior, you would not like to insult him or appear unappreciative of a gift that was obviously meant as a kindness to one in need, for you do need them. That cannot be denied. Certainly, you must keep them. Particularly since you've already graciously accepted. We can avoid any future misunderstandings of this nature if McDermont will explain to his friend that a gentleman must consider such personal gifts as an insult and a challenge to his honor when they are given to his woman by a man not family."
"Aye," McDermont agreed, but looked away uncomfortably after a moment. "I'll do that, Beaumont. It's not good to have misunderstandings."
Adrian studied McDermont for a long, measuring moment. "Precisely," he agreed pleasantly.
Danielle looked from one man to the other doubtfully. She had been a little afraid that she'd somehow managed to start a quarrel between the men. It was something of a relief to see that it hadn't come to that, but the animosity that lingered couldn't be ignored. Still, she felt certain Adrian meant what he said, even though he disliked it. She did wish he'd either insisted that she give them back regardless or hidden his dislike of her keeping them just a little better. It was going to make it difficult to enjoy them with the whole-hearted enthusiasm she'd had before.
It was a measure of just how desperately she wanted them that she managed after only a few minutes of discomfort to begin to feel a tentative happiness with them once more. "You're certain it'll be all right?" she asked anxiously, offering him one last chance to change his mind.
Adrian managed a faint smile, though it looked nearly as painful as it felt. "Quite. Put them on and come break your fast. The sooner we get started, the sooner we may hope to reach civilization again. And while I must admit I've enjoyed our adventures to a certain extent, I confess I'll be glad to see a razor again, among other things. I cannot conceive how you endure your beard in his heat, McDermont."
McDermont obliged him in his effort to reduce the strain by coming back with a jesting comment, and the moment passed. It was so successful, in fact, that neither Lavinia nor the captain noticed that anything was amiss when they returned and joined the group gathered around the campfire. Adrian, having expended that effort to relieve the tension, withdrew into the silence of his own thoughts once more. McDermont, however, saw a need to distract everyone's thoughts and proceeded to do so by entertaining them all with tales about his many adventures since coming to the colonies.
Adrian listened politely, smiled faintly where it seemed appropriate, and fumed inside. Captain Tyler listened with absent interest, though his mind was plainly more attuned to the cold venison he was consuming. Lavinia listened with a mixture of horror and revulsion that would've made it obvious to the most dense observer that she couldn't regret enough the decision she'd made to come to the Colonies.
Danielle didn't listen at all. She was totally absorbed in admiring her gift. She was so thrilled it didn't faze her in the least when Adrian snapped at her that she must come eat or consider doing without.
When they'd been on the trail long enough that the party began to straggle out, as it inevitably did once they attained their individual strides, Panther dropped back to walk beside Adrian. It was done unobtrusively. Panther had words for the white man that were for him alone.
He didn't speak at once, instead studying the man who walked beside him. He felt the hostility of the white man, though they were well concealed now, but he did not weigh his words for that reason. He did not fear the white man. He feared no man. Rather, he'd begun to have a reluctant respect for the
man and chose his words well, so that when he spoke, his meaning would be clear. This was many times difficult with the spoken language and more so when speaking the white man's words.
He sensed the white woman behind him, the one he'd begun to call Little Red Fox Prancing, and he smiled to himself as he heard her stumble and mutter under her breath. He had not expected that she would be so pleased with his gift. It was good, very good that she was. Most white women, he knew, would have scorned so simple an offering, for they were not even adorned.
He'd had nothing with which to adorn the moccasins. He frowned inwardly at that, not because of the lack but because of the whim that had made him sacrifice one of his pouches to make shoes for the woman. He was not a creature of whim in the ordinary way, and the making of moccasins was women's work. He would have much to endure if McDermont wished to amuse himself at his expense.
He would not regret it even so. Little Red Fox's pleasure in the gift had given him great pleasure also. For that, it was worth enduring a little teasing, though he had feared at first that she would not be happy with his gift.
He should not have doubted. He had seen and felt in his heart at their first meeting that she was different from others of her kind. He had frightened her when he had first come upon her at the river. But he had not been surprised or insulted by that. He was a stranger to her and of the Creek Confederacy, and she must have been as startled by her first sight of one of the Muskogee People as he had been when first he saw a white man.
And yet she had acted with wisdom and bravery. She had neither screamed nor fainted as most white women would have. She was very wise for her years, very brave and beautiful, even for a white woman. It was little wonder the white man, Beaumont, guarded her so well.
Still, she was not his life mate, his wife, for he had heard the yellow haired woman say this, that Little Red Fox was “only his indentured servant,” which he knew was a white custom where a slave was kept for many seasons and then released. If the yellow-haired woman did not lie, and Beaumont had bargained for Little Red Fox, then he thought, in time, Beaumont might be willing to set a price for her. When that time came, he would bargain for her.
"It is good, Beaumont," he spoke at last, "that you do this thing for Little Red Fox." He saw Adrian's startled, questioning look and continued after a slight pause. "The one you call . . . Danielle?" He saw comprehension and then the anger came again. "The gift was for the friendship she has honored me with, nothing more. It is the custom among my people to give gifts in friendship. This, Little Red Fox does not know, and yet she gave friendship--" He paused, frowning slightly as he tried to think of the words he was looking for. "--without judgement . . . or wish for gain. A true and honorable gift from the heart, and so I must show I receive it graciously or bring shame to myself. I made you lose face by this act, I know now. For this I have regrets."
Adrian was silent, thoughtfully so, for some moments. Finally, he smiled wryly. "I'm not nearly as certain of that now as I was then, but I accept your apology. And I can see I must learn a little more of your people's ways."
Panther nodded and both fell silent. "Little Red Fox, she is your slave woman?" he asked presently.
Adrian looked at him, startled, before his lips thinned in anger. He would, he thought, throttle Lavinia. He knew damned well he had her to thank for this absurdity. "My indentured servant," he finally answered tightly.
Panther looked at him askance but after a moment seemed almost to shrug, as if to say he would not quibble but could see no difference. Adrian felt a wash of anger. It receded almost as quickly as it had come, however, to be replaced by doubt. Was there a difference? She had sold herself into service of her own will, but she hadn't really had any more choice in the matter. Seen in that light, he finally had to admit that there was very little difference, though it caused him feelings of revulsion to do so. "I shall remedy the matter in Charles Town," he muttered to himself.
Panther looked more than politely interested. "Remedy? This means to make well?"
Adrian gave him a sharp, penetrating look. "Something like that," he returned vaguely, for he didn't quite like the Indian's interest. In fact, he didn't like it at all. He was beginning to regret that he'd allowed Danny to indulge her curiosity about the Indian people by hounding Panther for information. It might well be harmless curiosity on Danny's part, but Panther's fascination in her was something he couldn't view as harmless at all.
Panther merely nodded and said no more.
"You speak English remarkably well," Adrian said after several moments had passed. "I was under the apprehension that you spoke little of our language."
Panther looked at him in amusement. "My people have been friends to your people for many seasons. I have had much time to learn." He shrugged. "Like you, I am more . . . comfortable with my own tongue."
They found the dugout as it had been left, so well hidden by the marsh grasses that no one would have suspected it was anything other than a fallen tree washed up by the tides. It wasn't as heavy as it looked, nor as cramped, though once they were all seated, it rode far lower in the water than Danielle liked.
Danielle was uneasy, despite the fact that the sea looked relatively calm just now and the winds were not excessively high. Storm clouds rode the distant horizon to the east and south, but not comfortably distant, and they had much the same murderous look as the storm that had driven the Lady Dorinda ashore. Moreover, they had experienced two fairly violent thunderstorms in the weeks they'd been traveling and she had no desire to be out at sea in nothing more than a dugout tree with lightening bolts forking down all around them. Unfortunately, she had no choice in the matter.
She climbed aboard, therefore, without protest, throwing Adrian what she hoped was a game grin. Lavinia complained, but everyone turned a deaf ear. And since she'd finally come to the realization that she was with them only on sufferance, she climbed in and merely contented herself with making everyone as miserable as possible.
Despite Danielle's fears, they did not take to the open sea but traveled instead along the intercoastal river. Land was always in sight to the west--marshy, uninviting land, to be sure, but land just the same. And to the east, not long after they'd left the river proper, Cumberland Island separated them from the sea. Fort William was perched upon its southern tip, but they saw little of it as they continued northward.
They had hoped to reach Fort St. Andrews on the northern most point of Cumberland Island to rest for the night, but were thwarted by a series of thundershowers that slowed their progress and finally forced them to pull ashore altogether. They made camp for the night, throwing together haphazard shelters that voiced an unfulfilled hope of sleeping relatively dry, and rose the following morning to experience their last, most terrifying adventure before reaching civilization.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Danielle's didn't see much point in trying to wash the muck off. Granted, she felt like she'd been dragged through a pig wallow, and Lavinia looked like she'd been through worse. The rain the night before had turned the world to mud, and there didn't seem much point in bathing it off when they were bound to get muddy all over again the moment they left the tiny wedge of sand that was all there was of the beach.
She wouldn't have bothered, since it seemed a useless exercise, except that Lavinia had demanded time to bathe, and she didn't want Adrian to come to the conclusion that she liked being nasty.
Not that she understood why she was making the effort to please Adrian when she could have cheerfully strangled him this morning. Her beautiful new shoes were quite ruined, and it was all his fault. They would be as good as new now if only he'd let her take them off and put them inside her shirt to protect them like she'd wanted to. But, no. Contrary, autocratic beast that he was, he'd insisted that she had to wear them, and now they were so caked with mud, inside and out, that they were hardly recognizable. She could have wept when she got her first good look at them in the weak morning light. She fe
lt like weeping now as she brushed and beat at them with a twig, trying to knock the hardened mud loose.
And that was another thing. Here she was practically bare-arsed naked again, squatted behind a bush in nothing but a wet shirt, and all because she was stupid enough not to want Adrian to think she looked like hell.
When she'd scraped all the mud off her shoes that she could, she threw the twig. They still looked awful, and she bit her lower lip and sniffed dolefully.
"I declare! I don't know what you think you have to pout about!" Lavinia snapped. "No one with the least claim to good taste would have had those things on a bet anyway! Do you see me weeping over my ruined shoes? Or my ruined gown for that matter!"
Danielle glared at her. "I ain't seen you do nothing but whine since we landed here! Why don't you take yer fat arse off before I smash your face in?"
Lavinia, who'd been wringing the water from her skirts, released them and brought herself slowly to her full height--which wasn't much--placing her arms akimbo. "If you think you can, you low-bred little slut, by all means come and try it."
Danielle grinned, rising to her feet as well. Now this was more like it! A good mill ought to soothe her lacerated feelings just fine! "There's a case of the pot calling the kettle black if I ever heard one! You just hold tight till I get my breeches on and I'll just do that!"
It was risky, of course. Lavinia might well decide to rush her while she was at a disadvantage. On the other hand, once she and Lavinia went at it, it was bound to draw the others, and she had no intention of being caught bare-arsed. She compromised by keeping one eye on Lavinia for any sudden moves while she pulled her wet breeches on and tied them up at the waist.
She'd no more than secured them when the most peculiar look came to Lavinia's face. She studied the woman with a mixture of triumph, doubt, and disappointment, certain that Lavinia, now that she was actually faced with a fight, was about to back out. But there was something about Lavinia's look of horror that seemed just a little excessive under the circumstances. Moreover, Danielle finally realized that Lavinia wasn't looking directly at her but rather over her shoulder. She felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickle even before she heard a low, rumbling growl, and slowly, slowly, she began to turn.
