Dream Weaver (18 page)

Raising her face to the early afternoon sky, she breathed in the sweet fragrance of strawberries, borne on a light breeze. She drew her hat off and dropped it on the bench, then removed all the pins from her hair and let the long locks cascade past her shoulders, the way she wanted to wear her hair all the time but didn't dare. Ah, eighteenth century convention. Now, if she had her jeans and a T-shirt...

She rested her head against the trunk of a spreading oak, her wayward thoughts drifting.

A rustle of branches startled her, bringing a frown to her face. Was it too much to expect she might have a few minutes to herself? She swung around and saw Christian approach, the shade of the trees accentuating his solemn expression. She clutched the folds of her dress, then quickly let go, fixing a calm expression on her face.

He stood beside her. "Why did you desert us?"

"I didn't think anyone would notice my absence."

"I noticed it."

She smiled and shrugged, not knowing what to say. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. One thing she resolved--she would not let Christian see the unsettling effect he had on her, how even the sound of his voice made her want to rush into his arms and cover his face with kisses.

"You haven't answered my question," Christian said. Sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling his face, making it difficult to see his expression.

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm your doctor," he said with a teasing grin. "I wondered if you were sick."

Yes, sick of thinking about you all the time, wondering if you still care for Leah.

The breeze picked up, a strand of hair blowing across her cheek, and she brushed the lock aside. "Not sick. Just like to be by myself sometimes. Besides, it was rather hot in there."

"True." He gave her a long, thoughtful look. "I still don't understand you. Why did you come to this part of the country? What is your purpose here?" Christian shook his head, a hint of a frown on his face. "You're a puzzlement, to be sure."

She rolled her eyes. "Why do you bring this up again, after all this time? I thought we'd worked this out before."

"You thought we'd worked it out, but you've never fully explained your reason for being here."

"It's all a Papist plot."

Christian nodded in mock solemnity. "Mayhap so."

One idea after another flitted through her head, each quickly discarded, until she settled on a compromise.

 
"I believe everyone has a purpose in life," she said.

"What is your purpose, then?"

"Umm." She thought about all the things she wanted to tell him--the coming Indian attacks, her trip back in time to save his life. Would he believe her? Not a chance. "How much time do you have to listen?"

He inclined his head. "As much time as you need."

Tree branches tossed in the wind, and clouds drifted in front of the sun, the air becoming cooler. She suppressed a shiver, not for anything wanting to distract him from their discussion.

She forced herself to speak in an even voice. "I believe my presence here is closely connected with the Indian rebellion, which I already told you about and which you don't accept."

"Correct on both counts."

After a pause, she went on. "I think I may be able to save a few lives in this struggle with the Indians."

"Oh, really?" Christian folded his arms across his chest. "How will you do that?"

"By warning people, for one thing, as I've tried to warn you. I might even talk to Captain Ecuyer at
Fort
Pitt
."

"You do that. I'm sure he'll appreciate your advice. But why stop there? Why not go all the way to Colonel Bouquet or even Sir Jeffrey Amherst?"

Gwen lifted her chin. "It's certainly worth a try to talk to Captain Ecuyer."

"Let's change the subject," Christian said. "I--"

"Good idea."

"--I wondered if Richard Shelbourne has called on you lately."

Her mind swirled with all the implications of his question. Did he care for her, or was his question prompted by idle curiosity? "You're very inquisitive today," she said, finding refuge in banter.

"He's not the man for you."

"You said the same about Noah Enfield, and in any case, it's no business of yours whom I see. Richard Shelbourne is a fine gentleman, an interesting person to be with." She tilted her head. "Why do you pry into my affairs?"

Christian ran his fingers through his hair. For as long as Gwen had known him, he'd always been a picture of absolute self-confidence, never at a loss for words. But now...

 
"Your happiness is my business, or maybe I should say I've made it my business," Christian said. "I've come to think much of you--"

"More than of Leah Conway?" Her hand flew to her mouth. She'd give a million dollars to take back those words, but there they were, hanging in the air between them.

"Leah." Christian sighed. "We grew up together. Our families knew each other well. At one time, I thought I cared for her. But now...now I hope she and Edward will find happiness together."

"Then you don't mind that she married Edward?"

"Mind? No, of course not."

Wow! This changed everything. She wanted to sing, dance, shout her happiness to the world. All this time she'd assumed Christian wanted Leah. But wait, his words still didn't mean he cared for her.

Christian stepped closer, a look of tenderness in his eyes. "You haven't answered my question."

"No," she murmured, "he hasn't visited me, not since the time when you came to visit, too."

"Good." Christian brushed a stray curl from her forehead. His fingers traced the lines of her cheekbone, his touch light and caressing. "I love your hair down like this, instead of hidden under that mobcap you wear around the house. Unfortunate for me that you can't wear it like this all the time." He lifted the long tresses, letting them slide through his fingers like silken threads, then released his hand, her hair rippling down her back. "I've wanted to do that for the longest time," he said, "even when you first appeared at my house. And I've wanted to hold you in my arms. Gwen..."

"Christian..." Before she knew how it had happened, she found herself in his embrace. He whispered her name again and again as he feathered kisses from her forehead, down her cheek, and on to the hollow of her throat, his breath warm on her skin, like a kitten's fur. She returned kiss for kiss and ran her hand across his back, feeling every ridge and contour.

 
He changed his position to hold her ever tighter, his hands roaming down her back, pressing her hips against him. She was floating, floating, floating somewhere in the stratosphere, and she never wanted to come back down to earth.

Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, Christian drew back slightly to caress her breast, his fingers warm through the thin material of her cotton dress. His hand made a circling motion, moving ever closer to her nipple. When he smoothed his finger across the hard peak, she cried out in shameless ecstasy.

"Christian, please!"

He drew away to gaze down at her, warm desire in his eyes. "Shall I stop?"

"No, oh, no!"

He cradled her head against his shoulder, whispering in her ear, "I think it best that I stop or heaven only knows where this will end. I'm only a man, one who wants you very much. If I had my way--"

Voices reached them from the other side of the trees. Christian raised his head, releasing a deep sigh. He smiled at her tenderly, a look she'd remember for the rest of her life. "'Tis just as well we're not alone anymore."

Chapter Eleven

Awakened by the chirping of robins, Gwen shaded her eyes against the bright sunlight that slanted across her bed and flooded the room. Morning already? She moaned and turned over, wishing she could go back to sleep, but she'd already overslept after another restless night of broken dreams about Christian. The day of Leah's wedding a week ago came back to haunt her, Christian's kisses and caresses fresh in her mind, as if he were holding her now. A rush of warmth made her catch her breath as wild images sent her hopes skyrocketing.

She closed her eyes and tried to think of other things, an exercise in futility. When would she ever realize she meant nothing to him? What normal, red-blooded American male stuck out in the middle of nowhere wouldn't be lonely for a woman? She just happened to be convenient.

But he's my soulmate, she silently declared.. They were destined to be together, so that she could save his life. What could she say or do to make him understand?

She pushed her bedspread aside and slid out of bed. Enough daydreaming; she had a class today, and the children would arrive soon.

Despite her best intentions, her mind swung back to Christian. What was he doing now?

* * *

Christian studied the lady who sat across the table in his common room. He guessed she was in her late twenties, and judging from her speech and dress, she appeared to be a woman of means. He smiled to put her at ease, his hands resting on the table, a hundred questions churning through his brain. But he'd let her speak first, hoping she'd explain her ailment betimes.

"I've come all the way from Bedford, Dr. Norgard. 'Twas a most uncomfortable journey on my horse, aye, and painful, too, in my condition. Fortunately, Mr. Chamberlain gave me good directions on his last visit to
Bedford
, else I should never have found your place."

"Thank God for Daniel Chamberlain," Christian said. "If anyone knows western
Pennsylvania
, it is he."

She nodded. "'Tis said you're a skilled doctor, so I pray my troubles have been worth it." Her hand shook as she raised it to her forehead, tucking a wisp of hair under her hat.

"And no one accompanied you on your trip, Mistress Baker?" he asked in surprise.

She hesitated. "My husband left for
Philadelphia
a few weeks ago and hasn't returned yet." She sighed. "My maid is so easily frightened, so I decided to go by myself," she said with a rueful smile. "My husband will be furious, both with the maid and me, but I could no longer bear my infirmity." Pressing her hand to her swollen abdomen, she spoke in an anguished voice. "But pray tell me, why should my condition cause pain? I have three other children, and how well I know that giving birth is not without discomfort. But the condition itself shouldn't cause such pain. Why is that, doctor?" Tears brimmed her eyes and her voice rose.. "Dr. Norgard, what's amiss?"

 
"I hope to ascertain that shortly," Christian answered in a low voice, aiming to calm the lady. "First, I must do a physical examination. Then we'll see what to do."

"A physical examination?" She clenched her hands on the table, her knuckles white. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll have to examine you to see whether or not you're with child. If not--"

"Whether or not I'm with child? What else could it be?"

"That, madam, is what I hope to ascertain." Christian spoke in measured tones, well aware he must proceed cautiously, must do everything to put her at ease. "If you agree to an examination-- and madam, I assure you 'tis absolutely necessary--let us do it now. Afterwards, we'll see."

Christian observed her flushed face, her clenched hands, wishing he could alleviate her distress. He twisted his fingers in his lap, concealing his own anxiety. What if he had to operate?

"Pray let us proceed. My bed is the best place for it--more room, you see, and, I believe, more comfortable for you. And madam, I understand your delicacy in this matter. Indeed, such modesty does you credit. But an examination is absolutely necessary."

Her glance darted around the room. "Very well," she whispered.

He gestured toward her head. "Your hat, madam..."

"Oh, yes, of course." With shaking hands, she reached behind her to unpin the hat, then set it on the table.

In his loft, the examination confirmed his worst fears. Christian straightened up from the bed. "Mistress Baker, as I suspected, you aren't pregnant. But you do have a diseased ovary." How he wished he could spare her this agony.

"A what, doctor?" Bracing her elbow against the bed, she rose to a sitting position, pushing her dress down. Worry lines creased her face, and her hand trembled as she shoved a lock of hair back from her forehead. Perspiration glistened on her forehead.

"A malignant growth has attached itself to an ovary--one of the reproductive organs, necessary for childbirth. Now, listen carefully whilst I tell you what I must do. I must operate, madam--"

She drew a quick breath. "No!"

"--and I shall tell you quite frankly, an ovarian cyst is quite serious, besides which this operation entails some risk." He winced inwardly at her shocked expression, yet he knew he should give her all the facts. "If I don't perform this surgery, I fear your condition will prove fatal. 'Tis a chance we have to take, Mistress Baker. You simply cannot continue as you are now. The ovary must be removed."