Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (27 page)

A loner by nature, he was used to passing a good deal of his time lost in his own thoughts. Whenever memories of Melissa came to mind, he would angrily shove them aside. There were women who hung around the trading post. Women he had once found amusing, but now he saw them for the coarse whores they were, and wanted nothing more to do with them.

He had been spoiled by the dream of love, although it had only been an illusion, and now nothing less would satisfy him. Melissa had never been worth loving, but he now knew there was another young woman who was. Unfortunately, Alanna was no more likely to fall in love with him than Melissa had been, and he fought to suppress the sweetness of his memories, and to forget her as well.

Hunter had just finished stacking sacks of cornmeal one morning, when he heard the sounds of voices raised in an argument coming from out front. Fur trappers were an obnoxious lot and fights were frequent. Curious as to the cause, he went outside to watch. When he found Peter Bright, a young fellow he had always liked, being badly beaten by Ben Murdock, a man twice his size, he didn't wait for someone else to stop the uneven match. He stepped between them and gave Ben a forceful shove.

"Settle the matter another way," he ordered.

Infuriated, Ben pushed back. "Stay out of this, unless you want your nose broken, too!"

Hunter laughed. "Do you really think you can do it?" he asked.

Already in a rage, Ben swung for Hunter, but missed. The dozen or so men standing around began to take sides; seizing the opportunity to get away, Peter Bright ran up the steps of the trading post and hid inside. Hunter had learned how to fight on that very ground, and none of the blood spilled had ever been his. He held up his fists in a taunting pose, but again moved agilely aside when Ben lunged for him.

"Stand and fight!" Ben yelled.

"Like this?" Hunter asked, as he came in close and punched Ben square in the face, before the bully had a chance to react. When Ben started to yowl in pain, Hunter slammed his fist into him again. He then dodged Ben's efforts to wrestle him to the ground, by constantly moving he presented the much slower man with an impossible target, while he landed increasingly brutal punches at will.

His face a bloody mask and his vision blurred, Ben started to stagger. Hunter finished him off with a series of punches he timed to the chorus of cheers from the small crowd. His knuckles would be sore for a couple of days, but otherwise he walked off unharmed. The men who had watched him were too impressed to drift away, and ignoring poor Ben, who lay sprawled in the dirt, they began to plot how a talented Indian might make them all some money with his fists.

"So what do you say, Indian?" they asked him later.

Hunter was ready for them. "I won't fight more than once a week, and I want a quarter of the money won on me."

Ten minutes of hushed debate preceded a grudging agreement on that point. "And what if you lose?"

Thinking that one of the stupidest questions he had ever been asked, Hunter shook his head. "Then none of us will make any money, will we? The first time I lose, I quit. I won't fight again, if I ever get hurt."

"Well now, we don't see as how one loss could hurt you much. Besides, we'd all want a chance to win back whatever we'd wagered."

Hunter backed away. "No. Those are my terms. One loss and I quit."

Forced to accept Hunter as a man of his word, the group finally gave in, then scattered to look for a man foolish enough to fight an Indian brave for a cut of the winnings the hapless challenger would probably never earn.

* * *

That autumn, Alanna would often recall the sunlit morning when Hunter had bid her an affectionate farewell, for it marked a beginning as well as an end. He had shown her but a brief glimpse of how glorious love was meant to feel, but it was a priceless lesson. That it had come from an Indian brave was only one of its remarkable aspects. Perhaps they had simply been sympathetic to each other's sorrow, but whatever the reason, Alanna knew that for a few precious seconds they had shared a closeness she had never achieved with another human being, and it was impossible to forget.

Neither would she forget his involvement with Melissa.

While her cousin never mentioned his visit, it had left her irrevocably changed. She continued to prepare for her baby's birth, but without her former joy. The expected improvement in her health did not occur, and she grew increasingly demanding and petulant. She gave up the hope of returning to the house Ian had rented in Williamsburg, and spent her days curled up on the settee in the parlor. When the Publick Times came again in October, she had neither the energy nor interest to attend any of the parties and fairs.

The whole family was concerned about her, but none spoke their worries aloud, as though giving voice to their fears would not simply confirm them, but somehow also bring them to fruition. Byron and Elliott had left the militia and were helping to run the plantation. The Frederick sisters were frequent guests, but not even their sunny temperaments helped to lift Melissa's dark moods.

Graham Tyler visited each Sunday, but he spent as much time talking with Alanna's relatives as he did with her, in an apparent attempt to court the whole family. He did not press her for the affection he sensed she was still reluctant to give, but strove to be a true friend to her. If he ever despaired of his lack of progress, he never shared it with a soul.

Hunter was never mentioned, but his abrupt departure had left everyone curious. Byron feared he was somehow to blame. Elliott wrote to his Indian friend at William Johnson's trading post, but received no replies and, discouraged, finally gave up the effort to correspond.

* * *

Ian pulled on his coat and adjusted the fit across his shoulders, before walking over to the bed. All their friends believed their baby was due in January, but December was the true date. It was now early November, and, unable to find a comfortable pose, Melissa was having trouble sleeping. She had been discontented before, but now she was downright irritable, and while she never blamed him for the discomfort caused by her condition, he still felt responsible. The resulting guilt made him hate to leave her each morning; at the same time, he couldn't wait to get away.

"Do you have plans for the day?" he asked.

"Only to survive it. Is it foggy again?"

"Yes, but perhaps it will be clear by afternoon."

Melissa huddled down into the covers. "It's gotten cold too early this year. I don't even want to get out of bed."

"Then don't. The servants will pamper you as always, and your mother and Alanna are good company. You never lack for anything."

"No, that's not true."

Fearing she would begin a litany of complaints ranging from clumsiness to boredom, Ian leaned down to kiss her goodbye and strode from the room. He felt disloyal, but he did not want to risk losing patience with his wife and making a thoughtless remark he would soon regret. Beside himself with worry, when he entered the stable and saw Alanna feeding the horses, he delayed his departure for Williamsburg to speak with her.

"Melissa and I used to laugh constantly, but she no longer finds my sense of humor amusing. I know she doesn't feel like herself, and I try to be understanding, but I don't know how much more of this I can take. At first I thought she was depressed by the nausea, but when that went away, her swollen figure began to upset her. I keep telling her that she's beautiful still and assuring her that she'll be slender again after the baby comes, but that doesn't help at all. I thought this was supposed to be a happy time, but obviously I was wrong.

"Does she ever complain about me?" he asked. "If she regrets our marriage, I don't know what I'll do."

"Oh no, Ian, I'm sure she doesn't. Think of how prettily she smiles, when you come home each evening. You needn't doubt her love."

Anticipating a lengthy chat, Alanna sat down on an overturned barrel. She scuffed the toe of her slipper through the straw and immediately thought of Hunter, but that was a private thought, rather than one she wished to share. "Melissa was seldom ill before last spring. She's not a patient person, and I'm sure feeling poorly all these months has been extremely difficult for her."

"It's been difficult for us all," Ian complained. "I miss the charming young woman I married, Alanna. I miss her terribly."

"You don't have much longer to wait for the baby."

"That's true, but what if she's still not happy? What if there's something more that's bothering her?"

"What else could there possibly be?" Alanna asked.

"That's precisely the problem. I don't know. We were so close at first, and now, well, I don't expect her to want to make love when she feels so awkward, but—" Ian noticed Alanna's blush and realized he had said too much. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, but everyone knows married couples make love."

"Perhaps you should be talking to my aunt, since I know nothing about making love or having babies."

"Rachel just pats my sleeve and whispers
Patience,
whenever she notices my frustration. Damn, maybe it's this blasted fog that's depressing everyone. I'm lucky my horse knows the way to Williamsburg, for I'd not find the place on my own."

"You're careful, aren't you?"

"Yes, Lord knows what would happen to Melissa, if anything happened to me."

Not liking the morbid turn of their conversation, Alanna slid off the barrel and went to the open door, but all she saw was the gray mist that had rolled off the river and clung to the earth for nearly a week. The tobacco crop had all been harvested, and the leaves were drying in the curing sheds out of the reach of the dampness, but she wasn't immune to the chill and shivered slightly.

"You're getting cold. Hurry on back to the house. Melissa probably won't get out of bed today. I appreciate how much time you spend with her. I haven't thanked you enough."

"She's been good company to me all these years. I don't mind."

"Thank you, anyway."

Ian leaned down to brush her cheek with a light kiss. His touch was as sweet as Graham's: warm, friendly, but nothing more. Finished passing out apples, Alanna returned to the house. She and Melissa had begun having breakfast together, and she carried their tray up to the green room. Melissa had brushed out her curls, but left them falling free rather than styling them atop her head and covering them with a cap.

"You look wonderful. How do you feel?" Alanna asked brightly.

"Like one of the dairy cows ready to have twins."

"Wouldn't twins be fun?"

"Only if
you
were to have them." Repelled by the idea, Melissa hurled her sterling silver-handled hairbrush toward the dresser. The edge caught the corner of the mirror, and both girls jumped at the sharp report as it cracked. "Oh, no, now look what I've done. The day's barely begun and already I've ruined it."

Alanna left the breakfast tray on the nightstand and went to the dresser. "You mustn't be so melodramatic. You've scarcely ruined the whole day. Look, when I rearrange your perfumes and lotions, the crack doesn't even show."

"The mirror's ruined, Alanna. Tell mother we need a new one."

Alanna wasn't used to being ordered about, but she curbed the impulse to tell Melissa to do it herself. "If I think of it later—which I probably won't—I will. Now let's have breakfast before the eggs get cold."

When handed her plate, Melissa took a couple of bites, then lost interest in food. "I'm not hungry."

"Well, I am."

"That's right. Go ahead and eat all you want. You'll not end up being as wide as a cow."

Readily sharing Ian's frustration, Alanna had finally heard enough. "You don't even remotely resemble a cow, Melissa. Your skin has a vibrant, healthy glow and you've never been prettier, but must you be so insufferably conceited? Don't you realize you're making everyone miserable with your constant complaints? You're having a baby, not dying of some dreaded disease. Why can't you be happy about it? Whatever became of the blanket you were knitting, did you finish it?"

"No."

"Or the booties?"

"No."

"Well, why don't you work on them today?" Alanna reached for Melissa's plate and placed it on the tray. "Stay in your nightgown if you want, but let's go downstairs."

"No, I want to stay here."

Alanna sat down on the edge of the bed. "If you don't care about the rest of us, have you stopped for even a minute to consider what you're doing to Ian?"

Fearing the worst of complications, Melissa was chilled to the marrow by that question. She clutched the sheets as she sat forward. "What do you mean? What has he said to you? Tell me."

Alarmed, Alanna quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you so badly. All I meant was that he's worried about you. More than any of us, he wants you to be happy."

"Happy," Melissa whispered. When had she last been truly happy? Perhaps it had been at their wedding, when the wretched pretense that had become her life had been so much easier to maintain. As if able to read her thoughts, the babe kicked her, but she didn't need to be reminded of his presence. She prayed daily for a daughter with her fair coloring and blue eyes, but the male child who appeared in her dreams was as dark as his father. Alanna had begun to eye her with a peculiar stare, and she couldn't abide that.