He would wreak his revenge, and no one could do anything about it. Lady Caroline Simmons didn’t stand a chance against him.
“I shall fetch your woman,” Wolf declared before leaving the porch and melting into the surrounding forest.
One
Late summer, 1759
Charles Town, South Carolina
She wasn’t what he expected. But then women usually weren’t.
Wolf leaned against the dingy whitewashed wall in the crowded taproom of Cooper’s Inn studying the woman who had crossed the ocean to become his stepmother. If the notion didn’t make him so angry, he’d laugh aloud at the thought. Robert wanted a refined lady, and this woman was willing to sell herself into the job. But it was all for naught. For this porcelain doll wouldn’t last a fortnight on the frontier.
She lifted her face and glanced around the room, her eyes large, reminding him of a frightened doe, and Wolf felt a twinge of conscience. For what would happen to her. For what he would do to her. But he quickly suppressed any feelings of compassion.
He’d instigated none of this.
Lady Caroline Simmons, with her moonspun hair and cameo face, sealed her own fate when she allowed greed to lure her from her element. By coming to South Carolina, she offered Wolf the perfect chance to avenge his mother’s disgrace. And Wolf wasn’t one to ignore fate.
Schooling his features into a pleasant expression, Wolf pushed off from the wall and strode the length of the smoky room. Few patrons spoke as he passed, though more than one pair of eyes followed his progress.
“Lady Caroline?” Wolf stopped before the table in the corner. She didn’t look up immediately, too busy pleating and unpleating the lace tipped handkerchief she held in her lap.
“Yes?” Caroline’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat nervously. Feigning courage was made more difficult when she glanced up at the man who addressed her. He was tall and imposing, lean, though larger than most men. At least he seemed that way to Caroline as he all but loomed over her. “I’m Caroline Simmons,” she finally managed to say.
Caroline clutched the scrap of lace to keep from wringing her fingers. There was no denying this man made her nervous. Not that he didn’t appear a gentleman. On the contrary, compared with most of the men in the taproom, he was well dressed, his suit of gray silk smartly cut, his linen fresh and snowy white. But Caroline thought his clothes succeeded naught in camouflaging his raw power nor an underlying streak of something not quite tame.
She blinked, forcing aside those fanciful thoughts when she heard his introduction. ‘Twas only the last name she heard, and the fact that he’d come to take her home.
“MacQuaid,” Caroline gasped, trying hard not to sound shocked. “You are Robert MacQuaid?” Though she had no inkling of her betrothed’s appearance, she hadn’t expected this... this overpowering man.
“No.” Wolf’s smile was brief but genuine. “I am Raff MacQuaid, his son.”
“Oh.” Caroline resisted the urge to press her palms to her hot cheeks. This man as her future stepson was nearly as disconcerting. She knew Robert had sons, two of them, but somehow she’d imagined them more like her brother, Edward, younger, more vulnerable... dependent upon her. She imagined this man depended upon no one but himself.
Caroline realized his dark, dark eyes were upon her, and she unconsciously wet her lips. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. MacQuaid.”
“Are you ready to leave?” Wolf asked without further preamble. He’d planned to make himself known to her then suggest she retire to her room, while he waited upon the governor. Even before hearing Robert’s request, Wolf had his own reason for visiting Charles Town. But he found himself irritated by Lady Caroline’s naive demeanor. He’d known other women like her—women who used their innocence to beguile a man. A stint of sitting in the governor’s anteroom would be a good... and humbling experience for her.
“Leave? Well, yes.” Caroline stood, hoping her added height would make Raff MacQuaid appear less intimidating. It didn’t. “I expected Robert... I mean, your father, to come for me.” Caroline didn’t add that she expected him two days ago when the Sea Dove sailed into Charles Town harbor. Her limited finances were sorely taxed by the cost of unexpected lodging.
“He’s had an accident.” Wolf took Caroline’s elbow and felt her tense.
“An accident? I pray he’s all right.” Caroline wished her concerns were altogether selfless. But she couldn’t help thinking of her position. What would become of her and of Edward if Robert MacQuaid couldn’t marry her?
“It was nothing too serious. However my... father couldn’t make the trip.” Even pretending civility toward the man who sired him was difficult.
“I see.” Caroline blinked against the bright sunlight as they stepped out onto Water Street. Except for the heat, she could be on the London street near the wharf that she left nearly two months earlier. Crowded and noisy. Wagons and people clogged the dusty roadway. Occasionally a chaise wended its way through the street that reeked of garbage and filth.
For just a moment Caroline allowed herself to think of the peace and tranquility of Simmons Hall. Of the crisp, clean air and the woods full of song birds. Then she compelled reality to prevail. Simmons Hall no longer belonged to her. Nothing did.
But she wouldn’t... couldn’t dwell on that. The years had taught Caroline to accept what couldn’t be changed. Accept and move forward. And this was definitely one of those times. She knew it from the moment her father’s solicitor arrived at Simmons Hall the day after the Earl’s funeral. Explaining the financial situation of the estate had embarrassed him. His large, bulbous nose was rubbed red by nervous fingers when he finished reviewing the sorry state of affairs.
“Then I’m to understand there is nothing left,” she said, surprised by her own lack of emotion. But then she’d suspected the Earl had been spending more than the income provided by his estate.
“Nothing.” Oliver Chipford scratched at his nose and cleared his throat. “The house and lands will be sold to pay off the debts.” His features brightened. “Perhaps I can arrange for you to be wed. I’m certain—”
“That isn’t enough.” Caroline had turned from her contemplation of the garden through the mullioned panes. “There’s Neddy to consider. He’s not of an age to care for himself.”
“He’s at school, I believe.”
“Yes.” Caroline’s voice quavered. Soon the powers-that-be at that lofty institution would know of her circumstances. The tuition was past due as it was. For though she’d squeezed till it squealed the paltry sum her father allotted to maintain the household, she couldn’t come up with the amount needed for Edward’s schooling.
Considering her situation, she was exceedingly grateful when Mr. Chipford introduced her to a factor who arranged her impending marriage. She was relieved to receive Robert MacQuaid’s proposal. Despite the fact it involved her leaving England and her brother.
There was certainly no one else she knew willing to wed a penniless woman past her prime.
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.
Sea of Christmas Miracles Page 6