Rebel

by Heather Graham

Ian smiled, easing down beside her. He drew her close. The fire burned low; the night air cooled them. She reached for the covers. He warmed her again with his body. Touched her, stroked her.

  Made love again. Rested, sated, for a time.

  In sleep, she shifted against him. He cupped her buttocks with his hands, curved to her length. The feel of her brought him to a full hard erection again, and he slipped in her. Made love.

  Dawn came, and with it, a heavy sleep at last. Full daylight filled the room when he awoke. She was just rising. He caught her sleepy gold gaze, shook his head, pulled her back. “Not yet,” he whispered.

  “Ian, it’s late in the day!”

  But her protest was weak.

  And he did not allow her to rise.

  James and Teela McKenzie, along with Brent Land Sydney, left that afternoon. James had business in Tampa, then they’d be leaving for Charleston.

  Jarrett McKenzie was sorry to see his brother, sister-in-law, nephew, and niece leave. It was a difficult parting.

  Somehow, when they had been younger—half-brothers, one white, one Indian—they had managed to fight the rest of the world. Through the long years of the Second Seminole War, they had remained close. Not even the new flare-up of trouble in ’58 had caused the least difficulty between them.

  Now Jarrett discovered either himself or James growing quiet when discussions regarding the possibility of war arose.

  And as they said good-bye on the river that day, they looked into one another’s eyes. Oddly, James, the Seminole son, had their father’s deep blue eyes. Jarrett’s own were his mother’s—as nearly black as those of any full-blooded Indian in the country.

  Jarrett felt his heart slam against his chest. He was getting old. In his fifties. Much of life spent. Funny, he didn’t feel old. The world changed around him, but he didn’t feel old. And certainly they didn’t look old. James hadn’t seemed to change a bit in all these years. Not in appearance. His bronzed face showed little signs of age. Just a trace of silver was beginning to touch his temples. Only James’s eyes were old, and Jarrett was certain that same sense of age was reflected in his own.

  If war came, they’d be on opposite sides. And Jarrett knew then with a sinking heart he’d be on the wrong side, according to most of his own people. “Take care on your trip,” Jarrett told James. James stepped away from him, slipping an arm around Teela’s shoulders. Jarrett thought that there was a trace of tears in his sister-in-law’s beautiful emerald eyes. Teela was a strong woman; she’d been willing to brave any danger to be with James. After difficult beginnings for them all—he and Tara, James and Teela—they’d been blessed. For over twenty years, their lives had been good. They’d had children, and their children were healthy and strong. Friendships had formed between them to augment the closeness of their blood ties. No family had ever been more supportive of one another.

  And yet…

  The future loomed before them in a frightening manner.

  “For once, brother,” James told him with a trace of amusement, “I think that I can say I’m going to be all right. Jarrett, you have to be careful about voicing your philosophies.”

  Jarrett might have replied, but he chose not to in front of so many people. “As father liked to say: I’ll do my best to behave—as honorably as I may.”

  Despite the fact that the family laughed and joked easily while they awaited the barge by the river, a strange pall seemed to lie over them all. Jarrett and James discussed the roads that had been cut through the northern portion of the state, making transportation in that region so much better than it had been when they had first been blazing their own paths via old Indian trails. While the south remained a wilderness—still mainly inhabited by Indians and gators—northern Florida was gaining quite a population and all the amenities of any civilized state. The McKenzies exchanged embraces before the barge left, and those remaining behind watched and waved until it disappeared into the sunlit day.

  That afternoon, Jarrett McKenzie had at last the opportunity for a long talk alone with his eldest son. With the barge gone, the remaining group split up. Teddy McMann drew his daughter along the river, excitedly studying the plants there. Jerome and Julian went walking down the quay, discussing the merits of Brent having taken up a practice near Charleston. Jarrett suggested Ian might indulge him and take a walk out to the pool.

  They strode out together, speaking of casual things until they reached the fallen log by the pool. Jarrett drew a silver brandy flask from his frock coat pocket and offered it to his son. Then he took a seat on the log, folding his arms across his chest in a determined manner. “It’s definitely time we talked,” Jarrett said, and watched his son as Ian sipped from the flask, studying the crystal ripples of the water.

  “As you say, Father.”

  He was proud of his son. Jarrett had served in the military himself as a very young man, until Andy Jackson’s Indian policies had driven him to a stand on his own. But throughout his life, he’d had close ties with many military men. A good friend, Tyler Argosy, promoted last year to lieutenant general, had seen to lan’s entry to West Point, and served as lan’s mentor for years. It had been difficult for Jarrett to watch his son struggle with his conscience and his duty. Ian was against the military’s treatment of the Indians and would have resigned his newly gained commission if he had been assigned to Florida during the fighting of ’58; thankfully, he’d been assigned elsewhere. It was only in the last few months that he’d received the rank of major and been given a position as a guide and liaison for the army cartographers and surveying teams in the south of the state.

  Yet Jarrett was damned well aware that though his son might have spent a fair amount of time with his uncle James recently, he hadn’t been near McMann’s daughter—until his arrival home. Now, in civilian clothing, standing very tall and dark in breeches, shirt and frock coat, Ian was a striking figure, his features strong, combining the best of both himself and Tara, Jarrett thought. He awaited his father’s questions with quiet dignity.

  “I do believe that your mother and I are worthy of the truth—the complete truth,” Jarrett said firmly.

  “The truth is that we were caught in a compromising position,” Ian said, then added quietly, ‘and so went immediately to the Reverend Dowd’s and were married.”

  “A compromising position?”

  Ian smiled, shaking his head. He suddenly reminded Jarrett of James. “I didn’t seduce her, Father. It was accidental…” He hesitated, then shrugged, aware that whatever he said to his father would go no further. “She is Teddy’s daughter, raised a bit wild in the wilderness. She decided to go swimming at the pool.”

  “Lots of people have found themselves swimming in that pool. Swimming, in itself—”

  “She was swimming naked.”

  Jarrett stared at his son. “Ah. You were naked as well.”

  Ian hesitated, but didn’t lie or make excuses for himself. “I was.”

  “Looking for Mrs. Trehorn?”

  “Father, I know that you never particularly approved of that liaison—”

  “Indeed, I did not. But you’re a grown man. Certainly old enough to choose your relationships. And to suffer the consequences they create. Thank God, however, that you didn’t march to the Reverend Dowd’s with Lavinia. I might have become immortal just to assure myself she never became mistress of Cimarron! And thank God that Alaina didn’t march there with Peter O’Neill.”

  Ian arched a brow to him. “Lavinia would have thumbed her nose at scandal. She’s quite fond of me, but much more fond of her money. And as to Alaina and Peter… she did think rather highly of him at one time, I believe,” Ian said lightly. Jarrett was slightly amused. Ian had never had patience for Peter O’Neill. He considered him a blustery pretty-boy braggart who created hard times for others. But now, it seemed, Ian sounded just a bit jealous. And maybe it was well. Ian was far too accustomed to having women listen to him, pay him heed—and fall for his rugged good looks. Naturally, Jarr
ett was of the opinion that Theodore McMann should have taken his daughter over his knee years ago—but there was little to be done about that now.

  Jarrett liked Alaina; she was a bewitching, vibrant little bit of baggage. But he was sorry for the marriage when another woman—who seemed so ideal—awaited.

  Jarrett sighed. “Alaina might have thought herself in love with Peter, but I’ve lived a long time, son, and I’ve studied human nature. The most unlikely people can make magnificent matches—because they understand and respect one another, as was the case with your uncle James and aunt Teela. Alaina would have seen through Peter’s stories very quickly; she would have realized that his words were nothing more than wind, and she would have hated him. Their marriage would have been hell.”

  “Well, Father, I pray you foresee something better for the two of us, then,” Jarrett said, smiling wryly.

  Jarrett shook his head, noting the grave look that came into his son’s eyes. “Were things as they were ten years ago, I would have wished you every happiness. I haven’t seen Alaina in quite some time myself, but she was always an enchanting child. She has grown into a vital woman, full of life, beautiful, intelligent.”

  Ian listened quietly. “Sir, it sounds as if you approve— those are wonderful qualities in a wife.”

  “Usually. But what of Colonel Magee’s daughter?”

  “Risa?” Ian murmured.

  “You wrote as if you two had already discussed an engagement.”

  “There was nothing that we had actually discussed, Father. We spent time together; we were falling in love—we liked one another very much.”

  “You made no promises to her?”

  “Not because I didn’t intend to, only because I hadn’t had the chance. I meant to talk with you and Mother while I was here, speak with Risa when I reached Washington this time, then ask her father for her hand. I had thought we’d make a good pair; we are excellent companions, she is accustomed to the military, and she is…”

  “Young, lovely, and intelligent as well?”

  “Yes,” Ian said simply.

  “She will be hurt in this.”

  “Yes,” he said again. “I will see her when I go to Washington.”

  “There is no way I can help you there, son.”

  “Father, I’m a full-grown man who has faced some serious fighting in the West. I accept responsibility for all my actions, and will face them on my own.”

  “With honor,” Jarrett said softly. “But I imagine you’d rather go back and fight a skirmish in the West than explain this to Miss Magee.”

  Ian inclined his head slightly. Jarrett studied his son, aware that Ian seldom let his emotions show.

  “Well,” Jarrett murmured, “under the circumstances that occurred here, I can understand you felt you must act. Teddy is a good man, and disgracing his daughter— with or without intent—would have shattered him. So you are now a married man. The deed is done. As your father, I congratulate you. And as your father, I also give you these words of advice: Bear in mind that Alaina is a passionate, independent woman who grew up creating her own rules as she went along. She can be strong, and willful as well.”

  A dark expression passed quickly through lan’s eyes, and Jarrett saw that he was already aware of those qualities in Alaina. “Father, I am capable of handling my wife.”

  Jarrett sighed deeply, wishing he didn’t feel such a sense of doom regarding the future. “Are you capable of waging war against her?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re Unionists, Ian, you and I. The time hasn’t quite come when sides must be drawn, but we have deep-seated beliefs in the sanctity of the Union, coupled with the fact that we have been living in a slave economy without slaves. If war comes, we will be at odds with our state. Teddy and Alaina live in the far south where the Federal uniform has long been despised for all the pain wrought on the Seminoles by the army. I don’t think that Alaina will ever understand your determination to go against your state and remain with the army.”

  “I haven’t made that decision yet,” Ian said unhappily. “The decision isn’t even there to be made as yet.”

  “But it’s coming.”

  “There is no way I could make such a decision without weighing all the risks and dangers—to myself, to my family, and to Cimarron. But whatever decision I make, my wife will have to accept.”

  “I pray it’s so. You are both proud, stubborn, and very determined to have your own way.”

  A sneeze suddenly sounded from a few feet away. Ian arched a brow to his father, then walked around one of the oak trees to find his brother seated at the foot of the oak, his back leaned against it. His boots, socks, and shirt were off; he’d obviously been at the pool ready to plunge in when Ian and Jarrett had reached it. Julian, so like Jarrett they might have been twins, rose unhappily. “Sorry. Truly. When you first arrived, I was about to make my appearance known, but Father’s voice had that deep tone to it, and I didn’t want to intrude. I thought I’d lie low and slink away after.”

  “The whole damned world should know all my personal business,” Ian muttered darkly.

  Julian stood impatiently, joining in the conversation, now that his presence had been discovered. “I’m hardly the whole damned world; I’m your one and only brother,” Julian reminded him. “And quite frankly, I don’t understand the difficulty here. In my opinion—”

  “Julian, I don’t recall asking for opinions.”

  “In my opinion,” Julian continued with quiet dignity, “she is absolutely stunning, a whirlwind of grace and energy. Of course, she has no money—that’s been held against her by a great many respectable families—but then we McKenzies have done very well. Naturally, of course, that is your doing, Father, though you have trained us with sound business expertise so that we are all quite good at managing property and money. We like to go against the grain—your doing as well, Father, since you taught us all that people are unique in themselves, and that society might dictate behavior, but never the honor within a man’s or woman’s, heart.”

  Ian smiled at his father as his brother seemed to be warming up to his speech. Jarrett smiled in turn.

  Julian went on. “And since it certainly appears to be a customary marriage—they’re obviously thoroughly enjoying their honeymoon—”

  “Julian!” Ian protested, indignantly interrupting his brother. “What the hell do you know about my marital relations?”

  “Well,” came a deep drawl, and Jerome stepped from around another oak, clad only in denim breeches and still wet from a dive into the pool. He paused momentarily, facing Jarrett, who looked at him expectantly. “Excuse me, sir, I didn’t mean to intrude; as you can see, I was just emerging from the pool and, like Julian, found myself awkwardly trapped here. This being the case, though…” He looked to Ian. “I believe that the entire household is aware of the pleasant normalcy of your marriage, largely due to the fact that the two of you didn’t emerge from your room until my folks were afraid they’d have to leave without saying good-bye to you.”

  “Indeed?” Ian muttered darkly.

  Jarrett McKenzie lowered his head, trying not to smile at his son’s exasperation. Julian and Jerome, having found themselves in the midst of the conversation, meant to torment him to some fair degree.

  “It bodes for a good marriage, I think,” Julian said. “A very good relationship. Don’t you think, Jerome?”

  “I would have to agree.”

  “Though, naturally, Jerome, being intelligent and reasonable and civilized men, we’re all aware that common ground must be found—”

  Jerome set an arm about Julian’s shoulder, nodding in amused agreement. “But then, entertaining sexual relations can create some damned good common ground,” he said, his lip curled in a half smile. Then he remembered Jarrett, sitting on the log, studying them all. His bronze features flushed to a deeper shade. “Sorry, Uncle, I meant nothing, of course. Alaina is like a sister to me.” He paused again. “Ian, we’ve
been as close as brothers, and we’d have been friends if no family ties existed at all, but you have acquired a wife who is near and dear to my heart. Quite frankly, what hardship can be found in marrying a woman who is young and exceedingly beautiful? Now, then, looking at this from Alaina’s point of view—”

  “She’s acquired a tyrant,” Julian said with a mock sigh, eyes alight. “Trust me, I know—I came into the world a bit more than a year later, and paid the price for my tardiness!”

  “So it’s good that Alaina is a bit willful,” Jerome murmured. “She’ll need to be so to survive Ian.”

  “Are you both quite finished?” Jarrett inquired sternly.

  “Indeed,” Julian murmured.

  “Well, then—what is done is done,” Jarrett stated, rising. “Ian, we all wish you happiness.”

  With that, he left his sons and his nephew behind him and started back toward Cimarron.

  Jerome, watching his uncle go, felt a shiver go up his spine—someone walking over his grave, as the expression went. He turned to Ian and spoke seriously. “We do all wish you every happiness,” he said.

  Ian nodded, smiling slowly. “I know.”

  The exchange seemed to be growing too earnest for Julian. “Ian looks flushed, sweaty, hot. Don’t you think he looks hot?” he asked, gazing from his brother to Jerome.

  “He does!” Jerome agreed gravely.

  “Dammit, no—” Ian began, but he hadn’t been expecting the attack, and between the two of them, his brother and cousin brought him crashing down into the pool. In retaliation, he set out after his brother; Jerome deserted Julian, and Julian was duly dunked. He was then pleased to join Ian for an attack on Jerome. An hour later, they were all three panting, lying on the embankment, gasping for breath, laughing, sharing the last of the little silver flask of brandy.

  “What are your plans, Ian?” Jerome asked.

  “I have to go back to Washington. Bring some of the new maps we’ve made.”

  “I can’t imagine Alaina in Washington.”

  “I… won’t be bringing her. Teddy has asked me to allow her to come home with him.”