There was a tightening in Dakota's chest, and he could feel Breanna's unhappiness. He had never considered that his bride might be as much against the marriage as he had been.
"You did not wish to be married to a stranger?"
"It's not even that . . . it's . . . it's, that he was raised by Indians, and I am frightened of him. I think he must be uncivilized and I don't even know if he can speak English. I have a horror that he will eat with his fingers and have no social graces. I am afraid he will hurt me."
Dakota's jaw clamped tightly together. "Why should you think him uncivilized?"
"Are the Indians not savages?" She lowered her eyes to avoid his brilliant gaze. "I should not have confided in you, but it seemed so easy since we are strangers and I shall never see you again. No one seems to understand my fears. I suppose I am foolish, but I always thought I would marry a man who . . . who . . ."
"A man who is your peer?"
"Yes, and a man who—"
"Whom you can love?"
Her eyes glistened because of her embarrassment. "I know it sounds fanciful, but yes."
Dakota's eyes flamed. "What will you do when your husband arrives?"
"I don't know. I have considered running away, but I have given my word that I shall honor this marriage. I have never gone back on my word."
"So, you will submit to this man out of duty?" Dakota asked with interest.
Fear clouded her eyes. "I cannot allow myself to think about that. I pray that someone will come to my rescue and spirit me away before my . . . husband arrives." She looked embarrassed. "But of course, that is a childish dream. When my husband comes, I will do what is expected of me."
"A moment ago, you said you had given your word that you would honor this marriage. What do you mean?"
Breanna knew she was revealing too much to this stranger, but it somehow comforted her to tell someone about her problems. "It's not actually my word that was given. You see, my brother, Fielding, was deeply in debt. He is a gambler, and he lost all the family fortune." She blushed and ducked her head. "I cannot believe I am telling a complete stranger such intimate details about my life." She smiled. "I suppose the solitary existence I have been living has unhinged my mind."
He raised her chin. "I want to know what your brother's gambling had to do with your marriage to the American."
"Fielding and the Marquess of Weatherford made an agreement, that I was to marry his grandson and he would pay Fielding's debts and give him additional money to live on."
"Why did you not protest?"
"You said you are not accustomed to English traditions. In this country, a girl cannot always choose whom she will marry. Often that decision is made for her."
"That is not a good custom"
"No, but I am bound by it."
"So you wait for the man who is your husband?"
"Yes, I wait for him, and I dread the time when he actually arrives." Breanna finally realized she had said too much. "I should not have told you about my situation. I pray you will forget all I have said. Please, if you are going in the direction of Weatherford Hall, would you send someone for me," she said, dismissing him.
"That will not be necessary."
Before she could protest, he scooped her into his arms and carried her back up the hill. When he reached his horse, he hooked his boot in the stirrup and mounted with Breanna in his arms. "I will take you home," he said, pulling her securely against his body so her head fit against his shoulder. He felt her stiffen, and he smiled down at her with tenderness. "Rest easy, I will see you safely home."
Breanna had never been this close to a man before. She knew she should insist that he put her down, but she didn't want to. She felt safe for the first time in many years. Her eyes moved up to his face. There was something about him that was different from other men. It was . . . it was as if he was from another time, a time when knights roamed the land slaying dragons and rescuing young maidens. Yet there was something almost primitive about him, as if he was uncomfortable with the role of gentleman.
She raised her eyes and found him looking at her. With a maidenly blush, she turned her face into the rough material of his coat. She became conscious of the strong arms that encircled her waist, and she was very aware of him as a man. She wondered what he would be like if he loved a woman. Perhaps he even had a wife, she thought, and then pushed that thought aside.
Closing her eyes, Breanna listened to the drumming of his heart against her ear. What was the matter with her? she wondered. Why was she feeling so strange? She had certainly not been herself since the bump on her head.
"Are you comfortable?" he inquired in a deep voice that seemed to vibrate through her whole body.
"Yes. Are you married?" The words seemed to have come out of their own accord, and she blushed at her daring.
He smiled slightly. "Yes, I am."
To hide her embarrassment, she quickly stated. "I hope your wife will not mind that I have confided in you, but you have been so understanding."
"I am not sure how my wife will react," he admitted ruefully.
"What is your wife like?"
He was reflective. "She is lovely." He was thoughtful again. "I suspect she can be obstinate at times, and probably has a temper," he said, eyeing the red highlights in Breanna's hair. "Beyond that, I cannot say what she is like. Does any man ever truly know a woman?"
Breanna felt the pain of disappointment as he spoke so lovingly of his wife. Why should she care that this man was married? He was a stranger to her. Besides, she was a married woman and had no right to be having such unsettling feelings about any man other than her husband.
She stared at his sun-browned hand as he easily controlled the horse. They were strong hands, sensitive, yet masterful. Did he control his wife with the same strength with which he controlled his horse? she wondered, and then blushed, hoping he could not imagine her thoughts.
Breanna saw that they were nearing Weatherford Hall, and she sat up. "Please let me down here, and I will walk the rest of the way. I do not want to have to answer a lot of needless questions."
"Are you sure you feel well enough to walk? I would not mind taking you right up to the house."
"No, that would cause me to have to answer too many questions. I feel fine now. Please, let me down."
Gently Dakota set Breanna on her feet and gave her a warm smile. Before she could thank him for his kindness, he nudged his mount forward and rode away.
She stared after him, wondering if their paths would ever cross again. She was sorry she hadn't even asked his name.
Now she was feeling even more alone than before, and she had the sensation that her only friend was riding out of her life forever.
11
Slipping in the side door, Breanna went directly to her room, where she found Etta anxiously awaiting her return.
"My lady, we was frightened half out of our wits, fearing you was injured. Were you hurt? Do you want me to send for the doctor?"
"Don't fuss, Etta. I just want to lie down for a while and be left alone. If you really want to be helpful, bring a cool cloth for my head."
"But, my lady, don't you know his lordship, your husband, has arrived?" Etta questioned in an excited voice.
Breanna was peeling off her glove and she tensed; every nerve in her body seemed to throb with fear. "He's here?"
"Yes, my lady. Everyone is so curious about him, but we have yet to catch a glimpse of him. "
Breanna stared at the streak of light, from the dying sun, that filtered between the draperies. So, that which she had been dreading had come to pass. She felt numb until she realized what this could mean for her, and then she felt pure panic. She tossed her gloves on the dressing table and spoke to Etta.
"Prepare my bath and lay out my orchid gown," she said, knowing she needed to look her best to build up her confidence and control her fear. Her first instinct was to flee, to get away from the man whose very presence struck terror in her heart!
***
> The candles burned low in the wall sconce as Breanna descended the stairs. At the bottom of the long winding staircase, she gripped the railing, then forced one foot in front of the other. She had been informed by Etta that her husband and two other men awaited her pleasure in the formal sitting room. Closing her eyes, she tried not to form a mental picture of her husband, knowing her imagination had caused her terror on numerous occasions.
Her footsteps lagged as she approached the open door. Drawing in a deep breath, she called upon all her courage to face what she must.
As Breanna crossed the room, she saw three gentlemen standing near the fireplace. On hearing her, they all turned in her direction.
Breanna glanced first at the older man with white hair, who looked strangely out of place and uncomfortable in his black suit. She dismissed him, knowing he was not young enough to be her husband.
Next her eyes went to the man with light brown hair. His soft blue eyes held a wealth of warmth as he smiled at her. Suddenly she was flooded with relief—all this time she had been expecting her husband to look like an Indian, and of course he wouldn't, since he was English.
"Lord Remington," she said, dipping into a quick curtsy.
John laughed and shook his head. "I am indeed sorry that I am not he, my lady. I am John Donegal, your husband's cousin. This gentleman," he said, indicating the hunter, "is Levi Gunther, and this," he said, indicating the man who stood to his left, "is your husband."
Breanna nodded politely to the old hunter before her eyes moved reluctantly to the man who stood in the shadows. Her heart stopped beating as he stepped forward and she felt the room spinning. Dear Lord, it was the same man who had aided her after her fall this afternoon! She shook her head to clear it, her muddled mind not accepting that this man she had been attracted to was her husband.
Dakota had watched Breanna advance across the room, knowing the dread she was feeling. When she drew near, he could hear the whisper of her silk gown. He gloried in the way the candlelight played on her red-gold hair. It was difficult for him to comprehend that this exquisite creature belonged to him. Now, seeing her confusion, he was sorry that he hadn't confessed to her earlier that he was her husband.
In a graceful movement that showed her long arched neck, Breanna dipped in a curtsy. "My lord, I believe we met this afternoon, although you failed to properly introduce yourself."
He took her hand, holding it in a firm clasp, not missing the proud tilt of her head. "I feared the shock would be too great for you in your condition. As you began to tell me about your husband's shortcomings, I did not think it wise to interrupt you. You did not seem inclined to meet . . . what did you call your husband? A . . . what?"
Her golden eyes sparkled with anger. "I believe I referred to you as a savage, my lord."
John chuckled, and Levi turned away to hide his smile.
"Don't let my cousin bait you, my lady," John said with humor. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, and I look forward to being of service to you."
Breanna was angry and tried to control the urge to walk out of the room. How could she be expected to make polite conversation when what she really wanted to do was strike out at the man whom she believed had humiliated her? How dare his lordship play such an unchivalrous trick on her!
Dakota watched Breanna, realizing what she was feeling. He wished he had the words to make Breanna smile and forget their first meeting. Inside he was tied up in knots, knowing he had deceived her.
At that moment, dinner was announced, and John offered Breanna his arm. "I claim the right to escort my new cousin to dinner."
Dakota felt a pang of jealousy, an emotion new to him, and one that he did not welcome. This was his wife, his woman.
Over dinner, John did most of the talking. Several times Breanna would feel Dakota's probing glance and look up to catch him watching her.
Once, Dakota spread his napkin on his lap and picked up his fork. Through lowered lashes, his eyes challenged Breanna to remember their conversation earlier in the afternoon.
Breanna's face flushed, and she felt the sting of embarrassment as she remembered telling him that her husband would probably eat with his fingers. With deep humiliation, she lowered her head, wishing the earth would open and swallow her.
Somehow she managed to get through dinner, but she didn't taste the food. After the dessert had been served, they all adjourned to the sitting room, and Breanna sat in the chair nearest the fire, her hands folded demurely in her lap. She knew the situation would have been awkward had not John Donegal kept the conversation flowing. As it was, she could not bring herself to meet her husband's eyes.
"Why is it that I never met you in London, Lady Breanna?" John inquired. "Surely you had a London season?"
"No, I had never been in London until the Marquess sent for me." Her eyes finally met Dakota's. "How is your grandfather's health, my lord?"
"He is in ill health."
Tension was thick in the room.
"Well," John said, nudging Levi. "It's been a long day for me. I believe I'll take my leave of you. How about you, Levi?"
"Yep. It has been a long day." Levi stood up and stretched his arms over his head. "Be seeing you tomorrow, Mrs. Remington—er, my lady."
Breanna helplessly watched the two men depart, feeling trapped. She turned frightened eyes to her husband, wondering what he would expect of her now that they were alone.
Her anger came to her rescue. "I am not happy with you, my lord. How could you take advantage of me and encourage my confidences this afternoon? It was not a chivalrous action."
"My lady, at first my intention was not to deceive you. I was concerned about your fall. I admit I took unfair advantage of you since I knew who you were and you had no knowledge of my identity. Will you forgive me?"
"Well, I . . . yes, I suppose."
Dakota stood up slowly and moved to the fireplace, where he towered above Breanna. Resting his arm on the mantel, he glanced down at her. "You need have no fear of me. I have never harmed a woman, nor is that my intention with you."
"I . . . what do you expect of me?" she had the courage to ask.
"I don't know. Like you, this marriage was thrust upon me. We are strangers that just happen to be tied together by the whim of a desperate old man."
"Yes," she agreed, still not trusting him.
He searched her face. "Forgive me for not asking sooner, but do you suffer from your fall today?"
"No, my head hurts only when I touch it." She watched him move to the chair across from her and sit down. As she had earlier in the day, when he held her on the horse in front of him, Breanna felt drawn to this man in some mysterious way. He was nothing like the man she had expected.
"I don't know what to say to you . . . Breanna." He looked at her questioningly. "May I call you Breanna?"
"Of course, you have that right."
His green eyes were almost hypnotic, and Breanna felt herself being drawn even closer to him. "You are my husband," she reminded him.
He toyed with the cuff of his shirt. "I don't feel like your husband, Breanna. After our conversation this afternoon, I realized that you were frightened of me." His eyes flashed. "I also recall you said some very unflattering things about me."
She sat forward, now on the defensive. "That was your own fault, my lord. You should have announced who you were. You took unfair advantage of me and deserved what you heard" she said with spirit.
He smiled slightly. "I assume you were pleased to discover I know how to eat with a fork"
"You are not a gentleman, or you would not remind me of that."
His eyes darkened. "You may as well know this from the start, Breanna, I am not like the gentlemen of your acquaintance. If you strip off this fancy wearing apparel, you will find a man who would fit your description of a savage. I make no apologies for what I am. But I do understand your reluctance to this marriage. Like you, I had little say in the matter."
Breanna was still suspicious of him. "Th
is afternoon, when you told me you were married, you said your wife probably had a temper. Would you mind explaining that?" she asked defiantly.
He smiled. "I was referring to the fire in your hair, and I thought you might have a temper to match. It was said in jest."
"I warn you, I do have a temper. And I do not take kindly to a jest when it is aimed at me."
He resumed a serious expression, while controlling the twitch of his lips. "I shall certainly bear that in mind for future reference."
She sighed heavily. "Your grandfather has us both trapped in a situation over which we have no control. What shall we do?"
"For the moment, nothing. I have many things to learn and many other responsibilities to assume. Perhaps you and I could start off by becoming friends, Breanna."
She could hardly believe her ears. "Do you mean that we . . . that you and I . . ."
"Yes, you and I shall sleep apart. I would find no joy in taking a frightened woman to my bed, and even less pleasure in knowing she was forced to be there."
Relief washed over her. "My lord, I believe that is a very sensible solution."
His lip curled. "Would you say it was a civilized decision?"
"Please, my lord, do not remind me of my uncharitable remarks this afternoon. They were made out of fear."
He stood up, took her hand, and assisted her to her feet. "You have had a disturbing and emotional day, Breanna. I suggest you go to bed and get a good night's sleep"
She felt her hand tremble in his. Suddenly she wondered if he found her unattractive. Was that why he didn't wish to share her bed?
"Yes, my lord," she murmured, freeing her hand and making a hasty retreat. What was the matter with her? She should be happy that he had given her a period of grace—but she wasn't —she definitely was not. The troubling emotion she felt was one of being rejected!
Dakota watched Breanna move gracefully across the room. The sweet haunting aroma of some strange perfume lingered, and he could still feel the softness of her skin. He realized how far apart they were. They should have been born into the same environment, but circumstances had placed them an ocean apart. He couldn't analyze his feelings, but the thought of her sent his head reeling and sent a trembling thrill through his body. In giving her time to adjust to him as her husband, he was also allowing himself time to discover what she expected of him.
Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) Page 11