by Phoebe Conn
"I see your husband's here, ma'am. I'll tell the cook to fix your tray."
Alanna followed the maid's glance, but because buckskins weren't worn exclusively by Indian braves, she felt no need to explain her husband's choice of attire. "Would you please?" She moved aside as the girl emptied and removed the tub, then closed the door behind her.
"Do you really think you still need to hide?"
Hunter crossed to the window, but while they had been playing in her bath, it had grown dark, and there was nothing to see but the glow of the street lamps in the distance. "Do you remember how you ran from me?"
"I've begged you to forgive me for that."
Hunter sat down on the windowsill. "I have, but for all we know, that maid also lost her family in an Indian raid. Let's not give her any reason to go shrieking from the room."
Alanna toyed with the lace trim on her cuffs. Hunter had told her that he had not killed anyone before fighting with the militia in the Ohio Valley, and she wanted to believe him. His expression was the honest, open one she had come to expect from him, and certain he was wholly good, she quickly forced away the gruesome images his comment had brought to mind.
"You'd be with me. I'm sure that would make the fact that you know how to behave as a gentleman plain."
"Last spring, I was with Byron and Elliott, but that failed to convince you I was worth knowing."
"Yes, I know. I was very rude."
"No, you were merely frightened. I'm being very rude now to remind you of it."
Another knock at the door announced the arrival of their supper, and while Hunter chose to stay out of sight, Alanna took the tray from the maid, rather than again invite the girl into the room. There was a small table in the corner, and she placed it there. They had been sent a huge bowl of beef stew, a loaf of bread still warm from the oven, butter, half a dozen apricot tarts, and a pitcher of ale.
"This all looks very good. I know you don't drink ale, and I should have asked for something else for you, water at least."
"The water here tastes like it came from a ship's bilge. I'm better off with nothing." Hunter came to her side and set the ale and goblets on the table. He then picked up the tray, carried it over to the bed, and placed it in the middle. "Let's eat here rather than at the table. We'll be more comfortable."
Alanna had no objection to making a picnic of their supper, and when he climbed up on the foot of the bed, she took her place opposite him. She scooped up a plate of stew for him, and then fixed one for herself while he sliced the bread. They had eaten so many meals together, that they fell into a comfortable routine, and served each other without waiting to be asked.
"Among the Seneca, we eat only one meal each day, and that's in the morning. Men and boys are served first, and when they are finished, the women and girls eat together."
"What happens if the men are so hungry, they don't leave enough for the women to eat?"
"Food is always so plentiful that doesn't happen, but if it did, the women would simply cook more. They'd not go hungry. Whatever the women leave, goes into a clay pot that's kept on the embers of the cooking fire. If anyone is hungry later, they help themselves."
"With just the two of us, I hope you don't want to dine separately."
Alanna was looking down at her plate rather than up at him, but Hunter could sense her confusion. "You're not an Indian girl, Alanna. I'll never expect you to act like one. Besides, I would get very lonely eating all by myself. I'd much rather we shared our meals, as we always have."
"You'd tell me if there were something you'd like me to do, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, but you must ask me, too. Don't worry that because I'm Indian, I'll always say no. I'll do whatever I can to make you happy."
Alanna looked up at him, her green eyes filled with a skeptical glint. Her only wish was to raise Christian, but he already knew that. He had grown increasingly considerate, but had not once mentioned his son. Keeping to her original plan not to discuss the boy until Hunter had had the opportunity to see him, she kept quiet about him now.
"Thank you, but you're already a wonderful husband."
Not convinced of that, Hunter worried that she was merely flattering him. "Do you think a woman ought to flatter her husband?" he asked.
"Only if he deserves it," Alanna replied, "and you do."
"We've not been married even one day," Hunter reminded her. "Perhaps you should wait a week or two, before you make such a decision."
Alanna hoped that within two weeks' time, Christian would have become a part of their family. She prayed for that with every breath, but she smiled easily as though his son's welfare were not such a horribly divisive issue between them. "All right, I will, but if you continue to be as attentive as you've been today, I'll not change my opinion." Hunter responded with a smile that warmed her clear through.
"I'll try not to give you a reason to change your opinion in an entire lifetime," he vowed. "Two weeks will be no challenge at all."
Alanna reached across their plates to caress his arm. Their experiences that day had taught her they would have to overcome not only society's stern condemnation of their union, but their own very real differences. And yet, when she touched him, all she felt was the delicious sensation of love. Wanting their wedding night to be perfect in all respects, she told herself that for the time being, it was enough.
Chapter 25
Hunter insisted that Alanna eat the last of the apricot tarts. He then removed the tray and brushed the bread crumbs off the bed. "Did you have enough to eat?" he asked.
"I'm afraid I had too much." Alanna licked the apricot filling from her fingertips. She fluffed up the pillows and leaned back against them. "That was a truly wonderful meal."
"It wasn't as fancy as what your aunt serves."
"Food doesn't have to be fancy to be good."
"That's true." Hunter stretched out across the foot of the bed. They had been having such a good time, he did not want to spoil it, but he had a concern he felt compelled to share.
"There was a lot of talk at the trading post about war with France. If it comes to that, the British will probably follow the Hudson River north, and sail through Lake Champlain to strike at Montreal and Quebec. Your aunt and uncle may tell you that living with me on the Mohawk will be too dangerous. They might try and convince you to remain with them, until all threat of war is past. That could take years. We should talk about it now, and be prepared for such a suggestion."
That he would want to discuss the possibility of war on their wedding night caught Alanna by surprise, but she already knew what she wanted to do. "I'm your wife, Hunter, and my place is with you. It won't matter what danger we face, if we're together, and I doubt anything could be worse than what we've already suffered. Not that we should admit to the killing of five Abenaki, but you and I know how to survive. My aunt and uncle are entitled to their opinions, but they'll not change my mind. I want to be with you."
Alanna looked very pretty and sweet, but Hunter would never forget how swiftly she had come to his rescue. He was embarrassed now that he had been so ungrateful. "They may cry and plead with you to stay."
"That's very unlikely."
"What do you expect then?"
"I'm trying not to think about it."
Hunter did not understand how she could avoid dwelling on her aunt and uncle's reactions. "We have to see them. We owe them an explanation about Elliott, and there's our marriage to announce."
Alanna turned to punch the pillow behind her into a more comfortable shape. "Yes, I know, but please, must we talk about them tonight?"
"I think it's good to have a plan."
"Yes, I agree. We ought to practice what we wish to say and how we'll handle their response, whatever it might be, but won't there be plenty of time for that once we're on board the ship bound for home?"
Hunter did not want to speculate on what the captain's reaction might be to their traveling together, but he was worried. "I told Captain Michaels that I w
as bringing my wife, but I didn't describe you. What if he believes like Henderson, that it's his duty to tell you to leave me? We may still have to travel separately."
Alanna's heart fell. She had so many fears about the difficulties they would encounter at home, that she couldn't bear to think that getting there might pose additional problems. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then came up with a plan.
"No, all we need to do is board separately. When Elliott and I sailed from Newport News, the crew was so busy making ready to depart, they just wanted the passengers to stay out of their way. If you go aboard early, and I wait until the last minute, the captain will be in too great a rush to sail to be concerned about us. Besides, Elliott's coffin will be stowed in the hold, and he won't be able to ask us to leave without taking the time to unload it."
Hunter nodded thoughtfully. "You're very bright, Alanna. Maybe you should do all of our thinking."
He sounded insulted rather than pleased, and Alanna couldn't understand why. "With the problems we're sure to have, we'll both need to have all our wits about us," she swore. "It's only that I've been away much longer than we'd planned, and I want Elliott to receive a proper burial so badly, I don't care what we have to do to get home. That's my main concern, not manipulating Captain Michaels into doing my bidding."
Hunter knew that, and he reached out to tickle her foot. "We mustn't fight tonight. It would be a very bad way to begin our marriage."
Counting Elliott, six men had died in the time they had been together, and that was already such a bad omen, Alanna feared their troubles might prove endless. "We can't let other people's uncharitable views tear us apart, but even if we have to live in the deepest, darkest part of the forest to find happiness, I'd be willing to do it."
Her fervent vow touched Hunter deeply, and he quickly shifted his position to draw her into his arms. "No, you are much too beautiful to hide." He kissed her tenderly at first, and then with increasing passion. Content to spend the whole night making love to her, he moved at a relaxed, leisurely pace. A long while passed before he slid off the bed to douse the lamp. He removed his moccasins and buckskins, and then helped Alanna shed her nightgown.
"You are a fine wife," he said. "I should have told you that, when you were paying me compliments as a husband."
"Thank you, but if it's too soon for me to praise you, then it has to be too soon for you to say nice things about me."
Hunter rejoined her on the bed. Turning playful, he gave a low growl and began to lick her breast. "No, it isn't. This is the perfect time."
Savoring the warmth of his bare skin against the whole length of her slender body, Alanna drew him close. She loved everything about him, his tenderness as well as his strength, and it was so easy to forget all her cares the instant his lips caressed hers. She sifted his thick, black mane through her fingers and slid her hands down his well-muscled back. She doubted a more perfect male had ever been born. His love was such a precious gift, she could scarcely believe he had chosen her for his wife.
"I love you," she whispered.
"Not nearly as much as I love you," Hunter argued. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled over to bring her up on top of him. He then slid his hands over her hips, before gripping her waist to align their bodies so perfectly, her feminine crease caressed the length of his hardened shaft. Knowing he was also providing her with the very same exquisite thrill, he rocked her back and forth gently, creating a delicious friction, until ecstasy was only a heartbeat away.
He then pulled her astride him, and with loving gestures rather than spoken commands, urged her to mount him. Their bodies were now so finely attuned, she took the full length of him easily. After resting her palms on his broad chest, she responded to the light pressure of his hands around her waist, and began a slow, rhythmic motion timed to the rapture swelling within them. When it reached its crest and seared them with a splendid heat, Hunter pulled her down into his arms and kept her locked in his embrace, until the need to possess her again overwhelmed him.
"I'll never tire of loving you," he vowed.
"Is it even possible to tire of making love?"
"Not with you, it isn't."
Completely relaxed, Alanna snuggled against him, but Hunter soon made his intentions clear with impassioned kisses and a provocative touch. Only too glad to oblige his every whim, Alanna responded with a joyous abandon that fed his desire. Ensnared in the sensuous web he spun so lovingly, her pleasure was as deep as his. With gestures as fluid as an exotic dance, the only limits to the expression of their love were the dimensions of the feather bed and, after sharing a bunk, they seemed generous indeed. When they finally fell asleep in a tangle of arms and legs, their dreams were peaceful and sweet.
* * *
Rather than intentionally shock the staff of the Owl's Eye, Hunter made his entrances and exits to the inn with such complete discretion, no one ever caught a glimpse of him. When Alanna returned their room key to the desk, the clerk was so curious about the pretty young woman and her mysterious mate, that he encouraged her to stop there again on their next visit to the city.
"Thank you, we certainly will." Alanna started to move away and then turned back. "I hope none of your other guests complained about sharing the inn with an Indian."
Confused by her comment, the clerk shrugged. "We have no Indians staying here."
"Other than my husband, you mean?" Alanna watched the clerk's complexion fade to a stark white several shades lighter than his heavily powdered wig. "Oh, dear, didn't I mention that my husband is a Seneca brave? I'll be sure to have him introduce himself, if we stay here again." She waved and left before the clerk recovered enough of his composure to respond, but she hoped he would be on duty the next time she came to rent a room, so she could remind him that no one's sleep had been disturbed by war whoops on their last visit.
* * *
The Sarah Rene was a brig engaged in the merchant trade between the colonies, the West Indies, and London. While Captain Michaels eschewed the lucrative slave trade, he was not above increasing his profits by ferrying as many passengers as his ship could comfortably carry. Just as Alanna had predicted, when Hunter boarded the ship first, and she arrived as the last of the visitors were going ashore, no one noticed they were together. It wasn't until they joined the other passengers for the noon meal that the captain realized the fetching blonde he had glimpsed only briefly, was Hunter's wife.
Understandably shocked, in the interest of maintaining harmony on a voyage he expected to complete in a few days, he treated the couple with good, if somewhat stilted, manners. Following his example, the other passengers kept whatever they thought about the striking pair to themselves. It was plain none had ever spoken with an Indian brave, and Hunter went out of his way to charm them, while Alanna smiled contentedly at his side. By the time they docked in Newport News, the travelers had become friendly, but now that a meeting with her aunt and uncle was only a few hours away, Alanna was so worried, she barely heard their fond farewells.
The other passengers had had only their hand luggage, but Alanna and Hunter had to wait for Elliott's coffin, and remained on deck after the others had all departed. Fidgeting nervously, Alanna tried to recall the explanation they had rehearsed so diligently. The news would be devastating, no matter how sympathetically it was delivered, but Alanna knew the announcement of her marriage would also be greeted as tragic, and she didn't think she could bear that.
"This is going to be so awful," she predicted darkly.
Hunter opened his mouth to argue, but then, fearing she was right, he remained silent. Distracted by a well-dressed gentleman waving from the dock, he touched Alanna's arm. "Do you know that man? He appears to be waving to us."
Alanna turned to find Randolph O'Neil striding up the gangplank. "Oh, no," she sighed.
"He's not a friend?"
"No, he is, and a good one." Alanna did her best to smile as Randolph reached them, but her lips still trembled slightly. "Hello, I didn't ex
pect to see you here today."
"I came to pick up a shipment," Randolph replied. "The Sarah Rene routinely carries merchandise for me, but if only you had let me know you'd be on board, I would have come to meet you." He then cast an inquiring glance toward Hunter.
"You're very kind," Alanna said. "Mr. O'Neil, this is Hunter, my husband." She knew Randolph to be a gentleman and, despite what had to be a deeply disturbing announcement, he did not disappoint her now. There was only a very slight widening of his eyes that no one else would have noticed, before he broke into a friendly grin and extended his hand.
"Please call me Randolph. Didn't I see you in Williamsburg last spring with the Barclays?"
Few white men had ever offered their hands to him, and appreciating the gesture of friendship, Hunter shook Randolph's before replying. "Yes, I visited them before serving as a scout with the militia."
"May I offer my congratulations? I envy you having such a lovely bride." Unwilling to reveal that he had had serious intentions where Alanna was concerned, he abruptly changed the subject. "Where's Elliott? Didn't he come home with you?"
Knowing how reluctant Alanna was to supply the answer, Hunter replied. "Elliott was slain by an Abenaki brave we'd fought last summer in the Ohio Valley. He shot Elliott in cold blood, but I'm proud to say he didn't live to brag about it."
Aghast at that news, Randolph moved to Alanna's side and reached out for the rail to steady himself. "I'm so sorry. What a terrible tragedy. Do John and Rachel know? Are they coming to meet you?"
Alanna shook her head. "We thought we would be here before a letter could arrive, but I didn't want to describe Elliott's death in a letter anyway."
"Well no, of course not. In addition to a wagon to transport my goods, I also have my carriage. Won't you allow me to take you home? We can be there by nightfall."
"That's very kind of you," Alanna said, "but we've brought Elliott's coffin home with us."
