My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) (30 page)

“There’s the governor,” Mary called, pointing toward a group of mounted men off to the side of the column.

Caroline followed her friend’s gaze, and her breath caught in her throat. For beside the governor, tall and erect upon his chestnut stallion sat Raff MacQuaid.

“Y
ou’re looking as lovely as ever, Lady Caroline.”

Caroline doubted the governor remembered her from their brief encounter in Charles Town. At the time Wolf’s anger over the broken treaty had prevented even an introduction. Nevertheless, Caroline curtsied and gave him a demure smile for his compliment.

“I’m so glad to see this infernal frontier hasn’t sapped your beauty.” He took her hand, seeming not to notice the calluses that toughened her skin, then placed it on his scarlet sleeve and led her into the room that served as his parlor. There she was introduced to several of his officers. One of them a Major Mulhanny from somewhere near Lands End, she thought. He seemed an eager fellow who complimented her lavishly and often.

Captain Godfrey also stepped forward as if she were a duchess rather than an impoverished daughter of an earl and widow of a slain trader. He regaled her with some witticism when he was presented to her, and Caroline imagined she answered in kind, for he smiled, revealing straight white teeth that seemed a trifle large for his face.

The next three men were equally attentive, though Caroline failed to listen closely enough to catch their names. Her attention kept wandering to the man standing off by himself, lounging indulgently against the back wall. He watched her, too, an amused expression on his handsome face as she was led from one officer to the next, from one admiring man to the next.

“And, of course, you remember your—” The governor sucked in his breath as if he realized the absurdity of calling this man her stepson. As smoothly as he could, and being a politician, that was with practiced aplomb, Governor Lyttelton changed the course of his introduction. “Rafferty MacQuaid,” he finished.

“Yes, how are you Mr. MacQuaid?” It amazed Caroline how manners drilled into her head so many years ago could surface to help her through a difficult moment. For her heart was pounding and she wanted nothing more than to turn and run from this place.

“I’m very well, Lady Caroline.” He pushed off from the wall and took her hand, swallowing it up in his. “May I add my compliments to the multitude you’ve recently garnered?” His gaze took its time roaming from her face, down her body, clad simply in the bodice and quilted overskirts he’d seen many times, then back up to arrogantly meet her eyes.

He smiled at her briefly, as if they shared a secret that would shock the other occupants of the room—which was exactly the case—and handed her back to the governor. Lyttelton led her to a chair by the hearth where a fire took the chill from the evening.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I was that you could accept my invitation,” the governor was saying to her as he drew his chair closer to hers. “We’ve been too long in the wilds without benefit of hearing a soft, feminine voice.”

The other men agreed, except for Wolf who had resumed his position against the far wall. The ornate silver branch of candles, which to Caroline’s mind was as out of place in these primitive surroundings as the scarlet-clad men, failed to light all the corners of the log-walled room. Certainly Wolf remained in shadows.

But Caroline didn’t need to see him to feel his eyes upon her or to remember how he looked. Unlike the governor and his officers, who were all impeccably garbed from their powdered wigs to the polish on their gleaming boots, Wolf wore leggings and a loose homespun shirt. The one concession he’d made to civilized attire was tying back his dark hair with a leather thong. Nor was he carrying his long rifle, although Caroline noticed it leaning in the corner, no more than an arm’s length away.

And he was far from unarmed. Caroline couldn’t help but wonder how the fancy swords the British sported would compare in battle to the broad-bladed knife sheathed by Wolf’s narrow hip.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you ask me something?” Caroline smiled into the hazel eyes of one of the men whose name she’d missed. He was young, his skin smooth as Colleen’s bottom, and he was telling her some tale about their trip from Charles Town.

“I asked Your Ladyship if you’d ever encountered a bear,” he repeated good-naturedly.

She managed to make some inane response to the lieutenant who didn’t seem to notice or mind her inattentiveness.

Caroline was thankful when dinner was announced. The governor escorted her into another room of the barracks and seated her to his right. Wolf sat to his left, directly across the lavishly set table.

It appeared the governor refused to sacrifice his comforts even when he visited the frontier. More silver graced the table, holding the candles that lit the room, and lined up beside the fine bone china. The tablecloth was Irish linen and the food more fancifully prepared than she’d had in a long time.

Caroline wondered how Wolf would handle the table setting, but as they dined on a clear broth of unique flavor, Caroline noted his long fingers seemed as much at home lightly gripping a silver spoon, as steadying his rifle... or caressing a woman.

Caroline nearly choked on her wine when that vision popped unbidden to her mind. Delicately wiping her lips with the lace-trimmed napkin, Caroline turned to the governor. After complimenting him for the fine cuisine, she broached a subject no one had yet to mention.

“What do you feel are your chances of avoiding a devastating war with the Cherokee?”

Caroline thought a hush trickled down the length of the table, and the officers seemed to glance toward the governor in unison. He lifted his goblet as if offering a toast. “Look before you, Lady Caroline.” With the sweep of his hand, he indicated those sitting at the table. “Here we have representatives of his Highness’s army. How can we fail to resolve this... problem to our satisfaction?”

“The heathens just need to be shown what they are up against on occasion.” This came from the officer to her right, Captain Godfrey.

Caroline’s eyes shot to Wolf. She expected he might be getting ready to vault the table and grab the officer by his gorget for his reference to “heathens.” But to the contrary, his expression was bland, his posture almost lazy. And his eyes were locked with hers. Almost as if he dared her to pursue the subject she opened. And since her life might depend upon the results of the governor’s plans, she cared far more about this than the tenderness of the beef... which was currently being discussed.

“I understand the Little Carpenter is expected to arrive at the fort soon.” Caroline had heard he was the most important Cherokee Headman... and also their best negotiator.

The governor paused, his fork held motionless inches from his mouth. “How did you know that?”

“Governor Lyttelton,” Caroline laughed. “Rumors are the mainstay of our conversations here at Fort Prince George. I’d hoped this one was true.”

“It is. The Second Man of Conasatchee brought a talk today. We should have those warriors who are guilty of slaying the Virginia settlers delivered to us soon.”

“And then the Headmen you’re holding hostage will be set free?” This time there was no mistaking the gasp in the room.

“I’m afraid someone has misled you, my dear Lady Caroline.” The governor stared pointedly at Wolf. “We hold no
prisoners
... there are only guests here.”

“I’d thought perhaps several of your Cherokee guests might have joined us for dinner tonight?” Caroline wasn’t sure why she was being so bold. But she could tell her questions weren’t endearing her to the governor. However, when she slipped a look across the table, Wolf seemed amused.

But this time when the governor changed the subject, Caroline let him. He obviously wasn’t going to tell her anything of import about the Cherokee problem.

“Do you plan to return to England?” Governor Lyttelton asked. “Raff has told me something of your circumstances. Allow me to offer you my sincerest condolences on the loss of your husband.”

“Thank you.” Caroline lowered her lashes. “He died rather tragically.” She looked up, meeting first Wolf’s dark eyes, then the rummy ones of the governor. “But I intend to stay in the Americas... at Seven Pines.”

“Really?” The governor sounded surprised, and Caroline imagined Wolf had given him to believe otherwise.

“Yes. As it happens, I intend to write my brother as soon as it’s safe and have him come also.”

“Your brother?” Wolf’s voice was deep and low. “That would be the next Earl?”

“That would be Edward... Ned, actually, and I think he would like it very much here.” Actually she wasn’t certain how her brother would view the colony. But she wished to let Wolf know that she was serious about staying.

The rest of the meal—the best Caroline had had in some time—passed with little consequence. By the time dessert was served, the conversation centered upon plays the young officers had seen in London, and how primitive they thought the frontier.

Caroline said little. She’d seen no plays, and she was becoming very fond of the land that was now her home. But she concluded that more than anything else, the officers were homesick. It mattered naught what she said, as long as she offered an English ear... a feminine English ear.

When the governor’s personal servant brought a bottle of cognac on a silver platter, Caroline decided to take her leave. She was tired, and she’d been spelling Mary when Colleen woke in the night. Since it was but a short walk across the parade grounds to Mistress Quinn’s cabin, Caroline saw no need for an escort and courteously declined when Governor Lyttelton offered one.

It was more difficult to say no to Wolf.

For one thing, he didn’t politely request. He told her he’d be accompanying her to the cabin. And though her impulse was to resist, Caroline decided it best to simply let him have his way rather than to argue the point in front of the governor and officers. Wolf was, after all, the son of her dead husband. Though the family connection was no more than a thin veneer as far as society was concerned, it was there.

“You seemed quite at ease in the governor’s presence, Lady Caroline.”

He waited only till the door was shut behind them and they were barely out of earshot before his low, sardonic voice broke the silence. Caroline glanced at him through her lashes, though the occasional smoky brand that lit the fort’s interior was not enough to see him clearly. But she could imagine the expression on his dark, handsome face. She’d seen the sarcastic turn of his lips, the intense fire of his obsidian eyes often enough.

Partly because she didn’t think any comment by her was needed, and partly because she didn’t wish to prolong this encounter, Caroline said nothing, and kept her pace brisk.

“Of course, it was nothing more than I expected,” he continued. “However, I was a bit surprised by your referring to the Headmen as prisoners. Governor Lyttelton did not seem pleased.”

Caroline paused then, forgetting her vow to take her leave of his onerous company as soon as possible. “If I recall, hostages was the term I used. And shocking you was not my goal.”

He’d stopped, too. They stood in the lee of a storage shed, partially hidden from the view of anyone who might pass their way. Raff loomed over her, and Caroline wished she’d kept walking. But she refused to retreat, even when he took a step forward.

“I never thought it was,” he responded. “But it surprised me all the same. You sounded almost as if you cared about the Cherokee.”

She did. Because of Sadayi and Walini and most of the others she’d met and learned to like. And because of Raff, a small voice whispered in her ear, but she tried to ignore it. And him. He smelled faintly of the brandy he drank before he insisted upon accompanying her. For the briefest moment, Caroline allowed herself to wonder what the smooth liquor would taste like on his tongue.

Then reason and the stupidity of her thoughts whisked her back to reality. “I care about returning to my home,” Caroline said, her tone as firm as she could make it.

“Ah, the motherland. Where exactly in England are you from?”

“Gloucester, but I wasn’t referring to England as you well know. ’Tis Seven Pines that I call home.”

Even in the dim light that flickered from a nearby torch, she noticed the narrowing of his eyes. “I don’t suppose now is the time to discuss which of us owns Seven Pines, especially with Logan off in the wilds of Pennsylvania?”

Again Caroline said nothing. Regardless of her anger with him, she couldn’t bring herself to profess to carrying his father’s child. There would be time enough for that later, she assured herself.

“What’s the matter, Your Ladyship, have you nothing to say to your
stepson
?”

Apparently he’d drunk more than she thought, or he just felt like being a bore. He normally didn’t push her this way. No, he was usually more taciturn. Seduce and leave. He seemed to have the sequence down to an art. But tonight he was more interested in taunting her, and Caroline was quickly tiring of it.

But escaping him would not be easy. Somehow he’d backed her into a corner, with his large body blocking her into the V of log walls. She could scream, but then that would appear melodramatic considering he’d done nothing but talk. So she decided she would simply make known her wishes to leave.

She lifted her hand to push him aside and immediately realized her mistake. His large hand covered hers, pressing it firmly against his chest. She could feel the steady pounding of his heart, the warmth of his skin through the homespun shirt. Did he notice how her breathing quickened?

“I wish to return to Mistress Quinn’s cabin.” Caroline kept her voice level with difficulty.

“Do you?”

She could almost hear the disbelief in his tone and wondered how much of it came from his ability to read her thoughts. “I should think you would want to return to the governor anyway,” Caroline said, deciding that to attack was her best weapon. “Now that you’ve chosen to side with the English, it wouldn’t do to let them make decisions without you.”