Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (59 page)

Randolph feared he had been very ill-mannered and hastened to apologize. "Please, I didn't mean to minimize what happened at the Barclays. I hope they'll soon soften their stance. You have my word as a gentleman that I won't repeat what I overheard to anyone."

Mrs. Newcombe announced supper then, and hungry, Hunter was glad for an excuse to end their conversation. He escorted his wife into the dining room, and took the chair at her side. The room was painted in a deep terra cotta shade brightened with white molding, and he found the earth tone far more calming than the jarring contrasts of the parlor.

Clustered at one end of the table, the threesome shared a quiet, but tasty meal of roast chicken and vegetables. As he had at the Barclays, Hunter watched Alanna's choice before selecting a utensil, and as he always had with her, gave his best effort to displaying his finest manners. When by the close of the meal Alanna was having difficulty hiding her yawns, he was relieved to bid Randolph good night and go upstairs to their room.

Their few pieces of luggage were already there, but as Alanna pulled her nightgown from her valise, Hunter realized just how much she had left at her aunt and uncle's house. "We'll have to go back for your things. You have so many pretty gowns, and I don't want you to lose them."

"I won't need satin ball gowns at the trading post."

"Do you like to dance?"

"Following music and trying to recall the steps without trampling on my partners' toes was never one of favorite pastimes. I just wasn't any good at it."

"Maybe you didn't have the right partner."

Alanna turned toward him. His smile was enchanting. "Why, Hunter, do you like to dance?"

Had it not been for his dark complexion, she would have seen his blush. "The Seneca dance for different reasons. I've never done any of your dances with a woman."

"I'm not very good, but if you'd like to learn, I'll teach you. Another night, though. Tonight I'd just fall asleep in your arms."

"I like that."

"Yes, but not standing up."

"It might be nice." Hunter came forward to pull her into a warm embrace and nuzzled her neck. She had replaced the combs she had lost and bought new caps while in New York, but he wanted her hair loose the way it had been in the forest, and quickly removed them. He shook out her curls and spread them over her shoulders.

"Where is Randolph's room?" he asked.

"I don't know. I've never been here before. Why do you ask?"

"I don't want to make him any more envious than he already is."

Alanna relaxed against him. "We'll have to make love very quietly then."

Hunter bent down slightly to kiss her. He wondered how many men he was going to have to fight for the right to call her his wife. The number didn't really matter. He would gladly battle anyone who objected to their being together, even if he had to fight every last man on earth.

The urgency of Hunter's kiss failed to ease Alanna's lingering sense of sorrow, but she understood his need, and shared it. She prayed they would have many other days in which their happiness would be complete, but knew they would never have a greater need for the physical reassurance each craved now. When Hunter pulled off his shirt, she spread eager kisses across his chest, and gave his nipples a playful swipe. He turned away to douse the lamp, but she caught his arm.

"No, I want to look at you," she argued. "You're so handsome." She slid her palm down the front of his breechcloth, outlining his hardened manhood, and he released his belt.

"Touch me now," he begged in a husky whisper. He pulled her hand inside his loosened buckskins, and following his lead, her caress was steady and sure. He soon kicked off his moccasins, and she helped him peel off the last of his clothes. He then pulled her down with him on the bed.

Still dressed, Alanna slid her hands up the firm muscles of his thighs. The scar from the wound she had feared might cost him his life would remain with him always, and she leaned down to kiss it, memorizing the narrow ridge with the tip of her tongue. When Hunter moaned appreciatively, she wondered aloud if she could draw him across the threshold of ecstasy, as he did her, with intimate kisses.

Hunter raised up slightly to look down at her. "Take off your dress, and then do it," he urged.

Alanna reached for the buttons. Earlier that evening, she had had to endure a frightful confrontation with her family, but the shameful scene was forgotten as she returned Hunter's smile. All she saw was the man she adored, and when he was near, all other concerns faded into insignificance. She had long since lost her shyness around him, and with but a few sly, suggestive hints from him, she swiftly discovered what pleased him most.

Her tawny tresses brushed across his stomach, creating a teasing breeze that warmed him clear through. With a reflex he couldn't subdue, Hunter tightened the already taut muscles of his belly. He had longed to teach Alanna how to pleasure him in this way, but he had waited, impatiently, until she chose it of her own accord. It had been worth the wait, and the warm, sweet wetness of her mouth lured him ever deeper into the heart and soul of passion.

Wanting her to share in that bliss, when the rapture fueled by her eager kisses threatened to overwhelm him, he pulled her up into his arms and then pinned her beneath him. He entered her with a hungry, driving thrust, but then lay still until the urgency of his need could again be controlled. He moved up, molding his body to hers, carefully positioning himself so that with each forward lunge, he would press against the swollen nub that would soon shower her with pleasure.

Deliberately coaxing that rapture, his enticing moves raised their souls aloft, and transported them both into the realm of love's wildest dreams. Blinded by a tumultuous release, they shuddered, and at last lay still. Lost in the quest for shared joy, they had forgotten the need for discretion, and their soft cries of surrender had echoed down the hall. Their fears of the future drowned in a perfect peace, they fell asleep locked in each other's arms, while Randolph O'Neil sat on the side of his bed, alone, and ached for the affectionate young woman who would never be his.

* * *

Alanna had been too nervous to eat any breakfast, and now as she stood poised to knock on Charity Wade's door, her courage nearly deserted her. Seeing the tremor in her hand as she raised it, Hunter reached around her to rap on the door himself. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I thought you had more confidence in me."

Alanna had all the confidence in the world in her husband, when it came to any area not dealing with his son. Where Christian was concerned, however, she did not know what to expect, and was completely unnerved by dread. He hadn't spoken a word on their walk from Randolph's house, and with every step she had expected him to turn back. He had come the whole way though, but he still didn't seem to be truly with her.

"Please, let's not discuss anything in front of Charity."

"Agreed."

Charity answered the door with Christian in her arms, and her own children clustered around her. Nearly six months old, the handsome little boy had thick black hair and enormous brown eyes. He recognized Alanna and, with a gleeful whoop, reached out his chubby arms for her. Equally delighted to see her, Charity dropped him into Alanna's waiting embrace.

"He's really missed you, Miss Barclay."

Alanna hastened to introduce Hunter as her husband, before she stepped into the small dwelling and turned to show off her cousin's child. She then couldn't decide which of them wore the most startled expression. Charity hadn't been expecting her to appear with a husband, let alone an Indian brave. That Christian bore such a striking resemblance to the man only served to increase the wet nurse's dismay. Her children, terrified by the sight of an Indian in their home, shoved and pushed as they scrambled for the best place to hide.

As for Hunter, he'd been frowning slightly as he stepped through the doorway, but his first glimpse of Christian left him staring agape at a little face that closely mirrored his own in childhood. Alanna had told him Christian favored him rather than Melissa, but he had not really believed her. Now he could see that only the boy's pale golden skin gave any hint that he might not be a full-blooded Seneca, like his father.

Despite never having been introduced to any strangers, Christian was thrilled to see a man whose coloring matched his own. Dislodging Alanna's cap, he grabbed a clump of her hair with one hand, but leaned out toward Hunter with the other. Smiling widely, he called to him in a babbling stream of syllables which held meaning only for him.

When Hunter hung back rather than take a step closer, Alanna moved nearer to him. She placed Christian's hand on his buckskin shirt, and patted it lightly. "What do you think of Hunter's shirt, Christian? Doesn't it feel good?"

With a wild swing, Christian grabbed a handful of fringe on Hunter's sleeve and gave it a fierce yank. When he tried to put the ends in his mouth, Alanna pried them from his little fist. "He seems to have your strength as well as your looks," Alanna said. "Do you want to hold him?"

Grasping each other tightly, the loving bond between Alanna and Christian was so plain, looking at them made Hunter's heart ache. They made him feel separate, apart, more lonely than he had ever felt, and he had to swallow hard before he spoke. "No. Stay and play with him as long as you like. I have to go."

"But Hunter—"

Hunter just shook his head. He nodded toward Charity, and then hurried out her door. He had no destination in mind, but he had to get away. It was not only the love which flowed so easily between Christian and Alanna that caused him pain. Seeing his son had conjured up images of Melissa that were so vivid, he couldn't stand to be with anyone else. Sickened by the memories he wanted forgotten, he strode back toward Randolph's house, bent on leaving town.

Charity closed the door and, after shooing her children into the bedroom to play, she gestured for Alanna to sit down. She had never been told the exact circumstances surrounding Christian's birth, but after Ian Scott had carried the newborn from her home, she had understood the babe's father was most definitely not his mother's husband. An apparent scandal in a fine family didn't concern her, but her charge's welfare most certainly did.

"Wasn't that Christian's father?" she asked in a tone that discouraged equivocation.

Alanna chose the chair nearest the fireplace, seated herself, brushed Christian's hair off his forehead, and gave him a kiss. "Yes, but for my cousin's sake, please don't reveal that fact to anyone."

"Your cousin's dead, Miss Barclay, or should I refer to you as Mrs. Hunter? It's you I'm concerned about. A great many men, if not all of them, are uncomfortable around small children, so you mustn't think your husband's behavior was odd. He'll warm up to the boy in time."

When she had arrived, Alanna had had no intention of confiding her troubles to Charity, but the young mother's efforts to excuse Hunter's behavior touched her deeply. She soon found herself relating how she had spent her days since she had last been in Williamsburg. The children ran in and out, but despite their interruptions, she managed to complete the harrowing tale in a breathless whisper.

"Elliott's dead, my family won't speak to us, and Hunter wants me to give Christian away. Each of those problems is heartbreaking, but when taken together... Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to burden you." Alanna gave Christian another loving hug. "Do you really think he missed me?"

"Yes, every day. He's been, well, just plain restless without you. I may be tending the boy, but you know as well as I do that you're the one he loves. You're his mother, even if you didn't give birth to him. You can't give him away. It would break both your hearts."

Alanna sighed sadly. "I know."

"Just give your husband some time to get used to the idea of being a father. Where are you staying?"

"With Randolph O'Neil."

"The silversmith?"

"Yes, do you know him?"

Charity shook her head. "Someone pointed him out once, so I know who he is, but we've never met. I thought him a fine-looking man."

While he did not compare to Hunter, Alanna agreed. "He's not only attractive, but he's also kind and considerate as well. We can't impose on his hospitality though."

Christian was snuggled happily in her lap, but Alanna looked so dejected, Charity put the kettle on the fire to make her a cup of tea. "It's almost time for me to nurse the boy, but you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"No, I should go." But, reluctant to leave, Alanna was easily cajoled into accepting a cup of tea. She sipped it slowly while Charity fed Christian. She had observed the same tender scene often, but now it served as a graphic reminder of how helpless the dear little boy still was. She had known all along that she wouldn't be able to give him away, but she had been hoping, foolishly it now seemed, that Hunter would love him on first sight, as she had.

When Charity put Christian into his crib for his morning nap, Alanna said goodbye and left, but she had nowhere to go. She didn't want to go back to Randolph's house, when she doubted Hunter would be there, and so she strolled aimlessly until she got too tired to keep walking and had to return to the silversmith's home. Randolph met her at the front door.