Tender savage

by Conn, Phoebe

  "You kept them?" Viper was surprised Mark had allowed it.

  Erica nodded, as engulfed in pain she could no longer find her voice, except to scream. The sound echoed in her mind with an eerie howl, like the wind blowing off the sea, and she felt herself slipping ever closer to the brink of an endless void in the most horrifying premonition of death

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  imaginable. Terrified, she couldn't catch her breath as every muscle in her body seemed to be straining to force the babe from her body. The pain tore through her in blinding waves, pressing her down upon the bed with the enormous weight of the secrets she had kef>t for so many months. The water surrounding the babe had been warm, but what she felt now was the stickiness of blood. In her mind she saw a horrifying vision of her body being ripjjed apart by the daws of a thousand demons, and when her son gave his first frail cry she feared it was her own dying gasp, and able to stand no more, she fainted.

  Not even the horror of facing execution had been as hard on Viper as having to watch Erica suffer so badly when he had neither the medicines nor the skills to ease her pain. He now understood why men did not tend their women during childbirth, for what man would ever put his wife through this agony twice? He had seen newborn infants only after they had been bathed and made ready to be

  Presented to their relatives. He had had no idea they were om all slippery with their mother's blood. It was all he could do not to vomit as the child slid into his hands, but he laid the boy on Erica's now hollow stomach and ran to get the string and scissors to cut the umbilical cord. He then wrappea the baby, who had still not ceased crying, in one towel, and the placenta in another, but Erica was still bleeding, and he feared if he couldn't stop it, she might soon bleed to death.

  That the baby seemed angry that his birth had been so arduous convinced Viper the child could be left with his unconscious mother long enough for him to call at the neighbor's house for help. He left the noisy little tyke snuggled in Erica's arms, pulled on the rest of his clothes, then dashed down the back stairs to summon aid. He had done all he could, but he would not allow Erica to die just because he did not know how to do more. He awoke the housekeeper of the closest home and implored her to send someone for the midwife, then raced all the way back to Erica's room.

  Nothing had changed in the minutes he had been ^one, and feeling as sorry for the whimpering infant as he did for his wife, he brought a pan of water to rinse him clean. He wanted Erica to be proud of her son when she saw him for

  the first time, and supporting the lad upon his left arm he splashed the water on him with his right hand. It was not until he had washed the boy's head thoroughly that he realized his hair wasn't simply dark with blood, but as black as his own. For a newbiorn, he had a thick thatch of hair, and it was as black as pitch. Wrapping the babe in a clean towel, Viper carried him back to the bed, but this time he held him in his arms rather than lay him beside Erica. Content to rest in his father's arms for the moment, the baby finally stopped crying and opened his bright gray eyes for his first Iook at the world.

  When Erica had begged his forgiveness, Vip)er had never imagined she could have been burdened with the guilt of a deception so monstrous as this must have caused. The sympathy he had felt for her suffering now vanished in a furious fit of temper. She had repeatedly tried to send him away. Had he gone, he knew without a doubt she would never have told him he had a son. Was so vile a lie her idea of love?

  Before Viper could confront Erica with her lies, the midwife arrived. Accompanied by two of her daughters, the buxom woman quickly banished him from Erica's bedroom, but he wouldn't let her touch his child. He took his son outside to the garden and sat down uix)n the grass with him cradled comfortably in his lap. Awaiting the coming dawn, Viper's handsome features were set in a dark scowl, for he could not wait to shake the truth out of the lying bitch he had once stupidly believed he would love for all eternity. She had made a mockery of his love, and that was a sin he would never forgive.

  It was Mark who came outside to find Viper. He had gotten dressed by himself and looked it. The buttons on his shirt were misaligned, the cuffs undone, his hair uncombed, his face unshaven, and he was barefoot. He was also crying as though his heart were broken.

  Shifting the sleeping child in his arms, the Indian brave rose to his feet and called out to the blind man as he approached him. He had intended to end his masquerade that very morning, but seeing that Mark certainly wasn't up to learning who he really was, he continued using the French accent everyone expected to hear when he spoke. "I am coming, monsieur. Wnat has happened to put you in such a state?"

  Mark continued to sob as he tried to explain. "Erica had the baby and I wasn't with her. I wanted to be with her. Now the midwife says she's worried about her, and she's sent for Dexter. What are we going to do if Erica dies, Etienne? Whatever will we do?" Mark tried to wipe his eyes on his shirtsleeves, but succeeded only in getting the garment sopping wet rather than drying his torrent of tears.

  "Who is Dexter?" Viper asked quickly.

  "A physician. He's a friend of Lars," Mark mumbled between loud gulps and sniffs.

  "Of course, I recall the name now." Once the midwife had arrived. Viper had ceased to worry over Erica,

  believing she was in capable hands. While he was not frightened to the point of tears, since he doubted Mark fully understood the situation, he was greatly disturbed to learn the delicate young woman wasn't making as normal a recovery from her orofeal as he had assumed she must be.

  "Let's go inside, monsieur. I have the baby right here with me. Find a place to sit down, and you may hold him. He's sleeping, so you must be quiet."

  "The baby? Oh no, I had forgotten all about him." Mark turned and hurried back through the french doors and took the first chair he came to in the dining room. Patting his knees, he held out his arms. "Give him to me. I wanted to name a girl for our mothers, to call her Eva Elizabeth, but I don't think we ever decided upon a name for a son. Does he look like me?"

  As Viper placed the small bundle containing the sleeping child in Mark's arms, the young man's face lit up with such radiant joy that the Indian could not bring himself to tell the truth. "It is difficult to say who a babe resembles when he is so small, monsieur, but yes, I think he does favor you."

  Afraid he might drop him, Mark held the baby boy very tightly. "Does he have all his fingers and toes? Is he perfect^" he asked excitedly.

  "He is a fine son," Viper assured him. "He will need a fine name."

  "Maybe Erica has thought of one." Then, recalling his wife was not doing well, Mark hugged the babe even more tightly, then asked Viper to take him again. "I must go back upstairs to Erica. If she calls for me I want to be there this time. Will you watch my son?"

  "I will do my best." Viper scooped the babe from Mark's arms, then stood aside to let him pass on his way upstairs. He had no idea what to do himself, since whether or not Erica called for him, he wasn't ready to see her. When William Dexter arrived, Viper opened the front door to let him in, but turned away so the man could get no glimpse of the black-haired child. Dexter was a tall man, quite thin, with dark curly hair. After mumbling a hasty "Good morning," he tossed his hat aside, and, eager to see his patient, he nearly sprinted up the stairs. Margaret, the younger of the midwife's daughters, had gone to fetch

  Dr. Dexter, and as soon as she stepped through the front door, she came to Viper's side.

  "I think I should take the babe up to his mother now. If she wakes, even for a moment, she will want to see him."

  "No, he will only be in the doctor's way. He will stay with me," Viper responded in so stem a tone that he knew she would not question his decision.

  Astonished that the man wanted the responsibility for the infant, Margaret realized she had no idea who he was. "Are you a relative, sir?"

  In spite of himself, Viper had to laugh at that question, but he did not reveal that he was related to the baby, if to no one else in the house. "I am Mr. Randal
l's manservant, mademoiselle, and he has placed the child in my care. Now don't you think you should go up and see if the doctor needs you?"

  Flattered that he would call her mademoiselle, as though she were a lady rather than no more than a servant like himself, Margaret blushed as she turned toward the stairs. "I will come for the baby later, then."

  "Yes, of course." Viper flashed a wide grin, as though he would readily relinquish the infant should she reappear. That was a trick he had learned from Percy: people were quick to trust a man who wore a smile. Viper knew as long as the boy slept they would get along fine together, but he did not know what he would do if the child awakened screaming in hunger. If Erica were too weak to nurse the infant, he supposed they would have to find another woman to feed his son, but he did not know how to go about looking for such a person or whether he should start.

  Anna Ferguson came through the back door a short while later. She put her things away, put on her apron, and lit the fire in the stove to heat some water for tea, thinking the day was no different from any other. When Viper strolled into the kitchen with his son in his arms, she squealed with glee.

  "Miss Erica has had the baby?" She liked Etienne, for he never complained when she asked him to run errands for her while Mark slept in the afternoons. She rushed to his side, and before he could object, she plucked the child from his arms. "Let me see the little angel," she exclaimed

  happily as she slid into a chair at the kitchen table. She placed the baby upon the table and unwrapped the towel that covered him.

  "Mrs. Ferguson—" Viper began, but before he could offer any explanation for the babe's coloring, she looked up at him with a gaze of such astonished disbelief that he knew he would have to tell the truth, and he would not insult her by using a phony accent while he did it. "Erica was my wife before she became Mark's," he stated simply. "The child is mine, but since Erica and I haven't decided what to do yet, please don't tell Mark the boy looks like me. He thinks the babe is his son."

  Anna had no idea what to say to such unexpected news, and rather than respond in any manner, she focused her attentions upon the naked tot in front of her. "We've made plenty of clothes for this child, and he ought to be wearing some, Mr. Bouchard." She wrapped the baby up again in the towel and held him pressea close to her bosom as she rose to her feet. "I will see to getting him dressed, and you needn't worry. I won't say a word to Mr. Randall until Miss Erica tells me her side of your preposterous story herself."

  "You don't believe me?" Viper inquired, hurt that she had gone so quickly from joyful to distant in her manner.

  "I have only to look at the babe to see you are telling the truth about being his father. It's how you could ever have been married to Miss Erica or what you're doing in this house that I don't understand. Poor Mr. Randall," she whispered sofdy, as an afterthought. "After all he's been through, and now this."

  While Viper would not argue that Mark had indeed been through a lot, so had he, and he thought he deserved as much sympathy as the blind man, if not more. Clearly he was not going to get it from Anna Ferguson, however. "Dr. Dexter is with Erica now. You ought to look in on them. She isn't doing well,"

  "What? Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" Still holding his son, the housekeeper rushed up the back stairs and hurried to Erica's room.

  When the tea kettle began to whistle. Viper pulled it off the fire, but he was in no mood to sip tea. He sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. He was

  still furious with Erica, but he didn't want her dead. He knew if she died, though, that he would have to take his baby and go before anyone realized that was what he was , bound to do and stopped him. He had enough experience with white men to know Lars would think his claim to his grandchild far outweighed an Indian's claim to his son.

  When Sarah arrived for her daily visit and found the Hanson home in a state of turmoil, she was upset that no one had had sense enough to send for her earlier that morning. Her brother was still beside himself with worry, and she did her best to comfort him, but he couldn't seem to accept Dr. Dexter's opinion that Erica was merely suffering from exhaustion and would recover her strength after a few days of rest.

  "Mark, listen to me," Sarah ordered sharply. "Erica is just tired. She'll sleep all day today and probably most of tomorrow, but she's not going to die. Please don't carry on so. Why don't we go into your room and get you dressed. Where is Etienne? Why didn't he help you dress this morning?"

  Horribly depressed about his wife's condition, Mark shook his head dejectedly. "Sarah, it doesn't matter how I look."

  "It most certainly doesi I'll not have you looking so neglected. I will shave you myself if Etienne can't be found to do it, but I'll not have you looking anything but your best on your son's birthday."

  That thought brought a wide grin to Mark's tear-streaked face. "Etienne says he looks just like me."

  "Wonderfull He'll be very handsome, then." Sarah gave her brother another enthusiastic hug and propelled him toward his room. "I can't wait to see him, but I insist we get you cleaned up before we begin admiring the baby, since that might take all afternoon."

  "Am I still handsome, Sarah?" Mark asked rather plaintively. "Even now?"

  His question brought a painful lump to her throat and tears to her eyes, but Sarah managed to respond. "Even though you are my brother, in my opinion there's not another man in Wilmington who is better looking than

  you are. Granted you are a mite too thin, but you are every bit as handsome as you ever were. You just sit down. I won't bother to look for Etienne. I used to shave Daddy when he was ill, so I know how to do it."

  "Wasn't that a long time ago?" Mark asked apprehensively. He raised his right hand to feel the stubble that covered his chin. "Maybe I should grow a beard."

  "Nonsense, you are far too handsome to hide that splendid face of yours behind a beard. Now don't worry, I won't nick you even once, I promise."

  When he heard her lathering up the shaving brush, Mark tried one last time to change her mind. "I think we better find Etienne."

  "Hush," Sarah scolded. She sharpened his razor with a few quick strokes upon the leather strop, and true to her word, gave him an expert shave. When she had Mark cleaned up and dressed as fashionably as he was usually attired, she took his arm. "Now where is the baby? Is the cradle in Erica's room?"

  His smile becoming a befuddled frown, Mark shrugged, "I don't kow if he's in the cradle or not. Mrs. Ferguson had him a while ago."

  "Well, he can't have gotten lost." Sarah peeked into Erica's bedroom where Margaret remained to watch over the new mother after her own mother, sister, and Dr. Dexter had left. The room was very quiet, and while the cherry wood cradle both she and her brother had used had been placed beside the bed, it was empty. "Where's the baby?" she whispered.

  "With the housekeeper, I think," Margaret replied softly.

  "Thank you." Sarah closed the door and led the way to the main staircase at the front of the house. "It is a terrible shame Erica is so worn out, but I'm certain she'll be her old self with a few days' rest."

  "I hope so," Mark agreed, but he was still not convinced Erica would recover her health that rapidly. "I couldn't go on living without her, Sarah, I just couldn't."

  "Mark, really, she'll be fine," Sarah assured him once again. "Now stop thinking such sad thoughts. What is your son's name? Did you and Erica choose one?"

  "I don't think so." Mark was certain he would have

  remembered something so important as a name for a son if they had selected one. "Do you have any suggestions?"

  "Not yet, but perhaps I will when I see the babe." Sarah had been delighted to learn her brother had a healthy and attractive child. Since she quite naturally expected the baby to be fair, she was no more prepared than Anna Ferguson had been when she saw him for the first time. The little tyke was in the kitchen, dressed in one of the white linen gowns Erica had made for him, and he was again snuggled in Viper's arms. He was wide awake,
sucking on his fist, and when Sarah leaned down to ^et a better look at him he looked up at her, his eyes as filled with curiosity as hers.

  Sarah looked from the gray-eyed babe to the man holding him, stunned at the realization that the striking resemblance between them could not possibly be a coincidence. She looked over to the housekeeper for help, but the woman merely shook her head, clearly as appalled as she was, and provided no help. Shocked clear to the marrow, Sarah had to reach for the back of one of the kitchen chairs to steady herself before she spoke. "The baby is adorable, Mark, just as I knew he would be. Do you want to sit down and hold him a while? I need to speak with Etienne privately fcM" a moment."

  Mark was too excited about having a son to care about what his sister wished to discuss wim his friend. "I'll be ri^t here." Groping for a chair, he sat down and waited for Etienne to put the baby in his arms. "I wish I could see him," he murmured wistfully.

  "He is every bit as handsome as you imagine him to be, Mark." Sarah leaned down to kiss her brother's cheek, then turned, and with a furious glare gestured for Viper to follow her into the suite of rooms at the front of the house that had served as Lars's office. All her life she had had others to look after her: first her parents, then her brother. She had been more than willing to allow Erica to assume that same role when Mark had been injured, but this was a matter she knew she would have to handle herself whether or not she had any experience in being independent. She dosed the door, and certain they would not be overheard, she demanded an explanation tor her nephew's astonishing appearance.

  "I can think of only one possible reason why that baby resembles you so closely, but if you have an opinion, I'd certainly like to hear it." Etienne had to be the Indian Mark had told her about, but even knowing that, Sarah found it impossible to believe a savage could have tricked them so thoroughly as this man had.