His Wild Heart

by Colleen French

  "I don't carry lady's hoops on my mule, but I might have something."

  She smiled a smile that seemed to Hunter to light up the morning. "Thank you . . ."

  "Hunter, it's Hunter," he said, not knowing why it was so important to him that he hear her say his name.

  ". . . Hunter." She paused, looked down and then back at him again. "Hunter, despite my jests, I do like the change."

  "What?"

  She gestured. "The clean face and neat hair. It becomes you."

  Hunter felt odd to be standing there talking to this stranger in such a manner, but part of him liked it—enjoyed her compliment. Their gazes locked and for a moment he held her captive. "I'll see what I can find in the packs in the way of clothing for you. Be right back." He walked away.

  As he trudged through the trees toward the camp, he contemplated the mystery of women. He couldn't figure them out. This Alexandra, one minute she was all tooth and claw, then the next she was smiling like an angel sent from the heavens. They were all like that, every blasted one of them!

  For some reason Hunter's thoughts shifted to a woman from long ago. He remembered his betrothal back in London. It had only been six years ago, but it seemed like six thousand.

  He'd never regretted deciding to come to America rather than marry as his father had bid him, but he was sorry for the way he'd gone about it. He was sorry he had hurt her the way he knew he must have. He should never have signed that betrothal agreement. But once he'd signed it, he should have had the decency to go to her and break off in person. It didn't matter that he'd never met her, he still had owed her that courtesy. He shouldn't have run off like that. He should have said his good-byes. He should have tried to explain to his father why he had to leave . . .

  Hunter knelt on the ground and began to go through his bags on the ground. He wondered what had become of the child he'd been betrothed to. No doubt her father had found her another man and she was now married with a brood of children. He was quite certain she was better off. He'd have made a poor excuse for a husband to a proper lady. He'd never have been happy there in London . . . he'd have made her life miserable.

  "Ah, hah . . ." He pulled out a doeskin tunic and shook it free of wrinkles. It was his own shirt, but it would do, tied with a belt at her waist. It would be short, but not too short, and certainly more practical than what Alexandra was wearing now.

  Grabbing a small cotton blanket from another bag, he went back down toward the stream.

  As Hunter cleared the trees, he spotted Alexandra in the center of the stream. Even in the middle it was shallow, but she had somehow managed to lower herself into the water until nothing showed but her head and the linen straps of her shift.

  Hunter averted his eyes, not wanting to embarrass her—not wanting to allow himself to dwell on the way he knew the wet shift must be molding to her firm, round breasts. He held up the clothing. "Here's a blanket to dry off with and a tunic to wear. Belt it with the leather and it will work well enough."

  "God's teeth, it's short," she called from the water, her teeth chattering. "Have you nothing else?"

  "I told you. I'm no rag and bone man. I carry no ladies' undergarments. Now wear it or don't. It makes no difference to me, but I'm packing up the mule." He turned and started back for the camp. "We leave in ten minutes' time." Passing through the trees, Hunter wondered why he had suddenly turned so caustic with Alexandra.

  How shocking it must seem to her to go from a gown that covered her from bodice to slipper, to a sleeveless, bare-legged leather tunic. But he had no time to care for tender feelings or modesty. He'd done enough for her. He had more important things on his mind. He had that murderer, Blue-Green Eyes to be concerned with. He'd saved Alex from Two Crows. He'd send her back to Annapolis with a guide as soon as they reached the Shawnee village. That would have to be enough.

  Chapter Four

  For the first few morning hours, Alexandra walked alone, following in the two men's footsteps. While they ignored her, conversing with each other, she hung behind, trying not to feel sorry for herself.

  She knew she had much to be thankful for. She was alive and relatively safe. Two Crows was miles from here by now. These men were taking her home to her uncle's house. In a day or two she'd be back in Annapolis. Aunt Sally and her cousins would be there to comfort her. She'd have a real bath. She'd put on that new apple green organza gown she'd never gotten a chance to wear, and she'd sit and have tea in one of Aunt Sally's twin parlors.

  Alexandra knew she just had to hang on a little longer. So what if she was wearing some animal's skin shamefully hiked up above her knees? So what if there were mosquitos buzzing around her head? So what if her savior was the rudest man in the colonies? She had to ignore the inconveniences, including Hunter.

  Hunter. His name rang in her head.

  He'd startled her this morning by shaving and cutting his hair. He was such a handsome man without all those tangled tresses, that she wished now that she'd kept her mouth shut and that he'd left himself be. He was entirely too attractive without his long hair and beard.

  Alexandra nearly groaned aloud.

  She didn't like the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach he'd given her when she first laid eyes on him this morning.

  His image flickered in her head. Standing there by the river without his shirt, he'd made a fetching sight, indeed. Certainly she'd seen men nude from the waist up—her father and brothers . . . and once even her friend Martha's cousin Charles. But she'd never seen a man like Hunter.

  His shoulders and biceps seemed to be shaped from a potter's wheel or da Vinci pen with their fluid lines and shaped muscles. Power emanated from his suntanned flesh. His chest was broad with a sprinkling of red hair that ran in a line down his flat stomach to disappear beneath the waistband of his leather breeches. Her first impulse when she'd seen his bare chest was to touch it, to feel his flesh beneath her fingertips.

  Alexandra felt her cheeks grow warm at the thought of him. She knew she should be ashamed of herself. Heavens, her thoughts were bordering on lustfulness. But she was nearly twenty-two, well past the age of a blushing maiden. Long in the tooth, her mother—a woman entirely too blunt—had called it.

  So what harm could a little fantasizing do? She was in the middle of the wilderness struggling to keep her sanity. Once she returned to Annapolis and a suitable time of mourning was observed for Uncle Charles and Cousin Susan, no doubt Alexandra would be married off to that Mr. Comegys Aunt Sally had been speaking of. Mr. Comegys was said to be a suitable match, kind and only twenty years her elder. Of course Cousin Molly had said he was short and had a bulbous nose and a twelve-year-old, pinched-faced daughter. But what could Alexandra expect at this point? Any husband was better than the shame of none at all.

  Alexandra lifted her gaze until it came to rest on Hunter's broad back. She ground her teeth. The man was infuriating. One moment he was kind to her, the next he was shouting like a madman. Now he'd taken to ignoring her. She didn't know which of the three made her angrier.

  Jon slowed his pace, obviously waiting for her to catch up. Hunter walked on, leading his mule.

  "Tired?" Jon asked.

  "No."

  He nodded. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. I shouldn't have laughed." He looked up, his black-eyed gaze meeting hers. "A delicate creature like yourself could certainly not be familiar with such a task as cleaning a rabbit."

  The brandy-smooth tone of his voice sent off warning signals in her brain. Jon wasn't the first man to cast his wiles in Alexandra's direction. Many a man in the past had been willing to tumble in the sheets with her. Alexandra had never had any trouble getting those proposals. It was marriage proposals she was sorely lacking in. "I warrant you I'll do better with the next rabbit."

  He reached out to brush his fingertips against her bare arm. "I warrant you will. But please let me do the honor. It was wrong for my crude friend there to expect you to see to such a menial task. A woman of your beauty su
rely must have talents of a more civilized nature."

  She cast a sideways glance at him, amused. "Tell me, Jon. Did the two of you flip a coin to see who was to have my favors?"

  Jon brought a palm to his chest. "Pardon?"

  She smiled, turning away from him. "Don't act the innocent with me. I know when a man is inviting me to sleep with him. The manner is the same with all men, apparently, be it on one continent or another, red man or white."

  Alexandra heard a chuckle out of Hunter, who was still walking ahead of them but had slowed his pace so that the distance between him and Alexandra and Jon was shorter.

  "What I want to know, Jon," Alexandra went on, "is—when you two flipped the coin to see who would go for me first, were you the winner, or the loser?"

  Hunter slapped his knee, making no attempt to hide his laughter now.

  Jon looked up at Alexandra, feigning innocence. "I assure you I don't know what you mean, Alexandra. I was simply—"

  "You were simply making illicit advances toward me." She stopped and turned to him. "Now let me tell you, Jon, so that there is no further misunderstanding. I appreciate your aid back at the trading post. If you like, I can pay you handsomely for your time, once I reach home. However, I will not offer my body as payment, no matter how charming you might be."

  Jon began to walk again, appearing nonplussed. "So you admit you do find me charming." He flashed her a grin.

  "As charming as any Jack of Dandy in London."

  "You see that, the lady does find me charming," Jon called to Hunter.

  "She's telling you to knock off," he called back, still walking.

  Jon looked back at Alexandra. "Are you telling me to knock off, madame?"

  "That I am. Else I'll skin you like I did that rabbit, beginning between the thighs." She smiled sweetly.

  Jon grimaced.

  "Best be warned," Hunter threw over his shoulder. "You'd not be a comely sight skinned, my friend."

  Jon shrugged to Alexandra. "You can't blame me for trying."

  She lifted her chin a notch. "I'll not hold it against you. Just keep your hands to yourself and we'll get along fine." She stepped over a log that lay across their path. "Tell me, just why are you out here in the middle of nowhere?" She eyed him from head to toe. "You obviously have an education. Access to money as well. Tell me your tale. I'm certain it's a good one."

  Jon sighed. "If you must know, I'm the heir to a great fortune in England, run from my father and his talk of responsibility and a child meant to be my wife." He nodded. "Yonder is my serving man, though I have to admit I allow him liberties."

  "You're a rogue." Her eyes narrowed. "But something makes me think there's a glimmer of truth to all your lies."

  Again Hunter chuckled. Alexandra took notice that though he obviously didn't wish to take part in the conversation, he was listening to every word.

  Jon reached back to adjust his queue. "You accuse me of telling falsehoods, but what of yourself? You're obviously no lady's maid."

  "It's not any of your affair who I am." She pointed. "Ahead lies Annapolis. Get me there safely, and I'll be on my way. I told you. You'll be well paid for your assistance." When her gaze met Jon's, she realized something was wrong.

  He looked away.

  "What?" she asked softly.

  He slid his jaw back and forth as if stalling for time.

  "What?" she repeated more loudly. "What is it? What haven't you told me?"

  He cleared his throat. "Annapolis, Alexandra?"

  "Yes."

  "It doesn't lay ahead."

  "Well . . . well what do you mean?" She felt her heart skip a beat. Remain calm, she told herself. "You're not taking me to Annapolis? Well, any large settlement will do. I can have my aunt contacted. She can send someone for me. I'm certain I can find a place to—"

  "Alexandra, we head west, not east." He looked away guiltily. "There are no settlements in this direction. Nothing but Indian camps."

  "What?" She came to a halt. "What?" she demanded. "You're not taking me home?"

  "Eventually someone will see you home. But not now. Hunter—"

  Alexandra ran forward, hurling herself into Hunter's broad back. "You maggot-brained whoreson!" she shouted, beating him with her balled fists. "You said you were taking me home! You said—"

  Hunter dropped the mule's reins and spun around, trying to shield himself as Alexandra pummeled him.

  "Whoa, whoa, there!"

  "You lied! You lied to me!"

  "I didn't lie. Ouch, damn!" He pulled back his head but not before she managed to strike him in the nose, spewing blood. "Damn, that hurt!"

  Alexandra was out of control. She was nearly hysterical. She beat him with her fists, kicking his legs at the same time. "You were supposed to take me home! You were supposed to take me to Annapolis! To my aunt! I have to tell her what happened to my cousin and uncle! I have to go home now!"

  Hunter caught one of her wrists and then the other. "I never said I was taking you home to Annapolis! Never once did you hear those words from these lips!"

  Letting out a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush, Alexandra brought up her knee between Hunter's legs with all the strength she could muster. He groaned in pain and buckled, going down on his knees, but taking her with him.

  "Cease your grappling, blowze!" he warned beneath his breath. "Cease!"

  "Or what?" She struggled to free herself from his grasp, still batting at him. Her limbs were tangled in his. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his heaving breath on her cheek. "You'll what? You'll kidnap me? You'll tie me to a tree? You'll rape and murder my twelve-year-old cousin in front of my eyes?"

  Hunter suddenly released her wrists, shoving her backward into a pile of dry leaves.

  Jon came running toward them. "Ad's-blood, Hunter!"

  Alexandra shoved her doeskin tunic down over her bare thigh. "Stay out of this!"

  "Back off," Hunter echoed, scowling at Jon.

  "You said you would take me home," Alexandra accused, staring venomously at Hunter. "You said you would! Liar!"

  "I said I'd see you to safety!" He got up off the ground, not bothering to brush away the dry leaves that clung to the fringes of his tunic. "I never said I was taking you directly to Annapolis. I would never have said that."

  He threw out his hand to help her up, but she swatted it away and stood on her own. "All right, so maybe you never actually said we were going straight to Annapolis," she conceded hotly. "But you let me think I was going home. You made me think I was safe."

  "You are safe. Jon and I'll see that no harm comes to you until we can find a guide to take you back." He wiped at the blood that trickled from his nostril. The corner of his mouth was bleeding as well. "Safe enough, if I don't throttle you, that is."

  She crossed her arms over her chest. "I can't believe you did this! After all I've been through! By the king's cod! I was better off with Two Crows!"

  "So go!" Hunter swept his hand. "Go back to Two Crows. Let him sell you to the soldier. You'd probably enjoy being a whore—that big mouth of yours will come in handy!"

  Alexandra's jaw dropped in shock. "You son of a stinking—" She hurled herself at Hunter's massive frame again, but this time he caught both her arms and twisted her around until her back was pressed against his chest, her buttocks planted intimately in his groin.

  "Let me go! Let me go!"

  "Then cease this tantrum!",

  "I'm not having a tantrum." Tears stung her eyes and she fought them. "I'm angry. I thought you were taking me back to Annapolis." She sniffed. "I thought I'd be home in another day drinking tea in my aunt's parlor."

  "Headed west with us?"

  She glanced over her shoulder. Now that she had calmed down a bit she realized what a compromising position she had gotten herself into. She was trapped in Hunter's arms. He smelled of pine needles and raw masculinity. His nearness was making her lightheaded.

  She suddenly knew that she was more
attracted to this man than she'd first thought.

  "West?" She panted. "I don't know what you mean. How was I supposed to know which direction we were going in? Everything looks the same out here in this swanking wilderness!"

  "Now who's the addlepated one?" Hunter's voice in her ear was husky with anger. "We've been walking west with the rising sun on our backs since we left the trading post."

  Now she really felt stupid. He was right. They had been walking into the setting sun. How could she have been such an imbecile as to have not realized it? "Let me go," she said quietly.

  "You going to behave yourself?"

  She was silent for a moment. She exhaled. "Yes."

  "Pardon?"

  "I said yes, now release me!"

  Slowly, Hunter loosened his grip on Alexandra's arms. She stumbled forward, as alarmed by her physical attraction to the sot as she was by the altercation. She spun around to face him, dropping a hand to her hip. At this distance she would be able to think more rationally—she'd be able to reason with this lunatic. "If we're not headed east to Annapolis, where are we going?"

  "Instead of being so blessed demanding you could express a little gratitude," Hunter chastised harshly. "I saved your tail, remember?" He reached back to brush off his shoulder a lock of long red hair that had come loose in the tussle.

  "Where are we going?" she repeated, looking to Jon who stood near the mule, then back at Hunter. "I have a right to know where I'm being taken."

  "West into Ohio country. I'm looking for a man, a Shawnee medicine man."

  "Indians?" Her lower lip trembled. "We're walking halfway across the continent to find an Indian? You couldn't find enough of them on the Chesapeake?"

  "Not that it's any of your concern but I need some information from him. I'm looking for someone else."

  "You're looking for someone else? And that couldn't wait?" She shook her head in disbelief. "This someone is so important that you couldn't get me, a woman who's been kidnapped by savages, back to civilization first? So important that you have to drag me with you? Who in God's holy name can be that important? Surely King George has not been kidnapped by red heathens as well!"