My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers)

by Christine Dorsey

  “Why would I do that?” His voice was low, his dark face expressionless.

  Compared to her own emotional state his apparent calm and reasonableness rankled. When she heard him walk past her room earlier this morning, Caroline decided a confrontation was needed. Not that she enjoyed them. Most of her life was spent trying to smooth out the ruffles of her existence. However, she’d known Raff MacQuaid only one day and already he shadowed her waking hours and invaded her dreams.

  She expected him to vehemently deny that he wished her gone, or to confess all in a fit of anger. But he did neither, only studied her with those dark, intense eyes. Caroline paced past him, then turned. “I don’t know why,” she confessed. She’d pondered the question most of the night. “Perhaps you... perhaps you dislike your father.”

  As she moved back to face him, his hand shot out, manacling her wrist so quickly Caroline barely had time to gasp. “How I do or do not feel about my father has naught to do with warning you about the dangers of the frontier.”

  His grip held her firmly, inched her closer. Fighting him was futile. Caroline concentrated instead on swallowing, trying to slow her breathing. “You aren’t going to scare me away.”

  Wolf wasn’t certain if she meant from the Carolinas or from the dining room, but looking at the determined expression on her face, he believed her. His fingers tightened as he stood.

  He was overwhelming, large and powerful, looming over her. “I can’t go back.” Caroline looked up at him willing him to understand, nearly telling him of the necessity that drove her to the New World.

  But she said nothing more, for it was then she realized he planned to kiss her. Slowly his face came closer till his breath wafted across her cheek. Somewhere in the back recesses of her mind Caroline knew she should resist. But the temptation not to was too great. Her eyes drifted shut. Her heart pounded. Anticipation made her light-headed.

  “I know you’re an early riser, Raff, but this is ridiculous.” Rebecca breezed into the room, stopping abruptly when she saw Caroline. Her gaze slipped to Raff, who had resettled in his chair.

  Caroline leaned against the table, one hand flattened on her chest, her cheeks burning. Had she really almost kissed her future stepson? Or had she imagined the entire incident? Except for the warmth of her wrist where he’d held her, she might believe that her mind was playing fanciful tricks on her. Raff was busy chewing cornbread, seemingly oblivious to her.

  He took a swig of milk, swallowed and flashed Rebecca a lazy grin. “What are you doing up and about so early? To hear your father tell it, you rarely grace your family with your presence till afternoon.”

  “Oh, pooh.” Completely ignoring Caroline, Rebecca pulled a chair closer to Raff. “I wake up when I’m ready.” She smiled. “And this morning I was ready.” She took a piece of cornbread off Raff’s plate and daintily nibbled a corner. Only then did she speak to Caroline. “Goodness, you look as if you barely slept. I hope the bed was to your liking.”

  Caroline met her gaze then looked toward Raff. He simply lifted his dark brow. “I slept very well, thank you.” Caroline surprised herself with how steady her voice sounded.

  “Well, you really must take care of yourself,” Rebecca continued. “Life on the frontier isn’t for everyone.”

  “How would you know?” Wolf chuckled. “This is hardly the frontier.”

  Rebecca’s pink lips formed a pout. “’Tis so. Why I have to travel an entire day to visit Charles Town.”

  “Poor Rebecca.” Wolf tweaked her nose as he stood.

  “What about poor Rebecca?” George Walker entered the dining room, buttoning a brightly colored silk coat. A matching cap rested askew on his head.

  “She’s bemoaning her life in the wilds of South Carolina.”

  “Oh Raff, I was not.” Rebecca rose and took Raff’s arm. “I simply pointed out that not everyone is suited for hardships.” Her eyes slid toward Caroline, who could only imagine how true Rebecca must think her statement.

  Caroline did appear ill-suited for life in any but the most civilized surroundings. But she would learn to survive in the frontier... because she must.

  Less than an hour later they were on their way again. Raff rode ahead, followed by Caroline. The contents of her trunk—two gowns; several clean shifts; and hose—were transferred to saddlebags and now hung down the sides of both their horses. The packhorse and trunk were left behind at the Walkers. The new arrangement did seem to allow for a faster pace—which to Caroline’s way of thinking, wasn’t without drawbacks.

  Her legs and back were still sore from the previous day, but she refused to make either an issue. Her resolve grew weaker as the day wore on.

  Since the incident in the dining room, she and Raff had barely exchanged a score of words. The longer they went in this state of near quiet, the more uncomfortable Caroline became. They had never resolved the issue of Raff not wanting her here, but Caroline decided as they rode deeper and deeper into the Carolinas that it was a moot point. She was going to Seven Pines to marry his father.

  “The land is very wild.” Caroline spurred her mare forward, gritting her teeth against the added abuse to her bottom. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen so many trees.” It was true, the path seemed to creep in on them from the sides, threatening to squeeze them toward the center.

  Caroline watched as Raff turned in his saddle. Today he wore breeches of animal skin, buffed and molded to his powerful thighs. His shirt of the same material was loose and gathered at the waist by a belt that held his powderhorn. He looked as wild as the country.

  He seemed to have left his manners behind with his silk clothes, for he only shrugged in a way that conveyed nothing.

  Unexpectedly the path widened into a sandy lane dappled with sunshine. Caroline prodded her horse to ride abreast of his. “She’s lovely.”

  “Who?”

  She didn’t know why he was being so obtuse. “Why Rebecca Walker. She’s a beautiful young woman.”

  His stare was disconcerting. “I’ve known her for years. She’s hardly more than a child.”

  “I don’t think she considers herself one. And it didn’t seem to me that—”

  “That what?”

  “Well, that you considered her a child, either.”

  “She initiated that kiss, Your Ladyship.”

  “I didn’t mean...” Caroline couldn’t quite meet his gaze, and she couldn’t lie. The kiss was what she’d been thinking of. Just as Raff was getting ready to mount his horse, Rebecca Walker had stepped up to him. In front of Caroline and her father, she wove her arms around Raff’s neck. The kiss was long and sensual, and the vision of them standing there was still seared in her memory. It reminded her of the kiss she almost received from him. Caroline squirmed in the saddle. “I simply thought that you and she were... were...”

  “Sweethearts?”

  “Well, yes.” Caroline let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and smiled.

  His expression remained sober. “We aren’t.”

  “Oh. I just thought—”

  “Caroline.”

  “Yes.” When he said her name like that it made her pulse race.

  “I don’t need a mother.”

  With that he urged his mount forward, ending the conversation... such as it was. Caroline looked down at her gloved hands, clutching the reins, not knowing what to think. Was she trying to act the part of a parent? To her mortification, her thoughts had been anything but maternal when Rebecca molded her body to his, or when she flirted unabashedly, or when her lips pressed to his.

  Caroline shook her head, trying to dislodge those disturbing thoughts. She was making more of this than she should. He was rude. That was all. Or simply angry with her for deciding to ignore his advice and go to his father.

  Or perhaps he knew what she was thinking when she saw the kiss between Rebecca and him. Caroline couldn’t help touching her heated cheeks.

  It was past time to rest the horses. Not to mention Lad
y Caroline Simmons. Wolf twisted in the saddle and cast a glance her way. He could tell she was tired. But she didn’t complain. Damned if he didn’t have to give her credit for that. It occurred to him that she wasn’t as fragile as she looked, but he dismissed the thought. She was just angry with him and thus refusing to say anything.

  And he could hardly blame her.

  He wasn’t known for his jovial nature, but neither was he a complete bore. Especially when he was planning a seduction. But the seduction was causing his ill-humor.

  And the ill-humor caused him to be careless. The man stepped from the shadow of the trees before Wolf even sensed he was near. Both horses started, neighing and stamping the ground with their front hooves. Wolf had no trouble calming his mount, but Caroline wasn’t so fortunate. He leaped from the saddle and grabbed for her reins, dodging the flailing legs of the mare.

  Caroline felt herself slipping, and her fear of horses came jolting back. She’d tried to force those feelings from her mind but now they all but paralyzed her. By the time Raff quieted the horse and reached up for her, she slid willingly from the saddle into his arms. Her body trembled, and she did her best to fight the tears as she leaned into his broad chest. But it was as if a tiny dam broke, allowing emotions too long restrained to spew forth.

  “I... can’t... ride. Afraid of horses.” Her words were punctuated by sniffles and hiccups. Some of them Wolf could make out, but not all. She looked up at him, her large eyes wet and prismed by tears, and Wolf felt an uncomfortable tightening in his chest.

  These were not some dainty, feminine tears contrived to elicit a response from him. He doubted she thought of him at all as she ran through her litany of failures, continually mentioning someone named Ned. And he was damn certain she didn’t remember that Dayunisi stood not five rods away, watching the scene with amusement.

  “Hush now, Caroline. You’re safe.” Wolf pulled her more tightly into his arms. Her straw hat had fallen off and his one hand cupped her head, tangling with the soft, pale gold curls. The other caressed her narrow back while over her head he stared at Dayunisi, his eyes daring the Cherokee to laugh at his predicament.

  Control is what she needed. Somewhere in the back of her mind Caroline knew that. But exhaustion and fear muddled her thinking. And it was such a relief to be cradled in strong arms... to have someone to lean upon. But it was the wrong someone. Caroline knew that.

  Slowly she pulled away, wiping her damp face with her gloved hands. “I apologize,” she whispered, unable to lift her eyes to look at him. “I don’t usually act this way.” He tried to pull her back closer to his body, and Caroline rebelled. “No, please, we shouldn’t...”

  “Caroline.” Wolf lifted her chin with his finger. “We aren’t alone.”

  “What? Oh, my goodness.” Caroline wasn’t sure whether it was embarrassment or fear that caused her to stay plastered to Raff’s side after she spun around. Standing just out of the shadows of a tree was a tall, fierce-looking Indian. His head was shaved except for a topknot that hung down his back similar to the Indians she saw in Charles Town. But unlike those men, who wore shirts and waistcoats, this one was nearly naked.

  He said something Caroline didn’t understand, and Raff answered in the same guttural language. Giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze, he moved toward the Indian. They walked together down the path, leaving Caroline with the horses.

  “Why in the hell did you jump out in front of me like that?”

  Dayunisi’s dark eyes narrowed. “I’ve followed you since the turn in the path. Didn’t Wa`ya hear my signals?”

  No, he hadn’t heard them. He’d been too busy thinking about his father’s betrothed. And he was lucky it had only been Dayunisi’s presence he missed. Wolf stared off into the woods. “What word do you bring?”

  “Creek are traveling the valley.”

  Wolf shrugged. “That is hardly news.” The Creek from the south often traveled Cherokee land. They weren’t allies, but most of the time there was an uneasy truce between the two nations.

  “But this time, Wa`ya, they go north to fight the English. And they speak to our warriors about joining them.”

  “Do any of them listen?”

  “Tal-tsuska.”

  Wolf would expect nothing else from his cousin, son of his mother’s brother. Tal-tsuska’s hatred of the white man ran deep. But Dayunisi’s next words were more disturbing. Wolf listened, his expression grim.

  “There have been raids upon settlers in Virginia... by Cherokee warriors.”

  Three

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Caroline’s skirt swished in the dusty road as she followed Raff around the horses. The red man had disappeared into the woods as quietly as he appeared.

  “Step up.” Wolf bent over, cupping his hands beside the mare’s stirrup. He glanced up, annoyed when Caroline didn’t comply.

  “What did he say?” Standing her ground was not something Caroline did as a rule; and after studying Raft’s dark countenance, she understood why.

  “I’m taking you back to Charles Town.”

  He said the words so matter of factly that Caroline could only stare. It wasn’t until he leaned over again to help her mount that she found her tongue. “I told you before, I’m going to Seven Pines.”

  He said nothing at first, only straightened to tower over her, his dark eyes intense. “Cherokee warriors have raided settlers in Virginia. Taken scalps.”

  Caroline’s gasp was involuntary. “But why?” She looked away only to be drawn back by his gaze. “Mr. Chipford assured me there was peace between the Cherokee and the English. He’s the factor who arranged the betrothal between your father and me,” she answered his unspoken question.

  “Well, Mr. Chipford obviously doesn’t know the situation.”

  “But ’tis the same thing your father reported in his post.”

  “Listen Caroline.” Raff took a deep breath. Dayunisi’s news had disturbed him. It also made him all the more anxious to reach the Cherokee Lower Towns and report Lyttleton’s request for a talk. He didn’t have time for Lady Caroline Simmons, or her obstinance. “Believe whom you will, but I’m returning you to Charles Town. And I’m doing it now.”

  “Then you’ll have to take me by force.” The mare pranced nervously behind her, and Caroline stepped well out of the way. “I’ve come too far to turn back.” She bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering and stuck out her chin.

  “Damnit, Caroline, there is more at stake here than your desire to marry my father.”

  “I’m not going back.” Once, when she was a child, her father told her she was stubborn. The years had nearly erased that trait, but for some reason Raff MacQuaid revived it.

  “You’re not?” Wolf glowered down at her. “Well, what if I do? What if I just leave you right here and return to Charles Town myself.”

  Caroline’s gaze darted about quickly. To the thick, nearly impenetrable forest, dark and teeming with animal sounds. She swallowed. “Then I shall go on by myself.”

  If she thought his expression dark before, now it was positively thunderous. He took a step toward her, then another, until she was forced to back away or be overrun by him. Her back pressed against the mare’s warm side, but she refused to look away even when his hands reached out to cup her shoulders.

  “What is it about my father that draws you so?”

  “I... I’m not drawn to him.” To his son perhaps. Caroline ruthlessly shoved that thought aside. She had no right thinking of the man before her in any way other than a stepson. Then why did she notice the way he smelled, like musky leather and unbearable heat? And why did she tremble whenever he touched her, nay whenever he even looked at her?

  “He will not make you a good husband.”

  His voice was low, and he left the meaning of his words unsaid. But a thousand vivid pictures came to Caroline’s mind... and none of them centered upon her betrothed. It was the man before her, touching her, who dominated her thoughts. A husband whose hand
s were large and firm, whose lips were sensual. What that mouth could do to her, Caroline could only guess. But for one insane moment she wanted to know, wanted to know so badly she could almost feel him, taste him...

  “I’m going to Seven Pines!” Caroline twisted away from his grip on her shoulders and pressed her fist to her mouth. She sounded breathless and frightened, and she was both. But not of Indian raids, or even Raff MacQuaid’s disapproval.

  “Very well. But do not say you weren’t warned.” With that he quirked his brow and curved his hands around her waist. Hoisting her up, he settled her into the saddle. Then he lifted her knee over the pummel—it was only her imagination that his fingers lingered overlong—and handed her the reins. She watched as he mounted, then urged his horse along the path... westward bound.

  Their pace was even faster than before. By the time they stopped for the night, Caroline was bone tired. Unlike the Walkers’ sprawling house, their lodging this night was a cabin made of rough-hewn wood and a shake roof. But the food was good, and the bed in the loft that the mistress of the house showed her to was clean and welcome. Even exhaustion, however, couldn’t keep away the troubling dreams that haunted Caroline’s sleep... erotic dreams.

  With the dawn they started down the path again, horses fresh, pace swift. By now Caroline knew the trip to Seven Pines would take a fortnight if all went well. That much she learned from Mistress Campbell who, along with her husband and five children, lived on the homestead where they spent the night.

  A fortnight of such traveling loomed ahead as an eternity, but then compared to her sea voyage it didn’t seem so long. At least now she had solid ground beneath her, even if a horse carried her plodding along on it. Actually, despite her near tumble, Caroline had lost her fear of the gentle chestnut mare. Or perhaps her mind was too preoccupied to worry about the horse.

  “’Tis it your intention to hold your tongue until we reach Seven Pines?” Caroline prodded her mount forward till she was abreast of Raff. He had spoken no more than was necessary to her since her refusal to return to Charles Town. But he had plenty to say. Last night she’d heard the muffled rumble of voices, his and his host’s, long after she’d climbed the ladder to the loft.