Sanders’s face was black with rage, but there was nothing he could do but leave. It was obvious that the men who stood around them now—all holding pitchforks, hatchets, and whips—did not intend any more searching to take place without legal permission. Until something was done by the federal government or the Georgia legislature, this was still Cherokee land. The Indians’ cleverness thus far in hanging onto it fed the fury in many a white Georgia citizen’s heart, and exacerbated the frustrating dilemma causing heated debates in Congress.
Sanders turned and mounted up, ordering the Meanses to do the same. “I’ll be back, Chandler!” the man warned.
“It would be useless,” Jonas replied. “But perhaps you and yours could come for Sunday dinner sometime. By the way, did you plant any of those peanuts I gave you? They’re quite tasty, you know.”
Sanders looked as though he might pass out from rage. “You…Cherokee slime!” he hissed. “That heathen son of yours had better stay away from my daughter, or—”
“Or what, Mr. Sanders? Even if you can legally come and take our land, there is no law against a marriage between a white and a Cherokee, not if both are consenting adults. There would be nothing you could do about it. However, it matters little in this case. The girl is simply not here, and my son long ago lost his interest in her. He is promised now to a Cherokee girl.”
Sanders breathed deeply, striving for control. Chandler seemed to be telling the truth, but where else could Andrea have gone? “Someday all this land will be mine, Jonas Chandler,” he growled. “You’ll see!”
“At the moment I would be more concerned with finding my daughter, Mr. Sanders. She has apparently run away from you, perhaps headed north, perhaps farther south. It seems she does not want to see you again. Perhaps you should just let it be. She is grown and apparently well educated now. You can no longer stop her from whatever it is she wants. But if you are intent on finding her, then you had better concentrate on other places. She is not here in New Echota.”
Sanders whirled his horse. “Come on,” he ordered Douglas and Wilson Means. Wilson turned his horse to follow, but Douglas stared at Jonas Chandler a while longer.
“Andrea Sanders was mine,” he glowered. “We were going to get married. Someday I’ll kill Adam Chandler for making a slut out of her!” He whirled his horse then and rode off, and Jonas breathed a sigh of relief. He waved his thanks to the men who had come to help before he turned to Rose and Ruth.
“I’ll send a messenger over to Reverend Jessup’s to let Adam and Andrea know her father was here looking for her and that he left. I hope I have bought them a little more time. By the time the search leads them back here again, Adam and Andrea will have been married for some time. Then we’ll make the Sanderses’ harassment public if we have to, embarrass him before the world if he gives Adam and Andrea any trouble. I don’t think under such circumstances he will persist.”
Rose blinked back tears, hugged Ruth tightly. She was haunted by the look in Douglas Means’s eyes. “I hope you’re right, Jonas,” she said.
Andrea looked up from her bed. She had been moved to a spare room at the Reverend Jessup’s home during the night, a necessary precaution. As Adam entered, the afternoon sun cast its light on his handsome face.
“Adam! Where have you been? I get scared when you go away,” she said.
“I had some things to tend to at the newspaper office.” He came to her side, looking worried. Then he bent down and kissed her lightly, and her eyes teared again. Would she ever stop crying with happiness?
“I still can’t believe I’m really here, that I’m really your wife.”
“Well you really are both.” Their eyes held, old urges and desires stirring deep inside them, but their bashfulness at having been apart so long was stronger. He kissed her again, a little harder this time, and the lovely warmth that had left her so long ago surged through her. “I’ll be glad when you’re well enough to be taken to the oak tree,” he told her, his voice husky now with desire. “I want you truly to be my wife again, Andrea. And now it’s very important.” He sat up and sighed deeply. “Your father came to see my father this morning.”
Her heart tightened. “They didn’t tell him anything, did they?”
He held her hand tightly. “No. They apparently convinced your father that you never showed up here. That gives us a little more time. When they find out the truth, we will be long married.”
She studied him, his wonderful build, his dark handsomeness. Was this beautiful man really her husband? Would she really lie naked with him again, giving him pleasure and taking her own? The thought of it made her shiver with love and anticipation, as though they had never been together that way at all.
“My father tried to find out where you had been, but your father would not tell. From you, we know you were in Vermont. The reverend is checking with all the schools there. It will take some time.” He met her eyes again, anger in his own. “That Douglas Means was with your father, militia uniform and all! My parents said he had bad eyes for Ruth, and that he threatened my sister and my mother. And he said that you belonged to him, that someday he would get you back.” His grip on her hand tightened. “I will kill him first!”
“Adam, don’t let him make you do something foolish,” she pleaded. “You have to be so careful.”
He let go of her hand, and stood up to pace. “I am tired of being careful! I want to fight with my hands, not just on paper!”
“But you can’t. That’s what they’re all waiting for, Adam. Isn’t that what John Ross says?”
He nodded. “It will not be easy. Not if the militia gets into it. I know what they are capable of doing.”
“We can only take a day at a time, Adam. I’m just so glad to be here right now. That place…” She turned her head. “They whipped me, Adam, for my sins. And they…they cut off my hair to rid me of my sinful vanity. Then they cut it off again when I cried out for you when the baby was born, when I screamed at them that they were lying about his being dead. He isn’t, Adam. I just know he isn’t dead.”
His heart ached for her. He came to her side, bent over her and ran a hand over her forehead and cheek, smoothing back her hair. “What can I do, Andrea? How can I ever make it up to you?”
Her eyes teared and she took his hand. “You already have. I was so afraid that when I got back you’d be in love with someone else, or that you would have forgotten me.”
“Never! I would never forget my Andrea. I never gave up on you. We searched and searched with what little we knew. I never stopped loving you, Andrea, and sometimes I felt you were calling me. So many nights I could not sleep. And now here you are, more beautiful than I imagined you would be, and still mine.” He sat down again, rubbed her shoulders. “At first it all seemed so strange, as if we had just met. But in this short time, after lying beside you the last two nights, talking with you, it seems like…like it was only yesterday that you left. You are still my Andrea, only more beautiful.”
Again his dark eyes held her own. He bent closer, meeting her lips. So handsome. He was so handsome. And so kind and gentle…still her Adam. One hand moved gently over a breast, lightly caressing it through her soft flannel gown, and both whimpered with renewed passion. Nothing had changed! Not one thing! He was still her Adam, and as soon as she was healed a little more, he would make love to her again and she would be his woman, forever this time. Nothing would ever again keep them from being together.
His lips strayed to her neck. He was breathing deeply, and his hand still moved over her breast in gentle, massaging strokes. “My God, Andrea,” he whispered. “I thought I’d go crazy when they took you away!”
She reached up and buried her fingers in his thick, dark hair, so shiny and wavy. He was so much a man now. There was nothing of the boy left in him. And he had a law degree, was an accomplished, brilliant young man; yet he belonged to her, to Andrea Sanders—no, no more Sanders. Andrea Chandler. Andrea Chandler! She was this beautiful man’s wife! She woul
d be the best wife she could be. They would build a home of their own, a grand house over which she would rule. And with her education, she could help him in whatever he chose to do in life. Adam Chandler would go far, that was sure. And she would be right by his side. She would give him more sons, and—More sons. But what of the one that had been taken from her? What would happen to her little boy? Perhaps she would never know. It was the one black spot in her life that might never be erased, the one painful hurt that even Adam Chandler could not make better. There would be one empty spot in her heart for the rest of her life.
“Hold me, Adam. Hold me and never let me go!”
He moved onto the bed beside her, cradling her in his arms.
They rode slowly, Adam not wanting her horse to falter, for she was not yet totally healed. The day was a splendid one, unusually warm for early November, the colors of the mountainsides magnificent. He had looked forward to this moment for over two weeks, yet now he felt almost as nervous as the first time he had ever touched Andrea Sanders. He smiled. He must start thinking of her as Andrea Chandler. And since she bore his name, he could now claim her by right, and no one could tell them it was wrong.
Somehow he had to make it up to her—all the hurt, all the horror of the past three years. He would treat her like a queen. He would build her a fine home, and she would have servants and slaves. Andrea Chandler would want for nothing. She would never again be alone or afraid. He would see to it.
He looked over at her. So beautiful! Her golden hair hung in thick waves. Her waist was tiny, her breasts were full and firm, her hips firm and rounded. Her face was exquisite. His body burned for her, even more than when they had had their affair three years earlier, for now he was older. He was a man with a man’s needs and a man’s appreciation for a good woman. And this woman had been through hell for him. He would never forget it, nor would he ever again let her out of his sight.
“Are you all right?”
She turned and smiled, blushing a little. “I’m fine. My side is a little sore, but I’ll be all right.”
“We’re almost there. You rest when we get there, and I’ll set up our tent and tend to the horses. We have enough food for the rest of today and part of tomorrow.”
He moved in front of her, carefully leading the way up the steep ridge and choosing the safest route. She watched the broad shoulders of the man she called husband, noted his firm hip and leg muscles, slim waist, and lustrous, dark hair. She still wondered sometimes if all of this was real. They would spend the night here, only this time she would not be afraid of the dark woods. She would be with Adam.
Minutes later she saw it—the oak! The splendid oak! Her heart seemed to catch in her throat. How many nights had she lain awake thinking of this tree, this beautiful tree, and of Adam? She could not speak as they drew closer to it, and his heart ached for her when he saw how she looked at the tree. He dismounted and went to her, gently lifting her down and walking, his arm around her, up to the gnarled old trunk.
When she rested her head against the tree and wept, he touched her hair. “Please don’t cry, Andrea. This should be a happy time.”
She ran her hand lovingly over the rough bark. “I didn’t think I’d see it again ever,” she declared.
He hurried to his horse and removed a blanket, spreading it out for her. “Here. Sit down, Andrea, and rest. Go to sleep if you like. I’ll tend to everything else.”
She looked at him and forced a smile. “How I love you, Adam!”
He bent down and kissed her cheek. “And I love you. Now do as I say and rest.”
He left her then, to prepare wood for a campfire, pitch a tent on the soft grass, unsaddle the horses and stake them nearby to graze. At last when he started to take their bedrolls inside the tent, she spoke.
“No.”
His eyes met hers, and she reddened.
“I…I want it to be like then…out here under the tree, where I can look up at the branches and the sky. Maybe later…when it’s dark, we can move the bedrolls into the tent to sleep.” She looked down at her lap, and he smiled, opening one bedroll and spreading it out on the soft grass beneath the oak.
“Whatever you wish, my love,” he said, bowing like a prince. He met her eyes and gave her an understanding smile. “Would you like a little wine?”
She nodded, and he retrieved a bottle from his parfleche, along with the two glasses he had brought. Then he sat down beside her, removed the cork, poured, handed her a glass. “To Mrs. Adam Chandler, the most beautiful, most elegant, most wonderful woman who ever walked—and she’s all mine.”
She smiled, wiping away tears, and touched her glass to his. “To the most handsome, most wonderful man in all of Georgia.”
They each took a sip, their eyes holding. They had been together two weeks. They had talked. It now seemed that nothing was different. They were still Adam and Andrea, still in love. She was his wife now, legally. She did not have to feel there was anything wrong in uniting her body with his. She knew how much he needed this, just as she needed it. For two weeks she had been his legal wife, but he had not touched her that way, except sometimes to move his strong hands lovingly over her in the night. How gentle and considerate he was. She swallowed a little more wine, looked at her lap then.
“Adam, I’m…scared. I feel like a stupid little girl again.”
He took the glass from her hand and set it aside with his own. Then he put two strong hands on either side of her face, making her look at him. “I took away that fear once, and I was just a boy then.”
“But…maybe I’ve changed. I mean…maybe it will be different…the baby and all. I might not satisfy you. What if—”
A kiss cut off her words. He pressed his mouth firmly to hers until he felt her relaxing; then he gently laid her back, being careful not to put his weight on her because of her ribs. When his lips left hers, he raised himself slightly and looked down at her. “How in God’s name do you think one baby or ten babies would make any difference? The way I want you, Andrea, something like that can’t change anything. It’s the heart that matters, the love that makes it beautiful and satisfying. Do you think that someday when you’re old and lose your firmness I will stop loving you? A man sees far beyond those things. How do you think some women end up having eight and ten children, h’m?”
She reddened deeply then, her eyes tearing. “I want so much to satisfy you…not to disappoint you,” she whispered.
He studied her lovingly. “There is no way, my beautiful Andrea, that you could fail to please me.”
His lips covered hers again, searching, tasting, his hand moving gently over her body until it didn’t matter anymore what happened. She needed him as much as he needed her. She was soon lost in him, for this kiss was not like the others he had given her up until now. This kiss was demanding, probing, pleading. This time he would have his woman, and the thought of being one with this beautiful man brought out all her passion and helped her ignore the pain in her side.
The magic had begun. She was lost in him. And all the beautiful ways Adam the boy had possessed her were magnified now. Every movement was more exciting, every touch brought more ecstasy. She shivered with fear and anticipation as he began to take off her clothes, finally closing her eyes as he sat up to undress her completely. Carefully, he moved her onto the bedroll where it was softer. Then he removed his own clothes, and she watched him, her body on fire at the sight of his magnificent physique. She had not yet seen him completely naked since her return. Her breathing quickened, and her body ached for his as he knelt by her.
Holding her gaze, he took hold of her ankle and raised her leg to kiss the top of her foot and run his hands over her calf. Gently and slowly his hands moved up her thigh, and he leaned farther forward, teasing her as his fingers traced her inner thighs and around that special place he had only dreamed about during the past three years. She shuddered, closing her eyes in a mixture of bashfulness and utter abandon.
He was beside her then, his l
ips searching hers wildly as his fingers sought that which belonged only to Adam Chandler, bringing out its warm moistness as a groan of ecstasy came from her lips. The gentle circular movements of his fingers made her wonder if flames would appear on her skin at any moment, and her ecstasy grew almost painful as his lips moved down to taste her full nipples. Soon she was gasping his name, offering herself to him in total abandon, allowing him whatever pleasure he chose, letting him touch and explore and renew his memory of the secret places he had claimed, allowing him to do some of the things he had only hinted at doing when they were younger.
He took her to realms unknown to her before this moment, caressed her until the great branches of the oak tree were only a blur of gold above her head, his touches milky soft. She felt as though she were floating on a kind of cloud, being given the ultimate pleasure by some god of love. Gentle hands and warm lips were everywhere, loving, giving, taking, claiming, and it didn’t matter. This was Adam. He sought her mouth again, and she ran her hands over his hard muscles, then down to his most manly part, suddenly grasping at him in hot desire, wanting him…wanting him.
He moved over her, careful not to put his weight on her. Within a moment he had carefully guided himself inside her, bringing a little cry to her lips. At last! At last he was one with Andrea again! He felt like a conquering warrior upon seeing the look of ecstasy on her face, upon hearing the gasps of pleasure. She arched up to him despite the pain that must have brought to her ribs. Nothing had changed. He was so full with the want of her that their coming together was just as glorious and pleasing as it had been that first time.
He raised up to watch her, to study her beautiful body—the flat stomach, the slender hips, the way she moved rhythmically with him. Andrea! She was really here, under the oak tree with him, one with him again. Nothing in his whole life had ever been, or could ever be, as wonderful as this very moment. Forever he would remember this, his Andrea, open to him, her face beautiful and full of rapture, her golden hair spilling around her shoulders. Andrea!
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