Wild legacy

by Conn, Phoebe

  It wasn't until she returned to the bed for her slippers that she noticed the light dusting of ashes on the second pillow. There was a smudge on her own, but she had awakened in nearly the same position as she had fallen asleep. Puzzled, it took a moment for her to recall that Etienne had followed her into the room. That he would have lain down beside her, which he obviously had, annoyed her no end.

  She cursed herself for giving him the mistaken impression that she would welcome his company, and shoved her feet into her shoes. She would deal with Etienne later Right now, she had to see Falcon. When she reached his room, the door was slightly ajar, and her spirits soared when she heard soft conversation rather than weeping coming from inside. She knocked as she entered, but stopped just inside the door.

  Falcon was sitting up in bed, and Belle was feeding him

  a bowl of soup. Hunter and Alanna were standing at the foot of the bed; her father was seated in the rocking chair while her mother was at the fireplace brewing a pot of tea. They all turned toward her and smiled.

  "I didn't mean to sleep so long," Dominique apologized as she came toward the bed. "It's so good to see you awake again, Falcon. I've really missed you."

  Falcon responded with a sheepish smile and swallowed another spoonful of soup. He had to lean back against his pillow to rest a minute, but his eyes had lost their fevered glaze. Bare-chested, he was much too thin, but Dominique thought he looked wonderful. When she came up to the bed, Belle moved aside so she could kiss his cheek. His skin felt cool; elated, she had a difficult time containing her tears.

  There was no way to tell what had worked the miracle— her mother's herbs, the whole family's prayers, or Hunter and Christian's Seneca incantations—but clearly Falcon had had one. "I hope that your whole life is as blessed as it has been today," Dominique told him.

  "I've always been lucky," Falcon claimed. "Isn't that right, Belle?"

  "Yes. That's true." Belle laughed as she fed him more soup. "Of course, I'm so happy to see you smiling I would agree with anything you said."

  "It is true," Falcon swore.

  "Can I bring you anything else?" Dominique asked.

  Falcon thought a moment. "Blackberries?"

  Dominique started for the door. "I'll bring some cream," she assured him. She raised her skirt and hastened down the stairs. There was no one in the parlor, and she was surprised to find Jean seated in the dining room. A big bowl of blackberries had been set out for supper, and she spooned some into a small bowl and poured on cream.

  "Have you seen fetienne?" she asked as casually as she could.

  Jean had been reading and looked up from his book. "He's gone."

  Startled, Dominique nearly slopped cream over the tablecloth but caught herself before she spilled the first drop. "Gone?" she repeated calmly, but her heart was caught in her throat. "Where?"

  "He left this afternoon to drive the wounded men home. Henry Smith was from Richmond, and Haywood and Berry from somewhere just a few miles closer. But why should you care where Etienne's gone? Will you miss him?"

  Dominique sent her brother a withering glance. With Richmond fifty miles to the northwest, by her reckoning Etienne might be gone nearly two weeks. Unless, of course, he left the old wagon he had arrived in in Richmond and came home on horseback. This wasn't his home, though, and maybe he wasn't coming back. She was surprised at just how painful that possibility was.

  "Don't be silly, Jean," she chided. "He's Falcon's friend rather than mine."

  "I know, but he left the minute he knew Falcon was going to be all right."

  Dominique had the berries and cream, which was all that had brought her downstairs, but she couldn't leave the dining room without knowing what to expect. Adept at projecting an innocent gaze, she smiled at her brother. "Is he coming back here?"

  Jean laughed. "Of course he's coming back. He's in love with you. Couldn't you tell by the way he nearly drooled when he looked at you?"

  "All men do that," Dominique murmured under her breath, but as she turned away, she nurtured the warming burst of pleasure Jean's teasing opinion had brought. It wasn't until later, when she went out into the garden to enjoy the evening, that she began to wonder if Etienne's feelings for her might not simply be another of the infatuations she had inspired in her admirers over the years.

  If so, she would not encourage it with another shamelessly passionate interlude. Had that only been last night? she asked herself, and once she realized that it had been, fetienne's departure took on the appearance of flight. Had the man feared she might demand he offer marriage and run away before she could? How dare he presume so much?

  At the very least he could have told her good-bye, but no. He had waited to be certain Falcon was all right, and then had fled. There was no other way to describe what he had done, and Dominique was so insulted she did not know what to think. She had been too preoccupied when she got dressed to examine her breasts, but it would not surprise her if his tooth marks were clearly incised on them both.

  What had possessed her to behave in such a wanton fashion, and with Etienne, of all people? Thank God he had not done more than he had before abandoning her, but it still hurt that he had not even wanted to tell her farewell. She sat alone for a long while, trying to be grateful that Falcon was so much better rather than dwelling on her own shame, but it was difficult. The very least the man could have done was write her a note. Hoping that he might have left a message she had missed in her haste to dress; she returned to her room, but there was no envelope bearing her name.

  Discouraged, and still tired despite her long nap, she removed the pretty rose gown, and then, gathering her courage, carried a lamp over to her dresser. She could see more easily in this mirror than in the smaller one above the wash-stand, and with trembling hands, she loosed the tie on her chemise. She leaned forward and eased the soft linen garment down over her nipples.

  To her absolute horror, she found Etienne's ardent bites had left bright red crescents on her pale skin. She traced them with her fingertips and shivered as her whole body was flooded with the delicious sensation she would rather forget. A knock at the door jarred her so severely that she

  got her fingers twisted in the ribbon and created a horrible knot as she tried to retie her chemise. She rushed to open her door a crack, but when she found Belle, she reached out to draw her inside.

  "Fm so thrilled for you," Dominique exclaimed happily. "Falcon will grow stronger each day now."

  "Yes. That's what Fm hoping, too. Mother won't let me sleep with him tonight, but I wanted to tell you good night before I went to my room."

  Dominique sat down on the side of her bed. "Fm tired, too, but too excited to sleep now. Aren't you?"

  Belle joined her on the bed. "Yes. Etienne is still apologizing for not taking better care of Falcon. He told us Lafayette was shot in the leg at Brandywine Creek and recovered so quickly he hoped for the same happy result with Falcon."

  "I imagine Lafayette had a surgeon's attentions," Dominique responded.

  "Yes. I suppose, but we gave Falcon better care than any surgeon could have. Did you see Etienne before he left?"

  Dominique strove to hide her excitement. "No. I was asleep. Did he give you a message for me?"

  Belle heard more in that question than Dominique realized. "No, but obviously he should have. He'll be back soon. Perhaps then you two will have the chance to become better acquainted."

  Dominique pretended a rapt interest in the lace edge of her petticoat. As she saw it, she and Etienne had already become too intimately involved. "I just don't know quite what to make of him. He has immense charm, but he can be exasperating in the extreme. Today, he actually suggested I needed someone to take care of me. Isn't that preposterous?"

  "You do!" Belle cried. "Etienne is even brighter than I thought. Be honest with yourself for a minute. Don't you like him a little bit, if not a lot?"

  Dominique shook her head slowly, for she feared what she liked about Etienne was the affection
that flowed so easily from his fingertips and lips. Had she ever showed such a damning weakness for another man, she would surely have wed and given birth to half a dozen babies by now. She and Etienne would make very beautiful babies together, and then, badly embarrassed by her traitorous imagination, she attempted to banish the thought.

  Belle studied the lively play of emotions crossing her sister's face, and saw the secret Dominique was clearly fighting to hide. "With all the attention you've always received, you never really cared for anyone until you met Sean. I'll always be sorry that ended badly, but even if Etienne did come along much too soon afterward, don't let him slip away like all the others if you really want him. Do you remember telling me you'd sleep with a man you loved even if he were drunk and make certain he adored you by dawn?"

  "I can't believe how stupid I was last summer," Dominique complained, "but we were talking about Falcon, whom you love dearly. Now, I'd not resort to such a desperate trick with any man. It's pathetic. Love is a gift, not a treasure to be won through feminine wiles."

  Belle could not believe she was listening to Dominique, who had rebuffed so many devoted young men after using the very same feminine wiles she was disparaging. She reached out to tip Dominique's chin up so she could no longer avoid meeting her gaze. "Etienne is the perfect man for you. He has your elegance and charm, and he's fought our war simply because he believes in freedom rather than for any personal gain. Give him the chance you've denied so many other men."

  Positive she had already given him way too much, Dominique slid off the bed. "I'm sorry, but I'm tired after all. Let's talk another time."

  Recognizing Dominique's stubborn streak, Belle kissed

  her good night on her way out, then tiptoed back down the stairs to see Falcon again. He was asleep, and knowing how badly he needed his rest she did not wake him, but she could not wait for the night when she no longer had to sleep alone.

  Etienne could not believe how hard the ground felt after sleeping in one of the Barclays feather beds. He struggled to find a comfortable portion of earth not sprinkled with rocks, but sleep would not come. Accepting the misery, he propped his head on his hands and gazed up at the stars. His injured companions were already snoring lightly, and he was grateful to the Barclays for the supplies that would see them all the way to Richmond.

  He knew he had been right to begin the trip as soon as Falcon had begun to improve, but just a few hours ago he had not expected to miss Dominique so terribly. The intense physical cravings she aroused were easily satisfied, but even after he had done it, he still wanted her in his arms. He doubted the Barclays would ever accept him as her husband, and he knew his father would never accept her as his wife, but that did not ease the exquisite longing that kept him awake far into the night.

  He had come to America filled with righteous ideals, but all he would take home was a broken heart.

  the bed toward the window, the tobacco had been harvested, and the barren fields fit her mood. They also reminded her of the farmland around Camden, South Carolina, and she rubbed her arms to ward off an anxious shiver.

  She had read to Falcon for hours at a time, and requested his favorite meals. She had been as amusing a companion as she could possibly be on mornings when she could barely hide her queasiness. After pouring so much time and effort into Falcon's recovery, she felt utterly drained and near tears as she slumped down on the windowseat.

  Falcon was angry with everyone who was conspiring to keep him in his bed, and that included Belle. It had been a week since he had had a fever, and while his aunt applied a fresh comfrey poultice each morning, he doubted he still needed them. He threw back the covers and wiggled his toes. Those on his right foot were as agile as those on his left, and it caused him only a slight twinge of pain.

  "I don't expect to get up and run," he exclaimed. "I just want to get out of this damn bed and stand a few minutes. How can that possibly be of any harm?"

  Belle had called her mother to answer that question, but obviously Falcon wasn't going to accept Arielle's opinion. She tried to recall if he had inquired about her health even once since arriving home, but he hadn't. She understood that being ill he was far from himself, but still, it pained her to have to listen to nothing but complaints when it was so difficult to keep her own spirits high.

  Wearily, she got to her feet. "I need to go out for a little bit," she called to him as she crossed the room. "I'll be back before time for your dinner."

  Astonished that Belle would abandon him with nothing to do, Falcon opened his mouth to object, but she swept out the door with an alarming haste and he was left to deal with his frustrations on his own. He had never enjoyed remaining seated for as long as reading required, so he did not have that habit. He did like to draw, but he did not feel

  like fiddling with it now. He supposed he could fashion arrows, but he would have to ask his father or Christian to fetch him some straight branches and feathers first. All he truly wanted was to get up, and nothing less would satisfy him. He wondered if his father would help him, or perhaps Christian.

  Then, too anxious to wait for the necessary assistance, he began to ease himself over. Just shifting his position hurt, but his leg had ached for so long he was used to it now. The problem was, he would have to scoot all the way across the bed to get out on the other side to put his left foot down first and shift his weight to his left leg. That took a great deal of effort. He could lift himself up off the bed with his arms, but moving his legs over was still a terrible chore.

  He was sweating profusely by the time he slid his left leg over the side of the bed. He was dressed in cotton drawers, which he did not usually wear under his buckskins, but they would at least keep him covered while he walked as far as he could. He took hold of the bedpost, turned slightly so his right leg remained resting on the bed, and gradually eased himself up on his left. He was shaky and slightly nauseous from just moving across the bed, but hanging onto the post gave him the sense of balance he needed to feel secure.

  His elation was brief, however; dizzy, he swayed slightly, then sat down, but he felt as though he had really accomplished something for the first time since he had been shot. He tried standing again, and when his left knee wobbled, he dared not swing his injured leg off the bed, but instead sat down and gave up the effort to walk for the day. It was enough to know he could stand, if not without strain on his good leg. He moved back into the middle of the bed and worn out, lay down to take a nap.

  Belle returned with a bouquet of chrysanthemums, and after a respite from the strain of caring for him, she was

  in a more optimistic mood. Falcon watched her adjust the flowers in the crystal vase and then patted the bed to encourage her to come and sit down beside him. When she joined him he took her hand.

  "We've been awfully good," he told her.

  "About what?"

  Falcon regarded her charming innocence with a sly grin. "About sleeping in our own rooms. I'm stuck here, but I want you to come back after everyone's gone to sleep and spend the night here with me."

  Belle had waited in vain for him to set a wedding date, and when he knew she did not like fooling her parents, she could not understand why he was so reticent to make her his wife. Uncertain what to say, she looked away. "I'd rather not."

  "Belle!" Falcon cried. "Don't you miss me as badly as I miss you?"

  "Miss you? I'm with you every minute of the day, Falcon."

  Falcon lowered his voice to a seductive whisper. "You know what I mean. I miss being with you, Belle. I can make love to you without tearing up my leg." He tilted his head back against the headboard and looked utterly forlorn. "God. Don't make me beg you to stay with me."

  Belle could not refuse that plaintive plea and squeezed his hand. "All right, but please don't expect me to sleep with you every night."

  "You belong with me, Belle, not upstairs alone."

  Belle met his defiant gaze with forced calm, but no more willing to beg than he was, she refused to insist upon
a wedding as a condition for joining him. She left to fetch his dinner, but was a distracted companion the rest of the day. When she bade him good night that evening, she spent some time with her parents in the parlor, then looked in on Dominique, who was compiling a list of every male caller she had ever had.

  "Whatever possessed you to begin such a project?" Belle asked. "I thought you found keeping diaries too tedious."

  Dominique was seated at her desk sorting through mementos she had kept over the years. There were faded party invitations, and cards with sweet messages that had been enclosed with gifts. "Yes. I'm afraid I do—that's why the years are such a blur in my mind. Williamsburg was so much fun before the war, and I should have kept a better record of all the fabulous parties. Now all I have are a few frayed ribbons and notes from men whose faces I can't recall. It's terribly sad, don't you think?"

  Belle looped her arm around a bedpost and sat down at the foot of the bed. "I'm sure you remember all the really important things."

  Dominique picked up a handful of cards and let them slip slowly through her fingers. "That's just it, Belle. I can remember fittings for lovely gowns and attending some truly fabulous parties, but none of it seems important now. We make bayberry candles every year and their scent is delicious, but after they burn down, they're gone. Parties are no more substantial than pretty candles."

  Now Belle understood her sister's concern. "You're looking for something that will last. Mother believes you have a talent for healing. That's a remarkable gift."

  Dominique shrugged. "I'm no better at it than you."