Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1)

by Phoebe Conn

  "Melissa?" Alanna called from her bed. "Are you sick?"

  Oh yes! Melissa longed to blurt out, but she dared not. She could not take the chance of drawing even the slightest bit of attention to herself. She felt as though anyone with a sharp pair of eyes would see her sinful secret, and brand her a harlot. To her way of thinking, she had merely made a stupid mistake, but unless she could forever keep the scandalous moment buried deep within her soul, her life would never be the same because of it. Hastily searching for an excuse for her tears, she found one she hoped Alanna would believe.

  "No," she responded wistfully. "I'm just so dreadfully worried about Byron and Elliott."

  Alanna sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed. "But why? They're grown men, who know how to look after themselves."

  "Yes, but they've never gone out looking for trouble as they are now, and I'm so afraid they'll find it."

  Touched by her cousin's anguish, Alanna left her bed, lit the lamp on the nightstand, and then went to Melissa's dresser to fetch her a handkerchief. "You mustn't carry on so," she said. "Your brothers are intelligent men. I doubt they'd go into the Ohio Valley if they didn't believe in what they're doing, and their ability to succeed."

  Alanna had proven to be so gullible, Melissa became positively inspired. She sat up and made a great show of blotting her tears. "That's just the problem," she complained. "They are too confident, and that folly could place them in great danger."

  Alanna had never seen Melissa is such a pitiful state. "I think I ought to wake your mother," she said. "Perhaps you'll find her advice more comforting."

  "Oh no! We mustn't bother Mother. If she hasn't realized that Byron and Elliott are putting themselves in terrible danger, then I don't want to risk upsetting her."

  Stymied as to what else to suggest, Alanna sat down on the edge of Melissa's bed. "It sounds as though the trip will be long and tiring, but it doesn't necessarily follow that it will be as terribly dangerous as you fear."

  "But it can't help but be dangerous!" Having just convinced herself of the peril, Melissa's worries doubled. She had hoped Hunter's friendship with her brothers would prevent him from speaking ill of her, but what, God forbid, if something actually did happen to them? With loyalty to Byron and Elliott no longer a factor, would Hunter feel free to say whatever he chose about her? She bent her knees to provide a comforting resting place for her cheek, and wrapped her arms around her legs. She tried to catch her breath, but tears continued to pour down her face.

  Never having realized her cousin was even capable of such abject despair, Alanna sat quietly observing her. She did not doubt that Melissa was dreadfully unhappy, but that she would weep so pathetically over her imagined fears for her brothers' safety just didn't seem plausible. Both young men had made similar trips with the militia, and she couldn't recall Melissa being even the slightest bit upset on any of those occasions. What was different now?

  Her first thought was that Byron and Elliott had not been traveling with Hunter in the past. Could Melissa's endless stream of tears be because of the Indian? Was she heartbroken because a man she had insisted meant nothing to her was leaving? Not wanting to upset her cousin with a repeat of their last conversation in which Melissa had stubbornly denied any interest in the Indian, Alanna kept those thoughts to herself. As far as she was concerned, Melissa could weep and sob over Hunter as long as she wished. Alanna was too grateful he would be gone in the morning to complain.

  "Would some tea help?" Alanna asked.

  "How can you be so incredibly shallow as to believe a cup of tea would ease my pain?"

  "It was only a suggestion."

  Alanna was such a bashful girl, and when she looked away, Melissa realized how insensitive she had been to snap at her. "Please forgive me. At any other time the offer of tea would be most appreciated, but tonight, well, it just isn't enough."

  "Brandy then?"

  "Yes! Some of my father's brandy would be enormously helpful. Will you fetch me some, please?"

  Alanna would have been happy to get whatever Melissa wished, rather than listen to her cry until dawn. She lit a candle to light her way, and went downstairs to her uncle's study. He kept a crystal decanter of brandy and matching glasses on a tray on the corner of his desk. She had never sampled it herself, but knew that her uncle regarded brandy as being of great value when he was troubled. Hoping Melissa would find it equally soothing, she poured a few drops into a glass, then added several more, and carried it upstairs. Melissa hadn't moved in the time she had been gone.

  Alanna handed her the glass. "I believe this is supposed to be sipped."

  Melissa eyed the scant quantity she had been given, fearing it would not be nearly enough. A quick taste revolted her completely, but the numbing warmth as the potent liquor spread throughout her body was remarkably pleasant. She finished the final sip in a hasty gulp and handed the empty glass to Alanna.

  "Thank you. I feel better already."

  Alanna set the glass aside on the nightstand. Not really wanting to believe that Melissa cared for an Indian, she probed the excuse for her tears with deliberate subtlety. "You seemed so happy last night at the party. When we prepared for bed, you didn't express any worries about Byron and Elliott. Did you have a bad dream about them? Is that what happened?"

  Melissa had no choice, but she didn't relish lying to her cousin. It had not occurred to her to blame her drastic change in mood on a dream, but the suggestion was too good to waste. "Yes, that's precisely what happened. Perhaps the dancing was more tiring than usual. All I know is that I awoke overcome with both sorrow and fright. It's sweet of you not to scold me for being silly."

  "It isn't silly to want the best for your brothers."

  "No, of course, it isn't, but some would call me foolish for carrying on so." Melissa's handkerchief had become as soggy as a washrag, and Alanna brought her another. She thanked her between sniffles. "Let's try and get back to sleep, if we don't, we'll look awful in the morning when we tell the boys goodbye."

  And Hunter, Alanna added silently. She would be ecstatically happy to wave goodbye to him. If Melissa felt differently, it would not matter, for the Indian would undoubtedly be gone long enough for her to forget him. Not that her cousin was fickle, of course, but she had never favored one beau for more than a few weeks. Alanna put out the lamp and got back into bed, content in the belief Hunter would soon leave their home, and with any luck, absent himself forever.

  Melissa rearranged her pillows and attempted to find a comfortable pose, but despite the lingering warmth imparted by the brandy, she was still too restless to find peace. With but a tiny bit of imagination, she could feel the seductive sweetness of Hunter's caress, and the passionate hunger of his kiss. He had worked a sensual magic she had not even known existed, until the first time his lips had brushed hers and created the desire she had only dreamed of in romantic fantasies.

  The memory of that sunlit ride made her cringe, and she drew her hand across her mouth, while wishing she could erase all trace of Hunter as easily from her mind. It was not only her mind which clung to his memory, however, but her whole body that recalled the warmth of his smooth, bronze skin, and the rapture of his touch. If only she had had sense enough to stop there, before he claimed her innocence as easily as he had her reason. She sighed dejectedly, certain she had been lost from the moment their eyes had met on the dock. She had seen only a handsome savage, when what she should have recognized in his dark gaze was the reflection of her own doom.

  Depressed beyond further tears, she knew she would not get to sleep that night, for how could she rest, when in the space of an evening she had come so close to destroying her whole life? She had been incredibly weak, and the resulting pain that tore at her conscience was far too high a price to pay. If only she were certain no one would ever learn how foolish she had been, then she could go on as though no mistake had been made.

  Tragically, the change in her had been too profound to mask with the pretense th
at she had suffered no such epiphany. She would no longer have a frivolous outlook, that she now feared had bordered on the childish. Instead, she was eager to alter her habits, to curb the flirtatious manner which had always made her so popular, for it had been her undoing.

  Popularity no longer concerned her. What she wanted now was a cloak of respectability so thick that no breath of scandal could ever dislodge it from her shoulders. She would have to be careful though. She could not change her behavior so abruptly it caused comment, and drew curiosity and speculation. No, she would have to make the changes she desired slowly, with deliberate caution, so no one would ever suspect how badly she had strayed from the path she ought to have followed.

  With that plan clearly in mind, Melissa slipped from her bed to wet a washcloth in the pitcher of water on the washstand. When she lay back down, she placed it over her eyes to reduce the swelling. She intended to look her best in the morning, and she dared not appear as though she had spent most of the night crying. After all, why would Melissa Barclay have any reason to be sad, when she was so pretty and popular? she asked herself. Why indeed?

  * * *

  The next morning, Alanna was astonished to discover Melissa had gotten up before her. She dimly recalled a Christmas morning when they were children, when Melissa had beaten her out of bed, but that had been the only other time. Thinking it was no wonder she had overslept after the party and Melissa's late-night bout of tears, Alanna grew worried she might not be dressed in time to bid Byron and Elliott farewell.

  She left her bed and hurried to the window, but there was no sign of activity on the dock. Byron's bateau was still there, although it did appear to be partially loaded. Not wishing to be mistaken for lazy on such an important morning, she dressed so hastily she was still donning her cap as she ran down the stairs.

  Standing in the hallway, Elliott stepped forward to catch Alanna around the waist and swing her off the bottom step. "Where are you off to in such a rush?" he asked.

  Nonplussed, Alanna drew away. "I was afraid I'd miss saying goodbye to you."

  Amused by the sweetness of her excuse, Elliott had to fight the impulse to tease her again. "Didn't you know I'd not leave without a kiss from you?"

  There had been a time when Alanna would have thrown her arms around his neck and hugged him, too, but now that she was grown, such an affectionate display no longer seemed appropriate between them. While she also loved Byron, she and Elliott had always shared a special rapport. He was as protective as an older brother, and had always made her feel dearly loved.

  "Well, I'd hoped that you wouldn't," she admitted, "but the others might not have bothered to wait for me."

  Entering the hall from the dining room, Hunter could not help but overhear Alanna's remark, but when she shied away from him, he thought better of saying that he would also have waited to kiss her goodbye. A pretty blush filled her cheeks and, while she was again dressed in simple homespun fabrics rather than satin and lace, he thought her as pretty as she had been at dinner the previous evening.

  He was in exceptionally high spirits, but like Melissa, did not wish to make anyone curious as to the reason, and so tried very hard to behave as he always did. "I was just going upstairs to get my things," he said as he slipped by her, but she failed to reply. Thinking perhaps his comment had not required a response, Hunter took no offense, but it felt very strange to have made love with Melissa, while Alanna would not willingly offer a kind word. He had observed the sharp differences between the two young women upon first meeting them, but he hoped by the second or third time he visited the Barclay home, Alanna would drop her reserve.

  As he reached his room, Hunter decided he would not insist upon friendliness from Melissa's family, but he believed he had a right to expect courtesy, and Alanna still had a difficult time with that where he was concerned. He had already packed his few belongings and, after slinging them over his shoulder, he gave the room he'd occupied a final glance. From the elaborately carved cornice to the highly polished pine floor, and every piece of furniture it contained, it was as fine a room as could be found in Virginia, but to Hunter, it held none of the warmth of home.

  A long house afforded Seneca families the finest of forest accommodations, and it was that unique oneness with the earth that Hunter missed. In his view, the Barclay mansion squatted on the land like an overgrown toad, rather than being a part of the natural scene as a long house was. If his visits to the plantation proved to be as frequent as he hoped, perhaps he would ask permission to build a long house nearby. Melissa and he would then have a perfect place to meet.

  For the present, however, the construction of a home was not his utmost concern. He might have felt out of place in Melissa's house, but not in her arms, and enchanted by her, he was anxious to see her again. They had made no plans before parting, but he was confident she would share his wish to keep their love a secret for the time being.

  A slow smile played across his lips as went down the stairs. As long as Melissa did not keep their love a secret from him as well, he would not complain.

  * * *

  Seeking excuses to leave the house, Melissa took on more chores that morning than she usually handled in a month. First she went to the laundry to make certain all of her brothers' clothes had been washed, pressed, and returned to their rooms. Then there were favorite dishes she asked Polly to prepare for their breakfast, and she took the cook with her to the smokehouse to search for the choicest side of bacon. The henhouse was on the opposite side of the barn, and while she had not gathered eggs in years, she made a point of doing so now.

  Finally, noticing several of the camellia blossoms in the bouquet on the dining room table were tinged with brown, she rushed out to the garden to replace them. She had just finished arranging the flowers for the breakfast table, when she heard her brothers descending the stairs. Believing Hunter would be with them, she again left the house, and this time walked down to the stable where the horses used to Alanna's pampering snickered softly for the apples Melissa was too preoccupied to dole out.

  Knowing she was far too nervous to swallow a single bite, she sat in the cool darkness of the stable until she was certain breakfast would be over. Then she walked out on the dock and watched the ducks paddling by with their downy babies, intending to stay there until the young men were ready to leave. Frequently fed from the dock, upon sighting her the mother ducks led their broods in close and, expecting breakfast, quacked eagerly. Equally eager for something to do, Melissa dashed back to the kitchen for bread, and met Hunter on her second trip to the dock. Too frightened to think clearly, she clutched the stale loaf Polly had just given her as though she were as desperately hungry as the ducks.

  "I was just going to feed the ducks," she told him.

  Melissa was wearing the same attractive blue dress she had worn the day he had arrived, and Hunter again thought her a beauty, but she was blushing so deeply he could not help but laugh. "I'm taking my things to the bateau" he announced, "so we can walk there together." He then leaned down to whisper, "You needn't look guilty. Love is no cause for shame."

  Melissa had known she would have to speak with him that morning, but she had hoped there would be others present to keep their conversation from taking such an intimate turn. To her way of thinking, there was an enormous difference between the cherished beauty of love and the lustful desire that had led her astray, but she was not about to lecture Hunter on her views. She just wanted him gone.

  "I'm not ashamed," she denied bravely. "It's just difficult to see you and not dwell on how soon you'll be gone."

  "Then you will miss me?"

  Melissa dared not look up at him, when she knew his dark eyes would be radiant with a teasing light. "Yes, I'll miss you terribly," she promised, although the lie pained her deeply. "Won't you miss me?"

  They had reached the dock, and Melissa began tearing off hunks of bread and tossing them out to the ducks, who dove to catch them. Believing the pieces to be too large, Hunter t
ook the loaf from her hands and broke off a tiny bit. "The ducklings need smaller bites," he explained as he threw one out into the river.

  "Yes, of course. How silly of me." Melissa let him keep the bread and, moving closer to the edge of the dock, pretended to look for fish. In another hour he'll be gone, she told herself. Surely she could convince everyone his visit had left her unchanged for that long. She sent a sidelong glance Hunter's way, and found him studying her with the knowing gaze she feared might haunt her for the rest of her days.

  "Stop it!" she hissed.

  "Stop what?"

  "Stop looking at me like that."

  "Like what?"

  He was caressing her body with a heated glance she could actually feel and, although she was fully clothed, he made her feel naked. A fresh blush filled her cheeks. "As though I were some delicious morsel you couldn't wait to eat."

  Hunter licked his lips, and it was a far more suggestive gesture than she had ever shown him. Mortified by such blatant disrespect, a painful lump formed in her throat. Clearly the Indian cared nothing for her feelings, and why would he, when she had behaved like a wanton? She turned her back on him and bit her lip to force away the monsoon of tears that threatened to drown her in remorse. Her life was ruined, and the man who had caused her disgrace was laughing at her! Could there be any worse punishment?

  Wondering what had become of the enchanting belle he had admired, Hunter tossed the last of the bread to the ducks and then walked up behind her. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. She was wearing a floral scent that teased his senses, and he regretted having to leave her. Believing his departure was troubling her, too, he offered the only reassurance he could.