Wild Innocence (3 page)

Amelia was married! Rachel was flabbergasted.
How could you, Amelia! How could you!

Amelia must have changed a great deal in the last two years. Rachel tried to imagine the type of man that her sister had married, and the image was a poor one.

A blacksmith,
she thought with a shudder. She pictured the man covered with sweat and soot and smelling of horses.

Suddenly, she was nervous about seeing her family, wondering just how much they had changed since coming to live in this wilderness.

“Rachel?”

She turned at the touch on her arm. Miranda was studying her with concern. “Are you all right?” her friend asked.

Rachel bobbed her head. “Fine, fine.”

“You're lying, Rachel Dempsey. I can tell when you lie. You get the strangest look on your face.”

Rachel scowled. “I don't know what you mean, I'm not lying, and I most certainly don't have a strange look on my face!”

The bell on the shop door tinkled, and Rachel glanced back, wondering if she'd recognize her sister if she saw her.

Rachel knew at first glance that this wasn't Amelia. Her sister had brown hair and a shapely figure. The woman who entered had blond hair and a small, thin frame. Her blue eyes wore a haunted look.

“Jane,” she heard Jack Keller say, “is something wrong?”

“Has Daniel come back yet?”

Jack shook his head. “He's due back at anytime. Is there something I can do for you?”

“No. No, I'm fine. Thank you for asking.” Jane turned to leave with nothing more to say.

Rachel had watched the exchange with curiosity. “Who is she?”

Jack looked embarrassed. “Jane! Come back. There are people I'd like you to meet.” He addressed Rachel quietly. “She's your brother-in-law's sister.”

Looking reluctant to be introduced, Jane approached.

“Jane, this young lady is Rachel Dempsey. She's Amelia's sister.”

Astonishment came and flickered in her eyes. “You're Amelia's sister?” she said as if it couldn't possibly be true.

“Yes, I am.” Rachel tried to smile. “I'm sorry, but I'm a bit taken aback about all this. I had no idea that Amelia had even married.” She looked away as tears filled her eyes.

She felt overwhelmed by the events that had recently changed her life. She wanted nothing more than to be alone to deal with this new, unwelcome news. “Is there somewhere we can bathe and rest?” she asked Jack Keller.

“There's the hotel next door. Rebb Colfax's daughter from back East just opened her,” Jack said.

Rachel blinked. Of course, the inn! How could she have forgotten? Because she'd been shaken by the news of Amelia's marriage, she thought. “Thank you. I'm going to get a room,” she told Miranda.

“I'll go with you,” Miranda said.

Rachel nodded at Jack. “Mr. Keller.” She managed another smile for Jane. “Jane.”

The compassion in the young woman's blue eyes surprised her. “There is no reason for you to stay at the hotel,” Jane said quietly. “You're family. You can stay at Daniel's. He's not home, but—”

“No!” Rachel said, dismayed by the idea. Her tone was sharper than she'd intended; she softened it. “Really, the hotel is fine. I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather wait to see Amelia later after I've rested.” She smiled tiredly. “They're not expecting me. There's been enough sudden surprises for today.”

Jane murmured that she understood.

Rachel turned to Miranda's uncle. She'd grown quite fond of him during these past few weeks. “Thank you for bringing me, Uncle Rupert.”

Rupert regarded her fondly. “I'll see you at the hotel later.”

Rachel inclined her head, then left without saying good-bye. Miranda followed her.

Jack Keller narrowed his gaze as Amelia's sister left the trading post. “She's not like her sister, is she,” he said with a frown.

Jane looked at him with surprise. “You don't like her?”

“She certainly wasn't friendly.”

“She's tired,” Rupert explained.

“She's hurting,” Jane said. “Why do you think a woman like that would come all the way out here to live?” she added when Jack frowned.

He shrugged. “To be with her family?”

Rupert nodded. “She does want to be with her family.” He went to a side window and watched as Rachel and Miranda entered the building several yards away. “She's a good girl. Don't judge her too harshly.”

“Amelia's mentioned her sister a few times,” Jane said. “I wonder if she'll be glad to see her.”

“I suppose you'll find out soon enough. If I'm not mistaken, that man and woman going into the house across the road is your brother and his wife.”

Jane hurried toward the window. “It's them! They're back!” She spun from the opening, her face reflecting her joy.

Jack felt something soften inside him as Jane gasped out her good-byes and ran to the door.

He went to the window and watched as Jane's daughter, Susie, looked over and saw her mother.

“Momma!” she cried, running to Jane with open arms.

“Susie!” Jane hugged her daughter tightly. As mother and child pulled away from each other, they both babbled in their excitement at being reunited.

Rupert stood silently beside Jack, watching the scene. “There's a woman and a little girl who love each other something fierce.” He turned to Jack as the trading post owner moved away from the window. “How come she didn't go with them?”

Something kicked in Jack's gut. “Daniel and Amelia went to the village of an Ojibwa friend.” The realization that it had been a long time since Rupert's last visit made him explain. “Jane's still suffering from her captivity with the Sioux.”

“But there's more,” Rupert said perceptively.

Anger burned at the back of Jack's throat as he thought of the cruel man Jane had married. “Oh, yes, there is more, but it's been a while now, and I'd hoped ...”

“You're in love with her.”

Jack stiffened. “I am not.”

But Rupert only smiled. “Suit yourself.” He gestured to the counter and the growing pile of supplies they had gathered for his purchase. “Let's finish up here. I'm kind of tired myself and anxious to sleep on one of those fancy bed mattresses.”

“Well, then you're in luck, Clark,” Jack said teasingly, “ 'cause Rebb's little girl Maeve received a new shipment of fancy bedding for that hotel of hers just last week.”

The second-story room of the hotel was surprisingly pleasant. Rachel hadn't expected such cheerful, comfortable accommodations in the back of beyond. A large four-poster feather bed sat against one wall, a cherry washstand with white porcelain ewer and basin against another. There was a large chest of drawers with a mirror near the wall by the door.

The proprietress of the hotel, Maeve Treehorn, was a pleasant young woman with a welcoming smile. She had her husband bring up Rachel's things, then arranged for Rachel to have a bath.

Exhausted, Rachel undressed and slipped into the bathtub. It was large and an unexpected luxury. She enjoyed a long soak in the heated water, then scrubbed herself from head to toe with a delicately scented soap. When she was done, she toweled herself dry, then climbed naked between the quilts covering the feather mattress.

Her thoughts were in a whirl as she lay, staring up at the ceiling of her hotel room. Amelia is married. She blinked against a mist of tears. If not for Jordan's vile betrayal, she would have been married, too.

She shouldn't have come.
But where else could I have gone?
She had no other known relatives. She didn't know her mother's people. Her father and her aunt had been secretive whenever she or her sister had asked any questions about the relatives on her mother's side.

“It's best you know little of them,” Aunt Bess said once after the girls had asked about that branch of the family several times. “They disowned your mother for marrying your father. Are they anyone you'd like to meet?”

For days after that conversation, Rachel and Amelia had whispered their suspicions to each other late at night while everyone else in the house slept. The sisters had told each other romantic tales of their young physician father being summoned to some rich household, where he'd fallen in love with his female patient, their mother, Marianna Farrell. John Dempsey, they decided, had saved Marianna's life; then the two young people, smitten with each other, had eloped. They'd known that Marianna's family wouldn't approve of Marianna's marriage to a lowly doctor.

Rachel sighed and closed her eyes. What would her mother's family say if she—Marianna's daughter—sud—denly appeared at their front door? That is, if she knew where her grandparents lived.

No, she'd been right to come here. She would just have to accept the fact that Amelia had married. Perhaps her father would be glad of Rachel's assistance ... surely Amelia's marriage had changed her working relationship with Father.

It was quiet in the hotel. She was conscious of the absence of forest sounds. It was a warm, late afternoon, and the windows were shut. The only other guests at the hotel, apparently, were her friends, Miranda and Rupert Clark.

The dinner hour was fast approaching. Rachel thought that a brief nap would be just what she needed to help her face her family. She closed her eyes. She'd rest for only a few moments, until she felt well enough to go downstairs ...

The back of her neck tingled. “Who are you?” she whispered “Why do you follow me?”

“The way is clear,” he said. “We share the same life path.”

“I walk alone now, ” she insisted, thinking of Jordan.

Rachel's heart skittered as the brave lifted his hand and caressed her cheek. His touch was light, tender. “Your journey is a lonely one,” he murmured.

Shaken by the feelings he evoked, she shook her head. “I need no one to accompany me. ”

“No!” she cried as she jerked awake. It was dark in the room. Her breath rasped loudly in the silence. She closed her eyes to fight the remnants of her dream. After a few moments, she felt her sense of calm return.

Unable to go back to sleep, Rachel slipped out from under the covers and went to the window. She was surprised to see that night had fallen and it was long past the supper hour. There were no lights in the settlement. Everyone had retired for the night. She pushed open a window and stood before the opening, allowing a light breeze from the outside to caress her bare skin.

The moon cast a soft glow on the road, the blacksmithy, and the blacksmith's house across the street. Rachel gazed at the house.
That's Amelia's home,
she thought, startled. Jack Keller had said that Amelia and her husband were away. She wondered when her sister would return. Should she wait for Amelia, or continue on to the mission to see her father?

The breeze brushed her skin and teased her hair. It felt wonderful to stand there with the knowledge that everyone was asleep and no one could see her. She felt a sense of freedom in being naked. No corsets to constrict her breathing. No chemise, or pantalets, or stockings.

The warm summer air felt wonderful. Like a lover's caress might, she thought.

Rachel was suffused with a tide of heat as she recalled the Indian and her dream. First, she'd dreamt of him during the journey, that she'd seen him in the forest, when he'd spoken in his strange tongue and touched her hair.

This last dream was shocking in its detail. Why would she dream that an Indian had come and kissed her? And the Indian's kiss had been nothing like Jordan's.

Jordan's betrayal had hurt her terribly. Had the dream been a way of soothing her pain? Perhaps, a way to show herself that she was still desirable, that a stranger, even an Indian, had been attracted enough to want her? Earlier, she had gone to sleep with sad thoughts of Jordan.

Rachel shivered and hugged herself with her arms. But why would the savage tell her that destiny had linked them?

The sudden sight of movement across the street, near her sister's house, startled Rachel. She gasped and stepped away from the window, then carefully inched her head just enough past the window frame to peek outside.

She experienced a jolt of alarm as a figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped into the moonlight. He turned and looked up toward her room. She gasped. No, it couldn't be! But it was! At least, it looked like an Indian!

Her heart pounding, she quickly stepped back into the shadows. Was she dreaming still?

She pinched herself and cried out. The pain was real, which meant that the savage in the street below was real. She leaned forward, peering into the night, and frowned. The savage was gone. She waited with thrumming heart to see if the Indian would reappear, but he didn't.

I am not crazy.
She spun from the window to search for something to put on. Ignoring a need for undergarments, she went to her clothes trunk, grabbed a gown, and dressed.

She fumbled to fasten the buttons along her bodice front, then rummaged under the bed for her kid slippers, which she put on.

Her nerves strung tightly, Rachel opened her bedchamber door and slipped silently from the room. The interior of the hotel was silent. Mrs. Treehorn had left a sconce burning to light up the hallway to the staircase. Rachel negotiated the stairs without mishap and tiptoed toward the exit.

The door squeaked as she pulled it open. She hesitated, listening. Once assured that she had disturbed no one, Rachel left the hotel and entered the night.

Her skin tingled as she clung to the side of the hotel building so the Indian, if he was still there, couldn't see her. She waited several heartbeats before venturing away from the hotel to cross the road hurriedly. She headed to the spot where she'd thought she'd seen the Indian.

There was no sign of anyone. Rachel peered into the darkness, but saw nothing. She studied the ground, but saw no footprints. She began to breathe easier. She must have been dreaming still when she thought she saw him.

Her attention went to her sister's house.
Amelia lives here,
she thought with amazement. Curiosity propelled her closer to the building. She found a window and peered in through an opening in the curtains. It was too dark inside to see, so Rachel rose up on her tiptoes to press herself against the window glass.

She growled with frustration and lifted herself higher. When she still couldn't see, she tried to open the window, but it wouldn't budge. With a sigh, she stood back to eye the cabin. She moved away, saw another window, and headed toward that opening to see if the moonlight afforded better lighting there.

Cupping the sides of her face with her hands, she pressed against the glass and peered in. She could just barely make out the outline of a dining table and two chairs.

A large hand clamped over her mouth from behind. Rachel whimpered and her eyes widened in fear. She began to struggle, but an arm encircled her, pinning her hands and body to a hard form.

She jerked her head and tried to cry out, but the figure—the man, she assumed—moved quickly, stifling her with his hand, shifting her so that she couldn't move within his hold.

Her mouth went dry, and she experienced real terror as the man began to drag her around to the side of the building, into the dark shadows, where there was no moonlight.

She stumbled as he continued to drag her along. As he tugged her upright, she kicked back at him with her foot, and was satisfied to hear him grunt with pain.

His grip tightened without mercy, and she gasped. Tears filled her eyes as she wondered if she was about to be murdered.

“If you will cease your struggling, I will release you,” a dark, angry voice said.

Rachel went still.

“You will not scream if I let you go?”

He eased his grip slightly. She was able to nod.

“If you cry out, I will silence you,” the voice said ominously.

She nodded again.

He slowly let go of her mouth.

Rachel drew in air to scream, but the man quickly grabbed her, cutting off her breath and stifling her cry before it was uttered.

The man tightened his grip. “I warned you, woman.” Whimpering, she struggled. “If you do not cease, I will slit your throat.”

He shifted, and a blade suddenly appeared, gleaming in the darkness.

She froze, her blood icing over.

He softened his grip, but didn't put away the knife. “You will not utter a sound?”

She swallowed hard and nodded. His voice was strangely accented. She wondered where the man came from and why he was here.

“Good.” He released her, but kept the blade to her throat. “You may turn around slowly.”

Rachel eased about carefully. She wanted to see this man who threatened her life. His face was in the shadows. She couldn't make out his features; she could barely make out his size.