My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers)

by Christine Dorsey

  It was late, well past midnight she imagined, and she would never have opened the bedroom door had she realized who was on the other side. Her first thought, when she heard the knock was that Mary was worse. Seeing Wolf standing before her should not have been such a shock since she thought of little else since he arrived, but she didn’t think even he had the nerve to come to her alone, in the middle of the night.

  Yet her initial outrage at his appearance paled in comparison to the question he asked her before she could say anything.

  “I believe you heard me, Caroline. And it is a simple enough query. Are you with child?” Wolf reached behind him to close the door. The key turned in the lock with a soft metallic click.

  The sound galvanized Caroline to action. She stepped forward, anger replacing her initial surprise. “If you do not leave this room immediately, I shall scream.”

  The light was dim—a wash of silvery moonlight, tinged with an orange glow from the banked fire—but she could still read the amused expression on his face. He arched a dark brow.

  “And what good would that do, Your Ladyship? Who would come to your rescue? Your husband?” His tone held scorn. “I doubt he could maneuver the stairs if his life depended on it.

  “No, Lady Caroline, you should have gone to him this night, if you wished to protect yourself from visitors. But you needn’t worry. I won’t stay long. And,” he said more gently, “I won’t hurt you.”

  She believed him.

  But that did nothing to relieve her anxiety. He sent her senses soaring, and all reason seemed to scatter whenever she was near him. His presence made thinking difficult. Then why was she understanding something clearly for the first time?

  “Please go.” She turned away, moving toward the window so he couldn’t see how her hands shook as they clutched the woolen fabric.

  “Caroline, I—” Wolf followed her, but though he wanted to, he didn’t touch her narrow back. “I need to know if you are carrying my baby.” Much about what he’d done to her caused him regret. But nothing more than the thought that she might be pregnant. With his child. Though that might be the perfect revenge against his father, it would prove a living hell for the child... for Caroline.

  She almost turned back to him when she heard the pleading in his voice. Did he have the right to know? But she gripped the sill and forced herself to think rationally.

  First of all, though his question brought many things into focus: her uneasy stomach when she rose in the morning, the tiredness, her bouts of crying, she still wasn’t completely certain she was with child.

  There were explanations, explanations that not include a child, explanations she’d accepted readily, for all her symptoms. Thoughts of submitting to Robert made her ill whenever they occurred. She was working long and hard, especially since Mary needed more rest. And then there were the tears. She was trying her best to control them.

  But even if she was with child... especially if she was... she could never let on to Wolf. She was married to his father. Any child she brought into the world must be a result of that union. Or at least must seem to be.

  Bastard was such an ugly word. Surely Wolf understood that.

  Caroline schooled her features, then slowly turned to face him. He was closer than she assumed, and his nearness was almost her undoing. Oh Wolf, she wanted to cry, throwing herself into his arms. Why did you do this to me? Why did you leave me? She would have gone with him anywhere. Even now, wedded to another in the eyes of man and God, she was tempted to beg him to take her away.

  But there was more to think of than herself.

  “There is no child,” she heard herself say, and she could barely believe the soft, calm voice was her own.

  “You are certain?”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t tell if she read relief upon his features. “Now will you please go?”

  He should be pleased. Wolf wondered why he wasn’t. Hands clenched, he turned and started for the door. But he paused and turned back. She stood in a puddle of moonlight, looking beautiful... and vulnerable. He tried to ignore the desire that burned within him.

  “There is one more thing.”

  Caroline lifted her chin, hoping she could maintain her composed facade until he left. “What is it?”

  “The threat of war is real. No matter what your... husband says, I want you to leave here with me tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise.” She gave no explanation, but then he needed none.

  “You have my word that I’ll see you safely to Fort Prince George.”

  Again she believed him.

  “I can’t.”

  Anger flared in the depths of his obsidian eyes. “Are you willing to risk your life to stay here with him?”

  Him? Lord help her, she hadn’t even thought about Robert. Her husband. She shook her head, her unbound hair brushing softly across her back. “’Tis Mary I cannot leave.”

  “She will come, too.” It had never been his intent to leave his brother’s wife behind.

  “She can’t travel. She can barely leave her bed.”

  For what seemed an eternity, he stood there, staring at her. Then slowly he reached down and drew a knife from his legging. The long polished blade caught what light there was, reflecting it. Moving toward the chest, Wolf placed the knife beside the silver-handled brush. The contrast between the two made the knife appear even more deadly.

  “What are you doing? I don’t want that.”

  When he turned to face her, there was very little of the civilized white man in his expression. “You may need it.” Again he headed for the door, but this time it was Caroline who stopped him.

  Rushing forward, her bare feet padded on the wide boards. She reached out, but didn’t touch him. “Do you think the Headmen and the Cherokee can work out a compromise?”

  “I don’t know,” Wolf answered before facing her. When he did, his hand, of its own volition, cupped her cheek. Dark against pale. Weather-hardened against soft. The contrasts nearly unmanned him. “I must try to bring them together at least.”

  “And if you can’t?” She was playing with fire, but as Caroline turned into his palm, she seemed helpless to stop herself.

  “I don’t know.” Her sweet breath fanned across his flesh, and he lost control. His fingers dug into her hair. His mouth attacked hers.

  The kiss was deep and desperate. Tongues searched and mated, probed. Caroline clutched at his shirt, wishing it were his smooth skin beneath her hand, needing to hold onto him.

  By the time he tore his lips away, Caroline could feel the hard ridge of his manhood pressing against her stomach. Her own body was molten fire.

  “Please,” she whispered and neither knew if it was a plea to stop or to assuage the awful ache they caused each other.

  Wolf bracketed her head and stared, studying her face, naked with desire for him, and he could do nothing but twist away.

  Caroline watched him leave, then slowly shut the door and turned the key, though she knew he would not return. Her lips were bruised, her skin was so sensitive she could barely stand the slide of the sheets as she climbed back into bed.

  She lay awake till the rooster crowed and the sky paled to pewter. Then she rose and dressed. When she went belowstairs, she wasn’t surprised to learn that he was gone.

  Eight

  A fortnight passed since Wolf’s sudden appearance at Seven Pines. Then another. On the surface life continued much as it had before.

  The Indian women either came from the nearby town of Kawuyi to help, or they didn’t. Robert scoffed at their lack of work ethic, but Caroline understood their need to take care of their own homes first.

  Mary grew larger and larger as the days passed. She tired easily and complained less about spending her time abed. “If anything should happen to me,” she began one day as Caroline sat in the light of her window sewing.

  “Nothing bad will happen,” Caroline interrupted, almost angrily.

  “Yes, but if something should... i
t’s not as if women never die of childbirth,” Mary added gently.

  And Caroline felt guilty for constantly dwelling upon her own concerns. Not that she hadn’t gone through the motions of caring for Mary, but her mind had been elsewhere. Now she set the partially completed shirt for the baby on the chair and went to the bed where Mary sat propped against pillows. She clutched the other woman’s hand, and Mary smiled.

  “Just promise me you’ll look after my baby.”

  “I shall.” Caroline squeezed her fingers. “You needn’t worry about that.”

  Caroline’s pledge appeared to relieve Mary, for her spirits seemed lighter even as her body continued to grow heavier.

  And even as Caroline grew more and more worried.

  There was little doubt in her mind now that she was with child. Her seemingly innocent queries of Mary concerning the early stages of pregnancy, and the other woman’s answers only confirmed the idea that Wolf planted in her head.

  She carried Wolf’s child.

  No, Caroline admonished herself. It could never be his child. For the baby’s sake it must be Robert’s.

  Thus Caroline viewed her husband’s recovery as a mixed blessing. She knew she must submit to him... and soon. Yet she could scarcely stand the thought.

  “Get in here, girl.”

  Caroline couldn’t keep herself from cringing when she heard him summon her. Sadayi and Walini were here today, and Caroline had decided to wash the bed linens. They built a fire outside since there was no laundry room, and filled a large kettle with water from the creek. While Walini stirred the sheets about in the soapy water, Caroline decided to check on Mary. But she never got past the parlor.

  “You wished to see me?” The words died on Caroline’s lips as she stared at her husband.

  “I got rid of it,” he said, glancing down at his leg, now free of the cumbersome splints.

  “Are you certain that’s wise?” He stood balanced on his crutch, obviously putting little pressure on his one leg.

  “Hell girl, I’m tired of being laid up.”

  “Yes but if—”

  “If nothing. It’s gone and it’s going to stay gone.” As he spoke, his head drooped. He stared first at the swollen leg, visible beneath his ripped breeches, then lifting only his eyes, at Caroline. “You know what this means, don’t you, girl?”

  He reminded her of the bull out in the pasture, hunched shoulders and hard stare. Caroline swallowed and said nothing.

  “You’re finally going to be my wife in more than name.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, girl?”

  Caroline’s throat tightened, but she managed to croak out a strangled, “Yes.” It was what she wanted... what she needed. For her child’s sake, Robert must believe... must accept this baby as his.

  His laugh sent ribbons of revulsion streaming across her flesh, but she tried to ignore them when he summoned her closer. “I need your help getting into the chair.”

  Caroline allowed him to throw his arm about her shoulder, accepting much of his weight, as she guided him back to the large armchair. He was heavy. It seemed to Caroline that he’d gained a good deal of weight in the months since she’d arrived at Seven Pines.

  He fell back into the chair with a grunt of relief, and Caroline tried to move away. He smelled of sour whiskey and unwashed skin. But his hand shot out, capturing her wrist.

  Her first response was to struggle, but his fingers tightened as if to remind her that he had the right to touch her if he chose.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “Then come closer, girl.”

  “My name is Caroline.”

  “I’m well aware of who you are, Lady Caroline,” he grunted as his fingers bit into her skin, forcing her down to her knees beside his chair. “The high and mighty Lady Caroline. Thinks she’s too good for the likes of me.”

  “No.” Tears burned Caroline’s eyes, but she blinked them back.

  “Too good to spend time with me. But you’re not too good for the filthy savages, are you?” When she said nothing, his fingers twisted. “Are you?”

  “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about. I help Sadayi and Walini. I thought that’s what you wished.”

  “Such a dutiful little wife.” His color darkened with anger. “And did you think it was my pleasure for you to be nice to my half-blood son?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t what?”

  The tears did come now as he pushed her lower. Caroline struggled, but he was too strong for her. She considered screaming, but the only person she was sure could hear was Mary, and she didn’t want her jumping up and running downstairs. Besides, he was her husband and she had to learn to deal with him.

  “As you say,” she said with as much dignity as she could, considering she was on her knees, her skirts billowed around her. “He is your son.”

  “So were those ‘motherly’ looks you were passing him across the table?”

  Caroline said nothing, but she felt the blood drain from her face. She had tried so hard not to look at Wolf at all. To do nothing that might give away her feelings for him. But apparently she failed for there was no denying Robert’s anger, or the reason he felt justified in his actions.

  “What you planning girl, to go running off with him? Is that the reason he came here wanting to take you away?”

  “No.” Caroline shook her head, relieved there was something she could deny with a clear conscience. “I’m not going anyplace. I’m here aren’t I?” She hoped he didn’t notice how desperate and unhappy her voice sounded.

  Apparently he only concentrated on her words, for the pressure on her wrist lessened. “Because I’ve got the money,” he said angrily.

  “There never was any secret about our marriage agreement.”

  “You’re penniless. Your father gambled and driveled away all your wealth and you want to keep some holier than thou brother in silk breeches.”

  “That’s right. And you wished a titled bride,” Caroline said, reminding him of his side of the bargain. She jerked her arm and though he didn’t let her go, he did loosen his fingers.

  “You’re damn right I did.” He jerked her hand up pushing it into his lap, rubbing her palm over himself, laughing at her struggles to pull away. “And tonight I shall have one.”

  He was still laughing when Caroline gathered up her skirts and ran from the parlor.

  “What’s wrong with you? That water is hot,” Sadayi warned as Caroline stuck her hand into the laundry kettle. It scalded, and she pulled her hand out quickly, though she almost welcomed the pain.

  “I suppose I should use a stick to remove the linens,” she said with a shake of her head.

  The rest of the day passed too quickly. Tea was an abomination. Robert refused her request to take her refreshment upstairs with Mary.

  “You’re up there all the time. Today, you stay with me.”

  So she did. Doing her best to ignore his lewd expressions and suggestive remarks. But she couldn’t overlook his statement when she excused herself from the table. “Tonight, girl,” was all he said.

  “You seem upset.”

  “What? No, I’m fine. Perhaps a bit tired.” Caroline forced a smile and laid down her sewing. She’d spent the evening in Mary’s room, but it was getting late. And if Robert did manage to make it up the stairs, she didn’t want him coming here looking for her.

  She would be ready for him.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” Caroline leaned down to kiss Mary’s wan cheek, but before she could straighten up, the other woman caught hold of her arm.

  “What happened to your hand? It looks burned.”

  “I wasn’t thinking and stuck it in the wash water.” Caroline shook her head. “It was foolish of me.”

  But then not the only foolish thing she’d done since her arrival in the New World, Caroline thought as she entered her room. Mary had admonished her to rub butter on her palm, but Caroline couldn’t bring herself to go
downstairs.

  She stripped from her gown, trying not to feel like a sacrificial virgin. For one thing, she reminded herself, she wasn’t one, sacrificed or not. For another, as much as she loathed the thought of Robert touching her, it was necessary that he did. She kept on her shift, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and blew out the candle. Once in bed, she lay stiff and still. Her eyes shut, she listened. Through the closed window came the distant sound of a solitary wolf crying into the darkness. She ignored it, concentrating instead on any noise from inside the house.

  When she heard him, Caroline couldn’t stop the tears from coming, but she scrubbed at her face. “For the baby,” she whispered to herself over and over... like a litany. “For the baby.”

  His progress was slow; and when he shoved open the door, Caroline realized it was more than the crutch that made it so. The smell of whiskey preceded him into the room.

  “Light a candle, girl. I can’t see a damn thing.”

  He was difficult to understand because the drink slurred his words, but Caroline grasped his meaning easily enough. Having deliberately doused the candle earlier, she now relit the wick. But she couldn’t make herself look at him. Not until he’d stood for long minutes looming over the bed.

  As soon as she glanced up, he laughed, a sound that sent gooseflesh crawling over her skin. Then he dropped the crutch. It crashed onto the bare floor as he threw himself across the bed.

  His weight was oppressive, his smell overpowering. Caroline turned her head away only to have his fingers dig into her cheek and twist her back. She nearly gagged when his open mouth descended on her. He pried open her jaw and his thick, foul-tasting tongue filled her.

  For the baby. For the baby.

  When he lifted his head he was breathing heavily... and Caroline bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming. But the sound echoed in her head as he grabbed hold of her shift’s neckline and yanked.

  He groped and he squeezed, and all the while he talked. Slurred, silly words about how he would please her, and what a virile man he was. There was more, but Caroline blocked it out. She no longer thought of her child and the sacrifice she was making for its legitimacy.