My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) Page 22

  “I would not risk any of you, if I did not think it necessary.”

  She should accept his word and return to Mary, Caroline knew that. Yet she didn’t, continuing to sting him with her doubts. “Wouldn’t you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Only that I find it difficult to trust you,” Caroline said before turning her back on him so he couldn’t see she lied. For as ridiculous as it was, she did trust him. Not with her heart of course, but to keep her safe from bodily harm.

  She didn’t expect his hand on her shoulder, so she wasn’t prepared for the flame of desire that shot through her.

  “What do you wish from me, Caroline? An apology?”

  “For what?” She glanced back over her shoulder and realized her mistake immediately. She had no resistance where he was concerned.

  He studied her with his dark eyes a moment before shaking his head. “You surprise me. I’d thought you more honest than that.”

  “I wonder what you know or care about honesty.”

  “Because I used you.”

  Now that he’d said it... admitted it... Caroline wished he hadn’t. She turned away only to be caught by his strong hands and twisted back to face him.

  “Is that why you don’t trust me, Caroline?”

  “Yes! Isn’t that a good enough reason to distrust you... even to hate you?” Caroline said the last in as quiet a tone as she could, hoping Mary couldn’t hear her. But she was so agitated, her breasts rose and fell with each breath.

  His gaze slipped down to where her bosom curved above the ruffle of her shift, then slowly resought her face. Her cheeks were crimson, and her blue eyes sparked with anger, but still he held her shoulders, refusing to let her loose when she would have pulled away.

  Though she knew it was useless, Caroline jerked again. “How dare you look at me like that!”

  “I think we both know I dare that and more.” Without thinking of the consequences, only knowing he had to kiss her, Wolf’s face bent to capture her lips. She fought him, squirming in his grip, and doing her best to keep her mouth shut. But Wolf could be patient when there was something he wanted. And he wanted Caroline. Her smell, her taste had haunted him since he last held her.

  His tongue teased, his teeth nibbled, and he pulled her closer into his embrace. She must have realized that all her wriggling only heightened his desire for she stopped suddenly, holding herself stiff as a planed board. But even that did not deter him, and slowly but surely he felt the thawing of her body.

  His hands curled around her back and followed the lines of boning down to her rounded hips, then back up. And all the while, he grew harder and harder. When her mouth opened on a sigh, he filled it quickly, completely, with his tongue. Her hands, that had hung limply by her side, grabbed hold of his arms then snaked around his neck, holding on as he deepened the kiss. As he ignited them both with wild, untamed passion.

  When they separated, it took them both a moment to calm their breathing. Their eyes met and hers skittered down. With his thumb Wolf lifted her rounded chin, forcing her to confront him as surely as he’d forced her to kiss him.

  She didn’t seem pleased by either.

  “Are you happy now?” she asked, her voice husky with the passion that still bound them from chest to hip.

  Not knowing how to answer such a question, Wolf said nothing, only rested his chin upon the crown of her head. Soft tendrils of clean-smelling hair teased at his jaw. But her next words had him pulling back and studying her upturned face.

  “You’ve proven to both of us, yet again, how difficult it is for me to resist you. Even knowing what I do about you—how you used me to punish your father—I still can’t turn away. ’Tis a shame I shall live with forever.”

  His hands tightened on her shoulders, and he held her at arm’s length. “There is no shame in feeling desire.”

  “Then why do I spend so much time regretting what I’ve done?”

  His hands dropped from her shoulders.

  “Please, leave me alone. ’Tis all I ask of you.”

  Before he could answer, she turned and slipped through the underbrush. Wolf watched as she knelt beside Mary who had fallen asleep along with her child. Caroline reached out her hand and brushed her fingers across the sleeping woman’s cheek, gently awakening her. And Wolf’s loins tightened. Just watching her made him want her.

  And Caroline was right, he’d proven to her... to both of them... that she wanted him, too. But what good did it do? She hated him. And with good reason. Wolf shook his head wondering what in the hell he was trying to prove by that kiss.

  He seemed to take her at her word, and for that Caroline was grateful. By the time they reached Fort Prince George, she and Wolf barely spoke, and only then when necessity required it.

  If Mary noticed the hostility between them, she said nothing. But then she seemed to grow weaker by the hour. When they finally stood on the hillside looking down on the fort, Caroline felt a surge of relief.

  Inside the log walls the fort seemed ready to burst. Word of the governor’s actions had spread through the frontier and many of the settlers had come to the same conclusion as Wolf. The Cherokee would not sit peacefully by and allow their Headmen to be held against their will.

  Families camped within the shadow of the fort, their children ran about playing tag and chasing dogs. Across the river in Keowee, Cherokee children did the same, as everyone awaited some word as to what would happen.

  Caroline was thankful that Wolf secured them lodging in the fort at the cabin of a Mistress Quinn.

  “He pounded on my door near dawn two days ago,” Mistress Quinn said, “Beggin’ me to save a place for you. Then he left without so much as a bite to eat.”

  “I’m grateful for a place to stay. And so is Mary.” Caroline walked the floor, holding Colleen to her chest and rocking her softly as she moved. She didn’t like to think that she had Wolf to thank for it.

  “Wolf said you had a hard time of it,” the elderly woman said as she leaned back in her rocking chair.

  Pausing, Caroline met the woman’s eyes, wondering exactly what Wolf told her. Mistress Quinn didn’t leave her in suspense for long.

  “Nasty business,” she said with a click of her tongue. “I’d hoped the Cherokee were different from the other heathens. I come down from Pennsylvania, don’t you know, with my husband Edgar. The Shawnee, now they was an untrustworthy lot. But I thought the Cherokee was different,” she repeated.

  “How do you mean, different?” Colleen had quieted, her dark blue eyes closed in sleep and Caroline lowered her into a basket she and Mistress Quinn had lined with batting.

  “You know.” The women ran a hand down across her sagging jaw. “Like us.”

  “Honest and trustworthy?” Apparently Mistress Quinn didn’t notice the sarcasm in Caroline’s tone for a snaggletoothed grin split her wrinkled face.

  “Exactly.” She leaned forward in her chair, peering toward the basket. “Is the little one asleep then?”

  “Yes, like her mother.” Caroline couldn’t dislike the woman, regardless of her narrow-minded views on the Cherokee. Caroline would probably feel the same if she hadn’t lived so closely with Sadayi and Walini... if Wolf hadn’t explained the intricacies of the Cherokee’s treaty with the English.

  There she was, thinking of him again. Caroline decided to peel potatoes for the evening meal. Anything to keep busy. She glanced back when Mistress Quinn spoke again.

  “I’m thinkin’ she has the setbacks.”

  “The what?” Caroline joined the older woman where she now stood looking down at the baby, who seemed even smaller lying in the basket.

  “She ain’t gainin’ like she should. Looks to me like she’s losin’ weight.”

  Caroline touched the baby’s fuzzy head with the tip of her finger and wished she could argue with Mistress Quinn’s opinion.

  A sennight passed. Anticipation grew. Caroline could feel it in the air like
the chill that blew down from the mountain passes. Word came that the governor and the militia were on their way, along with the Cherokee Headmen. It was also an ill-kept secret that the English would be attacked when they forded the creek below Keowee.

  Wolf was gone. He’d done no more than see Mary and her to safety before taking his leave. Caroline assumed he went to the Cherokee towns... the ones he would have visited when he came to Seven Pines for Mary and her instead. She thought often of how he looked when he’d told her that. How a savage fire seemed to burn in his eyes.

  And she wondered what he said to the elders and to the young men who longed to prove their bravery as warriors. Did he convince anyone that peace was the only answer?

  But as great as the magnitude of the troubles that surrounded her, Caroline still worried about Mary and her baby the most. Neither were strong, and the sojourn at the fort with its crowded conditions seemed to make them worse.

  She thought about taking them home. Commandeering the horse that they brought and somehow getting Mary and Colleen back to Seven Pines. But the rumors that filled the fort, drifting in the air like the smoke from countless campfires frightened her and kept her from doing anything rash.

  The days grew shorter, colder. Then one morning when Caroline dressed, hurrying to keep the gooseflesh at bay, she noted a slight swelling where before she’d been flat. She doubted anyone else would notice, especially under the flare of her skirts, but it eliminated the last vestiges of doubt about her condition. Oddly enough, she felt stronger knowing for certain.

  She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she nearly missed hearing the commotion outside. It wasn’t till Mistress Quinn called up to the loft where Caroline slept that she paid the noise any heed.

  “They’ve come at last,” she called.

  Caroline finished dressing quickly then scrambled down the ladder to see Mary had bundled up the baby and along with Mistress Quinn stood waiting for her.

  “We thought it might be interesting to go watch them arrive,” Mary said, as she transferred the baby from one shoulder to another.

  All three women jolted when the first cannon fired. “It ain’t nothing but a salute,” the older woman assured them as they walked through the open gates. Across the Keowee River, Caroline could see Cherokee, apparently as curious as she, watching the long line of red-clad soldiers snake their way along the flats surrounding the fort.”

  “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.

  Fifteen

  “You’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.”