My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) Page 7

  “Yes.” His succinct reply ended their conversation.

  They stayed at the fort only long enough to rest their horses and for Raff to speak with the English commander, a man named Boyton. To the young officer’s suggestion that they spend the evening, Wolf responded that he wished to ford the river before dark. “But I’m sure Lady Caroline would be better served by waiting till morning.” Colonel Boyton smiled at Caroline appealingly.

  “Lady Caroline is anxious to reach her new home... and her new husband.”

  The last was spoken so low and private that Caroline wasn’t sure the fort commander heard it. But she did, and Caroline felt heated color rise to her cheeks. There was but one reason she wished this journey to end.

  On their journey thus far they had forded waterways, but those paled in comparison to this one. Caroline looked down the slope to the swiftly rushing water and swallowed. Beneath her the mare pranced and pawed as if she shared Caroline’s trepidation. But the trail to Seven Pines ended where the water gurgled onto the rocky shoreline and didn’t pick up again till the other side.

  Caroline wrapped the reins about her hands. “How deep is it?”

  “Chances are you’ll get your fancy boots wet, Your Ladyship.”

  Caroline ignored the sarcasm. The sound of rushing water filled her senses. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she called down to him. He’d dismounted and was leading her horse down the muddy path to the river.

  “That doesn’t surprise me. In England there’d be a bridge to cross.”

  Caroline leaned back to keep her balance. “Why don’t they build one here?” She was almost willing to wait until one was completed.

  “You’re on the frontier now, Lady Caroline.” Wolf swung back into his saddle and urged his horse across the potato-sized rocks that lined the shore. “Just keep behind me.”

  “But—”

  Wolf twisted about to look at her, and Caroline realized how desperate her tone was. She tried to calm her breathing but the dark, swirling waters kept drawing her gaze. “There was a spring. I fell in.” Caroline’s fingers tightened about the leather. “If not for Edward...” She couldn’t continue. The emotions, the fear she’d experienced swelled over her as quickly as that icy water of her childhood.

  Caroline looked up, her eyes large and dry when she felt his hand enfolding hers. “Do you wish to go back?” He took a deep breath. “You can wait at the fort while I go to the Cherokee Towns. Then I shall see you safely to Charles Town.”

  She was tempted, almost beyond reason. To go back to the peace of Simmons Hall, with its well-manicured trees and gently flowing streams, nothing at all like this wild, virgin land. But as much as her fear threatened to overpower her, there was something about this place, maybe even the very untamed beauty that frightened her, that drew her under its spell. That, even more than the fact that she had nothing to return to, made Caroline shake her head.

  “No,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I can do it.” She straightened her shoulders and gave him a weak smile.

  “You are sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well then.” Wolf sucked in a breath and sidled his mount along hers. With a fluid motion he slipped behind his saddle and straddled the stallion’s broad rump. Then he reached for her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I think, Lady Caroline, that it’s time you learned to ride astride.”

  “But—”

  “Hush now. Release your foot from the stirrup.”

  She did, and his hands clasped about her waist. Caroline was pulled across her saddle and onto his. He held her there a moment, her shoulder leaning into his chest before instructing her.

  “Now lift your leg over.” His hand wrapped about her thigh. “That’s it.” He settled her back into the saddle, pulling plain, white petticoats down over her exposed leg. “I know it feels a bit strange, but you’ll get used to riding this way.” His arms enveloped her from behind. “You may even learn to enjoy it.” Without further ado, he tied the mare’s reins to the saddle, shifted his rifle and powderhorn higher on his shoulders, and urged both mounts into the rushing water.

  At first Caroline shut her eyes, too afraid to look. But gradually as she felt the warmth of his body surrounding her, she opened them. His corded muscles were hard against her sides as he held the reins, keeping the horse on track when the stallion would have given into the force of the current.

  The water that at first only covered her feet now splashed into her lap. But they kept going toward the wall of trees on the other side, and the immobilizing panic that Caroline expected didn’t come.

  Instead, when he whispered, “The worst is over,” into her ear she felt herself relax. And begin to enjoy the adventure. She was shivering uncontrollably from the icy water, but laughing as their mount found his footing on the shore.

  Wolf slipped from the stallion’s back and reached up for her. With her hands resting on his shoulders, Caroline went willingly. She didn’t resist when he pulled her to him. “We did it,” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hair was as wet as hers, and she tangled her fingers in the thick locks.

  When he separated their bodies enough to see her face, his smile matched hers. “There’s someplace near where we can rest for the night.”

  “But I thought we would reach Seven Pines by tonight.” He had said as much when they were at the fort.

  “Are you so anxious to end the journey?”

  “No,” Caroline admitted, though she added, “I suppose ’twouldn’t be proper to arrive with our clothes soaking wet.”

  His smile was all the more enchanting because it was brief. “We must do what is proper.” The cocoon of his arms dropped away. “Come along, Lady Caroline,” he said, leading her to her horse.

  They rode for only a short time. The air carried a hint of autumn and Caroline was shivering. When Wolf slid from his horse, Caroline looked around her in surprise. She could see no reason why they stopped.

  “We’ll walk from here on,” he said after helping her dismount. He led them onto a footpath she hadn’t noticed from the road.

  The way was not easy. Wolf took charge of the horses, leaving Caroline to lift up her skirts and follow behind. She was breathless when she stumbled into the large clearing. In the middle was a cabin, small and covered with bark. Between that and the neat garden curved a wide, shallow creek. Raff led the horses to the edge and began removing one of the saddles.

  “Go inside,” he told her. “I shall be in directly with wood for a fire.”

  The thought of warmth was wonderful, but Caroline hesitated. “Won’t the people who live here mind us using the cabin?” It was obvious that no one was there. But she was just as certain that the homestead was not deserted. The garden looked recently weeded and ready to harvest.

  “It is fine, Caroline.” He looked up from his work when she still hesitated. “You will find blankets to warm yourself.”

  The door opened easily. When Caroline closed it behind her she cut off the main source of light for the cabin’s windows were small, no more than slits in the stick and wattle walls. Small ribbons of dust-laden sunlight streamed into the interior.

  Few pieces of furniture cluttered the small room. The bed consisted of a neat pile of furs in the back corner. Clothing was hung from pegs, branches really, dried into the mud mortar. Use of the space was efficient, and Caroline wondered who lived here.

  She walked across the brushed dirt floor to the only chair, a handmade affair, smooth and polished in the seat and arms, with the legs left bark-covered. Beside it was a table of similar design that held a candlestick and several books. Caroline picked one up and squinted to read the title.

  “Voltaire,” said the voice behind her and Caroline whirled around to see Wolf silhouetted in the doorway. “Do you enjoy him?”

  “A... no, not really” Caroline replaced the book on the pile, embarrassed to be caught snooping.

 
He seemed to ignore her discomfort as he dropped the split logs near the simple stone fireplace and began building a fire. “The blankets are back there.” His dark hair swayed around his shoulders when he motioned with his chin toward the back corner. “But I suggest you take off those wet clothes before wrapping yourself in one.”

  “Take... take off my clothes?” Caroline sounded as if she never heard of the concept.

  Wolf paused in his labors and twisted around to look at her. “Stay as you are and you’ll catch a chill.”

  He spoke in a no-nonsense way that reinforced the soundness of his message. Still... “’Tis rather unseemly.”

  “So is dying of the fever.” Wolf turned back to building the fire, coaxing the tiny flame by blowing on the dried leaves.

  Caroline picked up a blanket of tightly woven wool. “I still don’t know. What if the owners should return? What would they think?” It wasn’t the owners she worried about, but that seemed as good an argument as any. His next words squelched it.

  As the flames licked up about a chunk of wood, he stood. With barely a glance in her direction he headed for the door. “This is my home.” He reached for a rope-handled bucket hanging from a peg beside the door before turning.

  His eyes met hers and in the orange glow from the fire, Caroline imagined they saw through her excuses and found them childish and lacking.

  “I am going for water. You do as you please, Your Ladyship.” He grabbed up the long rifle he’d leaned against the wall and left the cabin.

  It wasn’t indecision but cold fingers and wet clothing that slowed Caroline’s movements. Her first instinct was to keep on her shift, but it was cold and clammy next to her skin so she removed that as well. The blanket was large, covering her completely from head to toe. That didn’t stop the blush that seeped up her face when he reentered the cabin. But he seemed to pay little heed to her nakedness beneath the blanket.

  She, on the other hand, could think of nothing else.

  He made no comment as he poured some of the water into a large iron kettle that hung over the fire. Then he pulled a knife from his leggings and stripped off slices of a beef that hung from the rafter. He left again to return with potatoes and beans in a small woven basket.

  “I can do that,” Caroline said when he began snapping the beans.

  His only response was an arched brow. But he allowed her to take the basket. It was difficult peeling the potatoes. The knife was heavy and very large, and Caroline had to be careful the blanket didn’t slip open. She was relieved when he left the cabin again to return with the saddlebags stuffed with her belongings. However those clothes were damp, too.

  “I’m surprised that you live here.” Caroline hoped conversation would help alleviate her uneasiness. He was hanging her clothing from the pegs on the walls. “I assumed you lived with your father.” She quartered a potato.

  “No.”

  “Oh, well, I see that now.” Caroline glanced around. “What are you doing?” Her voice rose, till the last word was nearly a shriek.

  “Changing from my wet clothes.”

  “But I... I...”

  “If you do not wish to see, Caroline, don’t look.”

  Embarrassed, because that was exactly what she’d been doing, staring at his broad, muscled chest, at the fascinating design of tattoos spanning him from shoulder to shoulder, Caroline spun around. She clutched at the blanket she’d let slip and felt foolish. Even more so when he touched her arm and she jumped.

  “You needn’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

  “I... I know that.” She refused to turn toward him even when he held out a shirt of soft cotton.

  “You might be more comfortable in this till your clothing dries. At least you won’t have to hold it shut.”

  “Thank you.” Caroline reached for the shirt. It matched the one he’d donned, white, and loose fitting. He wore his over leggings. But she supposed it would be long enough on her to forgo anything but the blanket, which she planned to keep wrapped about her till she left here for Seven Pines.

  Wolf offered to finish cutting the vegetables and to keep his eyes forward as she changed. And she trusted him to do as he said. But that didn’t really help. Because it was herself she didn’t trust.

  Five

  “The stew is delicious.” Caroline took another spoonful of the rich broth and glanced at Raff across the small table. He’d cleared away the books, and candle, and seated Caroline in the only chair. He sat on the lid of a wooden sea chest.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, what makes you think so?” Caroline responded quickly... too quickly she thought to herself.

  “It is the third time in as many minutes you’ve commented upon the stew.”

  “Has it been that many?” Caroline’s attention was focused on the folded hands in her lap.

  “Yes it has.”

  She tried not to look up, but in the end she had no choice. His eyes were on her as she knew they would be, strong and intense. They held hers as if she had no will of her own. Caroline wet her lips, wondering why swallowing was suddenly so difficult. “Perhaps I am very fond of it... the stew,” she clarified, feeling a rush of heat that had naught to do with the fire behind him. The fire that seemed to outline his body with a red glow.

  “Perhaps you are.”

  His smile was impossible to resist. Caroline was fast learning that was true of so much about him. But that didn’t mean she needn’t try. She searched her mind for something to say... something other than a comment upon the stew.

  She cleared her throat. “You must enjoy reading.”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “No. Why should it?” she added when he raised his raven brow. He shrugged and Caroline’s eyes were drawn to the breadth of his shoulders, the open neck of his shirt. His skin looked dark and mysterious against the snow white cotton.

  “It might seem incongruous to some—a savage who reads Voltaire.”

  “It might.” Caroline took a sip of the tea he’d brewed. “But then, you forget, I saw you in Charles Town.”

  “The ability to wear a waistcoat and draw my hair back in a queue makes me no less an Indian.”

  “I never said it did.” Looking at him now Caroline could no more deny the wild blood that coursed through his veins as fool herself into believing it didn’t draw her to him. Dark and dangerous. Caroline’s pulse raced.

  Very dangerous.

  She bent forward and plucked the top book off the pile beside her feet. After examining the title she traced gold embossing with her fingertip. “Neddy admires David Hume. He used to read him then insist upon explaining his philosophies to me.” Her smile faded. “I miss him very much.” Caroline lifted her gaze to meet his. “But then you must understand. You have a brother.”

  “Ah, so Ned is your brother?”

  “Of course. Edward. Who did you think he was?”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, amusement shining in his obsidian eyes. “A lover perhaps. Some young swain you deserted to come sailing to the New World.”

  “You’re teasing.”

  “No, I’m not. When you mentioned Edward before...” Wolf sat back and folded his arms. “Well, that is what I thought.”

  Caroline shook her head. She could feel heated color in her cheeks. “I left no broken hearts behind.” Rising from the chair, she gathered the empty pottery bowls and carried them to the bucket near the hearth.

  “Do you need more water?” Wolf turned his head to follow her movements before standing and throwing more wood on the fire.

  “No, ’tis fine.” She angled her face toward him. “Tell me of your brother.”

  Wolf sank onto the floor beside her, reaching for the bowl she just washed. He dried it with a linen towel. “What do you wish to know?”

  Lifting her shoulders, Caroline plunged her hands back into the warm water. Perhaps if she kept her mind occupied with conversation she wouldn’t be so aware of him... of how near h
e was. “What is he like?”

  “Are you asking if he is Cherokee?”

  “’Twasn’t what I meant.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Wolf leaned against the wall, one leg bent, his forearm resting on his knee, and watched her for a moment before continuing. “Logan’s blood is pure. He was born of Robert’s second wife. There was an older son also, born in Scotland, I believe. That is where Robert’s first wife lived.”

  Caroline dried her hands. “I didn’t realize I was to be... I mean that your father was married thrice before.”

  “He wasn’t.”

  “But you just said—”

  “There are men who marry their Cherokee mistresses, Your Ladyship. Robert MacQuaid is not one of them.”

  Realization of what he was saying came quickly. Caroline could feel the hurt and pain in his words and wanted to reach out to him. Wanted to so badly that she folded her hands to stop herself. She was beginning to understand why Wolf disliked his father. She was beginning to feel the same way.

  “Logan is fighting to the north with the militia. I’m sure his wife will enjoy your company.” When she said nothing, only stared at him with those large blue eyes, Wolf continued. “Logan’s wife, Mary, lives at Seven Pines.”

  “I see.” Caroline dried her hands. “You mentioned another brother.”

  “James. But I wouldn’t mention his name if I were you.”

  “Why, pray tell?”

  “From what I understand he was hanged for his part in supporting the Young Pretender.”

  “Oh, how awful. Your father must have been heartbroken.”

  “Actually, I believe Robert had declared the boy dead to him years before.”

  Caroline settled on the trunk lid facing Raff. “What of you?”

  His dark brow arched. “What about me?”

  She knew she was asking too many questions, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Everything about Raff MacQuaid fascinated her. “Tell me of your childhood.”

  “I lived with my mother’s people. It is the Cherokee way.” His fingers tightened into a fist. “Until my tenth year.”