Rebel

by Heather Graham

  Her palm lay over her stomach. His hand curled over hers. She shook her head. “Can you feel it? Oh, he is refusing to move again now that I am anxious for him to do so.”

  He could feel nothing as yet except for the tightness of her abdomen.

  “Children, at any age, seldom do as their parents wish,” he reminded her.

  She offered him a brief smile. “Oh, God, Ian, he is alive. Definitely alive!” she murmured in wonder.

  Ian stood in the shadows. He doffed his boots and shirt, then lay down upon the bed at her side, drawing her against him.

  But she stiffened against his hold. “Ian, you can’t defend the army!” she insisted.

  He refused to reply. His hand moved low again, over the curve of her stomach. The warmth of his breath burned damply against her forehead as he held her to him.

  “The babe is alive. For the love of God, Alaina, let’s keep him so,” he whispered vehemently.

  She closed her eyes. She felt the ripple of movement— so fascinatingly, wonderfully strange!—within her again.

  Life!

  And how sadly ironic. Teddy’s life was gone, yet new life quickened. Teddy’s grandchild.

  lan’s babe as well, she reminded herself, lan’s babe, and she’d not told Ian, he’d found out when he’d come here, found out from someone else.

  She felt the strength of his arms around her, and wondered briefly when he would cease to pity her—and allow the anger he was surely feeling to erupt.

  And now, to make matters worse, she’d slapped him in front of his family.

  Why was she suffering so now over her own actions? Did they matter?

  “Something must be done,” she said stubbornly.

  “Something will be done. Alaina, quit fighting me. Let’s get some rest.”

  She bit her lip, but did as he bid her, feeling the warmth and power of his body as she rested against his chest, far too weary to fight any more that night. With a twinge of guilt, she realized that she was glad he had come and was with her, and she wondered what might have happened had he not arrived. She had nearly escaped the man in the water, and yet, if she hadn’t been able to put enough distance between them…

  Yet it all seemed so cruelly ironic. Had Teddy just come in when she called him, they’d have been safely at the house when the convicts and army came through. She felt a moment’s fierce anger with her father for being so obsessive, then she felt guilt along with that anger, and again the frightful pain of loss.

  Ian’s fingers moved through her hair, stroking so very gently.

  Despite her best resolve, she was shaken by another trembling, dry sob.

  “Alaina…”

  She shook her head against him, feeling the sleek warmth of his flesh, breathing in the scent of him. “I’m all right. I was just… Ian, you’ve such a huge family. You have your folks, your brother, your sister, aunt, uncle, cousins… Teddy was all that I had.”

  He was quiet, still stroking her hair.

  “Well,” he murmured after a moment, “you do have me.”

  She found herself rising up against him, trying to read his eyes in the night. “Do I, Ian? Do I have you?” she whispered softly.

  “Ah, now, Mrs. McKenzie, that works two ways!” he reminded her softly. “Do I have you?”

  “How could you not? I am nearly four months along with child, too pathetically shattered to have my wits about me, married to you, and therefore apparently at your whim and mercy.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured, and she felt the strange sweep of his gaze touching her in the shadows. “I wonder, my love, if I will ever have you exactly at my mercy,” he said, and the sound of his voice was dry, but not without a certain tenderness.

  “It seems that you are the one who will dictate where I will live,” she reminded him.

  “I’m in the army; I go where I am assigned. 1 will not leave you alone here, Alaina.”

  “You could send me to Cimarron.”

  She felt him watching her. “I could.”

  “But?”

  “But I’ve decided that you’re coming with me,” he said with some exasperation.

  She wanted to go with him, she realized. Very much. She had spent far too much time when he was away brooding about his possible activities—and his proximity to Colonel Magee’s daughter.

  But she’d never, never let him know.

  And so she replied to him gravely with another question. “And what if Florida secedes?”

  “Florida has not seceded. We don’t even know the results of the election as of yet. Besides, you are at my mercy—didn’t you just say so? You’ll just have to abide by whatever decisions I might make.”

  “Ah.”

  “You will do so.”

  “Naturally, I will—assuming you make the right decisions,” she murmured.

  “Trust me, they’ll be right,” he said firmly. He reached out, cradling her head gently, drawing her back to lie against him. “Let’s get some sleep, Alaina,” he said softly.

  She closed her eyes. He hadn’t answered her when she had asked if she really had him—he’d turned the question on her. But he was here with her, and for her, now. And in her present circumstances, she was rather at his mercy, even if it was a good thing that he didn’t realize just how much.

  “Ian?” she said, curling her fingers where they lay against the crisp dark hair upon his chest.

  “Yes, Alaina?”

  “Will you mind that I am with you?”

  “Alaina, you’re my wife, expecting my child. I’ll certainly not mind in the least that you are with me. It was your choice to stay with your father, remember?” he asked.

  “You’d intended that I should stay with my father before I asked,” she told him.

  “Your father had asked that I leave you,” he said. “Get some sleep, Alaina.”

  She wanted to sleep.

  Perhaps, even, to begin to heal.

  Maybe she didn’t want three young men hanged. Their deaths would not bring her father back to life for her. But she did want justice.

  She was sorry; she couldn’t just forgive…

  And she’d never forget.

  Never.

  Chapter 15

  The air was definitely taking on a cooler measure, especially in the early morning. And still the sun beat down through the cool, damp air, striking Ian’s bare back as he worked splitting the slender pines he’d hauled from the mainland to the islet, preparing to leave the place in the care of his family.

  Teddy had been buried four days. Jerome and Julian had yet to return from the base at Key West; Ian hoped they’d return soon, because he had only two weeks left before reporting back to duty. And if he was bringing Alaina with him, he’d need time to make proper travel arrangements.

  The time he had spent here now seemed like a very strange waiting period. For Alaina, it was a time of deep mourning. He had offered what comfort he could, and she seemed to be coming to an acceptance of her father’s death. Sometimes she was very quiet, staring into space. Occasionally she gave way to a single dry ragged sob. Then sometimes she just wanted to be left alone, and so he had decided to give her what distance he could.

  The last two nights, he had found himself staying very late with his uncle and Lawrence on the porch. It was easier to come in later, when she slept already. They didn’t argue, and neither did he suffer quite so keenly with the desire to remind her that he was alive, very much alive, that he had been gone a very long time, and very much wanted his wife.

  He raised his arms, bringing his ax down so hard that the pine shattered rather than splitting. Swearing, he moved the wood chips to begin again.

  Ian wasn’t quite sure why they should be trying to hang on to Teddy’s islet—except that it was Teddy’s islet and Alaina’s inheritance. The real estate was not worth a great deal; had they decided to sell, it was quite unlikely that they’d find a long list of buyers. The far south remained mostly a haven for wreckers, salvagers, downright pirates, Se
minoles, runaways of all makes, colors, and creeds—and eccentrics like Teddy. Perhaps his McKenzie kin could be classified as eccentrics, too, despite the fact that his uncle James assured him constantly that the time would come when the south Florida beaches would be worth the gold they resembled. Perhaps, but not in his lifetime. Still, his own father had held onto his property here, clearing a few acres, leaving a great deal of heavily wooded swamp and foliage as well. Ian knew that he would never sell McKenzie property himself, and he wondered if, at heart, he wouldn’t rather be a runaway himself. He’d spent so much time growing up prowling through the hammocks, mangroves, pine isles, and pure swampland. He loved the sunsets, maybe that was it. And the sunrises as well; mornings like this, when the air was cool and still, such a radiant warmth could work its way into his bare back….

  He paused, his foot upon a log, leaning on his ax as he saw Alaina come to the porch. She looked very pale, thinner than when he had arrived, a childlike waif. She was in a simple off-white cotton dress, wearing no petticoats, no corset—not even shoes. He reflected that in parts north they’d both be quite indecent—he was barefoot, wearing breeches, nothing more. A bead of sweat trickled over his chest. Yes, in such a remote square of primordial Eden, it would seem quite indecent to be fully dressed. And Alaina appeared entirely arresting in her natural beauty, her hair free, rippling down over her shoulders, falling past her waist, as delicate and angelic as a lost sea sprite.

  She waved to him; to his surprise, she started walking toward him. Not that she’d actually been distant, but she’d never, not once, sought him out in the time that he’d been with her.

  He waited, feeling the morning air cool his shoulders, as she approached him. She came down to him, perching atop his pile of pine logs, wrapping her arms around her chest, shrugging, and smiling ruefully. “The house seemed so very strange when I awoke! It’s been so full… and this morning, there’s no one in it. No one at all.”

  “My aunt and uncle left early; they didn’t want to wake you,” Ian told her.

  “And Jen and the baby?”

  “Packing to come stay here.”

  “Where is Lawrence?”

  “Back to working the sea.” He still leaned against his ax, watching her.

  “Oh,” she murmured. “Well, what about Bella, Lilly, and my father’s workers?”

  “Bella and Lilly are giving Jen a hand; your father’s men are learning to become salvage divers.”

  “Oh!” Alaina said, startled. Her long lashes swept her cheeks. She looked off toward the sea then. “It’s so strange, isn’t it? Last week, at this time, it was still Teddy’s islet, and now, Teddy is… gone. He loved his lime trees, and they’ll just become overgrown.”

  “Jen has promised to take special care of the limes,” Ian assured her.

  Alaina watched him, and nodded after a moment. She shivered slightly. “It seems so strange, so silent,” she mused, then flashed him a quick smile. “I suppose it’s part of what I do love so much about Belamar. If you look in one direction, the sand and sea seem to stretch forever, into eternity. But when you turn a corner, you’re into a mangrove cove, and it’s as if you have a spit of the world all to yourself with just wind and warmth.” She hesitated. “Ian, perhaps I should stay awhile—” she began, then broke off, frowning, as he suddenly approached her, hands on his hips. “Ian, what—”

  “What is this, Alaina? Pleasant conversation, sweet smiles—because you want me to change my mind?”

  “Well, I was just thinking—”

  “And I was just waiting to find out how damned far you are willing to go for your own ends!” he said. He was ready to reach for her, grab her, shake her. His frustration was at an agonizing level. He tried very, very hard to remind himself that she had just lost her father.

  He let out a furious oath and turned away. He walked a few steps, then began running.

  The stretch of sand she had spoken about was just before him, and a sea view that seemed to stretch forever. He ran along the sand until it curved out of sight before striding out through the waves and then diving into the ocean.

  The water was as crisp and cool as the morning air. It was good against his flesh, and he swam hard for a long time, then turned onto his back and stared up at the sun above him, narrowing his eyes. With his peripheral vision, he realized that she had followed him around the islet to the cove and stood staring into the water after him, perplexed.

  He swam toward the shallows and stood. “What?”

  “Nothing. I was just worried,” she murmured. “About?”

  “Your… behavior.”

  “It’s a hot day, I came swimming. You should try it.”

  “Ian, I’m in mourning. I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Do you suppose Teddy might want you out in the water?”

  She flushed. “You don’t understand.” “No, Alaina, you don’t understand,” he said quietly. “But it doesn’t matter. Not now. Go back to the house. I’ll be along shortly.”

  But she didn’t move. She stood on the shore, tall, slim, gold eyes caught by the sun, the roundness of her abdomen barely visible, blond hair waving sensuously with each soft brush of the breeze, and he wondered again if she hadn’t come here to seduce him into promises to leave her here.

  He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing when he began to move; her grief was real, and he had no desire to hurt her. But he reflected, too, that it was easy to dwell on loss, and the only way to find life again was to live.

  He walked through the water to the sand with purpose. She stared at him as if he had lost his mind. When he was nearly upon her, eyes still locked determinedly on hers, she cried out, “Damn you, Ian, what…”

  She backed away, then turned as if she would run. He caught hold of her wrist, drawing her back, swinging her into his arms and carrying her into deeper water. She struggled fiercely, staring into his face, apparently finding no answers in its hardened contours. “Ian, what is the matter with you? I said that I could not… You’re supposed to be a gentleman, my father has just died—”

  “But you haven’t, I haven’t, and you can’t spend the rest of your life trying to make a shrine of his home and burying yourself in it.”

  “Ian, damn you—”

  “We’re going swimming!”

  He dropped her into chest-high water. She sputtered to the surface, glaring at him. “I didn’t want to come swimming.”

  “No?” he demanded. “Then we’ll do something else.”

  She stared into his eyes incredulously, then cried out furiously, “You’re an oaf! Can’t you see, don’t you know, don’t you feel—”

  She broke off, backing into the water with a cry, then turning around to swim, and swim hard. Despite the encumbrance of her skirt, she moved quickly, slicing through the waves with the speed and agility of a damned shark. He saw a length of long wicked limb slicing through the water, and he knew that she wore nothing more than the day dress, and she wouldn’t be too heavily dragged down by its weight.

  Indeed, it was all he could do to keep up with her, keep her moving, keep her in the surf. When she tried to rise or elude him, he drew her back. She surfaced, gasping, sputtering time and again. When they reached the depths and she escaped beneath him in a cloud of seaweed, he nearly lost her. She had almost reached the shore again when she turned back, triumphant…

  Laughing.

  He found his feet, and with a burst of speed, he raced for her. Alaina touched her eyes and she turned to run again. But she had taken flight too late, and he tackled her, bringing her crashing down into the surf. She shrieked, swearing wildly at him, half laughing, half angry, hands pushing against the wall of his chest.

  He ignored her protests. Pressing her back into the wet sand, he kissed her. Cupped her cheek, kissed her, kissed her hard and deep until something of a little whimper echoed in her throat.

  And then he felt her arms curling around him.

  Felt her fingers, teasing through the hair at his nap
e, working into his shoulders, drawing him closer, holding him. Her mouth parting sweetly; accepting then meeting the fevered urgency of his hunger. Cool salt waves washed over their limbs. The sun beat down in a burst of searing rays. He continued to kiss her, hand stroking down over the length of her. The water molded her dress to the contours of her body, and he felt supple curve and hollow and mound beneath it. He found the wet hem of her dress, drew it up her thighs, stroking her bare legs, her buttocks, cupping her firmly and close to the muscles in his thighs, straining against the fabric of his breeches, the hardness of his sex. She still clung to him, meeting the urgency of his mouth, seeking, finding. He broke from her lips at last. Her eyes were closed beneath the rays of the sun, lashes wet with water droplets, dancing like prisms against her cheeks. Her mouth was slightly parted, lips damp, sensually swollen. At her throat, her pulse leaped and raced….

  He lowered his head with a hoarse and desperate groan, pressing his lips against the fragile blue vein. His hand lay upon the bodice of her dress, rounding the fullness of her breast beneath. He thumbed her nipple through the fabric, closed his mouth upon it. Her thighs parted under the gentle pressure of his weight, and his fingers stroked between them. A soft moan escaped her, creating a soft whisper at his ear; she was supple and pliant to his will, with a sinuous undulation beginning to stir within her at his touch. She was warm, wet….

  He tugged at the buttons to his breeches, freeing himself. Yet as he shifted with the sudden urgency of an all-but-depraved madman, he felt the very subtle rise of her abdomen.

  His desire was not diminished, yet it was tempered. He shifted to his side, capturing her waist, drawing her with him so that he would not burden her with his weight. He meant to take the gravest care, yet when he would have moved with slow precision, she cried out, shifting against him, and the startlingly tight and sweet enclosure of her body upon him seemed to awaken every primal urge within him. He struggled mentally for control… yet surrendered the physical battle within minutes, for his wife had seldom clung to him with such a desperate passion and yearning of her own.