My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers)

by Christine Dorsey

  As the weeks passed, Caroline herself almost forgot that there was a decision to be made about the child. Until she glanced up one day as she carried milk in from the barn and found Wolf standing in the clearing.

  Fourteen

  “I didn’t expect you back so soon.” Caroline tried to slow her pounding heart. She even wondered if he could hear it as he stood tall and powerful across the clearing.

  Wolf slung the musket across his shoulder by its strap and strode toward her, his eyes never leaving her face. “Did you not?” he asked while taking the pails of milk even though she protested.

  She hated him, Caroline reminded herself, annoyed because the reminder was needed. He had used her and left her and done it with a ruthless premeditation that still left her weak with anger. Yet when she saw him like this, weary from the trail, his features forced into calmness she knew was thin as veneer, her heart went out to him.

  He should be jubilant. He had accompanied the Cherokee Headmen to Charles Town. Surely with both sides desiring it, a plan for peace had been agreed upon. But then he’d barely been gone a fortnight, hardly time to reach the capital and return, let alone devise a scheme to put an end to the hostilities plaguing the frontier. “What is it?” she asked. “’Tis something amiss?”

  He answered her question with one of his own. “What of Mary and her baby? Are they well enough to travel?” Wolf’s long strides continued eating up ground toward the house across the chicken-pecked yard, till he realized Caroline no longer followed. Turning, he waited.

  “What happened?”

  “Can they travel?”

  Their eyes locked, each expecting an answer. Caroline took a deep breath, deciding she would never find out what disturbed him so unless she responded. “I suppose they can if they must. Mary isn’t strong, though she tries her best to hide it. And Colleen...” She lifted her hands, letting them fall again in defeat. “She’s so fussy and irritable all the time, even though she gets most of her nourishment from the wet nurse Sadayi brought.”

  “Is Sadayi here?”

  “No,” Caroline admitted with a shake of her head. “She went back to Kawuyi two days ago, I expected her to return last night, but she didn’t. Neither did Cahtahlata, the woman who’s been feeding Colleen.”

  “Word must have reached there by now,” he said more to himself than Caroline. But she heard and rushed forward. Reaching out she grabbed his arm, spilling some of the frothy milk in the process. Steam rose when it hit the frosted ground.

  “Word of what? Tell me.”

  His eyes focused again on her, and Caroline felt a chill that had naught to do with the northerly wind swooping down through the valley.

  “The governor is holding the Headmen as prisoners.”

  “What?” A lock of curling hair swirled out of Caroline’s cap, and she impatiently swiped it off her cheek. “But how can he do that? They went in peace at Governor Lyttelton’s suggestion.” He said nothing, and she continued. “They were going to work out all the problems between the two nations.” Caroline realized her voice grew higher and stopped. She took a calming breath. “Tell me what happened.”

  “We should go inside.” The air seemed to grow colder as they stood there. The wind crackled through the dried-up oak leaves that clung stubbornly to the branches and bent the tall pines. Wolf couldn’t tell if Caroline shivered from the cold or the news he imparted... or because of her anger with him. But as she shook her head, it didn’t seem as if she even remembered the words they’d had before he left for Charles Town.

  “Mary’s still in bed. I don’t wish to disturb her.”

  Wolf shrugged. He might as well allow her to rest while she could. And Caroline didn’t seem willing to do anything until he told her what he knew. He set the milk on the ground then took Caroline’s arm, touching her just below the elbow where the ruffle of her shift gave way to smooth skin. She stiffened but allowed him to lead her back toward the barn.

  The log walls offered protection from the biting wind, and the body heat from the two cows and one horse—which had survived the Indian attack—took the worst of the chill from the air. The early winter sun crept through the chinks between the logs, throwing a striped pattern of light and shadows across the straw-strewn floor.

  “Well?”

  Wolf almost smiled at her impatient tone. But then what he had to say wasn’t at all amusing. “It was a trap. At least it appears that it was,” Wolf added, for he couldn’t be certain what was in other men’s hearts. “Oconostota and the others went to Charles Town at Lyttelton’s request, assured of their safety.”

  “Yes, ’tis as you told me before you left.”

  “Except that when we arrived, Governor Lyttleton did not act as if he wished to negotiate. A deerskin, the symbol of the bond between the Cherokee and the English was laid at Lyttleton’s feet.” Wolf’s eyes narrowed. “He refused to pick it up.”

  “But what does that mean?”

  “At the time I wasn’t sure. Oconostota had given his talk, stating he wished no war with the English. He spoke of the warriors, both the English of Virginia and the Cherokee acting like boys. He said he desired to bury the hatchet of his young people.”

  “And what of Lyttleton? He must have appreciated that sentiment.” Caroline wrapped the shawl more tightly about her, but in truth she’d all but forgotten the cold.

  “Lyttleton repeated his demand that the murderers of the King’s subjects must be turned over to English justice. He also said he would hold the Cherokee Headmen as his guests until all the guilty warriors surrendered.”

  Caroline took a moment to absorb all that Wolf told her. “But they were promised safe passage,” she said again.

  “It is not the only time the Ani`-Yun`wiya, the Cherokee, have listened to the false tongue of the English.”

  Wolf turned away so quickly Caroline wondered if he spoke of what happened in Charles Town or his own experience with his father. But she couldn’t let empathy for his past cloud her judgment. Especially when her experience with lies and deceit were mostly at his hand. Caroline opened her mouth to tell him as much, but closed it again with a click of her teeth. What purpose would it serve? Besides, at the moment, she cared more about what he was saying. Her own naïveté was a thing of the past.

  “Where are they now, Oconostota and the rest?”

  “On their way to Fort Prince George.”

  “But you said—”

  “They are in the company of Lyttleton, the provincial regiment and the regulars from Charles Town. The Cherokee are kept under constant guard, as was I at first.”

  “Do you mean the Governor held you hostage as well?”

  “You needn’t sound so shocked. It is no secret that Indian blood runs in my veins.”

  “As well as English.”

  He ignored that remark as he strode to the doorway. He’d told her what she wished to know. “Pack as few things as you can manage with and be ready to leave within the hour.”

  “Leave for where?” Caroline whirled around and caught the loose fabric of his sleeve. Her hand slid down his arm, touching the strong bones of his wrist. She hadn’t meant to touch him, only keep him from leaving the barn, but the contact affected him as much as it did her. He twisted around, his eyes a dark fire that seared her defenses before he lowered his lids and looked away.

  “Fort Prince George,” Wolf said when he could trust his voice to be steady. He had not been prepared for the sensual spark that shot through him.

  “But you said that is where Governor Lyttleton is taking the Headmen.”

  “It is also the largest garrison in the area. Since we do not have time to return you to Charles Town, let alone England, I think you and Mary will be safest there.” With those words, he left the barn.

  By the time Caroline reached the house, he had awakened Mary and was explaining the situation to her, though in less detail and without the need on Mary’s part to drag information from him. What did she expect? He cared for Mary,
he’d told her so from the first. Whereas she had never been anything to him save a tool for vengeance. The thought sent renewed anger surging through her body. Her fists clenched, relaxing only when Mary glanced toward the doorway and saw her.

  “Oh Caroline, did you hear? Wolf says we must make all haste to arrive at Fort Prince George.”

  Her voice was agitated but weak. Caroline moved toward her, smiling as reassuringly as she could. It seemed to her that Mary’s eyes had sunk deeper since the night before.

  “I’m not sure leaving ’tis what we should do,” Caroline said as she plumped the pillows under Mary’s head and shoulders. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Wolf pause as he leaned over the cradle. His hunting shirt was stretched taut over his back, and she watched as the corded muscles tightened.

  Then her attention was drawn back to Mary who looked up at her, grey eyes showing bewilderment. “But Raff said—”

  “I’m sure he meant our traveling only as a suggestion, Mary.” Caroline helped her scoot up against the bolstered pillows. She didn’t glance around when Wolf handed the young mother her fussy baby, but she couldn’t help noting how small the child looked in Wolf’s large hands.

  Then those hands were upon her, not gentle as when he handed Colleen to Mary, but strong and commanding. With no more than a mumbled excuse to Mary, he propelled Caroline toward the open doorway. Any thoughts she had of protesting evaporated when he nudged the door shut with his shoulder.

  He nearly dragged her into the parlor, shutting that door also before letting her go with enough force to make her stumble.

  “Are you so enamored of Indian attacks that you wish for another?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Caroline tried to regain some measure of dignity. She brushed out her brocaded skirts and refused to meet his stare until doing so became impossible. God, why was she drawn to him so?

  “It would seem so to me, with that foolish talk of staying here.”

  “Just because I don’t agree with you that we are at danger does not mean I am foolish.” Caroline lifted her chin and tried not to cower as he stalked closer to her. “You said yourself revenge against Robert spurred the other attack.”

  “I said it may have helped spur the attack.” The look he gave her was hard, lacking any sign of the passion she’d thought she saw earlier when they touched. Or had she only imagined it? “But even if that was the only reason before, I think you will agree that circumstances have changed.”

  “Mary and I have lived here for nearly a fortnight with nothing but friendship from the village.” He stepped closer but still she refused to retreat. “I don’t think—”

  “Your Ladyship,” he began, his voice all the more ominous for its low tone. “Do not allow your dislike of me to cloud your judgment.”

  “I do not dislike you,” Caroline countered, nearly choking on the falsehood. “You mean nothing at all to me.”

  He was so close now she could smell the woodsy, outdoor scent that enveloped him. Leather and horses, wood smoke and the cool crisp fragrance of winter blended with his own scent. Her senses were inundated, and her body responded to the memories his smell evoked. Her nipples tightened; and between her legs, where he’d touched and caressed, she felt the moisture of wanting him.

  Aghast, embarrassed by her traitorous body, Caroline turned away, but his hands were quick and before she could stop him, he cupped her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him.

  It was there again, the flare of passion shining from the depths of his obsidian eyes. Desire flared hotter in her, warring with the memory of his betrayal. She thought she might melt from the battle till he began speaking. Then her attention became riveted on his words.

  “I came to you first. First, do you understand me?” His fingers tightened. “My people will soon be pressed into a war they neither want nor can win. But they will fight, because they are proud and have no choice. And I should be there in my village, at least trying to talk some sense into the young men who see only the glory of battle. But I am not there. I am here, because you are here, and I cannot stand the thought of you suffering as you did before.”

  “My suffering has been primarily at your hand.” Caroline lashed out with those words and immediately wished them back. She didn’t want him to know how very deeply he’d hurt her.

  “You may think so now,” he said, his voice gentler but just as intense. “But I did not rape you, nor force you to do naught that you did not wish.”

  “You used me. You brought me here... to him. And abandoned me.” Caroline turned her face away, embarrassed by the tears that threatened to spill from her lower lashes.

  Wolf took a deep breath, forcing himself not to pull her into his arms and assuage her tears... assuage his own guilt for the way he’d treated her. Instead he offered what he could. Safety... at least as much as there was on the frontier. “Please ready yourself for the trip,” he said, releasing her arms. “I shall pack some provisions.”

  She missed the warmth of his hands. Caroline rubbed her own up and down her arms and wished it weren’t so. But wishing did no good, as he’d taught her only too well. So Caroline sniffed, scrubbing her hands across her face before heading back toward Mary’s bedroom.

  Caroline avoided Mary’s eyes as long as she could, busying herself with rolling petticoats and stuffing them into a saddlebag she dragged from the top shelf of the wardrobe. But not meeting her eye wasn’t enough.

  “What was that all about?” Mary asked as she closed her bodice and shifted the sleeping baby to her shoulder.

  “Nothing.”

  “It didn’t sound like nothing to me. What happened between the two of you?”

  “We had a simple disagreement about whether or not we should go to Fort Prince George.” Caroline yanked open a drawer and began stuffing Mary’s stockings into the leather pouch. “I’ve decided he’s right, that we should leave.”

  “I imagine he is.” Mary crawled out of bed and carefully lifted Colleen. “Wolf knows a great deal about the politics between the English and Cherokee.” With a smile she settled the infant into her cradle then slowly straightened to face Caroline. “But that’s not what I mean and I think you know it.”

  “I know nothing of the kind.” Caroline dropped the saddlebag on top of the dresser. “Since you’re finished nursing Colleen, perhaps you can finish packing your things. I’ll see about the—”

  “Why won’t you ever talk to me about this?” Mary, dressed in a shift and bodice that seemed made for someone larger, came forward. She grasped Caroline’s hands. “You’ve been wonderful to me. You’ve taken care of us. Done all the work and listened when I poured out my heart to you about Logan. Even telling you the secrets I can barely admit to myself. Yet you won’t let me help you at all.”

  “Mary.” Caroline grasped her cold hands, trying to press some of her warmth into them. “There is nothing you can do.”

  “I can listen, Caroline. ’Tis what friends do for one another.”

  “’Tis nothing to tell.” Caroline forced the lie through her lips, then reached out when Mary turned away. “Please don’t be angry.”

  “I’m not.” Mary moved haltingly toward the hook where her skirts hung. “’Tis just that there is something when he looks at you. And when you look at him...”

  She shook her head, leaving the rest unsaid, and for that Caroline was grateful. For she didn’t want to deny the undeniable. And lying was becoming too easy.

  Yet she thought of the child nestled deep inside her and knew the untruths would continue. And escalate.

  “Mary.” Caroline stood clutching the saddlebag’s leather straps until her friend looked around. Her excited expression dimmed with Caroline’s next words. “I don’t want you to mention to Wolf that I’m in the family way.”

  “Why? I should think he would be pleased to know.”

  Though she doubted Mary’s assessment, even if the question of the baby’s conception didn’t spring immediately to his mind, Caroline
nodded. “You are right. But I’m still not completely sure I am with child, you know. And I’d just rather wait a bit to tell anyone else.”

  “Of course, I shall respect your wishes, Caroline.” Mary tied the tabs of her skirts. “I am your friend... always.”

  By late morning, the four of them were on their way. Mary rode sidesaddle on the only horse that survived the Indian raid, her child wrapped to the front of her body Cherokee style with a long shawl. She looked tired with shadows beneath her grey eyes, but her spirits seemed high. Caroline chose to walk behind, leading the horse Wolf brought. Wolf, himself on foot, was at the head of their unlikely procession, his long rifle cradled in his arms, his posture alert.

  The trail they took was the one on which Wolf and she had traveled on her way to Seven Pines... was it only months before? So much about her life had changed since then. But Caroline tried not to dwell on that as she plodded along listening for anything that might mean... What? An Indian attack? Wolf hadn’t said so, but she imagined that’s why he scouted a bit ahead, peering into the woods on either side of the trail.

  But she heard nothing, save the call of a hawk and the occasional rustling of a fox or rabbit in the underbrush. When they stopped by the bend of a stream to rest, Caroline stood back as Wolf helped mother and child from the saddle. Mary smiled at him wanly when he settled her on a carpet of moss, leaning her back against the burly bark of an oak tree. Colleen fussed irritably until Mary managed to bring her to her breast.

  Caroline watched her friend a moment then followed Wolf downstream where he’d taken the horses to water them. “Are you certain this trip is necessary? Mary doesn’t look well, at all.”

  Wolf glanced over his shoulder at Caroline, then through the web of leafless saplings that separated them from Mary. His dark brows lowered. “We will be at the fort by this time tomorrow. Then she can rest.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Caroline wished she could deal with him in a reasonable way, but anger seemed to seep into her words whenever they spoke. She wondered if the anger wasn’t her way of dealing with the hurt she felt. Or the desire that still strummed through her whenever he looked at her. She was a foolish woman to want him after what he’d done. Foolish. Foolish, she told herself, as he settled his obsidian gaze on her.