A floorboard creaked in the hallway, and she leaped out of bed and moved quickly into a shadow, her heart pounding, her breathing labored. Someone was definitely in the house with her and was taking pains not to awaken her.
Reaching forward in the dark, she felt around on the dressing table until her fingers closed around her hairbrush. Drawing on all her courage, she stood motionless, waiting for the intruder to show himself. The door opened a crack, and she saw the shadowy form of a man move into the room and stand over her bed.
Breanna flew at the man and was quickly caught in a viselike grip and flung over his head, landing on the bed. She quickly rolled over and came to her knees, ready to do battle with the intruder.
Dakota grabbed her wrist and brought Breanna forward against his body. He felt her tense body relax when she saw it was him. Prying the hairbrush from her fingers, he tossed it on the bed. "How did you plan to defend yourself with a hairbrush, Breanna?" he asked with an amused smile.
Now that her fear had ebbed, a feeling of irritation took its place. "Why did you come sneaking up on me? What did you expect me to do . . . run?"
"Running would have been far wiser than staying to take on an intruder with such a flimsy weapon. What I expected of you was that you be at Weatherford Hall. When Levi told me that you had disobeyed my orders, I came here to find out why."
He could see her face clearly now, and he watched the red-golden curtain of hair swirl around her face.
"I wasn't aware that you had issued a command, Dakota. Don't expect me to behave like one of your Indian women and obey all your orders unquestioningly."
"If you were an Indian woman, then there would be no question that you would do as I said."
Dakota had never spoken to Breanna in such a sharp tone, and her lips trembled. "How fortunate for me that I am English. You can just leave, because I don't want you here if you are going to be like this."
She held herself rigid as he pulled her into his arms. "Don't send me away, Breanna. I would much rather spend what remains of the night here with you." She could feel him shake with laughter. "Besides, I may need you to protect me with your hairbrush."
Breanna tried to remember that she was incensed with Dakota, but his warm breath stirring her hair made her forget everything but his presence.
"Say I can remain with you," he whispered in a deep voice.
Her arms went around his neck, and she nestled her cheek to his. "Please stay," she answered. "I don't want you to leave."
Before she could say more, his mouth came down on hers. Like a spear, his tongue darted between her lips, probing and arousing her deepest feelings.
He laid her back on the bed and joined her there. While his mouth ravaged hers, his hands grew bolder in their quest.
Pleasurable feelings took over Breanna's reasoning when she felt him quickly dispose of his clothing.
With a tug, Dakota moved her nightgown up over her head and tossed it onto the floor with his own clothing. Shyly she went into his opened arms and he crushed her to him.
"Breanna, Breanna," he breathed in her ear. "You are in my blood, and I need you."
Like a delicate rosebud, she opened herself to him, and he again took her on a voyage of sensuous feelings. Time and time again, he took her body to the brink of Surrender, until at last she lay exhausted in his arms, her heart pounding in her ears.
Clasping her hand in his, Dakota raised it to his lips and kissed each finger. "It gets better every time I am with you, Breanna. I can hardly wait to discover some new joy with you."
She nestled her face against his neck, feeling sleepy and fulfilled, and warmed by his beautiful words. With a soft yawn, she sighed contentedly and felt herself drifting off to sleep.
Long after Breanna had fallen asleep, Dakota lay awake, holding her and staring into the night. Some of the confusion he had felt when he first came to England had dissipated, but he was still confused about his fiery-haired wife. Yes, he had drawn an answering fire from her body when he had made love to her, but then he knew what women liked, and she was such an innocent.
A pang of guilt settled on his shoulders as he tried to recall Running Deer's features. All he could remember was a pair of soft brown eyes and a ready laugh. He thought of Rye Saffron and how she had somehow reminded him of Running Deer.
Glancing down at Breanna, Dakota stared at the dark lashes resting against her pale cheek. He pressed his lips against her cheek, knowing the ache in his heart was caused by his need for this woman. She was life to him. She was his world. He wondered if he would ever reach her heart.
Dakota knew he faced danger tomorrow when the clash between the two neighboring villages came to a head. Before, he had never thought of the dangers of battle. But now, he had so much to live for.
19
When Breanna awoke the next morning, Dakota was not beside her. The only evidence of his presence the night before was the impression his head had made in the pillow. She touched her lips and smiled. How wonderful it was to be his wife.
While Breanna fastened her gown up the front, she hummed a happy tune. But the song froze on her lips when she remembered that there might be a confrontation between Dakota and the Earl of Saffron today.
She dashed to the window and saw that a heavy fog had rolled in from the ocean, blanketing the land in its misty darkness. Breanna breathed a sigh of relief. Surely there would be no conflict on a day such as this. As the gray mass swirled toward land, she had the feeling she was being swallowed up in its depth. Tears hovered just behind her eyes, although she could not have said why.
***
Dakota moved up the stairs at Weatherford Hall, calling to John. When his startled cousin came out of his bedroom into the hallway, he looked at Dakota questioning.
"John, how much authority do I have to settle disputes concerning Weatherford Village and the village at Saffron?"
John was reflective for a moment. "Unlimited power” he said with assurance. "Your grandfather doesn't concern himself with what goes on here."
"That's what I wanted to hear."
Before John could ask what Dakota was talking about, his cousin had moved quickly down the stairs and disappeared out the front door. John shrugged his shoulders and went back to bed, thinking Dakota must want to thatch another tenant's roof.
***
With a curl to his lips, the Earl of Saffron read the note the messenger had just delivered to him from the Viscount of Remington. Crushing it in his hand, he swore aloud.
"Damn that young upstart. If he thinks he can intimidate me, he is mistaken. I will not be harassed by him. For generations the Saffrons have lived in the shadow of the great Remingtons of Weatherford Hall. It felt good to take their villagers and bend them to my will. I will not lose the advantage I have over them just because Lord Dakota Remington threatens me."
Lady Rye Saffron glanced up from her letter writing. "Whatever are you talking about, Martin? What does the note say?"
"It says, my dear sister, that he, the Viscount of Remington, will be fishing the waters that we have claimed as our own. He hints that if I don't like it, I will know where to find him."
Her laughter was mocking. "Your nose is out of joint because Dakota Remington is her son. It still pains you that Holden Remington took the lovely Cilia from you, doesn't it?"
"Little you know about it. You weren't even born when they were married."
She smiled maliciously. "Do you think his lordship is aware that the feud you have perpetrated over the years is your small-minded way of getting even with the Remingtons because Holden Remington married the woman you fancied for your wife?"
Martin's dark eyes narrowed. He picked up a whip from the end table and slapped the pearl handle across his palm. "It doesn't matter. I will make sure the son knows I detest his father before I squeeze the life out of him. It's a pity death claimed Holden Remington before I could avenge our honor."
"Our honor?" Rye questioned. "As you pointed out, I was not even bo
rn when Holden Remington whisked your lady love away, so my honor is not involved."
"You have enjoyed the benefits we have reaped from dominating the fishing trade in this area," her brother reminded her.
She glanced down at her three-year-old gown. "Not so you would notice, Martin. We barely have money to keep this house up, let alone keep clothing on our backs." Her eyes narrowed. "That's what really bothers you, isn't it? You live next door to wealth beyond anything you can imagine, and it galls you that we are in the thralls of poverty."
Martin had been so deep in thought that he had not heard his sister's goading. "I will bring this young pup to his knees and make him crawl in the dust. Before Fm done, he will beg me to kill him just to put him out of his agony."
Rye laughed bitterly. "You should watch out, brother. It may be he that gains the advantage over you." She tormented him further. "You have told me repeatedly that the lovely Cilia had green eyes. Can it be that the young Remington reminds you of her . . . hmm?"
Martin's eyes flashed angrily. "Don't provoke me, Rye. If anything happens to me, you will surely find yourself out in the street."
"Why not allow the feud to die? I would like to get to know Dakota Remington better."
"And his wife?" Martin asked acidly.
"A wife has never stood in my way before. I doubt if this one would either. I have heard this marriage was arranged by the old Marquess, so I doubt it is a love match."
Martin's eyes became secretive. "If I cannot gain the advantage today, perhaps you are the lovely tool I will use to bring Cillia's son to his knees."
"No one uses me, brother dear. If I decide to go after the Viscount of Remington, it won't be because of some old grudge you carry against his mother and father." Her eyes sparkled with fire. "No, I will go after him because he's a man." She turned her eyes on her brother. "A real man, Martin. Not one who is eaten up with bitterness and revenge."
"Don't get too interested in him, Rye. He may not be around too long."
"You play your game, Martin, and 111 play mine. We'll see who gets what they want."
Martin laughed. "It was obvious that you were panting after him, but as I saw it, he didn't appear all that interested in you."
Rye's eyes glowed with an inner light. "We shall see... we shall indeed see."
***
Dakota climbed into a small boat, knowing the gauntlet had been thrown down and he now had to wait for the Earl of Saffron to pick it up. The trap had been baited and all was in readiness.
Dakota had instructed his men on what they were to do. By now, he knew they were ready to board their boats, waiting to launch an attack as soon as the signal was given.
With the dependable Levi leading the; fishermen, Dakota knew he had left nothing to chance.
Alone, Dakota rowed the fishing boat away from the shore. The small craft rocked back and forth with each restless wave that splashed against it. Dakota had stripped down to his breechcloth, knowing he would be swimming under water and his clothes would only hamper him.
The pale yellow brightness of the sun gave off an unearthly glow as Dakota settled down to wait for his adversary.
Will Simonton had given him an ancient horn that had been left behind by some fair-haired Viking marauders in some long ago, bygone raid. When Dakota blew on the horn, it would be the signal for Levi and the others to spring into action.
Moments hung in the air with timeless insignificance. Dakota found himself counting the number of waves that slapped against his small craft. That the foe would come, he had little doubt. He had nerves of iron and was willing to patiently wait for his challenge to be met.
Dakota's keen hearing picked up the sound of muffled oars slapping against the water. The fog had lifted somewhat, and he could see ten feet in every direction. He waited, biding his time until the sound came closer, then he raised the horn and gave a mighty blast.
Tossing the fishing nets overboard, Dakota waited for the boats to come into view. Like phantom ships, they came out of the fog. First one, two, six, eleven he counted, and each manned by six men.
He smiled and waved to them as if he were greeting old friends. "The fishing's good this afternoon. I suspect the fog has brought the fish to the surface."
Dakota glanced past each man until he eyes locked with the Earl's. Martin Saffron's face was murderous, and Dakota wondered how a man with his responsibilities allowed himself to be caught up in this pathetic, vindictive squabble.
"Why don't you all join me, Lord Saffron?" Dakota baited. "It's lonesome out here all alone —I could use the company."
"Don't play games with me, Remington. We both know that I am here at your invitation" the Earl shouted.
"It's not too late to talk about this like gentlemen," Dakota answered, stalling for time. He knew it was only moments away from a confrontation. He glanced just behind the Earl's boat and saw Levi's head bob up out of the water. Dakota smiled to himself, knowing his lordship was about to take a swim.
Dakota had chosen the strongest swimmers from his village to lead the attack. He watched them swimming near the foe, knowing the moments the boats were overturned, pandemonium would break out.
When the first boat was overturned, Dakota dove under the water. Bullets were whizzing all about him as he surfaced near the Earl's boat and watched the man splash into the water when Levi tipped his boat over.
Yells and screams could be heard as boat after boat met the same fate. When all the Earl's men were in the water, Dakota saw that many of them couldn't swim. His men had been instructed to help those that could not swim, because he did not want one single life lost here today.
Dakota swam to where he had seen the Earl of Saffron fall into the water. The Earl cursed loudly, and then the man called out in a frightened voice, "I can't swim. Help me!" He went under, sputtering and cursing.
Dakota dove under the water and dragged the submerged man to the surface. Martin was fighting to catch his breath and flailing his arms, dragging Dakota under with him. With superior strength, Dakota pulled the man to the surface. Trying to avoid the man's thrashing arms, Dakota delivered a hard punch to the frantic man's jaw. He was grateful when the Earl fell unconscious, making the rescue far less hazardous for them both.
"Destroy all enemy boats save one," Dakota called to Levi. "Find the Annie, and bring her to shore undamaged."
As luck would have it, by the time Dakota reached shore with the unconscious Earl, the fog had completely lifted, and it was easy to see the chaos that was taking place.
As his men dragged the half-drowned men from Saffron Village onto shore, Dakota stood up and called out to. them.
"Listen and hear me, men of Saffron. We could have allowed all of you to drown today, but that is not our way. Know in your hearts that if any of you ever trespasses on our fishing waters again, we will not be so lenient. Take warning, and stay in your own waters."
Dakota turned to one of the Earl's men and pointed to Martin Saffron, who was still unconscious. "Take your lord home, and when he regains consciousness, give him this message. Tell him that I will no longer tolerate his aggressive attitudes. Leave my villagers in peace, and we'll leave you alone."
"What about our boats?" one of the younger fishermen of Saffron asked.
"Count them as the losses of war, because they have all been destroyed. My men agreed that it was far better to destroy your boats than to take your lives." He glanced around him. "Are all you men of Saffron accounted for?"
The youth who had asked about the boats took a quick count and nodded. "We are."
"Then go home, and remember this day as long as you live. Tell your children and your grandchildren that the fishermen from Weatherford counted coup on you today."
"What is that?" the youth asked.
Dakota smiled. "Counting coup is an American Indian war game where the bravest prove themselves worthy by touching, and not slaying, their enemies."
The men from Saffron stared with respect at the near-naked Vis
count of Remington, counting themselves fortunate that they still lived. The coldness in Lord Remington's green eyes clearly told them that they could very easily have lost their lives today.
It was a pathetic group of men that gathered up their conquered lord and moved in the direction of their village. Defeat was written on their faces, but they had learned a valuable lesson that day. None of them were anxious to meet this young Viscount in the heat of battle.
A shout went up from Dakota's men, and soon the women and children joined the victors.
Dakota watched the enemy move away, knowing they had suffered a defeat that would take them years to recover from. There was no joy in his heart at the victory, only sadness that men, whether white or Indian, should prey upon their brothers.
Dakota was quickly surrounded with happy villagers, whose faces gleamed with pride.
"Your lordship did it! You showed them what for," Hubert Clowes called out.
"Yes, we showed them," Dakota agreed, "because we stood together. I don't think you will have trouble from those fishermen for a long time to come."
Shouts went up as the villagers cheered their lord.
Dakota smiled as he watched Will Simonton lovingly trace the name of the Annie with a bony finger. The smile of gratitude and respect the old fisherman bestowed upon Dakota said more than mere words.
There was deference mixed with admiration on all the men's faces.
Dakota moved among them, accepting a clap on the back, a handshake, and nods from those who were too shy to come forward. He held up his hand, asking for silence because he felt there was more to be said.
"The time for grievances is past. Put your bitterness behind you, and resurrect your pride in your fishing trade. Do not harshly chastise your neighbors from Saffron, because by winning today, you can afford to be generous toward them."
Like children, the villagers listened to the young Viscount's words, finding them just and merciful. In silence, they watched Dakota mount his horse and ride away beside his friend, Levi.
For many generations to come, the villagers and their descendants would talk of this day's victory and of the young lord who led them in their fight.
Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) Page 18