Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02]

by My Heavenly Heart

  What was it about this man that seemed to dissolve any restraint she possessed? She might have flirted over her fan and allowed a gentleman to kiss her hand, but she was a basically virtuous woman. However, last night she acted like the “ladies” she and Liz were wont to gossip about. Like a courtesan. But kings and earls had courtesans. Not a simple man like Logan MacQuaid.

  Yet in all honesty she had to admit he was more complex than she originally thought. And much more handsome.

  She whipped off the blanket and jumped to her feet. If she didn’t put such thoughts from her mind immediately she would forget her purpose here. He was off by himself. Rachel reached for the Cherokee dress, her fingers lingering on the smooth deerskin. The feel of it sent a shiver through her body as memories of the night before cascaded through her mind.

  “Oh, no,” she murmured. It was best if she bound herself up in her own clothes, no matter how threadbare. She dropped the white leather to gingerly pick up the blue silk. And dirty, she added.

  She dressed quickly, wondering where he was and what he was up to. If he’d managed to get himself killed without her there to save him she would never forgive him. Didn’t he know better than to go off without her? Rachel skimmed over the nagging worry that she would miss him if something did happen to him. Of course she would. He was a nice enough person... when he allowed someone to know him.

  But her real concern should be for herself. If she didn’t save him where would that leave her? Rachel didn’t take the time to comb through her tangle of curls before rushing from the cabin. She couldn’t let anything happen to him. She didn’t want to live the rest of her life, or death, or whatever netherland she was in, as a guest in a Cherokee town.

  He was in the Council House with the Adawehis. Rachel let out a sigh of relief. She nearly burst into the building to assure herself he was safe, but memories of her reception the day before kept her from it. Besides, the Adawehis knew why she was here, actually believed her. He wouldn’t let any harm come to Logan.

  Which gave Rachel time for a bath. It amazed her how she could now think of a dunking in a bone-chilling river as such. And even look forward to it. Wouldn’t her maid, Ruth, who knew the exact temperature Rachel preferred her floral-scented water, and strove to please, be shocked if she knew.

  Thoughts of Ruth’s hazel eyes open wide in dismay made Rachel smile as she walked along the path to the area where the women bathed. She didn’t see the Indian warrior till he stepped directly into her path. She didn’t gasp until she recognized him.

  Rachel’s heart pounded but she tried not to show fear. After all, he could do nothing to her. “I suggest you remove yourself from my way.”

  He didn’t say anything, only stared at her from his superior height. He had a hard face, tattooed skin taut over sharp bones. Odd, but she never considered the scarred countenances of her Cherokee friends fearsome. But this man’s was. Perhaps it was his eyes that made him seem so formidable. They were dark and hard. Her courage began to fade.

  “What do you want?” Though she tried not to, Rachel found herself taking a step back.

  “You are MacQuaid’s woman.”

  There was no question in his voice. Only a churlish quality that she would never abide in her other life. Or in this one either, she decided. Her chin lifted. “As you obviously speak English, then you had no trouble understanding my earlier request. I must insist that you—”

  His hand snaked out, latching on to her jaw, wrenching her head to the side. Tears stung her eyes and she heard a pathetic whimpering sound, only realizing after a moment that it came from her.

  “You do not insist with me, white woman.”

  Rachel tried to swallow and couldn’t. His fingers bit into her skin; his dark eyes held hers.

  “You will tell MacQuaid I have not forgotten.” His hold tightened, then he released her chin. But his hand lingered. Rachel tried to pull away when she saw his gaze drop to the tattered ruffle of her décolletage. But those strong fingers tangled in her hair, before outlining the curve of her breast.

  Her skin cringed, and a sob escaped. No one, no one ever treated her thus. Rachel wished someone would come along the trail. But the only sound she heard was her own ragged breathing juxtaposed over the faint breeze rustling the dried oak leaves and the chatter of a blue jay.

  “I shall scream.”

  Her words were cut off by his satanical laugh. “Scream all you wish, white woman. I want MacQuaid to know what I can do to you... whenever I wish. There is more than one way to die.”

  Rachel never knew whether he let her go, or if she broke away. One moment she was his prisoner, the next she raced back toward the town, her bare feet unmindful of the sharp stones in her path.

  She never even looked around to see if he followed her. All Rachel knew was that she had to reach Logan. She had to tell him what Ostenaco did to her.

  The Adawehis was alone in the Council House. He looked up, concern deepening the grooves in his forehead when Rachel threw open the door. “What is it Adan’ta Woman?”

  “Where is Logan?” It hurt so much to breathe she nearly doubled over.

  “He is not here, but—”

  Rachel didn’t listen any further. Twirling around she headed for the cabin they shared. Logan held a stack of wood, which he dropped unceremoniously to the packed-dirt floor when she burst through the door.

  He was cradling her shoulders before she could catch her breath. “What in the hell happened to you?” He gave her a shake when she didn’t answer. “Are you hurt?” His voice sounded raw with concern.

  “We... we have to leave. Today.” Rachel gulped in air. “Right now.”

  “Rachel?”

  She jerked away from his hold, pacing toward the fireplace, unable to stand still. “Didn’t you hear what I said? We have to go.”

  “But why? Tell me what happened.”

  She opened her mouth to do just that, then clamped it shut. I want MacQuaid to know what I can do to you. Ostenaco’s words came back to her. And with an insight she didn’t know she possessed his reason for frightening her crystallized in her mind.

  Logan would go after Ostenaco if he knew that the warrior touched her. And who among the Cherokee would fault Ostenaco for defending himself? For killing his attacker.

  “Nothing happened.” The denial left Rachel in a rush. “Nothing at all.”

  He didn’t believe her. He folded his arms and looked at her through lowered lids, and she had to turn away from his doubting expression.

  “I was on my way to the river when I saw a... a bear.” Rachel slanted him a look but couldn’t tell whether he accepted what she said. “It frightened me and I ran.” She managed a self-effacing laugh. “Foolish of me, I know, but...” She let the rest of it fade away as she lifted her hands.

  “Your lip is bleeding.”

  Was it? Had Ostenaco gripped her hard enough to cut her skin? Rachel licked it gingerly, wincing when her tongue encountered the wound. “I must have bitten it when I saw the bear.”

  “And this encounter with a bear made you decide we must leave?”

  “Yes.”

  She held her ground as he stalked toward her. He stopped, when he was close enough to touch her. But he didn’t. “Tell me what really happened, Rachel.”

  She swallowed. “I did.” Rachel felt the pulse pounding at the base of her throat and wondered if he noticed. “May we leave?”

  “Because of a bear? I think we’d be safer staying where we are, don’t you?”

  Before she could think of an answer, he turned. He was reaching for the door latch when her hand clamped onto his.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have been challenged to a game of Chungke.”

  “Take me with you,” she ordered, her eyes clashing with his.

  “Still frightened of the bear, Your Highness?

  Rachel didn’t deign to answer, but he did bow and usher her through the doorway.

  Chungke was played on a cle
ared acreage to the west of town. To Rachel’s delight, this game didn’t appear to be as violent or potentially dangerous as the other she’d watched. There were only four players, counting Logan, but as many as two-score spectators lined the field.

  Ostenaco was there. And Rachel had to stop herself from bolting toward Logan when she first noticed him.

  There was much cheering and calling out of advice as the first player rolled the disc-shaped chungke stone. But Ostenaco said nothing, nor did he watch the action as the second player tried to hit the stone with his pole. The warrior’s hard eyes never left Rachel. Even when she tried to ignore him, tried to follow the play of the game, she could feel the power of his evil boring into her.

  The men raced about, trying to intercept each other’s poles in flight, trying to perfect their aim, striking the chungke stone. Around her men and women wagered upon the outcome and moaned when their champion missed. But Rachel saw none of it. She watched only Logan.

  “Your man did well to win.”

  Rachel jerked around at the sound of that hated voice. She didn’t think he would approach her here, surrounded as she was by so many people.

  “You did not give him my message.”

  “Yes... yes I did.”

  “Do not lie, white woman. MacQuaid would not leave you unattended if he knew what I plan for you.”

  “I shall tell the Adawehis. He shall have you expelled from the village.”

  “It will not matter, white woman.”

  She felt Logan’s presence, his anger, before he reached her side. She turned, holding out her hand to stop him, but he ignored the gesture. “Is Ostenaco annoying you?” The words might be directed at her but his eyes never left the Cherokee warrior.

  “No. Please, Logan, do not concern yourself. We spoke of the game only.”

  She could tell he didn’t believe her. His jaw clenched till she could see the telltale quiver of a muscle. He faced the warrior chest out, ready for battle. But she couldn’t be the cause of this fight.

  Rachel touched his arm. “I beg you to take me back to the village. The Adawehis wishes to speak with me.”

  She watched as he relaxed his stance. His gaze dropped to hers and he nodded. It wasn’t until they were walking away that Ostenaco spoke.

  “Your new woman is beautiful, MacQuaid. You must take care not to lose her.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “It is love, not reason, that is stronger than death.”

  — Thomas Mann

  The Magic Mountain

  They would not make love that night... and Rachel was glad.

  Memories of the day shattered her tranquility, making it nearly impossible for her to concentrate on Logan. She had to remove him from the danger. She knew that. But how?

  When they first returned from the chungke field she nagged at him to leave, but to no avail. He was determined to stay till the end of Ah,tawh,hung,nah. Which meant two more days. Two more days of unbearable tension, unbearable fear. How was she supposed to save his life when he wouldn’t cooperate?

  Rachel didn’t realize it at first but she asked the question in the form of a prayer. Eyes closed, head bowed, hands clasped in supplication.

  But it was not God’s voice that answered her.

  “Imploring the Lord to save you from bears?” His tone was fraught with sarcasm.

  Rachel turned her head, meeting his narrowed eyes with her own. “Dull-witted men, actually.”

  They lay perhaps a rod apart, as distant from each other as they could get in the small cabin. Nearly an hour earlier they had bid each other good night and Logan rolled out the sleeping mats. Apparently neither found slumber easily.

  Now they stared at each other, the glowing embers of the fire the only light. But she had no trouble reading his expression. It was hard and closed, showing no glimpse of the warmth he let her see before. And then suddenly he broke the bond, twisting his head till a faint flicker of flame catching in the hearth limned only his strong profile.

  Rachel studied him, mesmerized by the depth of her feelings. Since her father died and she came to court she noticed that some men were pleasant to view and some were not. But she never encountered anyone like Logan MacQuaid. Someone who could infuriate her so completely and intrigue her at the same time.

  What was it about the slant of his nose or the jut of his chin that captivated her so? Rachel shook her head. A sudden longing for her old life swept over her. She wanted... needed to return to things she understood. To things she could control.

  “I want you to stay away from Ostenaco.”

  Logan’s voice brought Rachel back from reminiscing about festive balls and cream-filled pastries. She took a deep breath. “I did not seek him out. But if you truly wish me not to be around him, don’t you think we should leave?”

  “Tell me what he said.”

  “I did,” Rachel insisted, thinking that, even to her own ears it sounded a lie. She pushed up on her elbows. “Why does he hate you so?”

  “I killed his brother. I told you as much.”

  “But you didn’t tell me why.”

  He was quiet for so long Rachel thought he refused to tell her. Her mouth was open to argue her case when he spoke.

  “Ostenaco had two brothers, Tal-ltsuska and Cwahwia. They both took part in the raid upon Seven Pines. The raid when my wife and child were slain.”

  Rachel’s mouth went dry. “Did you... did you have your revenge on both of them?”

  “Nay. I was too late to punish Tal-ltsuska. My brother, Wolf did that.”

  “But you did kill Cwahwia.”

  “Aye. He bragged of his feat to me. Bragged of taking her scalp.”

  She could feel his pain, had to fight for it not to overpower her. Rachel wet her lips. “Surely if Ostenaco knew of this he would stop—”

  “What was done is no secret. Ostenaco and his brothers hated the white man. The blood letting did not begin with Mary’s death.”

  “Yes, but can’t Ostenaco simply let it end?”

  “The Cherokee are not a people to overlook the death of a relative. To restore harmony to their world they must retaliate. It is as much a part of them as breathing.”

  “Yet you insist upon staying here and pretend to think Ostenaco has forgotten because of some silly festival.”

  “I’d not let the Adewehis hear you call Ah,tawh,hung,nah such.” Logan twisted to his side, resting on an elbow, his expression serious. “Of course I don’t believe that Ostenaco wishes to follow the ancient laws and forgive transgressions. He does not wish to start anew... to give up his hate. But I think it better to finish this business once and for all.”

  “And have him kill you?” Rachel was sitting now and nearly shrieking at him.

  “Thank you, Your Highness, for the show of confidence.” He flopped down onto his back. “Did it ever occur to you that it is I who might kill him?”

  No, it hadn’t. And though she knew him to be strong and apparently adept in the manly pursuits she also knew that some higher being felt he needed protection. And she was the one sent to give it to him.

  Rachel also lay back down. “I would not trust Ostenaco to play this little game fairly,” was all she said before pulling the blanket up to her chin and closing her eyes.

  ~ ~ ~

  She woke to something wet and cold nosing at her arm and Logan gone. “For heaven’s sake, Henry, haven’t you something better to do?” Rachel yanked the blanket over her head only to shove it down again. “Where is he?”

  Rachel jumped to her feet. “What do you mean you don’t know? This is becoming so tiresome. Perhaps I should tie a rope to him.” As she rambled on, Rachel pulled her blue and silver gown over her shift and headed for the door. “How can I be expected to save him if he forever rushes off without—”

  The remaining word caught in her throat as she yanked open the door. Before she could scream a rough, dark hand clamped over her mouth.

  ~ ~ ~

  Damnation.

&nbs
p; Logan left the Council House more confused than ever. “You must be gentle with the Adan’ta Woman,” the Adewehis said. As if Logan hadn’t turned his entire life around for her.

  Hell, the reason he went to the holy man this early in the morning was to tell him they were leaving. Logan didn’t know exactly what caused Rachel to suddenly beg him to leave, but he did know she was frightened. And not of a bear.

  So he would take her away.

  And not only from the Cherokee town. He was going to do what he should have the moment she showed up on his mountain. Before he listened to her foolishness about being sent to save his life. Before he tried to teach her a lesson for telling such giant lies. Before he made love to her. Logan’s fingers tightened into a fist. Before she disrupted his entire life.

  But it wasn’t too late.

  Hell, it couldn’t be. He would take her somewhere... to Seven Pines. His sister-in-law would know what to do with her. Caroline was a sensible woman. If nothing else Rachel could be her companion. And if things got worse... Logan tightened his hand on the door latch. If Rachel’s madness became too much for Caroline and Wolf to handle... Well Logan knew there was a hospital in Philadelphia that might help her.

  He took a deep breath, trying to fight the tightness in his chest. His hand still lingered on the latch but he hesitated to push open the door. Knowing what he would find. She would be lying on her mat, her breasts covered only by the threadbare fabric of her shift. Nearly bare before his eyes. It was the way he left her and just the sight of her then, her angel face framed by those wild curls, the rest of her body outlined by the thin blanket, was almost his undoing.

  It took more willpower than he thought he had to turn away and head for the door. A part of him, a strong part, had teased in his ear. “Lie with her. She will have you. She will welcome you. And you can bury yourself deep in her body and wallow in the pleasures of the flesh. Taste again her rosy nipples, drink of the essence of her womanhood, and savor the oblivion of her tight sheath. You will forget all else.”

  But it was the same voice that spoke to him of the sweet surrender of rum. That urged him to swallow one more drink. To forget.