Wild Dawn

by Cait London

  A wolf howled and his pack joined the eerie chorus. Laddie and Venus began stirring restlessly, and MacGregor’s tall body went cold. A wolf pack worked their victim, tiring and hamstringing the prey in a deadly precision. Regina would be an easy kill....

  He scowled at the door. Covington’s men or any of the renegades on the Taos would have Regina’s tender body before they sold her.

  ~**~

  Regina heard the baby crying when she was within yards of the cabin.

  Laddie barked, and MacGregor’s deep voice snapped at the dogs as she stripped off the snowshoes and hung them on the outside of the cabin. Mose snored steadily in the background, and MacGregor cursed softly as Jack whimpered.

  She’d proved herself today. Walked into the wilderness and survived one day without MacGregor. She’d hunted and killed her meal, roasting the birds over a fire she’d built. She’d met a passing band of Indian women foraging for wood and had made herself understood by gestures. Most important, she’d marked her way out of MacGregor’s sheltered valley and plotted a course for the new mining town farther east in the mountains. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

  MacGregor held Jack tightly as he pivoted to her. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded as Jack began to cry again.

  Jack turned to her, his tears rolling down his cheeks and his arms open to her.

  “He’s wanting you,” MacGregor stated roughly as she slipped off her buffalo robe over pants. “Where have you been?” he asked more softly when she took the baby from him.

  “Away. Hunting,” Regina whispered, rocking the baby, who clung to her. She kissed Jack’s damp cheek, and he clung to her. “MacGregor, Jack has the croup. Have you given him whiskey?”

  Tall and unshaven, looking harried and frustrated, he stared at her blankly. Dark circles slid beneath his eyes, and his hand made a scraping noise as it passed over his stubble-covered jaw. Rubbing his bare chest, he scowled down at her, the muscles tightening from his throat to his jaw. “What are you talking about? Of course I haven’t given him whiskey.”

  He glanced at her feet and ordered, “Sit.”

  When she sat in front of the fire, MacGregor kneeled to take off her damp boots. He chafed her feet in his hands and looked up at her as he placed one foot in the warmth between his thighs and rubbed the other briskly. “Toes drop off after frostbite.... I ought to wring your scrawny neck. I reckon it makes you happy to have people go crazy worrying about that half-pint body of yours.”

  “MacGregor....” she began warningly as she rubbed Jack’s taut stomach. Then she saw the pain in MacGregor’s eyes and the deep lines around his face. Stroking his clenched jaw, she whispered softly, “I’m quite all right. I’ve been hunting. There’s a sled loaded with game outside. You and Mose could smoke—”

  “I was worried about you, damn it!” he exploded, wrapping his hand around her ankle. “You’re cold clear through.”

  He tilted her face to the firelight. “Your face is red as an apple. Noses drop off after frostbite, too. Even stubby little ones like yours.”

  “My face was covered until just before I came in—” Then MacGregor’s hard, demanding mouth was on hers. The kiss bruised her lips, his hand cradling her face to his.

  “Don’t you ever do that again,” he said unevenly, running the pad of his thumb across her cold cheek. “Jack was worried, so was Mose.”

  She stroked his jaw, sensing his tension. Clearly, MacGregor had been deeply concerned for her. “Mose is sleeping soundly. He isn’t pacing the floor,” she reminded him in a whisper.

  MacGregor shrugged off her hand, then caught her palm to his lips and held it there for a moment. “Damn female,” he muttered against her flesh. “Playing with a man’s guts until he can’t think straight.”

  The moment stretched and MacGregor looked up at her, waiting for a reply. Waiting for her to bend and give him just that fraction of herself that held her apart from him. He wanted more of her than she could freely give, and the thought sliced through her like a honed blade.

  Jack whimpered, nuzzling Regina’s breast, and she slid her hand away. She rubbed the baby’s back, ignoring MacGregor’s dark searching perusal. Vulnerable now, his appeal nibbled at her resistance. In another moment she’d commit herself to him, telling him of the new baby. Then her freedom would vanish untested.

  Jennifer’s voice whispered on the eerie wind—Remember the legends. The man who holds the Mariah-woman....

  Tucking her chin close to Jack’s head, Regina closed her eyes and rocked him. She’d been owned by one man, and now MacGregor waited for her answer, her commitment to him and a life together. If she gave that now, before she’d resolved what tortured her, she could never erase those wounds, the desperate need to feel free and make her own choices...

  The frontiersman stood slowly, stepping back into the shadows. She’d hurt him by refusing to answer his silent question. “I came back,” she said quietly, averting her head to study Jack.

  “For Jack,” he said slowly, probing, wanting more of her than she would give. Something in his deep voice caused her heart to tear.

  ~**~

  In the morning the two men drank coffee and Mose talked about Regina’s hunting prowess. “She’ll do. Birds and rabbits on that birch sled she made. Must have snared the birds, but shot the rabbits right through the head. Some nice fish, too. She must have ice-fished in some lake, by the size of ‘em.”

  MacGregor studied the woman nestling on the cot with Jack. “She looks like a girl, laying there with Jack.”

  Mose chewed on a piece of white cake, licked his lips, then sipped his coffee. “She’s a skimpy meal. But all the right woman parts are right pert—”

  He stopped when MacGregor turned to stare darkly at him. “She’s damn tough, boy,” Mose stated softly. “Hell, neither one of us could have hunted all day and stayed up all night with that cryin’ young ‘un.”

  “Whiskey,” MacGregor said, turning to look at Violet. “She put a drop of whiskey in his milk, and Jack eased up right away.”

  Sipping his coffee, Mose glanced at MacGregor’s bearded face. “From the looks of you, you could have used a nip yourself.”

  Without answering, MacGregor moved to stand over Regina. After a moment he slid Jack into his arms and placed him in the crib. Then he eased into bed with Regina and held her tight. “Reckon you can manage things today without me, Mose,” he said after a yawn.

  ~**~

  Chapter Twelve

  A week later Regina listened to the sounds of the night, her swelling breast cupped by MacGregor’s large, warm palm.

  She followed the firelight dancing in the shadows of the ceiling. MacGregor sought to bind her to him; his baby would accomplish the task. She sensed him waiting for her, tracking her for a sign of her commitment.

  At an early age the marquess had given her a bitter lesson she’d never forget. He dominated, hurt, and possessed. Yet once he must have been appealing, for her mother had married him.

  Regina’s mouth firmed. She had a dream of a new life; to yield to MacGregor’s demands would give her no more freedom than in England.

  She had promised herself a new land and a new life, without the lordly bonds of male possession.

  MacGregor’s long fingers caressed her softness as he slept, and the tender crest tightened instantly. There were changes in her body, a heaviness in her breasts, and a constant desire to sleep. Her hand edged down to her stomach, resting on it. MacGregor’s child nestled within her.

  She’d been working hard, asking MacGregor questions a little at a time. “What woods will start fires easily?” ... “How do you sleep when you’re camped alone in the dead of winter?” ... “What foods would you take on a winter trek of say two or three days?” ... “How do you tell if the ice is thick enough to walk over?”

  Yesterday MacGregor had announced his two-day absence to check traps and locate another snow-covered pasture for the sheep. The animals, tucked in their winter coats,
thrived on small amounts of the wild grass dug from the snow.

  Pierre lay in the bed Mose had vacated. The older man wanted to show off his leather ear to a prospective Indian bride. Jack’s croup had passed, and he made smacking noises in his crib.

  MacGregor’s hand slid to her other breast, sliding a thumb over the peak. Curving his long body around her, he nuzzled her throat. “You wouldn’t send me away for two days without a taste of you, would you, Violet?” he whispered as she stiffened in his arms.

  His mouth warmed her skin, her body heating at his light touch.

  MacGregor shifted, drawing them face to face, his hand sliding down her waist and thigh and back up to just beneath her breast. He kissed her nose. “Violet MacGregor....”

  Against hers, his body tightened, his desire probing the long shirt between them. His face was hot against her, his body trembling as he gathered her closer. “I want you.”

  On the other side of the blanket Pierre sighed hugely. Regina stiffened. “MacGregor—”

  MacGregor’s lips found hers, and he kissed her deeply, his hand easing the shirt higher. “Come with me today. Pierre will take care of Jack and the stock....”

  “Uh.... What did you say, MacGregor?” Pierre asked sleepily. “You dreaming again?”

  MacGregor breathed heavily, his fingers edging along the inner side of her thigh. Regina pressed her legs tightly together, fighting the urge to wrap herself around him. “I said the damned Frenchman had better find himself another nest after I get back,” MacGregor stated sharply.

  In the shadows over Regina, he leaned down to find her grinning up at him. He shook his head and ran his thumb across her soft bottom lip. “It’s a wonder I’m not dead from torture by now. It’s getting damned hard to wear my trousers without permanent injury.”

  “Poor, poor MacGregor,” she whispered, cradling his jaw in her hands. “What medicine would cure your ills?”

  He shot her a hot look that answered her question. Looking hungrily at her mouth, he whispered roughly, “I’d settle for a kiss. One that tasted as though you wanted me.”

  He ran his finger along her bottom lip and then leaned closer, looking into her eyes. “You’re hiding something, Violet. It’s eating you. Whatever it is, tell me and I’ll try to help.”

  To expose the past to him would open her pain. When she turned her face aside, MacGregor watched her for a moment before he slid out of bed.

  She pretended to be asleep when he bent to kiss her a lingering good-bye. When the door closed behind him, she allowed her tears to begin. “Farewell,” she whispered in a sob.

  ~**~

  MacGregor crouched over the small snowshoe print, dusting away the loose snow from the hard crust. From Pierre’s account, Regina had left at noon the day before in search of grass for her sheep.

  He scowled at the low-hanging snow clouds, the damp air freezing on his skin. She’d run from him, taking her fancy saddle and leaving him with an empty hole in the pit of his stomach. “Gut shot by a female. Left to rot in my own juices,” he muttered, standing and scanning the trail she’d taken.

  She’d glided over the frozen crust of snow easily, moving beside the sheep who followed and deepened a path used by Indians and game.

  Anger stalked him, sweeping away the pain. Whatever she sought, Regina didn’t want him near her. MacGregor shifted uneasily, tugging his hat low against the biting wind.

  Maybe he’d pushed her too hard.... “Fool woman. Headed straight for Teton Sioux ground.”

  He moved along the trail, reading Hercules’s hooves and the marks of three sleds. She’d used ewes to pull them, taking the lambs and keeping to a trail that she’d marked. MacGregor stopped, listening to the sounds of the wind keening through the trees. Regina had planned her escape well, marking a trail protected from snow by high rock bluffs.

  When he had returned, he had found Pierre washing Jack’s cloths and hanging them to dry over the fire. Jack sat on a pelt, banging on a tin pot with a wooden spoon while Pierre complained of a headache. Jack lunged for his father and lifted his jam-covered face for a kiss.

  The Frenchman had stared at MacGregor’s grim face. “The woman bebe runs from you, my friend. She fears you.”

  “She should,” MacGregor had answered, stuffing his pack with fresh supplies. “Any woman who runs from her husband—”

  Pierre’s hand had stilled him. “Take care. She is not ready for these bonds you place on her. There is something aching in her. Women have mysteries beneath their soft skin and sweet smell, mon ami. Perhaps you should not act like a bear with a thorn in his paw around her.”

  MacGregor shafted a dark look at his friend, who shrugged with Gaelic calm. “You scowl at the little one. Complain that she does not cook, and your eyes track her like a hungry wolf. She has to find what she seeks by herself and you would keep her from that.”

  “I don’t know what the hell it is, that she keeps between us. It’s hurting her, driving her, when we could be happy.”

  Pierre shrugged again, turning to lift Jack on his knee. “You will have to work to keep that one at your side. She is not like the women who want your bed, though I have never understood why. Many would give themselves without trade to you... yet you keep apart, tossing a coin to them.”

  Over Jack’s glossy head Pierre had met MacGregor’s scowl evenly. “This one will not take a meager offering and remain at your side. She has pain in her heart and needs to heal.”

  “Women!” MacGregor had cursed. “Nothing but trouble. They’ll do a man in once his back is turned. Stop grinning. My wife will do as I say.”

  Pierre had grinned. “Mais oui. That is true. That is why she is gone and you are here, scowling at me. No?”

  Following her trail at a lope now, MacGregor glanced at a mountain sheep scampering up a rocky butte. Poised on a rocky shelf, the white craggy beast stared down at the man with lordly disdain.

  By nightfall MacGregor’s search had taken him straight into a Sioux winter camp. Away from the horses, Regina’s ewes and lambs nestled beneath a low lean-to made of branches. He listened to a victory song coming from the main lodge and noted the markings of the Teton Sioux tepees nearby.

  The first guard watched MacGregor approach the camp and issued a bird trill to alert the others who nodded as he passed. Drawing aside the buffalo robe that served to keep the winter beyond the lodge, MacGregor stepped into the firelight. The song died as the painted faces of the warriors freshly returned from battle turned toward him. Black Buffalo’s Teton Sioux shared the ceremonial fire.

  Indian women sat against the walls of the lodge, and Regina sat beside Playing Wolf, a handsome young warrior.

  Her smile slowly died as MacGregor stared at her. “MacGregor!” she whispered, her eyes widening.

  “Two Hearts, my friend,” Black Buffalo greeted him. Fiercest of the warriors, the chief stood slowly. “Welcome to our fire, brother. Share our humble meat and fire. It is a poor kill, an old bull buffalo, tatanka, found in the snow. You are welcome, kola.”

  “I have come to take my woman back, Black Buffalo,” MacGregor said, nodding at Regina.

  The young warrior Playing Wolf leapt to his feet. Livid with rage, he gripped his sheathed knife and stepped toward MacGregor.

  “No! I have said I will court the girl,” he spat in Sioux.

  “Speak the white man’s tongue,” Black Buffalo said quietly. “The woman must know what is being said.”

  “We are married in the white man’s way. She runs from me.” MacGregor stared at Regina, who rose slowly to her feet. Dressed in a short, beaded doeskin shift and leggings, her paisley shawl wrapped around her shoulders, she faced him across the flames and smoke.

  Black Buffalo looked at her and then at MacGregor. He nodded slowly, his broad lips curving in mirth when the white woman faced Two Hearts defiantly. “I see in her face that she fears you, brother. A wife should fear her husband. That is good. You will beat her for disobeying you, then share our food this night
.”

  Regina inhaled sharply, her hands curling into small fists. “MacGregor so much as raises his hand, and I’ll take his thick black scalp.”

  “Ho!” a gnarled chieftain exclaimed, nodding his head. “I see that she shakes, fearing Two Hearts’ hand.”

  “The little one has a warrior’s heart. Two Hearts will bear her battle marks and fear her hand,” Black Buffalo’s wife murmured from the shadows.

  “I claim the woman as my prize. It is my right after leading the raid on the trader who sold our people the bad whiskey,” Playing Wolf stated loudly.

  “No man claims me,” Regina said quietly, facing MacGregor as the Indians turned to stare at her.

  “Pah! She does not fear him. He is not her husband,” Playing Wolf stated, spitting into the fire. His fist went to the heavy president’s medallion resting over his breast plate of eagle bones and beads. “I claim her. Two Hearts is like the old bear foraging for a sweet berry bush.”

  The warrior’s dark eyes swept to Regina, who blushed and looked down at her laced fingers. His voice softened. “When she is my wife, her cooking pots will always have antelope and buffalo. She will be warm in the many hides I bring her.”

  “I wear her mark in my ear,” MacGregor returned flatly, touching his earring.

  He wanted to tear the younger man apart. Pick him up by his throat and squeeze slowly. He wanted to jerk Regina into his arms and carry her to the first lodge. Lifting the gleaming ruby eardrop to the light, he said quietly, “We have mated, sharing the marriage bed and these red stones.”

  Playing Wolf leaned to Regina and touched her small earlobe curiously. “When I am her husband, I will wear the red stone, too.”

  MacGregor’s hand slid to his knife. “A woman cannot have two husbands.”

  The younger man ran his hand along Regina’s cheek slowly, thoughtfully. “We will fight. The winner claims the woman.”

  An Arapaho warrior leaned near the chief and whispered. Black Buffalo nodded. “The Arapaho is our brother and shares our fires. He offers to take the ugly woman from you, Two Hearts. You may have her sheep as his gift. In the old days he says, the people’s custom was to eat the delicacy of the antelope udders. One day a chief came and asked to share the udder of a new kill. When he was refused, he asked then for the udder of the other side. Still he was refused. He took his people away. Buffalo Horn says to settle the matter of the woman’s pale udders, he will take her as his second wife.”