She sat down on the stool he indicated and at his signal, Martha immediately brought her a plate heaped with food, and a mug of cool ale. The bear stew was hearty, the bread flaky, and the ale surprisingly sweet.
As Alexandra ate, she listened as the men talked. Hunter, the captain, and several other men were just finishing their meal. On the far table, Jon was concentrating on the game of cards he was playing with several red-coated soldiers. Once he leaned back in his chair and winked at her, but then went right back to the game at hand.
After a second helping of stew and a third cup of ale, Alexandra pushed away her plate and rose to stretch her legs. Hunter and the captain had begun a friendly game of knap and slur. They invited her to play, but she declined. She'd never been much for the gaming tables. Instead, she just stood back and watched.
The heat of the room and the potency of the ale made her mind pleasantly fuzzy. She was sleepy. She knew she should turn in, but instead, she lingered in the room, listening to the men tease and prod each other as they played their games . . . listening to the sound of Hunter's voice.
He called to her and leaned over his shoulder to hear his voice in the noisy room. "You look tired," he said, his hazel eyes sparkling. He had had a lot to drink, she could tell by the tone of his voice. He wasn't drunk, but there was hint of amusement in every word he spoke. "Let me see you to bed."
She rested her hand on his shoulder. "No. Stay where you are. Play your game. You're winning. I can find my room on my own."
"You certain?" He touched her hand where it rested on his shoulder. Their gestures were innocent enough, but with each touch some sort of energy arced between them.
Suddenly she wished she was alone with him. She wished . . . "I'll be fine. Good night."
She almost hoped he would get up and follow her, but he didn't.
"I'll check in on you later before I turn in," he called after her as he lifted his mug of ale to his lips.
She smiled back at him and went out the planked inner door. Upstairs in her little loft room she slipped out of her dress and into the shift she'd left on the bed. She climbed into the bed, which indeed sported a feather tick, and she pulled the quilts up high to ward off the chill. She closed her eyes, but sleep eluded her.
All she could think of was Hunter. The smell of him. His touch. The sound of his voice in her ear. For a long time she lay listening to the distant sounds of the men talking and laughing. Chairs scraped the wooden floors. A dog barked. Somewhere in the maze of buildings a woman laughed. A small case clock on the mantel above the tiny fireplace in her room chimed midnight, then one in the morning. Still she couldn't sleep.
Then, just as she was finally beginning to doze off, she heard her door squeak.
"Alex?"
"Hunter?" she called drowsily.
"You asleep?"
"Not yet. Come in," she murmured, rolling onto her side. If she'd been more awake perhaps she'd have thought twice about inviting him into the bedchamber, but this late at night, after the long day of travel and the ale, she saw no reason for concern.
She felt the bed sink as he sat down on the corner. He reached out to brush back the hair from her face. "Feels good to be in a bed, does it?"
"Um-hmm," she murmured. He continued to stroke her hair and she nestled deeper into the goose tick. His hand was so warm, his touch so relaxing.
"I just wanted to say good night. I'll bunk with the men tonight but if you need me—"
"I'm fine." She rolled onto her back and looked up at him. By the light of the glowing coals in the fireplace she could see the outline of his expressive face. Somewhere he'd had a bath. His hair was still so damp that it curled at the nape of his neck. He'd changed into a pair of cotton breeches and a plain white muslin shirt. He smelled of shaving soap, ale, and that exquisite masculine scent that always seemed to cling to him.
He leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek. She turned her head and then his mouth was on hers.
"Alexandra," he murmured.
"Hunter . . ."
His innocent kiss deepened and she found herself reaching out to him, pulling him closer. He stretched out beside her on the bed, slipping beneath the heavy quilt. Without consideration for the consequences, she molded her nearly nude body to his. She sighed audibly as he slipped his hand into her bodice and caressed her budding nipple.
Her hands found the corded muscles of his shoulders and then his back. As they kissed, their mouths melted into one; their bodies entwined. The past slipped from Alexandra's mind. All that mattered was this man and the way he made her feel deep inside. All that mattered was the excitement she felt as she grazed his hardened male muscles with her fingertips.
Heavens what a creation of God's a man's body was! How distinctly different from her own. Where her flesh was soft and rounded and smooth, his was all hard and rippled, sprinkled with hair.
They kissed again and again and when he moved above her, she did not protest, not even when he lifted her gown.
"I want you, ki-ti-hi," he murmured, his voice hot in her ear. "I want to make love to you. I want to take you to the heavens and back."
"Yes," she whispered, panting. "Yes, Hunter. Love me. Please love me. It's what I want. I'm sure of it."
He lifted his hand, gliding it up her calf, to her shapely thigh . . . higher. She threaded her fingers through his damp hair, having yanked it free from its leather binding. She groaned aloud as he touched the soft nest of curls at the apex of her thighs.
"Ah, Hunter," she cried. "Hunter—"
Then suddenly he stiffened. He ceased his movement, dropping his head to rest it on her bare breast.
She was breathless. Confused. Was this it? Was she supposed to be left with this empty aching inside? "Hunter?"
"Stay here," he said in an odd voice.
"What?"
He slid out of bed and ran for the door. "I said stay here. Put on your dress. Or at least your shift. Light a candle. I'll be right back."
He slammed the door behind him.
Alexandra shook her head to clear the cobwebs in her mind. She slid her bare feet over the side of the bed, letting them dangle in midair. She still hadn't caught her breath. What was he doing? Had he lost his mind?
She rose and straightened the shift that had tangled around her waist. Going to the mantel, she lit a single beeswax candle. Just as she pulled on the flannel wrapper Martha had left for her on the chair, Hunter came back through the door. He was half carrying, half dragging a balding man in a night dress.
"Hunter?" she cried.
"Marry us, good Reverend," Hunter insisted.
"Hunter!" Alexandra wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, utterly bewildered.
"What?" the reverend gentleman mumbled, equally confused by Hunter's request. He squinted to see Hunter in the dim light of the room.
"You heard me. I said marry us," Hunter demanded, brushing back a lock of red hair off his shoulder. "Now!"
Chapter Thirteen
"N-now?" the man stammered, scratching his stomach sleepily. "In the m-middle of the night?"
"Marry you?" Alexandra exploded, the meaning of Hunter's words finally sinking in. "Marry you! I'm not going to marry you!"
Hunter turned his head. "Yes, you are." He looked back at the minister standing in the doorway. "Yes. Marry us. Tonight. Now. This instant."
"This . . . this is highly irregular. W-well, I-I'm not even dressed." He lifted a dark eyebrow. "The bride is not dressed, the groom . . ." He indicated Hunter's bare chest weakly.
Alexandra crossed the tiny bedchamber in three determined strides. "It doesn't matter if you're dressed, I'm dressed, he's dressed, or not. This entire discussion is preposterous!" She prodded Hunter's bare chest with her forefinger. "I'm not marrying you. Not tonight. Not dressed, not undressed. Not ever."
Hunter tried to put his arm around her. "Now, sweeting—"
"Get your hands off me." She shoved him away. "Have you gone stark raving mad? If this is a
joke I don't see the humor. Maybe you're stumbling drunk! Is that it?"
He leaned toward her so that the reverend couldn't hear him. His breath was warm and husky in her ear. "Not any madder than you. Not a joke. Just a little drunk, else I wouldn't have the nerve, but I realize what I'm doing. Now be agreeable for just once, Alex, and let us get this over with. I mean to bed you tonight and bed you well. The ceremony will take but a moment and then we can get back to what we were about in yonder bed." His eyes cut to her bed with the crumpled bedcovers.
She grasped his head with both hands, practically shouting into his face. "Don't you hear me, you pig-headed jackanapes? I tell you I'm not going to marry you!"
He grabbed her by the collar of her dressing gown and drew her even closer. "You are going to marry me and marry me now. It's the best thing for you and you'll realize it by morning." He winked. "I can promise that."
She turned in utter bewilderment to face the minister still standing in the doorway. If Hunter couldn't be reasoned with, certainly a man of the church . . . "Surely you wouldn't wed a woman against her will?"
The holy man's eyes widened. "Surely . . . surely no." He looked at Hunter as if for support. "N-not if she positively didn't wish to be married."
Hunter grabbed her by the elbow and steered her toward the minister. "She does wish to marry me. She's mad in love with me. Left her father's home to run away with me. I have to marry her, tonight, else her reputation will be ruined."
"Liar!"
Hunter clamped his hand down on her mouth and smiled with exaggeration. "It's just wedding jitters. Do what a clerk of the cloth does. See to the words, man!"
Alexandra tried to back up, but Hunter's grip was too steady. His hand still covered her mouth.
Her mind was swimming. Surely he wasn't serious. Surely he wasn't really going to marry her without her consent!
"Come! Come!" Hunter insisted. "Let's get to it, good sir! As you can see, I'm an anxious bridegroom."
The reverend stammered for a moment and then lifted a hand. "B-Brethren, we are gathered—"
Alexandra clawed Hunter's hand from her mouth. "No! It won't be legal." She was grasping at straws now. Anything to stop him. "It's not binding! There are no witnesses! No legal document." She grabbed Hunter's arm. "You can't marry like this. It would never hold up in court!"
Hunter looked at Alexandra and then back at the reverend who appeared rather relieved by her declaration. "She's right." Hunter let out a loud sigh and bit down on his lower lip. "Damnation! I want it legal. I want no one to claim our children to be bastards later."
"Children!" Alexandra tightened her grip on his muscular arm, trying to remain in control of herself. "Hunter, you can't—"
"Would you hush, woman? Just for once in your life, keep that sweet mouth of yours shut. Can't you see I'm thinking here?"
"Hunter—"
"Ah hah! I've got it!" He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her past the reverend at a gallop. "Five minutes, Reverend. I'll give you five minutes to get a piece of paper, a quill, and ink and be back in this room. My betrothed is right. This has to be legal in the English courts!"
Before the reverend could respond, Hunter had turned down the drafty hallway and led her into the darkness. "Come on, Alex! This really is the best for you considering all that's happened. You'd know it was true if you'd just consider it for a moment."
Alexandra tried to pull away. She tried to escape, but he was too strong for her. He was too determined. Her bare feet scraped the splintered plank floor as he half carried, half dragged her along. "Don't do this, Hunter. Please," she begged.
He came to an abrupt halt in the hallway and pushed her up against the log wall. He brought his face so close to hers that in spite of the frigid air, she was suddenly warm again. "Tell me you don't want me, Alex," he whispered harshly. "Tell me you don't want to lie with me. Tell me you don't like it when I touch you." He brought his hand up beneath her breast, his thumb caressing the bud of her nipple through the thin material of her dressing gown. "Like this." He lowered his mouth to the hollow of her throat. "Like this. Just tell me!"
She threw back her head, all too aware of the cold, unhewn wood at her back and Hunter's overwhelming sexuality. She was trapped. She squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, yes, she wanted him . . . desperately. She wanted him even now when his touch was a little too rough, his kiss just a little too insistent. She wanted to make love with him. She wanted to know what it meant truly to be a woman, to have experienced what it was between a man and a woman that the poets had been writing about since the dawn of mankind.
But marry him? No. She was afraid of him. Afraid of his unpredictability. Afraid of the emotions he stirred in her, the good and the bad.
"Alexandra!" He lifted her wrists above her head, molding his body to hers as he brushed his lips against the lobe of her ear. "I'm waiting."
"Yes," she whispered miserably.
"What?"
He was kissing her again. Confusing her. Making her senses reel until logical thought was impossible.
"I can't hear you, sweeting. Speak louder."
"Yes . . ."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I want you." She fought back a sob. "I want you, Hunter."
He touched his mouth to hers gently. "And I you. There's nothing wrong with that, sweeting. We're both of legal age. Neither is married to another. It's all right to want me, and I you."
"But I don't want to marry you," she lamented.
"Why not?" His voice was harsh again. "Tell me, damn it! Because you've gotten a better offer?"
"No."
"Because you're saving yourself for a nunnery?"
"No."
He ran his fingers through her hair. "Look at me."
She opened her eyes. Even in the darkness she could see his hazel-eyed gaze, a gaze that pierced her very soul.
"Then why?" he asked.
"Because . . . because—"
"Ah hah! You don't have a reason other than the fact that you're a female and females never know what they want or why!" He grabbed her arm and started down the hallway again. "So let's do it and be done with it before I sober and change my mind!"
"Hunter." She ran with him to keep from tripping. "Hunter, please—"
He stopped and slammed his fist into a door. "Coming in Jon, ready or not." He turned the doorknob and flung it open.
Pale yellow candlelight illuminated the tiny room. On the far wall, which was not far from the doorway, Alexandra spotted Jon's dark head of hair, a twist of long, naked limbs, and a flash of bare breasts. She huffed a breath of shock, but Hunter seemed to pay them no mind. She tried to turn away, knowing her face must be burning with embarrassment, but Hunter refused to let go of her wrist.
He marched up to the bed and tugged on the muslin sheet. "Jon."
"God's teeth!" Jon mumbled thickly.
A high-pitched feminine giggle came from the lumpy bed.
Hunter grabbed a corner of the sheet and pulled it back to reveal Jon's face. "I've need of you, friend. Just a moment of your time and you can get back to your recreation."
Jon rolled onto his back to stare up at Hunter. "Have you bloody taken leave of your senses?"
"Hunter?" came a voice from beneath the sheets. "Zee Hunter uf the Shawnee?"
Alexandra's mouth dropped wide open as a woman's face appeared from beneath the sheets. The woman smiled, her lovely young heart-shaped face framed by a head of blond hair.
"Frieda!" Hunter nodded in a mannerly fashion. "Good to see you again. How's your sister Vega?"
"Hunter! Iss that you?" There was another string of giggles as the sheet moved again and another blond head bobbed up. The women were identical twins, as alike as two peas in a pod.
Alexandra clamped her free hand across her mouth, mortified. "God's teeth, Jon!" Then, suddenly coming to the realization that the twins had immediately recognized Hunter, she jerked the hand he still had wrapped around her wrist. "You know these trollops?"
> He grinned sheepishly. "Alexandra, meet Frieda and Vega." He cleared his throat. "Friends."
The second twin reached out and caught Hunter's hand. "Jon said you vould not join us. But you come now." She giggled slyly.
"No. No, sorry, Vega." He gently disengaged himself. "Alexandra is my betrothed."
Vega looked up with wide blue eyes and reached for Alexandra. "Oh! So sorry. You are most velcome to join us too, Al-ex-andra, betrothed."
When the girl reached out to touch her, Alexandra drew back as if she'd been burned by a candle flame. Surely Hunter had not participated in such debauchery! "I think not," she managed to murmur.
Jon slid his legs over the side of the bed and Alexandra caught a glance of his nakedness before she was able to turn away.
Hunter's soft laughter filled her ears as he released her. "You're more of a man than I thought, Jon, to take the twins on all by your lonesome."
Alexandra heard Jon slip into his breeches.
"Just tell me what the hell you want, will you, Hunter?" Alexandra turned to see Jon reaching for half a glass of whiskey left sitting on a camp stool. He took a long swallow. "I mean, this is crazy, even for you."
"You've got to stop him, Jon," she sputtered. "He's making me marry him! He won't listen! He—"
"Marry her?" Jon screwed up his face, looking to his companion. "You can't marry her! Your father will have a cow!"
Alexandra dropped a hand to her hip, insulted by Jon's tone of voice. "What? You don't think I'm good enough for him? I'll have you know my father is the Lord of Monthrop. My family has been respectable for a thousand years." She gave a derisive snort. "And I can tell you one thing, no one in my family ever traipsed off to the colonies to pretend he was an Indian!"
Jon took another swallow from his cup, running one hand through his tangled black hair. He squinted, obviously confused. "I thought you didn't want to marry him."
She wrapped her arms around her waist. "I . . . I don't, but don't make it sound like I'm not fitting enough to be Lord Redman's wife here! He's the lunatic! Not me! My father would be the one with the vapors if I came home toting him as husband!"
His Wild Heart Page 14