by Phoebe Conn
Melissa had not expected to prompt a proposal from Ian so soon, and while she was grateful for it, she wasn't ready to involve her parents as yet. "I'm positive my father likes you, but we haven't known each other long, and I don't want him to object to you for that reason. Let's give him a few more weeks to appreciate what a fine man you are, and then when you approach him, there will be no danger that you'll be refused."
"And if he gives his permission, is there any danger you'll refuse me?"
While Melissa dared not admit what thoughtful consideration she had given the question, Ian was her first choice, and she wanted him to know it. "If I give you my answer now, will you become so insufferably conceited that I'll wish I'd kept you guessing?"
Charmed as always, Ian began to laugh. "You know me very well, don't you?"
"I should hope so," Melissa replied with mock seriousness. "It's not every man I kiss as passionately as I did you." That in truth, his affection had left her emotions untouched, was something she would never admit. She liked him enormously, and surely her feelings would soon deepen into love. "Let's go down by the river. The view's very beautiful, and there are several secluded spots were we might stop and talk without fear of interruption."
Ian caught her hand and let her lead the way. "Yes, we really do have a great deal to discuss, don't we? I had hoped only to see you this afternoon. I'm really not prepared to present a plan for the rest of our lives."
"Must we be so serious? Can't we simply enjoy the beauty of the day, and the fun of being together?"
Relieved, Ian was quick to agree. "Whatever you like, my darling."
Melissa gave his hand a squeeze, but his skin didn't tingle beneath her touch the way Hunter's had. That was another disappointment she shoved aside and hid with a smile. Ian had such a warm and appealing personality, she wanted to love him so badly, she was positive she would in time. As they neared the dock, she saw Alanna seated close by and finally remembered her promise.
"Graham Tyler appears to be quite taken with Alanna, but he simply overwhelms her with endless conversation. Do you suppose he might change, if you mentioned her preference for more introspective men?"
Recalling how easily Alanna had put him in his place after church, Ian shook his head. "Alanna ought to make that point herself. It would only be meddling if such a suggestion came from me. Stuart doesn't say more than three words a day, but I didn't see her giving him much encouragement at the party."
"No, they didn't take to each other either. Do you know someone else, another officer Alanna might like as much as I like you?"
"I've no idea what your cousin would like, but you've met everyone at one time or another at church, and so has she. She can make her own choice. You needn't be so concerned about Alanna. She's shy, but very pretty, and I'm certain she'll find someone to love before long."
Knowing Alanna's reluctance to encourage suitors, Melissa did not share Ian's optimism. Fearing he was becoming cross with her, she chose a shaded path where her lavish kisses soon distracted him so completely, he could not even recall a mention of Alanna, much less Melissa's desire to find her a beau.
Chapter 6
In a rare lazy mood, Hunter lay back in a thickly cushioned bed of bluegrass, and gazed up at the clouds slowly skimming by. Predictably, George Washington's portion of the Virginia regiment was making steady progress along the trail to Will's Creek, and the scout's days had been as uneventful as he'd feared. Understanding his restlessness, Byron and Elliott had dropped their insistence that he trudge along with their men during the day, and allowed him to roam free, as long as he ate his meals in camp and slept there at night. He had begun hunting to supplement their rations with fresh meat, but that took only a few hours each morning, leaving him long afternoons to fill on his own.
While no one expected to encounter French troops this near the coast, it was always a possibility, and Hunter went out each dawn to make certain the day's march would not end in an ambush. So far, he had found no sign of an imminent threat, but that morning he had seen a wolf, his clan symbol. Sighting a wolf might mean nothing, since the forest was their home, but this one had been larger than most. His behavior had also been peculiar, for rather than fleeing when Hunter had come over a ridge and startled him, he had remained motionless for several seconds.
They had stared at each other, feral yellow eyes locked with calm brown, until the wolf had lifted his head as if responding to an unheard cry, and loped away into the pines. If the wolf's presence on the trail were mere coincidence, then it meant nothing, but if it had been a warning, Hunter knew he would be wise to adopt a far more cautious attitude. He closed his eyes to recapture the brief scene in his memory, and envisioned it with astonishing clarity.
The wolf had not simply possessed a greater size than most, his glossy gray coat had retained its winter thickness into the spring, and his fangs had been wickedly sharp. There had been no fear in his gaze, but instead, a light that signaled recognition. Extraordinary in every way, Hunter now believed the wolf had to have been a messenger, bringing a warning he'd be a fool to ignore.
Sitting up, he scanned the surrounding valley for some sign of trouble, but it was as peaceful a place as any he had ever seen. The gentle breeze was fragrant with spring blossoms, and sweetened by the song of the meadow lark. Lulled by such tranquil beauty, Hunter again stretched out on the grass. He had been warned, but whatever danger lay ahead would not come that day.
His thoughts strayed to Melissa, but shimmering with reflected light her image danced in his mind and refused to come clear. That bothered him badly, for he wanted to recall the passion they'd shared in all its splendor. He could remember the bright sparkle of her blue eyes, the softness of her blond hair, and the delicacy of her touch, but he could not picture the sweetness of her expression as she had reached up to kiss him.
Blaming that failure on the fact that his most stirring memories of her were lit by moonlight, Hunter was annoyed rather than worried, but he hoped by the next time they parted, Melissa's image would fill his mind as surely as her love filled his heart.
* * *
Alanna turned slowly as Sally Lester fitted the waist on the first of her new gowns. Melissa might have shamed her into wearing prettier clothes, but she was far from happy about it. She told herself that at least the skirts would be of a fashionable length appropriate for her height, but she dreaded the thought of drawing attention to herself. It was Melissa who sought the constant thrill of admiring glances, not her.
She had been complimented when wearing blue and pink, but the fabric of this gown was a glossy white printed with such charming bouquets of violets, she could almost smell their delicate perfume. The moment she had seen the striking floral material on the bolt, she had reached out to touch it; delighted that something in the dressmaker's shop appealed to her, Melissa had encouraged her to buy it. Now that the dress was ready for the final fitting, Alanna thought it so exceptionally pretty, she doubted she would ever want to wear anything else.
"You ought to have lavender slippers to wear with this gown," Sally advised, "and keep it scented with lavender sachet."
"We'll buy some lavender perfume this very day," Melissa enthused. "You never wear perfume, Alanna, and it adds so much to a woman's appeal."
First new clothes, and now perfume? "You sound like you're baiting a trap," Alanna replied.
Both Sally Lester and Melissa laughed, but clearly they agreed it was a woman's natural right to capture the attention of an attractive man by whatever means she chose.
Alanna ignored them for the moment and stroked the folds of her skirt with a reverent touch. This was the first time she could recall being excited about having a new dress. Her aunt and uncle had always been generous, but she had never shared Melissa's fascination with clothes, and couldn't remember any particular favorites. It was the floral print she liked so much about this gown, for the violets held a shy sweetness that touched her heart.
"What about the yellow gown
?" Melissa asked. "Will you have that one finished by next week, too?"
"Yes, Miss Melissa, I surely will."
"Good, then Alanna will have no excuse to miss any of the fun of the Publick Times."
Alanna made a face at her cousin. Twice a year, in April and October, Williamsburg was the site of fairs, races, and fabulous parties to mark the convening of the General Assembly and courts. The inns were filled with men from distant plantations, while their women boarded with friends, and the entertainment provided for them was continuous. Alanna enjoyed the fairs and watching the auctions in Market Square, but the prospect of having to attend parties or—God forbid—the ball at the Governor's Palace, was more than she could bear.
"I've always gone to the fairs and auctions," she reminded Melissa.
"Yes, I know you have, but that's not what I meant. This year you're old enough to go with us to the more lavish parties, and I'm going to insist you attend the governor's ball."
"I should have gone with Byron and Elliott," Alanna sighed sadly. "I'd much rather fight the French, than pretend I enjoy dancing."
Sally Lester assumed Alanna was teasing and began to giggle. "You can't mean that, Miss Alanna. The yellow satin gown will be perfect for the ball. You and Miss Melissa will be the prettiest girls there."
Alanna watched Melissa's smile widen into a triumphant smirk, and knew her cousin would talk her mother into insisting she attend whatever function the family chose to enjoy. Uncle John was a member of the Assembly, and always received more invitations than he could accept, but he had never insisted that she go along. Perhaps at seventeen she was too old to be left at home, but she wished she had been given more than a week to get used to the idea.
"Do you make more beautiful gowns for us than you do for your other customers, Mrs. Lester?" Alanna asked.
"All my gowns are equally lovely," Sally claimed. "But unfortunately, not all of Williamsburg's womenfolk are as beautiful as you and Melissa."
Alanna was used to everyone referring to Melissa as a beauty, but doubted that she deserved equal praise. Glancing toward the dressmaker's mirror, she saw a pair of green eyes that were too large for her face, a nose that was passably cute, and lips that formed only a hesitant smile. That certainly didn't add up to beauty in her mind. She and Melissa bore a slight resemblance, it was true, but her cousin's features were usually animated by radiant smiles, and Alanna never felt any such joy. Sally Lester was merely being kind, she decided, and it was a relief rather than a disappointment.
As the two young women left the dressmaker's, they found Randolph O'Neil walking their way. Alanna would have darted into the shop next door, but it was apparent he had already seen them, and he didn't deserve to be treated rudely. Melissa gave Alanna a playful nudge in the ribs, but had no time to tease her before he greeted them.
"Good morning!" he called out when he was still several feet away. "Please tell your mother that I have just received some crystal vases I think she might like. I hope that you'll have time to come in and have a look at them while you're in town."
He had addressed his remark to Melissa, but he was looking at Alanna, and she could not help but blush. Randolph O'Neil sold elegant imported merchandise and jewelry, and Rachel Barclay was one of his best customers. On her infrequent visits to town, Alanna had always enjoyed browsing through his shop, but that had been before he had taken special notice of her. Now, she would have avoided his place of business so as not to encourage the interest she couldn't return. Melissa, however, felt differently.
"We have a few other stops, and then we'll be there," Melissa promised with the sparkling smile she used on all men, and satisfied he would see them again soon, Randolph continued on his way.
Melissa turned to watch him. "I swear that man becomes better-looking each time I see him. I'll bet he's only forty-two or three. I still think he's perfect for you, and if you're nice to him, he's sure to give us better prices."
"And what will he expect in return?" Alanna questioned hoarsely.
Melissa eyed Alanna with an incredulous glance. "He can expect whatever he wishes, Alanna, but you don't ever have to respond with more than a polite word and a smile." Melissa had always given Alanna the benefit of her advice, but she no longer felt like much of an expert in romance. She had hoped for a chance meeting with Ian that morning, but she hadn't seen any British officers on the street. Fatigued from lack of sleep, she raised her hand to cover a yawn, then made light of it.
"The warmth of the day is making me sleepy. Let's hurry up with our errands, so we'll have time to visit with Mr. O'Neil before we go home."
Alanna didn't argue, but she had already made up her mind to be honest with Randolph and, should the opportunity arise, she'd tell him he would never be more than a friend. Unfortunately, the chance did not present itself. He welcomed them cordially to his shop, but confined his remarks to the exquisite wares he had on display. Other than referring to her Aunt Rachel's tastes while showing off the crystal vases, he didn't make any comments of a personal nature, prompting Alanna to wonder if perhaps she hadn't just imagined him being especially attentive after church.
She then grew all the more self-conscious, and when Randolph walked them to the door, she found it difficult to look up at him as she said goodbye. His smile was warm rather than overly eager, convincing her that she had allowed Melissa's imaginative interpretation of his interest in her to influence her opinion of him. They had brought a small wagon and she hurried toward it, climbed in, and might have started for home without Melissa, had her cousin not called out to insist she wait.
"I'm sorry," Alanna exclaimed, "but romantic intrigues are simply too much for me. When we come back to Sally's, I'm going to park the wagon by the back door, so I can slip in and out without anyone else knowing I've come into town."
"You are such a silly goose," Melissa chided. "Both you and Randolph are so painfully shy, I doubt anything will ever come of your friendship."
"Good."
Melissa watched Alanna slap the reins on the horse's rump to speed his pace, and wondered as she frequently did, how they could have such differing attitudes when they were blood relatives. In the next instant, she envied her cousin, for Alanna would never have become involved with an Indian brave—or any man for that matter—with the disgraceful haste she'd displayed. She closed her eyes briefly and repeated a silent prayer for divine protection from future indiscretion.
"I do hope Byron and Elliott are all right," she then remarked. "They're scarcely backwoodsmen, like the men with Captain Trent."
Alanna was ashamed of how little thought she had given to her absent cousins. "Maybe they've never skinned a bear, but they know how to ride and shoot. I'm sure they're fine officers, too."
"Yes, they must be."
The next time Alanna glanced toward Melissa, she was asleep. That was such an unusual occurrence she didn't know what to make of it. Melissa had always had boundless amounts of energy, and even after long evenings required no more than a brief nap the next day. They hadn't been up late the previous evening though, so she couldn't understand why Melissa was so tired. Perhaps she wasn't sleeping well, but she hadn't complained after that one night of tears. If anything, she had been almost too cheerful, displaying what appeared to be a forced gaiety at times.
When they reached the gate at the end of the lane leading to their home, Alanna gave Melissa's shoulder a gentle shake. "Wake up, we're home."
Startled, Melissa's eyes flew open, and she quickly straightened up. She barely recalled leaving Williamsburg, so she knew she had slept all the way home. "I'm sorry. I wasn't very good company for you, was I?" she asked.
She and Melissa spent most of their time together, but Alanna knew neither of them confided wholly in the other. Their personalities were simply too different for them to ever be as close as some sisters or best friends were. Melissa might be overly concerned with impressing others, but Alanna knew she could draw an equal amount of criticism for being too distant, so
neither of them was perfect.
"Is something wrong?" Alanna asked. "I know you're concerned about your brothers, but if you've another problem, with Ian perhaps, or someone else, I could at least listen, even if I might not be able to provide any helpful advice."
Alanna's expression reflected not only a compassion which invited such a confidence, but also an innocent sweetness that made confiding in her impossible. How could Melissa ever admit what she had done, when the enjoyment of a man's affection was so completely out of Alanna's realm of experience? Melissa ground her fingernails into her palms to force back her tears.
"I haven't been sleeping well, but I think it's just a combination of the boys leaving, Ian's attentions, and the excitement of the upcoming Publick Times. Now let me get the gate."
Melissa hopped down from the wagon before Alanna could question her response, but she feared she was going to have to be much more careful. Alanna could sense the distress she hid from her parents' eyes, so she would have to bury her secret even deeper. Perhaps Ian would come to see her that evening, and with his laughter reflected in her eyes, no one would perceive her pain.
* * *
When they reached Will's Creek, Hunter was astonished to find William Trent in residence, but the captain had left forty men with Ensign Ward, and had complete confidence in their ability to construct the fort on their own. In Hunter's opinion, forty men might be sufficient to build a fort, but it certainly wouldn't be enough to defend it. The French had thousands of soldiers in Canada, and if they chose to invade the Ohio Valley, Hunter knew one small fort would cost them no more than a few minutes' delay.
Because no one turned him away, he had stayed close as the officers discussed their plans, but when none expressed any fear of the French, he again thought they had a feeble grasp of the situation. With his sighting of the wolf still in mind, he was about to say so, when Washington announced he intended to move his reinforcements to the new fort with all possible haste. Hunter relaxed then. At Governor Dinwiddie's behest, Washington had gone to Fort Le Boeuf near Lake Erie in December, to insist the French remove themselves from territories belonging to the king of Great Britain, and it was apparent he understood that the threat posed by the French was very real indeed.
