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

by Phoebe Conn

  As for Hunter, he'd been frowning slightly as he stepped through the doorway, but his first glimpse of Christian left him staring agape at a little face that closely mirrored his own in childhood. Alanna had told him Christian favored him rather than Melissa, but he had not really believed her. Now he could see that only the boy's pale golden skin gave any hint that he might not be a full-blooded Seneca, like his father.

  Despite never having been introduced to any strangers, Christian was thrilled to see a man whose coloring matched his own. Dislodging Alanna's cap, he grabbed a clump of her hair with one hand, but leaned out toward Hunter with the other. Smiling widely, he called to him in a babbling stream of syllables which held meaning only for him.

  When Hunter hung back rather than take a step closer, Alanna moved nearer to him. She placed Christian's hand on his buckskin shirt, and patted it lightly. "What do you think of Hunter's shirt, Christian? Doesn't it feel good?"

  With a wild swing, Christian grabbed a handful of fringe on Hunter's sleeve and gave it a fierce yank. When he tried to put the ends in his mouth, Alanna pried them from his little fist. "He seems to have your strength as well as your looks," Alanna said. "Do you want to hold him?"

  Grasping each other tightly, the loving bond between Alanna and Christian was so plain, looking at them made Hunter's heart ache. They made him feel separate, apart, more lonely than he had ever felt, and he had to swallow hard before he spoke. "No. Stay and play with him as long as you like. I have to go."

  "But Hunter—"

  Hunter just shook his head. He nodded toward Charity, and then hurried out her door. He had no destination in mind, but he had to get away. It was not only the love which flowed so easily between Christian and Alanna that caused him pain. Seeing his son had conjured up images of Melissa that were so vivid, he couldn't stand to be with anyone else. Sickened by the memories he wanted forgotten, he strode back toward Randolph's house, bent on leaving town.

  Charity closed the door and, after shooing her children into the bedroom to play, she gestured for Alanna to sit down. She had never been told the exact circumstances surrounding Christian's birth, but after Ian Scott had carried the newborn from her home, she had understood the babe's father was most definitely not his mother's husband. An apparent scandal in a fine family didn't concern her, but her charge's welfare most certainly did.

  "Wasn't that Christian's father?" she asked in a tone that discouraged equivocation.

  Alanna chose the chair nearest the fireplace, seated herself, brushed Christian's hair off his forehead, and gave him a kiss. "Yes, but for my cousin's sake, please don't reveal that fact to anyone."

  "Your cousin's dead, Miss Barclay, or should I refer to you as Mrs. Hunter? It's you I'm concerned about. A great many men, if not all of them, are uncomfortable around small children, so you mustn't think your husband's behavior was odd. He'll warm up to the boy in time."

  When she had arrived, Alanna had had no intention of confiding her troubles to Charity, but the young mother's efforts to excuse Hunter's behavior touched her deeply. She soon found herself relating how she had spent her days since she had last been in Williamsburg. The children ran in and out, but despite their interruptions, she managed to complete the harrowing tale in a breathless whisper.

  "Elliott's dead, my family won't speak to us, and Hunter wants me to give Christian away. Each of those problems is heartbreaking, but when taken together... Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to burden you." Alanna gave Christian another loving hug. "Do you really think he missed me?"

  "Yes, every day. He's been, well, just plain restless without you. I may be tending the boy, but you know as well as I do that you're the one he loves. You're his mother, even if you didn't give birth to him. You can't give him away. It would break both your hearts."

  Alanna sighed sadly. "I know."

  "Just give your husband some time to get used to the idea of being a father. Where are you staying?"

  "With Randolph O'Neil."

  "The silversmith?"

  "Yes, do you know him?"

  Charity shook her head. "Someone pointed him out once, so I know who he is, but we've never met. I thought him a fine-looking man."

  While he did not compare to Hunter, Alanna agreed. "He's not only attractive, but he's also kind and considerate as well. We can't impose on his hospitality though."

  Christian was snuggled happily in her lap, but Alanna looked so dejected, Charity put the kettle on the fire to make her a cup of tea. "It's almost time for me to nurse the boy, but you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

  "No, I should go." But, reluctant to leave, Alanna was easily cajoled into accepting a cup of tea. She sipped it slowly while Charity fed Christian. She had observed the same tender scene often, but now it served as a graphic reminder of how helpless the dear little boy still was. She had known all along that she wouldn't be able to give him away, but she had been hoping, foolishly it now seemed, that Hunter would love him on first sight, as she had.

  When Charity put Christian into his crib for his morning nap, Alanna said goodbye and left, but she had nowhere to go. She didn't want to go back to Randolph's house, when she doubted Hunter would be there, and so she strolled aimlessly until she got too tired to keep walking and had to return to the silversmith's home. Randolph met her at the front door.

  "When I came home for the noon meal, Mrs. Newcombe told me you and Hunter had left together this morning, but that he had returned alone and borrowed one of the horses. I've been so worried that he'd left you stranded somewhere."

  Randolph was dressed in muted shades of charcoal gray. His watch fob and the silver buckles on his shoes were fine examples of his craft. He looked like the successful merchant he was, but she did not want him minding her business as closely as he did his own.

  "I'm sure he hasn't stolen your horse. Is that what concerns you?"

  Randolph looked aghast at that accusation. "Good lord, no! I was worried about you! I told Mrs. Newcombe to wait dinner for you. Now that you're here, won't you join me?"

  Alanna excused herself for a moment to wash her hands, but when she found Randolph waiting for her with an eager smile, she wished Hunter were there, too. She had no more idea where her husband had gone than Randolph did, but she wasn't worried that he would not come back. Rather than allow him to pry into her life, she encouraged her host to describe the merchandise he had picked up from the Sarah Rene. It helped to pass the time while they ate.

  "I'll stop by the church this afternoon, and see if Elliott's funeral has been arranged. I know you'll want to be there."

  "Yes, we do, even if we have to slip in at the back after the service has begun." Alanna shivered slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm more tired than I thought. Will you please excuse me? I'd like to take a nap until Hunter gets here."

  "Yes, of course. I have to get back to the shop. I'll see you this evening."

  Alanna walked him to the front door, and then went up the stairs. Filled with the afternoon sunlight, the yellow room was almost too bright to permit sleep, but she was too tired to notice. She had only one dress now, and removed it before climbing into bed. When Hunter touched her shoulder to wake her for the evening meal, she sat up with a start. She had meant to take only a short nap, and the deep shadows filling the room surprised her. Where had the day gone?

  "Did you just get back?" she asked, after covering a wide yawn.

  Hunter sat down on the side of the bed. "No, I came in earlier, but you were asleep."

  "Why didn't you wake me then?"

  Hunter shrugged. "I had nothing to say."

  Chilled by his icy tone, Alanna feared the worst. "And now?"

  He shook his head. "I went out for a ride, and tried to decide what is best. I didn't expect Christian to look so much like me, but it doesn't make any difference. I still don't want him."

  Desperately hoping to change his mind, Alanna started to argue. "But you only saw him for a few minutes. You really didn't have the time to appreciate w
hat a charming boy he is."

  "Yes, he has his mother's charm. That I could see."

  "Please don't bring Melissa into this," Alanna begged. "It concerns only you, me, and Christian."

  Hunter rose and lit the lamp. "Randolph told me Elliott's funeral is tomorrow morning. You needn't decide anything until he's buried. I owe you that."

  "I needn't decide? This is a decision we have to make together."

  Hunter stared down at her. "I can't change how I feel. It sickens me to look at the boy, and I won't be his father. Maybe we can convince Randolph to adopt him. He seems terribly lonely, and if he has a daughter, he might like having a son."

  "You might like having a son, if you'd just try!"

  Just as he had earlier in the day, Hunter shook his head and walked out on her.

  Chapter 27

  Randolph had never entertained a more distracted pair, but he assumed their sullen moods were due to the forthcoming funeral, rather than a reflection on the quality of his hospitality. His cook had prepared ham with new potatoes and peas, one of his favorite meals, but neither Hunter nor Alanna had much of an appetite. He tried, completely without success, to suggest topics of conversation they might enjoy, but other than an occasional nod, they appeared not to be listening. Finally he simply gave up, finished eating, and, using the newly arrived shipment of merchandise as an excuse, returned to his shop.

  Left on their own, Alanna wandered into the parlor and Hunter followed. He again chose to lean against the mantel, rather than take the seat beside her. He didn't speak until the silence between them had grown uncomfortably long.

  "I'm not leaving you," he said. "Not in the way a man leaves his wife, but I've learned General Braddock has only a few scouts with him. He's going back over the same trail we cut through the wilderness last summer, which is a grave error, but with a much larger force. If I join them, I can tell Byron what's happened. I doubt that he'll welcome me into your family either, but I want a chance to win him over to our side, before his parents speak with him."

  Hunter's comment was so unexpected, Alanna was quite taken aback by it. "Last night, when I suggested Byron might help us, you discouraged the idea. Have you really changed your mind, or are you just looking for an excuse to leave Williamsburg?"

  She was looking down at her tightly clenched hands, but Hunter could see she was as unhappy as he. Knowing the wounded edge of her feelings was as raw as his, he was not offended by the bluntness of her question. "It's not an excuse," he denied. "It's a reason."

  Reason, excuse, the words meant the very same thing to Alanna: he was leaving. "You'd rather fight the French again than stay here and fight with me? Is that closer to the truth?"

  "I don't want to fight with you over this either. Just let me go."

  "I'll not scream and plead and throw myself at your feet, but what is it you expect me to do?" Alanna asked pointedly. "I'm not welcome at home. I'd be lost in New York without you. Do you think you can just leave me here with Randolph, until you return? You are planning to come back, aren't you?"

  There was always the chance he would be killed, but Hunter knew mentioning it wouldn't reassure her, so he gave the only promise she would want to hear. "Yes, of course, I'll come back for you. You're my wife."

  Alanna looked up at him. She feared he was only postponing their next confrontation over Christian, but she was no more eager than he to force a decision neither could accept. "Perhaps it will be best if you're away for a while, but I'll miss you terribly."

  "Not nearly as much as I'll miss you. I'll leave you all the money. Have some new gowns made. There's plenty. Buy whatever you like. Rent a room with another family, if you'd rather not live here. You must have friends. Wouldn't one of them invite you to stay with them?"

  "The Frederick sisters might," Alanna suggested absently, "but we don't have the same interests, and they'd soon tire of having me around."

  "I can't believe anyone would ever grow bored with your company."

  Alanna was immune to his flattery that night. "It's true. Sarah has always loved Byron, and Robin was just as fond of Elliott; I know my cousins liked them, but not enough to propose." Elliott had proposed to her instead, Alanna recalled sadly. "It would be very difficult for me to be around Robin, knowing how much she'll miss Elliott when he—well—"

  "When he wanted to marry you?"

  Alanna nodded. "It would be even more awkward than staying here."

  Hunter came to Alanna, took her hands, and helped her to her feet. "I've made an outcast of you, haven't I?"

  "Please don't say that. We didn't have a chance to tell my aunt and uncle how you'd carried Elliott's body, or hidden it so carefully. They'd have nothing to bury tomorrow, no grave to tend, if not for you. Maybe if they understood how you had risked your life to safeguard Elliott's body, or how swiftly his murderer died, they wouldn't have been so quick to send us away."

  Hunter tipped her chin, so she would have to look up at him. He had always loved her beautiful green eyes, but all too often, as it was now, her gaze was a reflecting pool of pain. "If, if, if—don't torture yourself. There are too many ifs for me to ever be a part of your family, and no amount of wishful thinking will change things. You and I have to understand each other though, and I think we do."

  "Understanding isn't the same as agreeing," Alanna mused thoughtfully.

  Hunter pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. "Don't forget that I love you. Don't ever forget that."

  Surrounded by his sensuous warmth, Alanna didn't doubt his love, but she couldn't understand why there wasn't enough to include Christian, too. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine how she could survive even a day without the husband she adored; his fervent vow of love didn't ease her pain. When he took her hand to lead her upstairs, she went without complaint. As unwilling as he to waste the last few precious hours they might ever spend together, she pulled off her cap and removed her combs on the way.

  "We've had far too much sorrow," she said.

  Luck, fate, God... Hunter did not know whom to blame, but he agreed. It was too soon to know if he had succeeded in giving her a child, but he did not want to miss his last opportunity to try. He was positive a babe of their own would signal the beginning of the happiness he wanted to give her, and when they reached their room, he pulled her down onto the bed eager to make the infant a reality.

  Unaware of his purpose, Alanna felt only love and relaxed in his arms, but it was her sorrow she shared rather than passion, and he could not erase the taste of disappointment from her lips. He made love to her with all the tenderness he possessed, with a tantalizing caress and devouring kiss, until sated by pleasure, they were enveloped in a glorious haze where the bright sparkle of love glistened all around them. When Alanna fell asleep in his arms, Hunter lay awake, knowing the joy they shared wouldn't save them, and that if he did not return from the Ohio Valley with a solution for Christian's future that she could accept, their marriage would be over.

  Melissa would be to blame if that tragedy occurred. How he hated her! She had not wanted him, but even from the grave she continued to twist his heart and cause him pain. Thinking she must have cursed him with her dying breath, he could not stop the tears that stung his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He had never seen Alanna cry, but he could no longer hide his emotions with the courage she hid hers. He loved her so desperately, but he had to leave, before the wedge Melissa's child had driven between them, separated them forever.

  * * *

  The next morning, the Bruton Parish Church was filled with mourners, and Elliott was laid to rest with the same solemn dignity that had attended his sister's burial six months prior. That the Barclay family should have again suffered such an agonizing loss brought forth a wellspring of sympathy from the good citizens of Williamsburg. Taking care to remain out of sight, Alanna benefited from none of their solicitous concern. Along with Randolph O'Neil, she and her buckskin-clad husband had been the last to enter the church, and the first to de
part.

  The weather was warm, but despite the sunshine, Alanna felt a disquieting inner chill. She had awakened with a painful headache long before dawn, knowing the new day held no hope for the longed-for compromise she and Hunter needed so badly. Her horizons bleak, she had not been surprised when Hunter awoke in an equally depressed mood. She had clung to his arm throughout the service, buoyed by his strength, but she would always miss Elliott and the sweetness of his love.

  "I'll visit his grave later," Alanna told her two escorts as they began the walk home.

  Equally unwilling to create another unfortunate scene, Hunter understood why she refused to be a part of the crowd of mourners. He had not wanted her to have to attend the funeral alone, but now that it was over, he was anxious to be on his way. He knew that would seem cold, but it was an abundance of emotion rather than a lack of feeling that was prompting him to leave.

  "I'd like to buy the bay gelding I borrowed yesterday," he announced abruptly. "How much do you want for him?"

  Startled by Hunter's request, Randolph nevertheless recovered quickly. "Marshal? He's not for sale, but you may ride him as often as you please."

  "I want to join Braddock's forces," Hunter explained, "and I'll need my own mount to catch up with them."

  Appalled, Randolph stuck out his arm to compel his companions to come to a halt. "Wait a minute, are you sure that's wise?"

  Unaccustomed to having to justify his decisions to others, Hunter straightened his shoulders proudly. "All I need is a horse, not advice."

  Randolph noted the unspoken challenge in the shift in Hunter's posture, and quickly waved it off. "You may take Marshal. He isn't really the issue. I'd understood you to say that you'd be staying here in Williamsburg for a while. What made you change your mind?"

  Hunter took Alanna's hand to encourage her to keep walking with him, and when she did, Randolph again fell in beside them. "We had no definite plans. Now I've decided to go to the Ohio Valley, and Alanna's going to wait for me here. I appreciate the loan of the horse, but I'd rather buy him."