My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers)

by Christine Dorsey

  Raff MacQuaid’s legs were long, and his stride matched. Though her hand, pale in comparison, rested on his, Caroline had to quicken her step to keep up as they wove through the people crowding the narrow wooden sidewalk of Broad Street. Soldiers in bright scarlet uniforms mingled with blackamoors. She even saw a man she thought must be one of the Indians native to the New World. His head was shaved save for a long tuft sprouting from the top of his well-shaped head. He was tall, his body covered with a mismatched array of leather leggings and richly brocaded waistcoat.

  Intrigued, Caroline considered asking her companion about the Indian. But one glance at Raff MacQuaid’s profile told her he didn’t wish to be bothered by idle questions. Caroline even hesitated to inquire how much farther they were to walk before reaching his father’s house.

  When he stopped, so abruptly that Caroline nearly bumped into him, in front of the structure at the corner of Broad and Meeting Streets, Caroline looked up questioningly. The building was brick and very imposing, with four large columns. She didn’t think it was a private dwelling, but when Raff MacQuaid led her up the steps, she wondered.

  “Does your father await me here?” she asked after hesitating to catch her breath.

  His laugh was deep and low, and Caroline felt the heated blush that darkened her skin.

  “My father awaits Your Ladyship at his home... west of here, at the base of the mountains.”

  Mountains? She’d seen no mountains. But before she could ask where there were mountains in this flat land, he opened the heavy paneled door and ushered her inside. “It is the governor whom we shall see here.”

  Rather he shall see, Caroline thought nearly two hours later as she sat straight-backed on the chair in the small anteroom. A cup of tea, cold and forgotten, sat on the small table at her elbow, fetched for her by the young man behind the mahogany desk. He wore a wig too large for his narrow face and sat hunched over a piece of parchment. He scrawled feverishly with a quill, and Caroline imagined he was pretending he didn’t hear the shouting that came from behind the closed door. The door Robert’s son had passed through.

  Caroline shifted in her seat, meeting the gaze the young assistant darted her way, before quickly focusing on her folded hands. Whatever the dispute between Raff MacQuaid and the colony’s governor, it was loud and heated. At least on Raff’s part. Every now and then Caroline could hear the other voice—the governor, she assumed—take on a conciliatory tone. But her betrothed’s son was having none of it.

  “Does the treaty of 1730 mean nothing then?” she heard him ask in his deep, strong voice. “Is that what I am to tell my people when I return? That the English king in all his infinite wisdom has decided to break his word?”

  Caroline sucked in her breath and bit her bottom lip, unabashedly listening for the governor’s response to that question, which to her mind bordered on treason. She almost expected to see the governor burst through the door and call for guards to come haul away her companion.

  But again his words were soft and soothing.... Caroline could almost imagine the governor wringing his hands. He mentioned something about raids on the colonists being punished.

  “And what of the Cherokee warriors who were killed, their scalps sold to Virginia’s governor. Was it not acceptable to avenge them?”

  “English law states—”

  “It is always English law. What of Cherokee law?”

  In the silence that followed Caroline could feel the tension through the walls with their elaborate carvings and pillars. Then the governor spoke. “I know relations between the Cherokee and English are strained. But it is nothing that can’t be repaired.” There was a pause. “Perhaps if trade resumed.”

  Raff’s voice interrupted, low, barely audible in the anteroom. “Trade? You but remind me of how unscrupulous English traders can be.”

  Caroline strained, as, she noticed, did the assistant, but she couldn’t understand the governor’s reply. But Raff’s next words were spoken loud enough to hear plainly through the closed door. “Yet you would have us leave our homes and fight your enemies for you.”

  “The French are your enemies, too.”

  “Only because we are your allies, drawn together by a treaty you English refuse to honor.”

  “Now look here, Raff. You can’t possibly think the French would—”

  Raff’s voice cut off the governor’s words. “I shall hold council with Little Carpenter when I return to the Lower Towns. Perhaps he shall view your betrayal in a better light than I.”

  Before Caroline could appreciate what he’d said, the door slammed open, and Raff strode into the anteroom. She was caught with her neck craned to the side in an obvious listening stance. Searching her mind for an explanation for her eavesdropping, she jumped to her feet.

  But her companion didn’t seem to notice her. He stopped when the governor, looking exasperated and slightly dumbfounded called out. Caroline didn’t know what he said for the word was foreign to her. But Raff seemed to recognize it. He turned to face the older man.

  “I will see what I can do.” The governor lifted his arms, the thick lace falling back over his wrists. “Perhaps if I could speak directly with the Headmen we could come to a compromise.”

  Raff’s eyes narrowed as he studied Lyttleton’s heavy jowled face. “I will take your words to the Ani`-Yun`wiya, my people. Much depends upon this.”

  Caroline shivered. She couldn’t help herself. The air in the small stuffy room seemed suddenly charged, like the moments before a storm blows off the channel. Caroline wouldn’t have been surprised to see the silk curtains that hung heavy and limp in the midmorning heat start trailing out like banners in the wind.

  But there was no wind... no storm. Only the heightened emotion between the two men as they stared at each other. Then Raff turned abruptly, seemingly noticing Caroline for the first time since he entered the room. After a quick bow toward the governor, he grabbed Caroline’s hand and practically pulled her from the room. The door slammed behind them.

  They were halfway down the wide stairs before Caroline managed to catch hold of the railing and slow their pace. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo, and she looked down wide-eyed at her companion who came to a halt two steps below her. She watched as the expression on his face changed.

  “I apologize,” Wolf let loose her hand, noting the pale skin was red from his grip. He tried a smile, forcing himself to appear pleasant though his blood still boiled from the encounter with Governor Lyttleton. “We should leave while there are still hours of daylight.” The touch of her fingers on his sleeve kept Wolf from continuing down the stairs.

  “Wait.” Caroline bit her bottom lip. Questioning what fate dealt her was rarely something she did. She should simply realize she was an unplanned spectator to the confrontation that just occurred and leave it at that. But somehow she couldn’t. Whatever had transpired was important to Raff MacQuaid, vitally important. No amount of pretending on his part could hide that. “What did you mean by much depends upon it? Why are you so angry?”

  He didn’t answer, only continued to stare at her in a way that made her heart beat faster. Then he pivoted and continued down the stairs, his step less hurried. Surprised, Caroline lifted her skirts and rushed to catch up. She overtook him near the bottom, her quilted petticoat swirling out as she rounded on him. “Tell me,” she insisted, wondering what possessed her to be so bold. “You said ‘my people.’ I don’t understand.”

  She was in front of him, her arms spread slightly as if she were blocking his way till he answered her question. Wolf wondered if she knew how easily he could set her aside... break her in two if he wished. He considered telling her, watching as her chin, now set at a defiant angle, began to quiver. But then frightening his father’s bride was not his objective.

  Seducing her was.

  Still, he could not resist a slight taunt, a verbal jab, to pierce the innocent veneer of this woman chosen by the man he despised. He leaned forward till she had to tilt her chin
back to look at him. “My people are the Ani`-Yun`wiya, the Cherokee.” His raven brow arched. “Your betrothed’s son is of mixed blood.”

  Wolf watched the delicate line of her throat as she swallowed. She forced her blue eyes not to blink, and Wolf grudgingly admired her ability to mask her emotions. “Well, have you nothing to say to that, you who demanded to know why I was angry?”

  “What do you wish me to say?” Caroline’s eyes locked with his. It appeared her companion was daring her to take issue with his parentage. In truth the only emotion she felt was surprise. She told him so. “Actually, I was more astonished to find that Robert had a son nearly as old as I, than to discover he is part Indian.”

  “No one is ever part Indian,” he began. Then his voice turned soft, seductive. “And I would guess myself older than you by several years, Your Ladyship.”

  Caroline imagined he was right, but somehow it helped her peace of mind to think of him as she would Ned. In a motherly fashion. Or at least to try. But when he looked at her, as he was now, his dark eyes intense, it wasn’t maternal thoughts that tightened her stomach. Caroline reached out for the carved banister and turned. “’Tis unimportant which of us is the other’s senior,” she said, her voice firm, before lifting her chin and descending to the first floor.

  She nearly added that she was to be his father’s wife, but didn’t. He knew that. She was the one who needed to remember it, and stop imagining intimate looks where none existed.

  The rooms downstairs in the Meeting House were used as offices and courtrooms. There were people milling about the hallway. Caroline didn’t pause until she was again outside.

  The bright sunshine dispelled any lingering sensual draw she felt for Raff MacQuaid. At least Caroline thought it did until she turned toward him. Now that she knew of his mixed blood, she wondered why she hadn’t guessed it before. His skin was dark, bronzed against the snow white of his linen. And his hair, tied back in a neat queue, shone so black and sleek that the sun seemed to pull blue highlights from its depths.

  Caroline blinked and quickly glanced away. Raff MacQuaid was certainly a compelling man, but she had to stop thinking of him in that way. She took the arm he offered, deciding she needed to concentrate on Raff’s father. But he seemed unwilling to offer much information when she asked about Robert.

  “You shall have to form your own opinions,” he said, his tone one that did not encourage further discussion.

  They walked in silence down Water Street until Caroline recognized the Inn where she’d spent the last few nights.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of having your things brought down.” Wolf led her to the small courtyard to the right of the building. There a blackamoor was loading her small chest on the back of a pack horse. “Are the rest of your trunks stored elsewhere?”

  “There is nothing else.” Caroline said the words quickly. If he found it surprising that she traveled so lightly, at least his expression didn’t change. But Caroline imagined it took quite a lot for him to reveal his true emotions. The thought caused a shiver to dance down her spine. His hand tightened on her elbow as he led her to another horse, this one a chestnut mare replete with sidesaddle.

  Caroline swallowed. Her breathing was shallow, and she wiped her damp palms down the side of her flowered skirt. “Aren’t we taking a coach?” She rarely rode. The once fine stables at Simmons Hall were empty by the time her father moved Ned and her to the country. And the large animals frightened her. But then, nearly everything seemed to.

  Spoiled. He should have known. Well, Lady Caroline Simmons was going to have some difficult lessons in reality... starting here and now.

  “We’re heading for the frontier, Your Ladyship. The roads are mired with mud in the spring, choked with dust the rest of the year. At no time are they wide enough to accommodate a coach and four.”

  “I see.” Caroline glanced back at the animal who pranced impatiently, and she sighed.

  “You should go home.”

  “I... beg your pardon.” The words were so unexpected, Caroline didn’t know what to think.

  The face she angled up toward him was pale. He could plainly see a light dusting of freckles across her nose. Which Wolf told himself was why he offered her an escape. Besides, sending his father’s betrothed packing back to England was almost as effective as taking her to bed... at least that’s what he tried to tell himself.

  Wolf folded his arms. “I have no idea what you were told, but Seven Pines is not what you imagine. Life is hard. The frontier doesn’t care that your lineage is pure or your skin soft as down. Return to England while you still can.”

  “No!” Caroline sucked in her breath, “I won’t... I can’t return.” She felt childish blinking back tears that sprang to her eyes, but she couldn’t seem to control her emotions. For months she had worried about what was to become of Ned and herself. The chance to come here had been a Godsend. She endured the long weeks alone crossing the stormy ocean, only to have Robert’s son suggest she return... to give up the one chance she and her brother had to avoid debtors prison.

  Grabbing the reins, Caroline put her fear into perspective. The ocean voyage had frightened her, but she managed it. She would manage this... and anything else that was necessary.

  Wolf arched his brow, then merely shrugged. He’d given the woman her warning. His conscience was clear, he decided, as he cupped his hands to boost her up onto the saddle. But when he saw the expression of determination on her face, he wished she weren’t so adamant about staying.

  It didn’t take Caroline long to understand why coach travel was impossible. They were barely out of the town before the roads deteriorated to mere trails. Most of them bordered dark, mysterious swamps. Large turtles sunning themselves on rotting logs glanced around as they passed. Later they traveled, often single file, through never ending forests of tall, stalwart pines.

  Only once did they stop, and that was to rest the horses, and let them drink from a wide, slow-moving stream. But Caroline refused to utter one word of discontent. In the back of her mind lay the uneasy feeling that should she complain too much about the conditions, her companion would return her to Charles Town.

  Besides, though her back ached and her legs grew stiff, she could bear this. And sooner or later Raff had to grow tired. But as the sun tinged the sky ahead with a splash of mauve, their pace seemed to quicken. Caroline twisted in the saddle, causing the leather to creak beneath her skirts.

  Wolf glanced over his shoulder. “We shall be at George Walker’s soon. Then you can rest.”

  Relief washed over her, but Caroline refused to let it show. Somewhere on the arduous ride, she decided to prove to this arrogant man that he was wrong about her ability to last on the frontier. “I’m quite all right,” she managed, only to see the ghost of a disbelieving smile tilt his lips as he righted himself in the saddle. With a slap of his reins, he prodded his stallion to a faster pace. Gritting her teeth, Caroline urged her horse to keep up with him.

  Dusk was throwing eerie shadows across the trail when Raff led them onto an even narrower path that angled off to the south. Too tired to ask if this was leading toward the George Walker plantation he mentioned earlier, Caroline followed. Here she could see wide swathes of forest cut away to form plowed fields.

  Civilization.

  When a house came into view, Caroline sighed, obviously louder than she intended, for again Raff MacQuaid twisted to look her way. She kept her eyes focused on the house, refusing to acknowledge his stare.

  Two storied, and whitewashed, age and the surrounding canopy of trees gave the whole a shadowed appearance. The dwelling had a wide front porch and shuttered windows. Beyond it and down a long sloping stretch of land, Caroline caught sight of a river. They reined in their horses, and a child of about ten came running from one of the outbuildings. He wore cutoff breeches and his dark bare feet were covered with sandy soil.

  “Masta’, he done just come back from de fields.”

  “He’s in the ho
use, then?” Wolf asked as he reached up to lift his father’s bride off her horse. She sagged against him when her feet hit the ground, and his arms reached out to steady her. But she immediately righted herself and, with a murmured “thank you,” stepped away.

  “Yessah, he’s in there. Gettin’ on close to supper time.” The boy took hold of the reins and led the horses toward the barn.

  “That’s what I’m counting on.” Wolf turned and motioned Caroline forward with a wave of his hand.

  She passed him, head held high, though her legs felt as if they would buckle beneath her at any moment. And worse, to Caroline’s way of thinking, it wasn’t just the long, unaccustomed ride that made her knees wobbly. Foolish as it was, the brief instant she’d stood in the cocoon of Raff’s embrace had affected her equilibrium. She only hoped her future stepson hadn’t noticed.

  The door was partially open to allow the breeze off the river to come through. Wolf stepped inside just as a small dark-haired woman turned the landing of the stairs. She gave an excited yelp and raced down the remaining steps, propelling herself into Wolf’s arms. While Caroline watched, the tall, silent man lifted the woman and twirled her around till she begged for mercy.

  “Papa said you might come,” she said when he put her back on the floor. “But we didn’t expect you this soon.” The young woman flashed her dark eyes toward Caroline, before her gaze riveted once more on Raff. “How long are you staying?”

  “Only overnight,” Wolf brushed his finger across Rebecca Walker’s pouting bottom lip before turning to Caroline and introducing the beauty that clung to his hand.

  This time Rebecca Walker’s attention to Caroline lasted a little longer, but it was as if an invisible string kept pulling her smiling face back toward Raff. “You promised to stay with us longer next time,” she reminded him.

  “I said sometime, Rebecca. And that sometime is not now. I need to deliver Lady Caroline to my father.”

  “Is that company I hear?” A big booming bear of a man with grey hair and a ruddy complexion came through a door near the back of the hallway. In half a dozen giant strides, he had Raff in a bear hug, repeating that the younger man wasn’t expected this early.