Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (58 page)

"Stop the fight, Uncle," Alanna begged. "Or Jacob's blood will be on your hands."

Believing Jacob still had a chance to kill Hunter, John shook his head. It wasn't until a few minutes later that a freight wagon rolled into the yard, and he saw Elliott's coffin in the back. In an instant the full force of his loss finally hit him. Two of his dearly loved children were dead, and when he at last realized that Jacob could neither cripple nor kill the man he considered responsible, he raised his hand to stop the match.

He then pointed to Alanna. "Go, and take your accursed mate with you. I don't want to see either of you for as long as I live. Thank God my brother isn't here to see how badly you've disgraced our family. It makes me sick to look at you." He stooped to lift his weeping wife to her feet; turning his back on his niece, he helped Rachel into the house and slammed the door soundly behind them.

Chapter 26

Alanna had not been physically thrown out of her uncle's house, which she had feared was a very real possibility, but her feelings could not have been more hurt. "What about your loyalty to
me?"
she asked in a plaintive whisper that went unheard and unheeded. She felt Randolph reach out to pat her shoulder, but it was not his comfort she wanted.

She looked toward Hunter, whose expression mirrored her pain. He had not understood her anxiety had such just cause, and the sorrow in his glance conveyed a world of sympathy. Unfortunately, she knew he needed sympathy as well, and she couldn't summon any. Hunter wiped his knife on the grass and replaced it in its sheath. He nodded toward the river, and she let him go.

Humiliated in front of his wife and daughters, Jacob McBride's anger continued to seethe. He had hated Hunter on sight, and when the brave started for the river to clean up, Jacob could no longer contain his rage. Unable to grip his hammer, he put his head down and charged him like a bull.

Even if Alanna had not screamed a warning, Hunter would have felt Jacob running toward him, for the ground trembled beneath his feet. He took another step, then spun, and reached out to catch Jacob's arm. Using the heavy-set blacksmith's own momentum, he hurled him ten feet across the lawn, where he landed on his back and lay as helpless as an overturned turtle.

"Go home while you still can," Hunter warned. "You've no quarrel with me."

Jacob had hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, but he was too angry to turn tail and run. He staggered to his feet and came lumbering toward Hunter, his eyes ablaze with the hatred burning in his heart. Dripping blood from his torn palm, he lunged for the brave's throat.

Hunter dodged Jacob's grasp and sent a bruising kick into the blacksmith's knee, buckling the joint and again sending Jacob sprawling. He then stood with his hands on his hips, as the blood-streaked man struggled to rise. When Jacob's knee refused to bear his weight and he slid back to the ground, Hunter drew his knife.

"This fight is over. Either you say you've had enough, or you'll die. Which is it to be?"

Jacob could hear Polly and his girls tearfully pleading with him to surrender, but he was too stubborn to speak, until his son came running into the yard. Andrew looked horrified to find his father in such a pitiful state, and Jacob knew there would be no honor in dying in front of him. "I give up," he finally murmured in an anguished whisper.

Hunter sheathed his knife and came forward to help Jacob rise, but the blacksmith waved him off and called for Andrew instead. Hunter remembered seeing the young man and, because there was nothing threatening in his manner, he again started out for the river. He wasn't sure where he and Alanna were going, but he did not want to arrive there splattered with Jacob's blood.

Randolph removed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. "Hunter warned me that he'd not be well received, but I've never seen anything to rival this," he confided in Alanna.

He was a dear man, and Alanna now realized how placid his life must have been. "Well I have, and believe me, you'll survive." She sat down on the edge of the steps and tried to decide what she and Hunter ought to do. They should have made plans past their initial homecoming, yet neither had suggested it.

"Would you give us a ride into town?" she asked. "We can afford to stay at an inn."

"No, you'll come home with me and stay as long as you like. I've plenty of room, and Mrs. Newcombe, my housekeeper, will be delighted to have the opportunity to look after someone other than me. Please say that you'll stay with me. It hurts me to see how badly your aunt and uncle have treated you. I know I can't make up for it, but please let me try."

Alanna was touched by Randolph's thoughtful invitation, but she did not want to take advantage of his affection for her, when she could not return it. There was also the very real possibility that he might suffer for helping her, and she could not allow that to happen. "That's wonderfully generous of you, but—"

"But what? Surely you can't prefer to stay with strangers?"

"No, of course not, but I've no idea how long we'll be in Williamsburg, and if my aunt and uncle object to your helping us, they might influence their friends to stop patronizing your shop. I don't want to see that happen."

It had not even occurred to Randolph that he might suffer financially for inviting Alanna and Hunter into his home, but he had always considered himself to be a man of high principles, and he wouldn't be blackmailed. "If I have clients who are so shallow as to be swayed by your aunt and uncle's bitterness, I shan't miss them. Excuse me a moment, I want to make certain my men handle Elliott's coffin with the proper respect."

"Certainly." Alanna had not forgotten Elliott, but when she turned, she found the two men who had driven the wagon into the yard watching her with what could only be described as dark scowls. Her uncle was a man of enormous prestige in Williamsburg, and clearly the fact she and her husband had been banished from his home had impressed the pair.

Polly and her daughters had left with Jacob and Andrew, but the fact none of them had stopped to speak with her certainly wasn't a good sign. Apparently she had been disowned not only by her aunt and uncle, but by all of their employees as well. Feeling uncomfortable on their steps, she rose and followed her husband down to the river. Hunter was standing on the dock, water glistening on his hair, his shirt still in his hand.

Alanna rubbed his back lightly. "I suppose I should be heartbroken, but I just feel empty. Perhaps Byron will take our side when he comes home, then my aunt and uncle may regret being so harsh with us today."

Hunter shook his head. "With Elliott dead, that won't happen. Byron and I were never close, and he'll agree with his parents. I'm sorry. I didn't know that loving me would cost you your family's respect. Is that why Melissa turned against me?"

Alanna took his arm and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "Please don't ask me to speak for her. It's so unfair."

The question had sprung from Hunter's lips without thought, and he now realized just how cruel it had been. He turned to pull Alanna into his arms. "I never felt for her what I feel for you. I shouldn't have asked that. It's just that I keep forgetting how easy it is for people like your aunt and uncle to regard me as less than human. I am a man, the same as their sons, but they don't see it. I did nothing to harm them, and yet they blame me for all their sorrows."

Alanna licked her lips thoughtfully. "They loved Melissa too much to see her as she really was, and nothing we do or say will change that. I knew they'd take our marriage very badly, and it didn't matter to me. If there was a choice to be made, I made the right one for me. We have to live our own lives, not theirs."

Admiring the calmness of her manner as much as the logic of her words, Hunter gave her a long, loving kiss before backing away to pull his shirt on over his head. "I wouldn't have killed the blacksmith. You knew that, didn't you? I just wanted to scare him into leaving me alone."

Surprised by that confession, Alanna shrugged slightly. "The man attacked you twice, and he clearly intended to kill you. I'd not have faulted you for killing him."

Hunter rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. "Do you see me as that dangerous? Are you afraid of me?"

Alanna reached out to encircle his waist and stepped closer. "No, only of losing you."

Hunter laughed softly. "Then you have nothing to fear."

Alanna closed her eyes. She was so anxious to see Christian, but she hesitated to speak the baby's name, and knew she still had reason to be afraid.

* * *

Randolph O'Neil's home was on Nicholson Street. Faced with white weatherboards and brightened by green shutters at the windows, it was as handsome as any of the fine homes in Williamsburg. While not as large as the Barclays' brick mansion, it was as beautifully decorated and maintained. Very proud of his home, Randolph swung open the front door and welcomed his guests inside.

He called to his housekeeper, and the petite, white-haired Mrs. Newcombe rushed into view. "What do you call yourselves?" Randolph whispered to Alanna.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hunter," she replied.

"Yes, of course," Randolph agreed. "Mr. and Mrs. Hunter will be staying with us for a while. Which of the guest rooms do you have prepared?"

That her employer apparently thought nothing of sleeping in the same house with an Indian brave gave the diminutive housekeeper a moment's pause, but when Hunter smiled at her, his expression was so disarming, her initial fears began to fade. "All of them, sir. The yellow room is the nicest, though."

"The yellow room it is then," Randolph agreed. "I think what we'd all like now is some supper. Will you please tell the cook I've brought guests?"

After a gesture that hinted at a curtsy, Mrs. Newcombe hurried away. Randolph showed his guests into the parlor and urged them to make themselves at home. "I do hope you'll be comfortable here. My daughter and her family are able to visit only rarely, and I'll enjoy having your company for as long as you'd care to stay. I'll be at my shop during the week, so I won't be in your way."

With most of their conversations taking place at his shop, Alanna had not realized that Randolph was so lonely. She had been so preoccupied with Christian's future that she had not appreciated he had needs as well, and that she could not fulfill them made her feel guilty. She sat down on the settee and patted the cushion at her side, but Hunter shook his head and remained standing.

"I'm afraid I've not been nearly as good a friend to you, as you've been to me," Alanna began. "If there's anything I can do to help while we're here, I hope you'll encourage Mrs. Newcombe to let me know. I've never been waited on, and I don't expect it here."

"Mrs. Newcombe has been with me for years, and she'd be mortified if I suggested she put you to work. You're my guests. You two won't be expected to do more than enjoy yourselves, while you're here. Would either of you care to join me in a glass of sherry?"

When neither accepted his offer, Randolph poured himself a glass and raised it in a silent toast before taking a sip. "This has been the most remarkable day I've spent in a long while."

Despite Randolph's friendliness, Hunter felt ill at ease in his home. The parlor was painted a pale creamy beige with a deeper shade of the same hue for the wooden trim and moldings. It would have been soothing, but for the rich ruby red of the damask draperies which was repeated in the upholstery of most of the furniture. Hunter had seen too much blood of late to find red an attractive color, and being surrounded by it made him restless. He circled the settee and walked over to the fireplace. Wood had been laid for a fire, but the evening was warm and it hadn't been lit. The sight of something so ordinary in the elegant home suddenly made him feel homesick for the comforting familiarity of his own long house.

"Unfortunately, our days seldom run smoothly," he mused, "but I'll do my best not to bring the continual peril of our lives into your home."

"No, please, I'd welcome it," Randolph argued.

Hunter had fought his last fight to amuse others, and he stared at the merchant with a puzzled glance. "I didn't enjoy fighting Jacob. Did you enjoy watching?"

"Not at the moment, certainly not, but now that everyone's safe, well, I'll remember the excitement rather than the fright."

"Jacob isn't safe," Hunter pointed out. "I may have crippled his hand, and his knee will trouble him for a long time. As for Alanna and me, we were hurt far worse. We've lost not only Elliott, but the rest of her family it seems. As usual, no one will think of our pain."