by Phoebe Conn
Afraid of scaring her off, Hunter wrapped her in a relaxed embrace. He rested his chin atop her head and patted her back lightly. "I have nothing to give you," he admitted sadly.
Alanna sat back slightly, so she could look up at him. "I have no need of things."
Hunter caressed her cheek, then slipped his fingers through her shiny curls. "Yes, you do. White women need a great many things."
"I don't need anything that you can't provide."
A slow smile played across Hunter's lips. "And what is that?"
"A home, food, whatever we'll need to survive."
Hunter wanted to give her so much more. "Is that all you want?"
His seductive whisper sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. She reached up to trace the edge of his jaw, and he turned his head to move with her and prolong the touch. That he would lean into her caress like an affectionate cat amused her. There was an animal wildness about him that his soft-spoken manner had never fully disguised, but now she found it enormously intriguing rather than frightening.
"All I want is you," she replied in a tone as inviting as his.
"Can you wait until I'm well?"
Alanna broke into a mischievous grin and shook her head. "No, I don't think I can wait another minute." She leaned down to flick his nipple with the tip of her tongue, but when he flinched, she sat back.
"Does that bother you?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," Hunter admitted, but he sounded appreciative rather than annoyed. He wound his fingers in her hair to pull her lips to his for a fervent kiss he didn't end, until she was lying beneath him. Cradled in the soft, spring grass, her eyes glowed with the same iridescent sheen as the new spring leaves overhead, while her tawny curls caught the last of the sun's vermilion rays.
Hunter rested on his elbows and struggled to find the right words to make her understand without frightening her. "I wanted to make love to you this morning, but the pain got too bad, and I couldn't. Please be patient with me. If we have forever, a few days shouldn't make any difference."
That she had mistaken his lack of passion for disinterest, when pain had been the cause, made Alanna blush with shame. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so stupid." She tried to sit up, but he blocked her way.
"The fault is mine. You couldn't have known."
"But I should have. I knew how badly you'd been hurt."
She was again blaming herself for something that wasn't her fault, and Hunter couldn't bear to see her suffer so needlessly. "I want to make you laugh until your sides ache, but neither of us is in the mood for jokes." He rolled over on his back and pulled her against him, so her head would rest comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder. Loss of blood had left him feeling tired and weak, just when he needed all his strength to impress her.
"I can't keep you with me, if I don't get well," he announced suddenly. "To take an Indian for a husband will be difficult enough. I won't tie you to an invalid."
Alanna sat up slowly. "What if I'd been the one who had been stabbed? Would you send me away, because I was no longer perfect?"
"It's not the same," Hunter argued.
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's the man who provides for his woman, not the other way around."
He was confusing her again and Alanna drew back. "In one breath you talk about us being together forever, and in the next of sending me away. Can't you make up your mind? I'm sure you'll recover completely, but even if you don't, I'd not leave you. It just so happens that I have some money of my own, and if it's managed properly, it will be enough to take care of all three of us."
It was now Hunter who was badly confused. He sat up so they could discuss the matter more easily. "I would rather starve to death than live off your money," he insisted. "There are only two of us," he added. "Why did you say three?"
Alanna couldn't believe he had to ask that. "Have you forgotten why Elliott and I came to see you? You have a son, Hunter, and he belongs with us."
Sickened by her mention of the boy, Hunter turned away. "His mother despised me, and her poison is in his blood. I could no more love him than he could love me. Do not speak of him again. He will never be a part of us."
The love that had filled his gaze only moments before, had been replaced by a look of such virulent hatred Alanna couldn't bear to remain with him. She rose and walked out of the clearing without offering any apology for leaving, or promise of when she might return. Afraid of becoming lost in the woods, she wandered down by the lake until it grew too dark for her to see the way. She had forgotten to take her shawl, but hoping the night would be mild, she lay down and slept in the grass.
Hunter kept waiting for Alanna to reappear, but when he heard the howl of a wolf in the distance, he feared it might be a warning that she would never return. He thought she still had Elliott's knife at her belt and, having seen her kill two men, he knew she wouldn't hesitate to defend herself should any danger arise, but he did not want her to have to face any such challenge ever again. Frantic with both worry and despair, it took him a long time to fall asleep. When he awoke the next morning and found himself still alone, he became even more depressed.
He got up and tried putting some weight on his injured leg, but the resulting pain wrenched a groan from his throat, and he had to ease back on his cane. He knew he had to eat to grow strong, but he still had no appetite. Forcing himself to fish, he caught enough trout for two, but there was still no sign of Alanna by the time they were finished cooking. Although quiet and shy, she had been such good company, he missed her very badly and hoped she would come back before noon.
Alanna had berries for breakfast, and then, wanting to be certain Hunter was all right, she circled around their camp and approached it from the south. When she saw him leaning on his cane to fish, she crept away before he felt her presence, and returned to the spot where she had spent the night. Feeling drained of all emotion, she sat watching the lake for most of the day. She retreated into herself as she had as a child, but she no longer had her cousins' happy laughter to draw her from the sadness of her daydreams. Disconsolate, she did not even notice the sun had set, until long after it had grown dark.
Hunter had known women who pouted when they failed to get their way, but after briefly considering that possibility, he rejected it. Alanna wasn't the type to sulk. She was far too considerate a person to manipulate others. Clearly she saw herself as Christian's champion, and perhaps he had been unforgivably harsh, but didn't his feelings merit equal consideration?
Then a truly awful thought occurred to him. What if Christian was the one she loved? What if her only interest was in providing a father for the boy? With Elliott gone, he had been a convenient and logical choice, but once he had refused to raise Christian, Alanna had immediately lost interest in him. Perhaps she had not said so in words, but didn't her absence make her position clear? If it was Christian she loved, and not him, then she had made an even bigger fool of him than Melissa had.
Infuriated that he had again been duped by a white woman with beguiling ways, Hunter channeled all his energies into getting well. His leg was still sore, but he could take a few steps at least, and the next day several more. He removed the bandage and found that Alanna had wrapped his wound so cleverly, it would leave only a thin scar rather than the ugly puckered gash he had expected.
Encouraged that his leg was healing properly, he began walking a few steps each hour, making a great effort to stand tall, rather than bent over favoring his left leg. It was difficult, and painful, but by the time Alanna had been gone five days, he felt fit enough to go after her. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say, and would be brief rather than abusive. He would sign whatever statement she wanted about Christian. He would gladly give her the boy, but after taking her back to the trading post and putting her on a barge, he did not want to ever see her again.
His handsome features set in a disgusted frown, he prowled along the lake's edge, attempting to follow her last set of footprints. She had stepped across r
ocks here and there, but every yard or so he came across a clear print. It was no challenge to track her, but rather than return to their last camp as he had expected, she had gone on. Perplexed, he continued following the river's curving path, until at last he sighted her seated on a rocky point that jutted out into the water. She was so still, he thought she might have fallen asleep sitting up; and when he called out to her, she didn't turn, or answer.
When he got close enough, he could see that her hair was damp, but so was her dress, as though she had gone swimming fully clothed. That seemed like a very silly thing to do. Now within a few feet of her, he again spoke her name. As before, she remained oblivious to him and continued to stare out at the lake. It wasn't until he knelt by her side and touched her arm, that she noticed him.
Lacking a way to catch and cook fish, she had been living on berries, and while the juice had lent her lips a subtle rose tint, she was noticeably thinner. Perfectly calm, she sat staring at him now, her features serene, but there wasn't the slightest glimmer of recognition in her glance. Terrified that he had lost her in a way he had not even imagined, Hunter grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
"Alanna, answer me!"
Alanna cocked her head slightly. Hunter was again fully clothed in buckskins. He looked fit and strong. Compared to him, she felt very small and insignificant. He seemed insistent that she speak, but only one thought occurred to her.
"I'm cold," she told him.
As her lower lip began to tremble, Hunter's suspicions dissolved instantly, for it was painfully clear that she hadn't been avoiding him out of spite. He could see the grief that had sculpted the stillness of her pose reflected in the sorrow of her gaze, and knew that while he had worked so hard to get well, she had been silently mourning the love they had lost. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the shore, where he hurriedly helped her out of her wet dress. He tugged his shirt off over his head, and used it to pat her dry.
"You're supposed to remove your clothes before you wash them," he scolded. "Did you forget that?"
Unable to recall how she had gotten wet, Alanna just shook her head. It was very pleasant having Hunter touch her. It felt like love, even though she knew it wasn't, and she relaxed against him, unwittingly encouraging attentions of an entirely different nature.
Hunter's conscience told him that this was neither the time nor the place to make love to Alanna, but he was deaf to the voice of reason. He didn't care if they had differences that could never be reconciled, when her fragile beauty touched him so deeply. He wanted to take her for his wife, to make her feel cherished, as he knew no other man ever could. He drew her down into the grass, and covered her dear face with adoring kisses.
"I've missed you," he murmured. He removed her chemise and drawers, and then warmed her cool skin with fevered kisses. He could count her ribs easily, and feared she might not have survived many more days without him. "You were never meant to be alone," he swore. "You were born to be mine."
Lost in a dreamlike wonder, Alanna held him in a languid embrace. She loosened his hair and pressed his face close, as he suckled at her breast. As always, his slightest touch filled her with joy, and she soon felt as though her heart might burst with happiness.
Meaning to at last thoroughly quench his desires, Hunter ran his hand over her hip and down her thigh, but when she flinched, he sat up to see what was wrong. The deep purple bruise on her knee told him. "Did you fall on the rocks? Is that how you got all wet?"
Rather than reply, Alanna ran her hand up his arm, silently encouraging him to complete what he had begun. He leaned down to kiss the bruise, and then slipped off his moccasins, so he could remove his breechclout and leggings more easily. Now nude, he again stretched out beside her and pulled her close. She was so slender, her body seemed almost to melt into his. Her skin was still cool, but gradually warmed beneath his caress.
His ebony mane fell across her breasts, and slid over her stomach as he fit the tip of his tongue into her navel. He wanted to hear her giggle, but succeeded only in drawing a small sigh of contentment from her lips. Inspired to take so much more, he again kissed her bruised knee, then licked a narrow trail up the soft incline of her inner thigh. He had pleasured her before with a delicate touch, and she did not draw away when he slid his fingers into her again.
He rubbed his cheek against her knee, deftly parting her legs, and kept up his gentle explorations. Her lithe body had an inviting perfume, and he leaned closer to savor her scent.
Nothing could stop him now; he took a firm hold of her so she could not slip away, as he dipped low to sample her taste. Rather than object, Alanna tilted her hips to encourage him to drink more deeply.
Entranced by the sweetness of her surrender, Hunter hastened to make her his own before the beauty they shared lost any of its magic. He had regained the grace to enable him to teach her what making love should be, and he hoped the inevitable pain of their initial union would be fleeting. At his first deep thrust, she clung to him rather than draw away, her anguish blurred by the ecstasy he had so tenderly nurtured.
He lost himself in that rapture now, and knowing how deeply it was shared gave him the greatest satisfaction he had ever found in a woman's arms. The bond forged between them by sorrow was now tempered by passion's flames, and for a brief instant they were truly one. It wasn't until much later that the contrast between Alanna's small white hand and his deeply bronzed chest prompted him to remember how different they truly were.
Chapter 22
Not wanting Alanna to become chilled after he had gone to such exquisite lengths to warm her, Hunter slipped his buckskin shirt over her head, before donning his breechclout and leggings. He then pulled her back into his arms and gave her an exuberant hug. "I know you want to go home, but we need time to be alone together. Let's stay here a few more days."
Alanna wasn't sure whether or not his suggestion required her approval, but she did not even want to think about standing up, let alone beginning the trip back to Virginia. She snuggled against him, enjoying both the softness of his shirt and the smoothness of his bare chest. In a thoughtful mood, she made a prediction.
"I'm afraid the forest is the only place we'll ever feel at home."
Hunter sat up slightly and combed her curls off her face with his fingertips. He leaned down to nibble her earlobe playfully, before he replied, "The forest isn't the only place we can live happily. William Johnson is married to a Mohawk woman, and given his affection for the Iroquois, no one was surprised by his choice. I can name many other trappers with Indian wives. I also know Indian braves with white wives." Hunter chose not to add that most of those women had been raised with their husband's tribe, rather than with white families as Alanna had.
"There will always be people who say we don't belong together, but as long as you and I believe that we do, we needn't listen." He kissed her eyelids and the tip of her nose before savoring her berry-flavored lips. "I know we belong together, don't you?"
Alanna reached up to touch his hair. Warmed by the sun, the sable strands spilled through her fingers like silken threads. "I've never felt as though I belonged with another man," she revealed hesitantly.
That was scarcely the enthusiastic vow of undying love Hunter longed to hear, but considering how distracted she had been when he had found her, he thought himself lucky that she was able to provide any kind of a coherent response. "That's because you were meant for me," he assured her, and the sweetness of her smile encouraged affection that could be conveyed without words. Slow, tender, he again made certain he pleased her, so that she would always welcome his affection.
Later, when she slept in his arms, Hunter gazed up at the clouds and tried to imagine what his life would be now that he had a wife. He would no longer be alone, which he saw as an advantage. He would not be able to come and go as he pleased, but he doubted he would want to stray with Alanna waiting for him at home. The temptation would be to take her so deep into the forest that they would inhabit a private worl
d, but he knew she needed not only him, but her own kind as well.
Recalling how she had gone out to the stable each morning, he knew she would want to own horses. The hides he had gathered were valuable, and he had saved all of his winnings from fighting. He could afford to buy her whatever she liked. Next winter, he would have a reason to work harder, and he would spend more time trapping. If Alanna did not distract him too badly. Certain that she would, he laughed to himself, as she began to stir.
"I didn't mean to wake you. Are you hungry?"
Hunter's charming smile conveyed his high spirits, and Alanna hesitated to interject her worries, but she could no longer deny them. She sat up and took a deep breath. "Yes, I am hungry, but there's something I need to ask before we look for food. I left you because I couldn't bear to hear you say such vile things about Christian. You came to find me. Does that mean you've changed your mind about raising him?"
His shirt was much too large for her, lending her the tragic air of the orphan she had once been, but her level gaze showed a determination he had to admire. She deserved an honest reply, and he gave it. "No. I came to tell you that I would sign whatever statement you wished, so that you could raise the boy, but that I wanted nothing more to do with either of you."
Unable to reconcile that dreary confession with his abundant affection, Alanna was understandably confused. "I don't recall your saying anything of the kind before you made love to me."
Hunter's stomach twisted into a hard knot of dread, for he had known he ought not to take her innocence with such an important dispute left unsettled. He had known it, and had selfishly done it anyway. Now she had every right to feel betrayed. He had put his desires before hers, or the welfare of a child. He had had such high hopes, but he had not been a good husband to her for even one day. He squared his shoulders, and tried to undo the damage he had done the lovely young woman he wanted for his wife.