Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1)

by Phoebe Conn

  "You haven't, and I'm glad you're all together, because I'm also frantic with worry over Ian. I've tried to lift his spirits by encouraging him to talk about his son, but he shows not even a glimmer of interest. It's as if the boy doesn't even exist!"

  Alanna looked to Byron and Elliott, who seemed equally unable to respond.

  Rachel noted their exchange of anxious glances, but misinterpreted the cause. "Yes, it upsets me, too, dears," she said. "I'm not certain we should trust him with the boy."

  Elliott took his mother's arm and led her over to the bed. "Sit down a minute. We need your help." He glanced over his shoulder at Byron and Alanna. Both nodded, and he cleared his throat as he tried to find the words which he feared would break his mother's heart. Thinking such an unexpected truth ought to be delivered with care, he started and stopped several times, but finally revealed that her grandson was not Ian's after all, but the son of an Indian who had been a guest in their home for less than a week.

  Devastated by the recounting of her daughter's indiscretion, Rachel's reaction was far worse than her sons had anticipated. She covered her mouth with her hand as though she feared becoming ill, and Elliott quickly sat down beside her and drew her into his arms. "He's still Melissa's baby, Mother. Try and think of him that way."

  Rachel had already been pale, but now her skin lost even the hint of color. Several minutes elapsed before she was able to speak between choking sobs. "Send for your father," she ordered. "Do it now."

  Fearing that they had made a very bad mess of an extremely difficult situation, Byron strode from the room, but soon reappeared with John, who had been working downstairs in his study. The strain of the last few days showed plainly in his face, and had aged him beyond his fifty-two years. Seeing his wife's obvious distress, he immediately went to her; Elliott stood up to make room for him.

  "Oh John," she sobbed, "they're saying such dreadful things about Melissa. Make them stop."

  "What's going on here?" John asked crossly. "Why have you upset your mother?"

  This time Byron delivered the fateful news. His expression was solemn, his tone soft, his words as tactful as he could make them, but his father appeared to be no more inclined to believe him than his mother. "It's the truth, Father. I've seen the child."

  John Barclay refused to accept the fact that his only daughter had flaunted the high moral values he had striven to instill in his children. He regarded the possibility that she could have lost her virtue to an Indian brave as gross and scandalous speculation. "It can't be true!" he cried out. "Melissa would never have stooped so low. She was a virtuous young woman, and I'll not allow any of you to say otherwise."

  "But Father—" Byron began.

  "Silence! Not another word is ever to be spoken against Melissa, and I absolutely forbid you to repeat that hideous tale to Ian." He helped his wife to her feet and, after casting angry glances at his sons and niece, escorted her from the room.

  "Damn it all!" Byron swore. "How can he even imagine we'd fabricate such a disgusting story?"

  Alanna recalled Hunter's eagerness for a message when she had interrupted his swim, and disagreed with Byron's choice of words. "I don't think love ought to be described as disgusting."

  "It couldn't have been love."

  Alanna inclined her head slightly. "I think Hunter really did love Melissa, but we'll never know whether or not she loved him."

  "She couldn't have," Byron repeated. "She barely knew the man."

  "No, Alanna's right," Elliott argued. "I'd rather think Melissa did love Hunter, no matter how briefly, than to believe that she slept with him simply out of curiosity or lust."

  Thinking them both romantic fools, Byron just shook his head and left the room.

  "It never even occurred to me that they wouldn't believe us," Elliott said. "What shall we do now? You heard what father said about telling Ian, and he's so upset with us, I don't want to cross him."

  "We won't have to do anything," Alanna mused thoughtfully. "One day they'll visit Charity Wade's, and the truth of Christian's parentage will be impossible to ignore."

  Too restless to sit down, Elliott began to pace in front of Alanna's chair. "I don't mean to embarrass you, so please forgive me if I do. I've just always assumed that my mother explained everything a young woman should know to you and Melissa. But is it possible that Melissa didn't understand the consequences of being with a man?"

  Alanna knew precisely to what sort of a conversation with her aunt Elliott was referring. Rachel had been vague to the point of obscurity, but Polly McBride had answered Alanna's and Melissa's questions in a straightforward manner. "From what your mother told us, she seems to have little understanding of procreation, despite having had three children, but Polly made things clear. Melissa knew what she was doing. It might be comforting to believe that she was too innocent to understand, but that just wasn't the case. She was as sophisticated as she appeared."

  Elliott's shoulders slumped slightly. "It was just a hope."

  "Save your hopes for Christian. I'm going to ride into town to see him. Do you want to come with me?"

  "I guess it's high time that I took at look at him, isn't it?"

  "You are his uncle."

  "I'd forgotten that. Let's go."

  Alanna was grateful for his company, and for the next week, the pair were the only visitors little Christian had. Byron asked about the little boy, but his grandparents did not. They appeared to be taking their cues from Ian, who asked no questions about anything, and when spoken to, replied with silent shrugs. When they all gathered for meals, he ate barely enough to survive. He got to sleep each night only with the aid of brandy.

  * * *

  Graham Tyler stayed away longer than he knew he should, but a week following the funeral, he finally came out to see when Ian would be returning to duty. Attentive servants had kept the young widower neatly groomed and dressed, but Graham was nonetheless astonished by the changes in his friend. Ian had always been such a good-natured man, but now his detached and sullen mood gave no hint of his former charm. When Ian made little attempt to follow his conversation, Graham hurriedly went to find Alanna.

  "Ian isn't doing at all well," he complained.

  "Yes, I know. We're very concerned about him."

  "Has he seen his son?"

  "No, not yet."

  "Well, he can't just sit and stare off into space, while the boy grows up. Maybe if we took him into town and put his son in his arms, he would respond with a renewed sense of purpose."

  "You're a very thoughtful friend, Captain, but your suggestion might simply create more problems. If you want to help Ian, why don't you just concentrate on him?"

  "I thought I was."

  "Well yes, of course you were. The weather's nice today, why don't you just encourage him to go out for a walk with you? Perhaps Ian might even like to go for a ride."

  "Yes, it would do him good to get some exercise, wouldn't it?"

  "Yes, I think so."

  Wanting desperately to please her, Graham flashed a ready smile. "If I amuse Ian for an hour or two, will you have some time to spend with me?"

  "Is this some kind of a bargain?"

  "No, I really did come to see Ian, but I want to see you, too."

  "Then yes, I'll invite you to stay for tea."

  "Good." Pleased with himself, Graham not only succeeded in getting Ian to leave the house, he got him to agree to taking a ride. While Graham tried innumerable subjects in hopes of inspiring conversation, Ian remained listless. Finally deciding his original plan had been the best, Graham led his friend down the road into town. He had taken Alanna to Charity Wade's on the day of Melissa's funeral, and had no difficulty finding her house again.

  "Come on in," he encouraged. "There's someone here I want you to meet."

  Ian at first mistook the dwelling for a new tavern and, eager for a drink, swung down from his saddle, but after they had walked through the gate, he realized his mistake. "Wait a minute. I'm not up t
o meeting anyone."

  "I promise this will be a brief visit. Come on, we can leave whenever you like."

  "I want to leave now."

  Graham Tyler was not easily discouraged. "Just a few minutes, Ian. You've got the time."

  "I've nothing but time."

  "No, you've something more." Graham had succeeded in getting Ian up on the front porch; he rapped lightly at the door. When Charity appeared, he quickly introduced himself as a friend of the Barclays. "This is Christian's father, Captain Ian Scott. May we see the boy?"

  "Oh yes, do come in." Charity was delighted to invite the two handsome officers into her home, but when Ian removed his hat, she was startled by his bright red hair. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare. I'd assumed Christian resembled you, but now I see he must favor his mother."

  Touched by that thought, Ian followed her into the bedroom, where Christian lay sleeping in the cradle. Charity pulled back his blankets slightly, so Ian could see him more clearly. "Would you like to hold him?" she asked. "He's a very good little boy, and spends most of his time sleeping."

  Ian bent over the cradle, took one look at the precious infant, and straightened up abruptly. Thinking Charity must be caring for two babies and had confused them, he glanced around the room searching for another cradle but there was only the one. "There must be some mistake. This can't possibly be my child. Who told you that he was?"

  Taken aback by his question, Charity grew flustered. "You were Melissa Barclay's husband, weren't you?"

  "Yes, now answer me. Who brought you this child?"

  "Alanna Barclay and Dr. Earle. I've had him since the day he was born."

  "And when was that?"

  "November eleventh."

  Ian called for Graham, who had waited in the front room. When he entered, Ian pointed toward the cradle. "Do you have any idea whose child this is?"

  As astonished by the golden-skinned, dark-haired baby as Ian, Graham shrugged helplessly. "Well, he certainly isn't yours."

  "Gentlemen, you're frightening me. Miss Barclay visits the child every day. She was here this morning with her cousin Elliott. Byron has been here, too. None of them seem to think there's anything wrong."

  "Oh, there's something wrong, all right," Ian assured her. "Alanna bears a close resemblance to my late wife."

  Charity's eyes grew wide, for she had never known a blond woman and a red-haired man to produce an infant whose coloring presented such a stark contrast to them both. "I'm sure there must be some explanation," she mumbled.

  "Yes, indeed, and I can't wait to hear it." Ian leaned down, scooped up the baby, and, holding him pressed close to his chest, carried him right out of the house.

  "Captain Scott!" Charity called. "Be careful, Christian's not even two weeks old! Where are you taking him?"

  Ian replied with a threatening glance that silenced any further objection, deftly mounted his horse, and urged him toward the plantation at a gallop.

  Now understanding why Alanna had discouraged him from bringing Ian to see his son, Graham caught up to his friend. He tried to get him to slow down, but Ian was bent low, shielding the babe from the wind, and neither heard nor saw him. Mortified that his friend would so thoughtlessly endanger an infant's life, he stayed close, silently vowing to do whatever he could to save the lad, if need be.

  Jostled awake and thoroughly terrified by the wild ride, Christian was screaming with all his might by the time Ian reached his in-laws' home. The outraged Englishman leapt off his horse and strode through the front door, where the whole family swiftly gathered to greet him, drawn by Christian's frantic shrieks. Rather than attempt to quiet the infant, Ian simply raised his voice to be heard above him.

  "Whose child is this?" he shouted. "Surely he isn't mine and Melissa's."

  As horrified as the dear babe, Alanna rushed forward to take Christian, but Ian held him aloft. "Oh, no, you don't. First you tell me where you got this child, because he sure as hell isn't mine!"

  Rachel began to cry in a wail only slightly less pathetic than Christian's, while John stared at the screaming baby in shocked disbelief. Elliott hurried to Alanna's side, while his brother hung back. It was the most disgraceful scene imaginable, but Byron knew he wasn't the one to stop it.

  "Ian's laid this one at your door, Father," he said. "If you can face the truth now, it's time you shared it with him."

  John Barclay stood transfixed, unable to tear his gaze from the ebony-haired babe Ian now dangled in front of him. The child's face was bright red from the exertions of his screams, but his thick black hair provided clear confirmation of the scandal his grandfather had refused to believe.

  "Give him to me!" John yelled, but Ian lifted Christian out of his reach, leaving the older man to claw the air wildly.

  Appalled by the hatred that contorted his father-in-law's features, Ian turned to block him with his shoulder and laid the exhausted babe in Alanna's arms. "Here, you tend him. Come on, John, let's go into your study, where we won't have to listen to the noisy brat."

  Ian grabbed his father-in-law's arm as he started down the hall. Wanting to make certain his father told the truth, Byron hurried to join them. Elliott dropped his arm around Alanna's shoulders and urged her to carry Christian into the parlor, but before she turned away, she sent Graham a glance which conveyed a lifetime of disappointment. Left in the hall with Rachel, who was now sobbing softly, Graham had no idea what to do. He knew he really ought to leave, but certain that the excitement had just begun, he helped Rachel into a chair in the dining room, sent a servant for tea, and prepared to remain for as long as it took to find out what had become of Ian's son.

  Chapter 15

  While casting many an anxious glance toward the doorway, Alanna patted Christian's back gently and sang to him softly, until, soothed by her familiar voice and touch, he at last grew calm and fell asleep. She and Elliott couldn't overhear the conversation taking place in the study, but praying it was going well, she laid the baby across her lap and combed his hair through her fingertips.

  "How could Ian have treated him so roughly?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

  Elliott moved his chair closer to his cousin's. "Do you think Christian is all right? Should we take him to Dr. Earle's?"

  "He was wrapped in his blankets, so he doesn't seem chilled, and he's breathing easily. I don't think he's suffered any physical harm, but it couldn't have done him any good to be frightened so badly. Babies need comfort and love, not to be tossed about and dangled in the air, like a tasty morsel meant for the hounds."

  Elliott reached out to pat the sleeping infant's bottom. "He's still so tiny."

  "Yes, and he's unlikely to get any bigger if Ian gets hold of him again."

  "Perhaps we should take him back to Mrs. Wade's. He'll be hungry when he wakes, won't he?"

  "Poor baby, he'll probably sleep all afternoon."

  "Just to be safe, I think we ought to leave as soon as I can have the horses harnessed to the carriage."

  "What could Ian have said to Charity? What if she's too upset to accept Christian back into her home?"

  "Then we'll find him another wet nurse, but there's no point in fretting over problems that might not exist. For the time being, all we need do is—"

  Elliott fell silent as Ian began to yell so loudly that they could hear him clearly through the study door. He was shouting at Byron, calling him a liar. Fearing the babe might again be snatched up to become part of what was clearly a heated argument, Elliott rose and helped Alanna to her feet. "Come on, let's get out of here while we still can."

  Unfortunately, Ian was far more swift, and come running into the parlor before they had reached the door. "I can stand it if my baby died, but Alanna, please, please, tell me that's not Melissa's child!"

  Tears were streaming down Ian's cheeks, and Alanna wished with all her heart that she could ease his torment, but she couldn't do it with convenient lies. "Melissa loved you. I truly believe she thought you would accept her child and raise hi
m as your own."

  Ian swayed slightly, and for a terrible instant, Alanna thought he might faint. Sharing her fear, Elliott rushed to his brother-in-law's side, but Ian shoved him away with a force that sent him reeling. "How can you speak of love after what that bitch did to me?" Ian asked. "Melissa was such a cunning liar, I never realized I didn't really have a wife. It's plain now it was all lies: the elopement, that night, our marriage. She made a mockery of our wedding vows, before they'd even been spoken."

  "Oh Ian, you mustn't say such horrible things about Melissa," Alanna begged. "She loved you!"

  Ian responded with a disgusted grimace. "I'm glad she's dead, or by God, I'd kill her for what she's done to me." He turned, and seeing Rachel and Graham standing in the hallway, he pointed at his mother-in-law. "Your daughter deserves to burn in hell forever," he shouted, "and you and everyone else in this house with her!"

  Stunned by the sheer brutality of Ian's words, no one tried to stop him when he ran out the door. He leapt on his horse's back and rode away, leaving none of them untouched by his pain. John rushed to his wife's side and helped her to a chair in the parlor. Byron walked by Graham, and then gestured for him to follow.

  "You've heard this much, you might as well hear the rest," he said.

  John and Rachel suddenly appeared very old and frail. Alanna had always looked up to them, but now she saw them for the imperfect people they were. First they had lost their only daughter, and despite their best efforts to ignore the truth, it had caught up with them, irrevocably damaging the beauty of their memories. That they had been cursed by their son-in-law, as though they deserved his hatred, had crushed all that was left of their spirits. They sat together, shaken and hollow-eyed, waiting for someone else to speak.

  Byron cleared his throat. "I'm afraid there simply is no considerate way to break a man's heart, but I would have given anything to spare Ian this new anguish. It's plain he'll not raise Christian. What are we going to do about the boy?"