by Phoebe Conn
"Go home while you still can," Hunter warned. "You've no quarrel with me."
Jacob had hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, but he was too angry to turn tail and run. He staggered to his feet and came lumbering toward Hunter, his eyes ablaze with the hatred burning in his heart. Dripping blood from his torn palm, he lunged for the brave's throat.
Hunter dodged Jacob's grasp and sent a bruising kick into the blacksmith's knee, buckling the joint and again sending Jacob sprawling. He then stood with his hands on his hips, as the blood-streaked man struggled to rise. When Jacob's knee refused to bear his weight and he slid back to the ground, Hunter drew his knife.
"This fight is over. Either you say you've had enough, or you'll die. Which is it to be?"
Jacob could hear Polly and his girls tearfully pleading with him to surrender, but he was too stubborn to speak, until his son came running into the yard. Andrew looked horrified to find his father in such a pitiful state, and Jacob knew there would be no honor in dying in front of him. "I give up," he finally murmured in an anguished whisper.
Hunter sheathed his knife and came forward to help Jacob rise, but the blacksmith waved him off and called for Andrew instead. Hunter remembered seeing the young man and, because there was nothing threatening in his manner, he again started out for the river. He wasn't sure where he and Alanna were going, but he did not want to arrive there splattered with Jacob's blood.
Randolph removed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. "Hunter warned me that he'd not be well received, but I've never seen anything to rival this," he confided in Alanna.
He was a dear man, and Alanna now realized how placid his life must have been. "Well I have, and believe me, you'll survive." She sat down on the edge of the steps and tried to decide what she and Hunter ought to do. They should have made plans past their initial homecoming, yet neither had suggested it.
"Would you give us a ride into town?" she asked. "We can afford to stay at an inn."
"No, you'll come home with me and stay as long as you like. I've plenty of room, and Mrs. Newcombe, my housekeeper, will be delighted to have the opportunity to look after someone other than me. Please say that you'll stay with me. It hurts me to see how badly your aunt and uncle have treated you. I know I can't make up for it, but please let me try."
Alanna was touched by Randolph's thoughtful invitation, but she did not want to take advantage of his affection for her, when she could not return it. There was also the very real possibility that he might suffer for helping her, and she could not allow that to happen. "That's wonderfully generous of you, but—"
"But what? Surely you can't prefer to stay with strangers?"
"No, of course not, but I've no idea how long we'll be in Williamsburg, and if my aunt and uncle object to your helping us, they might influence their friends to stop patronizing your shop. I don't want to see that happen."
It had not even occurred to Randolph that he might suffer financially for inviting Alanna and Hunter into his home, but he had always considered himself to be a man of high principles, and he wouldn't be blackmailed. "If I have clients who are so shallow as to be swayed by your aunt and uncle's bitterness, I shan't miss them. Excuse me a moment, I want to make certain my men handle Elliott's coffin with the proper respect."
"Certainly." Alanna had not forgotten Elliott, but when she turned, she found the two men who had driven the wagon into the yard watching her with what could only be described as dark scowls. Her uncle was a man of enormous prestige in Williamsburg, and clearly the fact she and her husband had been banished from his home had impressed the pair.
Polly and her daughters had left with Jacob and Andrew, but the fact none of them had stopped to speak with her certainly wasn't a good sign. Apparently she had been disowned not only by her aunt and uncle, but by all of their employees as well. Feeling uncomfortable on their steps, she rose and followed her husband down to the river. Hunter was standing on the dock, water glistening on his hair, his shirt still in his hand.
Alanna rubbed his back lightly. "I suppose I should be heartbroken, but I just feel empty. Perhaps Byron will take our side when he comes home, then my aunt and uncle may regret being so harsh with us today."
Hunter shook his head. "With Elliott dead, that won't happen. Byron and I were never close, and he'll agree with his parents. I'm sorry. I didn't know that loving me would cost you your family's respect. Is that why Melissa turned against me?"
Alanna took his arm and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "Please don't ask me to speak for her. It's so unfair."
The question had sprung from Hunter's lips without thought, and he now realized just how cruel it had been. He turned to pull Alanna into his arms. "I never felt for her what I feel for you. I shouldn't have asked that. It's just that I keep forgetting how easy it is for people like your aunt and uncle to regard me as less than human. I am a man, the same as their sons, but they don't see it. I did nothing to harm them, and yet they blame me for all their sorrows."
Alanna licked her lips thoughtfully. "They loved Melissa too much to see her as she really was, and nothing we do or say will change that. I knew they'd take our marriage very badly, and it didn't matter to me. If there was a choice to be made, I made the right one for me. We have to live our own lives, not theirs."
Admiring the calmness of her manner as much as the logic of her words, Hunter gave her a long, loving kiss before backing away to pull his shirt on over his head. "I wouldn't have killed the blacksmith. You knew that, didn't you? I just wanted to scare him into leaving me alone."
Surprised by that confession, Alanna shrugged slightly. "The man attacked you twice, and he clearly intended to kill you. I'd not have faulted you for killing him."
Hunter rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. "Do you see me as that dangerous? Are you afraid of me?"
Alanna reached out to encircle his waist and stepped closer. "No, only of losing you."
Hunter laughed softly. "Then you have nothing to fear."
Alanna closed her eyes. She was so anxious to see Christian, but she hesitated to speak the baby's name, and knew she still had reason to be afraid.
* * *
Randolph O'Neil's home was on Nicholson Street. Faced with white weatherboards and brightened by green shutters at the windows, it was as handsome as any of the fine homes in Williamsburg. While not as large as the Barclays' brick mansion, it was as beautifully decorated and maintained. Very proud of his home, Randolph swung open the front door and welcomed his guests inside.
He called to his housekeeper, and the petite, white-haired Mrs. Newcombe rushed into view. "What do you call yourselves?" Randolph whispered to Alanna.
"Mr. and Mrs. Hunter," she replied.
"Yes, of course," Randolph agreed. "Mr. and Mrs. Hunter will be staying with us for a while. Which of the guest rooms do you have prepared?"
That her employer apparently thought nothing of sleeping in the same house with an Indian brave gave the diminutive housekeeper a moment's pause, but when Hunter smiled at her, his expression was so disarming, her initial fears began to fade. "All of them, sir. The yellow room is the nicest, though."
"The yellow room it is then," Randolph agreed. "I think what we'd all like now is some supper. Will you please tell the cook I've brought guests?"
After a gesture that hinted at a curtsy, Mrs. Newcombe hurried away. Randolph showed his guests into the parlor and urged them to make themselves at home. "I do hope you'll be comfortable here. My daughter and her family are able to visit only rarely, and I'll enjoy having your company for as long as you'd care to stay. I'll be at my shop during the week, so I won't be in your way."
With most of their conversations taking place at his shop, Alanna had not realized that Randolph was so lonely. She had been so preoccupied with Christian's future that she had not appreciated he had needs as well, and that she could not fulfill them made her feel guilty. She sat down on the settee and patted the cushion at her side, but Hun
ter shook his head and remained standing.
"I'm afraid I've not been nearly as good a friend to you, as you've been to me," Alanna began. "If there's anything I can do to help while we're here, I hope you'll encourage Mrs. Newcombe to let me know. I've never been waited on, and I don't expect it here."
"Mrs. Newcombe has been with me for years, and she'd be mortified if I suggested she put you to work. You're my guests. You two won't be expected to do more than enjoy yourselves, while you're here. Would either of you care to join me in a glass of sherry?"
When neither accepted his offer, Randolph poured himself a glass and raised it in a silent toast before taking a sip. "This has been the most remarkable day I've spent in a long while."
Despite Randolph's friendliness, Hunter felt ill at ease in his home. The parlor was painted a pale creamy beige with a deeper shade of the same hue for the wooden trim and moldings. It would have been soothing, but for the rich ruby red of the damask draperies which was repeated in the upholstery of most of the furniture. Hunter had seen too much blood of late to find red an attractive color, and being surrounded by it made him restless. He circled the settee and walked over to the fireplace. Wood had been laid for a fire, but the evening was warm and it hadn't been lit. The sight of something so ordinary in the elegant home suddenly made him feel homesick for the comforting familiarity of his own long house.
"Unfortunately, our days seldom run smoothly," he mused, "but I'll do my best not to bring the continual peril of our lives into your home."
"No, please, I'd welcome it," Randolph argued.
Hunter had fought his last fight to amuse others, and he stared at the merchant with a puzzled glance. "I didn't enjoy fighting Jacob. Did you enjoy watching?"
"Not at the moment, certainly not, but now that everyone's safe, well, I'll remember the excitement rather than the fright."
"Jacob isn't safe," Hunter pointed out. "I may have crippled his hand, and his knee will trouble him for a long time. As for Alanna and me, we were hurt far worse. We've lost not only Elliott, but the rest of her family it seems. As usual, no one will think of our pain."
Randolph feared he had been very ill-mannered and hastened to apologize. "Please, I didn't mean to minimize what happened at the Barclays. I hope they'll soon soften their stance. You have my word as a gentleman that I won't repeat what I overheard to anyone."
Mrs. Newcombe announced supper then, and hungry, Hunter was glad for an excuse to end their conversation. He escorted his wife into the dining room, and took the chair at her side. The room was painted in a deep terra cotta shade brightened with white molding, and he found the earth tone far more calming than the jarring contrasts of the parlor.
Clustered at one end of the table, the threesome shared a quiet, but tasty meal of roast chicken and vegetables. As he had at the Barclays, Hunter watched Alanna's choice before selecting a utensil, and as he always had with her, gave his best effort to displaying his finest manners. When by the close of the meal Alanna was having difficulty hiding her yawns, he was relieved to bid Randolph good night and go upstairs to their room.
Their few pieces of luggage were already there, but as Alanna pulled her nightgown from her valise, Hunter realized just how much she had left at her aunt and uncle's house. "We'll have to go back for your things. You have so many pretty gowns, and I don't want you to lose them."
"I won't need satin ball gowns at the trading post."
"Do you like to dance?"
"Following music and trying to recall the steps without trampling on my partners' toes was never one of favorite pastimes. I just wasn't any good at it."
"Maybe you didn't have the right partner."
Alanna turned toward him. His smile was enchanting. "Why, Hunter, do you like to dance?"
Had it not been for his dark complexion, she would have seen his blush. "The Seneca dance for different reasons. I've never done any of your dances with a woman."
"I'm not very good, but if you'd like to learn, I'll teach you. Another night, though. Tonight I'd just fall asleep in your arms."
"I like that."
"Yes, but not standing up."
"It might be nice." Hunter came forward to pull her into a warm embrace and nuzzled her neck. She had replaced the combs she had lost and bought new caps while in New York, but he wanted her hair loose the way it had been in the forest, and quickly removed them. He shook out her curls and spread them over her shoulders.
"Where is Randolph's room?" he asked.
"I don't know. I've never been here before. Why do you ask?"
"I don't want to make him any more envious than he already is."
Alanna relaxed against him. "We'll have to make love very quietly then."
Hunter bent down slightly to kiss her. He wondered how many men he was going to have to fight for the right to call her his wife. The number didn't really matter. He would gladly battle anyone who objected to their being together, even if he had to fight every last man on earth.
The urgency of Hunter's kiss failed to ease Alanna's lingering sense of sorrow, but she understood his need, and shared it. She prayed they would have many other days in which their happiness would be complete, but knew they would never have a greater need for the physical reassurance each craved now. When Hunter pulled off his shirt, she spread eager kisses across his chest, and gave his nipples a playful swipe. He turned away to douse the lamp, but she caught his arm.
"No, I want to look at you," she argued. "You're so handsome." She slid her palm down the front of his breechcloth, outlining his hardened manhood, and he released his belt.
"Touch me now," he begged in a husky whisper. He pulled her hand inside his loosened buckskins, and following his lead, her caress was steady and sure. He soon kicked off his moccasins, and she helped him peel off the last of his clothes. He then pulled her down with him on the bed.
Still dressed, Alanna slid her hands up the firm muscles of his thighs. The scar from the wound she had feared might cost him his life would remain with him always, and she leaned down to kiss it, memorizing the narrow ridge with the tip of her tongue. When Hunter moaned appreciatively, she wondered aloud if she could draw him across the threshold of ecstasy, as he did her, with intimate kisses.
Hunter raised up slightly to look down at her. "Take off your dress, and then do it," he urged.
Alanna reached for the buttons. Earlier that evening, she had had to endure a frightful confrontation with her family, but the shameful scene was forgotten as she returned Hunter's smile. All she saw was the man she adored, and when he was near, all other concerns faded into insignificance. She had long since lost her shyness around him, and with but a few sly, suggestive hints from him, she swiftly discovered what pleased him most.
Her tawny tresses brushed across his stomach, creating a teasing breeze that warmed him clear through. With a reflex he couldn't subdue, Hunter tightened the already taut muscles of his belly. He had longed to teach Alanna how to pleasure him in this way, but he had waited, impatiently, until she chose it of her own accord. It had been worth the wait, and the warm, sweet wetness of her mouth lured him ever deeper into the heart and soul of passion.
Wanting her to share in that bliss, when the rapture fueled by her eager kisses threatened to overwhelm him, he pulled her up into his arms and then pinned her beneath him. He entered her with a hungry, driving thrust, but then lay still until the urgency of his need could again be controlled. He moved up, molding his body to hers, carefully positioning himself so that with each forward lunge, he would press against the swollen nub that would soon shower her with pleasure.
Deliberately coaxing that rapture, his enticing moves raised their souls aloft, and transported them both into the realm of love's wildest dreams. Blinded by a tumultuous release, they shuddered, and at last lay still. Lost in the quest for shared joy, they had forgotten the need for discretion, and their soft cries of surrender had echoed down the hall. Their fears of the future drowned in a perfect peace, they fell asle
ep locked in each other's arms, while Randolph O'Neil sat on the side of his bed, alone, and ached for the affectionate young woman who would never be his.
* * *
Alanna had been too nervous to eat any breakfast, and now as she stood poised to knock on Charity Wade's door, her courage nearly deserted her. Seeing the tremor in her hand as she raised it, Hunter reached around her to rap on the door himself. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I thought you had more confidence in me."
Alanna had all the confidence in the world in her husband, when it came to any area not dealing with his son. Where Christian was concerned, however, she did not know what to expect, and was completely unnerved by dread. He hadn't spoken a word on their walk from Randolph's house, and with every step she had expected him to turn back. He had come the whole way though, but he still didn't seem to be truly with her.
"Please, let's not discuss anything in front of Charity."
"Agreed."
Charity answered the door with Christian in her arms, and her own children clustered around her. Nearly six months old, the handsome little boy had thick black hair and enormous brown eyes. He recognized Alanna and, with a gleeful whoop, reached out his chubby arms for her. Equally delighted to see her, Charity dropped him into Alanna's waiting embrace.
"He's really missed you, Miss Barclay."
Alanna hastened to introduce Hunter as her husband, before she stepped into the small dwelling and turned to show off her cousin's child. She then couldn't decide which of them wore the most startled expression. Charity hadn't been expecting her to appear with a husband, let alone an Indian brave. That Christian bore such a striking resemblance to the man only served to increase the wet nurse's dismay. Her children, terrified by the sight of an Indian in their home, shoved and pushed as they scrambled for the best place to hide.
