Dream Weaver (28 page)

"'Twas certainly my intention to sell my commission, but Captain Ecuyer persuaded me from my planned course. He fears the Indians may endanger the population at
Fort
Pitt
." Richard scoffed. "What a foolish prospect. As if those people could cause trouble."

He ran an admiring gaze over her. "But why are we discussing such melancholy topics? I must say you've brightened my day with your presence, madam. 'Tis indeed my good fortune to find you unaccompanied."

"Well, you see, my husband--"

"Your husband?" He frowned.

"I married Christian Norgard a couple of months ago," she said with a gentle smile. "We lived farther east, but our house burned down."

"Good heavens! What a tragedy. Miss Emrys, er, Mistress Norgard, I see we have much catching up to do. I'd consider it a pleasure and an honor if you'd accompany me to the King's Gardens. We can sit on the grass to exchange news. I must pull officer-of-the-guard duty tonight, but I have much time before I need to report." He raised his eyebrows. "That is, if you can spare the time."

"Suits me fine, lieutenant." So happy to see Richard, she tried not to think about all the jobs that awaited her at home and all the things she should buy at the trading post.

She linked her arm through his, placing her hand on his forearm. "Shall we go?"

In the King's Gardens, a cool breeze blowing off the river bathed her face. The scent of apple and pear trees drifted her way, helping her forget her dull days. Besides, Richard was such fun to be with.

She rested on the grass under the shade of a wide oak tree, her legs drawn close to her body. Aware of the proprieties, she arranged the skirt of her dress around her ankles.

"So you think the Indians were responsible for burning your house?" Richard asked after Gwen related the episode.

She twisted her fingers in the grass. "That's what Christian says. There've been other burnings farther east, people killed and captured. I'm afraid the Indian Rebellion has started," she said, then silently scolded herself for yet another slip of the tongue. Richard would wonder.

"Indian rebellion?" Richard said with a look of pure scorn. "I hardly think so. Isolated incidents, horrible as it must have been for you to lose your house in such a sad way. Indeed, I think Captain Ecuyer worries needlessly. But please, dear Mistress Norgard, I didn't bring you here to discuss an Indian rebellion that will never happen."

He gave her a look of frank admiration. "I want to know how you've been, Gwen, if I am permitted to address you by your first name. Pray tell me how things have been with you. Are you happy with Norgard? Nay, don't let my bold question shock you. Your happiness means much to me," he said in a low voice as he leaned closer, so that only inches separated them. "And if you're unhappy with Norgard, he'll have to answer to me."

"Christian and I are very happy together," she said with a kind smile. "But sometimes I miss..." She hesitated, staring around the grassy area, sorry for her last remark. Your big mouth is going to get you into trouble one of these days, her conscience chided her.

"Yes?" Richard asked with an eager expression. "What do you miss?"

Gwen stared across the rippling waters of the Allegheny. "Oh, forget I said anything, Richard. It's just that everything is so different here."

"Different from what?"

"From everything I've known." She pushed herself to her feet, then brushed off the back of her dress. "Please forget I said anything," she repeated. "I have to learn to adjust. That's my problem."

Tucking unruly curls under her bonnet, she noted the position of the sun as it inched westward across the sky. Surely Christian would be back soon. "I'd better go now," she said, retying the ribbons of her bonnet. More than anything, she wished she could stay here on this wonderful spring day and forget about her housework, all the things she must do.

"Pray permit me to walk you home...."

Outside her front door a short while later, Richard stood only a few feet from her, his gaze steady on her face.

Reluctant to watch Richard leave, she talked with him for several minutes as time flew past, reminding her that Christian would arrive any minute now. And he'd better not see her with Richard.

"Richard," she said after a pause, "I really have to go inside. This day has meant a lot to me, seeing you again, talking to you. And I'm glad you've stayed, even though I'm sure you miss your home in
England
. Still, your loss is my gain, as they say."

 
"My gain, especially." Richard gave her a long, intense look, then leaned closer to kiss her. Aware of his purpose, Gwen started to pull away. Not fast enough!

"Well, well, am I interrupting something?"

They both spun around, Gwen's face hot with embarrassment.

"Christian!"

Chapter Eighteen

"It wasn't what it looked like, Christian," Gwen said after Richard had given a long-winded apology, then left.

"Oh, no?" Christian said with a hard stare. "Then what was it?" He stood not two feet from her, so close Gwen could see the rise and fall of his chest and such a hurt look in his eyes, she'd do anything to take back those last few minutes with Richard.

"I told Richard, er, Lieutenant Shelbourne about the destruction of our house and...and everything, and he was just showing me how sorry he felt for me."

"Right-ho! The man has a peculiar way of expressing sympathy."

"What I mean is--" She paused, licking her bottom lip. "I mean he was so happy to see me."

"Indeed. I'd never have guessed it."

"Well, it was a real surprise to see Lieutenant Shelbourne again. When I saw him several months ago, he told me he was selling his commission. Now--"

"Now the two lovers have reunited. What a happy ending!"

"Hey, you got it all wrong!" Before he could say anymore, Gwen decided the best defense was a good offense. "I didn't even hear you arrive at the house."

"Obviously."

"Well, where's your horse?"

"Not that I owe you an explanation, but I left him with the blacksmith to be shod. The man seemed quite busy, so I told him I'd come back later."

"Oh." Sorrier than she could say for the pain she saw in his eyes, Gwen studied his face--every line, every feature, as though seeing them for the first time. She loved him so much. How could she convince him of her devotion?

She touched his arm but winced when he drew back. "Honestly, I'm sorry for--"

"No doubt!"

"It was nothing," she said, aware that was a lame answer.

He smirked. "Another man tries to kiss you, and you call it nothing?"

"But I didn't return his kiss. Didn't you see me draw away?"

"Only because you saw me."

"You know that's not true." She raised her hand to him again, then let it drop to her side. "Let's not have any arguments between us." She moved closer. "I love you so much," she whispered.

"Do you? You'd do anything to be back in your own world now, wouldn't you? You can't wait to get out of this time, back to the twenty-first century."

"Come on, you're changing the subject." She edged closer to him, catching his masculine scent of tobacco and the outdoors. Desperation tinged her voice. "You're the only man I love, don't you know that? You're my life, all I ever wanted. Please don't draw away from me." She splayed her hands across his muscular chest and felt his steady heartbeat, his body heat. Easing her fingers under his shirt, she touched the matted hairs on his chest.

"Let me show you how much I love you," she said in a throaty whisper. His expression softening, she rested her head on his chest and absorbed his scent, the warmth of his skin. She moved against him in sensuous persuasion, her breasts molded to his chest.

"Ah, Gwen!"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a long, slow kiss, then opened her mouth for him to explore. Closing her eyes, she drifted in a dreamworld of sensual images and sensations. She'd never wanted him as much as she wanted him now, this very minute.

He smiled lazily, hot desire in his eyes. "Let's go to bed. I don't care if it's morning, noon, or night. How can a man resist you? But first, I'd better give us privacy, don't you think?" Quickly, Christian left her to close the door, then returned to lead her to their bed in the corner.

Gwen helped him undress, unbuttoning his shirt with tantalizing slowness.

"Gwen, please! I want you now. Can't wait any longer."

"That goes for me, too, sweetheart." After tossing off their clothes, they pushed the counterpane back and slid into bed.

"Let me make love to you," she murmured. Wanting to set the pace, she leaned over him to kiss him on the mouth, moving her body tantalizingly against his chest. Taunting him with her breasts, she offered them for his enjoyment.

She covered his face with kisses, caught in the lure of his sighs, his gasps of pleasure, the desire she saw in his eyes. She stroked and teased, caressing him where it gave him such pleasure, driving them both to greater joy than she’d ever imagined, even in her wildest yearnings.

“Christian!” she cried as their bodies joined. “You see how much I love you.”

* * *

Much later, after they both drifted from their sensual bliss into a contented doze and awakened to darkening shadows, Christian joined Gwen for the evening meal of leftover roast turkey and biscuits. Their lovemaking had kept her from fixing anything else, but who was she to complain? And Christian didn't seem to mind. Is this what people meant when they spoke of living on love?

Christian swallowed a bite of turkey, his eyes only for her. "Something I wanted to tell you--Captain Ecuyer has invited us to dinner Friday of next week. Others will attend, also," he added, cutting another bite. "Does that appeal to you?"

Gwen met his look, his kisses and caresses still fresh in her mind, her body warmly satisfied. "Hey, sounds like a pleasant change. Um, yes. Definitely." She enjoyed things like that - dinners with friends, stimulating conversation, meeting other people. In her own time, most people considered TV the ultimate entertainment. That time seemed so far away, and in many ways, this time seemed better.

* * *

Besides Captain Ecuyer, several other distinguished men and women sat at the lace-covered table, Gwen at the captain's right. Here in the commandant's house at
Fort
Pitt
, she admired the setting, every bit as beautiful as any she'd seen from her own time. A vase of deep pink phlox presided over the center, the table sparkling with sterling silver and fine china in a pattern of pink rosebuds with a gold rim.

She loved to hear the rustle of her whisper-soft silk gown, one a local dressmaker had skillfully made with only a few days notice. So glad Christian had discovered the seamstress, she smoothed her fingers across the luxurious fabric. Its soft rose shade complemented her own coloring very well, she thought, after noticing in her mirror how it brought out the glow of her skin. A froth of lace edged the low neckline, adding a touch of elegance to the gown's simple cut.

Her hair was arranged in soft curls with a bow of rose ribbon in front and loose tresses that caressed her shoulders, a casual style she'd decided long ago suited her best. Christian likes it too, she observed, catching his appreciative look across the table.

Raising her crystal wine glass to her lips, it appeared to her that the captain managed quite well with entertaining, although he was stuck on the edge of civilization. And that's a pretty good description of
Fort
Pitt
, Gwen mused as she forked a bite of tasty trout.

Intrepid as ever, George Croghan was there, sporting a black eye. Christian had once told her that Croghan was a wealthy and influential fur trader who'd dealt with the Indians for years. He was married to an Indian, even knew a few native languages. As for the black eye, he'd gotten it in a fight with an Indian chief.

Amid low-voiced conversation, Croghan spoke up. "Heard about Indian atrocities east of here. Cabins burned to the ground, whole families murdered."

Ecuyer dabbed a linen napkin to his mouth, then took a sip of wine. "Isolated incidents, I doubt not, melancholy as they must have been for the poor victims." His gaze covered the table, and he caught Gwen's worried look. "But I fear we are distressing the ladies, so shall we discuss something pleasant? Have any of you heard of this young musician in
Salzburg
? Mozart, I believe. Making quite a name for himself."

"Oh, yes!" Gwen replied, eager to join the conversation. "I just love his music, everything he does--sonatas, operas. Such a great pianist and composer, too. I especially like Don Giovanni."