Whispered Promise

by Colleen French

  Harrison took it, but then realized he would have to step closer to her to drink from it. He took one awkward step, lowering his head to drink. This close he could smell the scent of her hair. This close she made it hard for him to think clearly. "He's been good to you, then?"

  "Very good. He's helped me a great deal with Tanner's Gift. There was so much to learn after my father died. My brothers had their own plantations to run. Because they were larger and more profitable, they had no interest in Tanner's Gift or me. I could never have done what I have without George DeNay."

  Harrison retied the waterskin and let it fall. His father—why did Leah have to come back and stir up all these emotions? Harrison felt guilty that he had let his relationship with his father become so strained. He had visited him several times in those first years after he'd gone to live with the Shawnee, but those visits had been awkward. He knew it was his fault, but he'd just been unable to deal with moving back and forth from the life of the white man to the life of the Shawnee. Being so close to Leah and yet not seeing her had been too painful for him. So he had just stopped coming back across the bay. Harrison knew his father was in no way responsible for the predicament he was in, but somehow he still blamed him—maybe it was for bringing a half-breed into the world in the first place.

  Harrison looked up at Leah. She was so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. She had been chewing mint leaves. She wore her bright hair twisted back and tucked under a black scarf. Between the black headcovering and somber dress she looked as if she were mourning. His beautiful redbird was trying hard to play the crow. Why?

  His gaze met hers. "Why the shapeless, dark clothes?" he asked. He touched the gray sleeve that poked out from beneath her three-quarter length black riding cloak. "It's so unlike you. You used to love bright gowns, the blue to match your eyes, the green to set off the red hair."

  She lowered her lashes. "I'm a matron, remember? This is what old women wear."

  Harrison could tell she wasn't being entirely truthful with him. He waited for her to go on.

  "Besides," she exhaled softly, "I attract less attention this way. I can be left to my work and not have to be concerned with unwelcome advances." She stepped past him and started down the path again.

  "And your husband approves? What is his name, Edmund, I think?" Harrison hadn't intended on bringing up the man. Of course he knew his name was Edmund, Edmund Beale. How could he forget? It was Edmund Beale's murder that he'd planned in his head for so many years.

  "Edmund, yes," she said quietly.

  "Well, what does he think of his wife walking around looking like some old dowager? It seems to me it would be his duty as husband to protect you from other men."

  She walked faster. "It's none of Edmund's damned business if I wear a pumpkin on my head."

  Harrison lifted an eyebrow. Leah swearing? He didn't believe he'd ever heard her swear in his life. Did this mean that perhaps she and the dear Edmund didn't see eye to eye?

  He almost smiled to himself. It had never occurred to him that Leah was unhappy in her marriage to Beale. Perhaps this trip wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought. At least the conversation would be entertaining.

  "So tell me, how is dear Edmund?"

  "You mean other than the fact that he's been kidnapped by savages?"

  "Other than that."

  She shook her. "Don't start on me, Harrison. A business deal, that's all this is."

  He caught up with her. "I'm just trying to make conversation to pass the time along."

  "Horse crap!"

  "Leah." He touched his chest, mocking her. "I'm shocked. What's happened to that dear sweet girl I once knew?"

  "She grew up."

  Harrison glanced sideways at her. Leah's jaw was set, her mouth pulled into a tight bow. He knew she was angry, but he didn't care. He wanted to make her angry, as angry as he'd been all these years.

  "So life with Edmund has not been the paradise you thought it would be."

  "Bastard." She stopped in mid-step and turned to him. "You knew I didn't want to marry him. You knew I despised him!"

  Harrison was completely taken aback by the bitterness in her voice. "But you agreed to marry him," he said slowly, hearing Joseph Tanner's voice echoing in his head, She said she'd marry Beale if only I'd forgive her little indiscretion with you . . .

  "Agreed to marry him!" Her blue eyes grew steely. "My father forced me to marry him. He locked me up in my room for days, Harrison." She placed her hand flat on his chest and gave him a light shove. "When you left me to run off and play savage, I had no choice but to marry the lout."

  She walked off again, but he followed her, close on her heels. How dare she turn this around to make it look like it was all his fault! "When I left!" he stormed. "When your father drove me off!" He grabbed her arm. She struggled, but he refused to let go. He turned her, forcing her to look at him. "Leah, he nearly beat me to death."

  She touched her hand to her mouth, her eyes clouding with tears. "Oh, Harrison, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

  Slowly he let go of her. She hadn't known. She was telling the truth. He could see it in her face.

  For a long minute, they were both silent. Finally Harrison spoke. He kept his gaze fixed on a squirrel nest built high above their heads. "What makes me think neither of us knows the truth of what happened that day Leah?"

  "No one but my father and he's dead," she said bitterly.

  He touched her shoulder, wanting to comfort her, wishing he could wipe away all the pain of the past both his own and hers, knowing he couldn't.

  "Leah—"

  "Harrison, it's too late. None of this matters. Not now. It's been nine years. I don't want to talk about it. There's no point. We could gain nothing but more heartache." She looked up at him. "I have a husband and a child who are missing and I need your help. Can't we just forget the past?" She looked away. "I can't stand to keep rehashing it all. We'll both go mad if we try."

  His hands fell to his hips. She was right. He knew she was right. They needed to be concentrating on getting the boy back. What was past was past. Nothing could change what had happened. Leah was married. All they could do now was move on. Any love she had once had for him was obviously gone. As was his own. Anything he felt for Leah now was just lust. Old memories.

  "You asking for a truce?"

  She nodded. "Please Harrison. I need my son." She clenched both fists. "William is all I have. All I will ever have."

  Harrison let out a long sigh. He pointed east. "Two miles, perhaps three and we'll reach Annapolis. It's been a long day and we still have much to do. Let's go, Leah." He walked past her. "Let's find your son."

  They arrived at the Two Fleece tavern just after dark. Harrison took a side street into the small Colonial town of Annapolis nestled on the shore of the Chesapeake Bay. Rather than going in through the public entrance, he took her to the back of the brick building and in through the kitchen door.

  "What, you can't use the front door like the rest of us?"

  He shrugged, slipping into the warm kitchen. "Old habit. Scares away patrons, seeing a redskin walk in through the front. Tallow candles lit the large kitchen in a glow of yellow light. A pork roast spit and sputtered in a rack over a fire in one of the twin fireplaces. A small spit dog that slept on the brick hearth looked up and then curled into a ball and went back to sleep. The sounds of tavern patrons filtered in from the public room beyond the kitchen. There was laughter and clink of pewter dinnerware.

  Leah looked at the pork roast, trying not to lick her lips. She was starved.

  Harrison left his bow and quiver of arrows to rest against a pie safe and swung open the door. She watched him pull out a slice of apple pie and begin to eat it.

  She had to laugh. She saw the image of the boy she had grown up with. She remembered the time they had stolen an entire apple pie from the kitchen at Tanner's Gift and eaten every last scrap in their fort in the orchard.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, fei
gning irritation as she removed her cloak. "Now you're a thief? You haven't paid for that pie!"

  He caught a scrap of buttery crust with the tip of his tongue. "Joshua owes me all the pie I can eat in a lifetime. I've saved his scalp more than once on the trail."

  "Trail?" She took a pinch of the apple filling from him and popped it into her mouth. The apple was sweet and tart and cinnamony all at the same time.

  "He traps in the winter. Sometimes I go with him to check his lines. Twice we've been ambushed. Once by soldiers, another time by Iroquois. Joshua—"

  Just then the door leading to the public room swung open and a maid in a drooping mob cap appeared with an armload of dirty dishes. The girl took one look at Harrison, gave a stifled shriek, and flung her arms into the air. The pewter dishes went crashing to the floor. The girl spun around and ran back through the door before it swung shut again.

  Leah couldn't help laughing. It was so bizarre. No wonder the poor girl was frightened. An Indian eating pie in her kitchen?

  Harrison looked at Leah, smiling broadly. "What? What are you laughing about?"

  Leah could only laugh harder. "You." She clamped one hand over her mouth and the other on her waist. "That poor girl. She probably thinks we're under attack! She'll be back with the local militia in trice!"

  Harrison pushed the remainder of the pie into his mouth. "Under attack! I'm just a man eating a piece of pie in a friend's kitchen," he said innocently.

  "But you're an Indian, a savage."

  "And Indians don't eat pie?" he asked with a straight face.

  Leah could only laugh harder. God, how good it felt to laugh. She reached out to catch a crumb from the corner of his mouth with the tip of her finger. It was an innocent enough gesture, but somehow it seemed oddly intimate.

  Harrison caught her hand and felt it in his warm broad one. There was an electricity that arced between them that Leah knew he felt. No matter what had happened nine years ago, no matter what had happened in the time since, it was obvious they were still attracted to each other.

  Before Leah knew what was happening Harrison had leaned down to touch his lips to hers. Her heart pounded in her chest. He tasted of apple and cinnamon and desire, desire Leah had thought was long gone. It was a brief kiss; their lips barely brushed.

  When Harrison lifted his head, their gazes locked. "Leah—"

  She didn't know what to say. Now she was really confused. She hadn't meant for this to happen. It had never occurred to her . . . All she could do was stare up into his dark eyes and think of the wedding band on her finger.

  Suddenly the kitchen door swung open again, but this time it was the tavern owner, Joshua. He came bustling toward them as Leah disengaged herself from Harrison arms. Either he didn't notice, or had the manners not to say anything. "Hellfire and damnation, Harrison! I knew it was you!" Joshua was a huge bear of a man with a head of blond hair and thick mustache. He threw out his hand to Harrison and Harrison accepted it. The two men hugged.

  Leah stepped back, feeling light-headed. Harrison had kissed her. She didn't know why. All she knew was that she'd liked it. She was caught completely off-guard by the sudden intense attraction she felt for Harrison. How long had it been since she had felt that sweet tightening in her belly? How long since her heart had pounded and her cheeks had grown flush. Too long . . .

  Harrison went on as if nothing had happened. "Josh, you know Mistress Beale, I take it?"

  The tavern owner took a step back. "That I do." He nodded cordially. "You obviously found what you were lookin' for. Glad to see those guides worked out for you. They were hoppin' mad when they got here lookin' for the rest of their money."

  "Well, I made it in one piece, didn't I?" She smiled. She liked Joshua. He was an honest man who didn't seem to mind doing business with a woman.

  "So what can I do for you two?" Joshua gestured toward the open pie safe. "My bar wench says you already got my last slice of apple pie."

  Harrison laughed with him. "We need a bed for the night."

  Joshua raised an eyebrow. "A bed?"

  "Two," Leah corrected. "In separate rooms."

  Harrison nodded. "I'm escorting Mistress Beale to the patriot winter camp in the Jersies. We leave tomorrow."

  "Phew!" Joshua lifted a beefy palm. "Don't tell me, because I don't want to know what you're doin' with this pretty lady or why. Just tell me what you need and I'll see to it."

  "I'll make a list, but right now we could do with a good meal." Harrison hit his flat stomach with the palm of his hand. "We've had a long day."

  "Right this way. Got a table open by the fire. Just leave your belongings. Mistress Beale can have the private room above the kitchen." He pointed to Harrison. "You're left sleepin' with the men upstairs in the common room." Joshua led them out of the kitchen into the public room. "Watch your step," he instructed, stepping over the dirty pewter dishes that lay scattered on the swept plank floor.

  Leah and Harrison followed him into the noisy public room and across the smoky room toward one of the two brick fireplaces that dominated the room.

  As they passed through the room Leah took in her surroundings. The single dining room was filled with noisy patrons, mostly men. Several sailors sat near the outside door playing knap and slur. Two well-dressed gentlemen were having a heated argument over the possession of a mare or a whore, Leah couldn't tell which. A man, his wife, and his young son shared a meal near the sailors. There were several tables of leather-dressed trappers. A drover sat alone with a mug of ale and a plate heaped high with stew and bread. A long black leather whip, the tool of his trade, rested against the wall.

  "I know you want a mug of frothy, but what about you, Mistress? I ain't got much in the way of ladies drink. White rhenish? Colonial tea?" Joshua asked, as he cleared away a dirty cup and plate left by the last patron.

  Leah took the chair across from Harrison. Still a little unsteady on her feet, she was thankful to be seated. "Ale, please."

  "Ale it is. Be back with that and a plate of dinner." Carrying the dishes, he left Leah and Harrison alone.

  Leah folded her hands neatly on the plank table. "What was that?" she asked quietly.

  "What?"

  She lifted her gaze. "You know full well what! You kissed me—" she lowered her voice—"you kissed me in the kitchen."

  Harrison folded his arms over his broad chest, the fringe of his sleeves brushing the table. "And you kissed me back, Lady Beale. There was as much fire in that kiss as I believe I've ever tasted."

  He was mocking her. He enjoyed hurting her. She glanced at the fireplace. "You shouldn't have."

  "Why not?"

  She looked back at him and said, her teeth clenched. "Because I'm married!"

  The same maid who'd dropped the dishes in the kitchen came by with two pewter mugs of ale, slid them onto the table and made a hasty retreat.

  Harrison picked up his mug and drank deeply. Leah felt her hands tremble as she reached for her own mug. Now what? What did she say? He was right of course. She had kissed him back. She had wanted him to kiss her then and the truth was she wanted to kiss him now. Of course it was all impossible. She was a married woman of nine years.

  Leah set the mug down carefully on the table. "Let's just not let it. happen again? All right?"

  She heard him curse beneath his breath as he tipped his mug and drained it. He slammed it down on the table. "You expect me to walk from here to God knows where with you, to sleep with you at night, to listen to your laughter, to touch your hand and not want you? What do you think I'm made of, woman," he slid into the table closer, "steel?"

  Leah glanced at the table across from them. Two trappers sat eating their meal. They were staring at her, at her and Harrison. "You said you hated me for what happened—whatever it is that happened."

  "I do. A part of me at least, but a part of me—"

  She held up her hand, trying to keep her voice low. She knew this was neither the time nor the place to discuss this. "Don't, Ha
rrison." She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Let's just end this conversation here and now."

  Harrison leaned forward to speak, but then clamped his mouth shut. "Fine," he muttered. "Just fine."

  Joshua came by a moment later with more ale and a plate of roasted venison, stewed squash, and slices of freshly baked bread with sweet butter. Serving them their meal, he disappeared back into the kitchen.

  "Just eat," Harrison ordered quietly, taking care not to look at her. "Eat and then go to your room. I'll see to the supplies and your horses."

  Leah opened her mouth to speak again, then closed it. Better just to let it go, she thought, better for us both.

  So, she nursed her tankard of ale through the meal in silence while Harrison drank a third, then a fourth cup. Leah knew they were drawing some attention as they ate, a white woman of good breeding traveling with an Indian, but she tried to ignore them. The trappers were now making no attempt to conceal their interest.

  Harrison was just finishing his last piece of bread when he looked up from his plate at the taller of the two trappers. The stranger's hair was tied back in two pigtails. He was playing a game of dice with his companion.

  "You need something?" Harrison asked in an obvious challenge.

  Leah didn't like the tone of his voice. He'd had more to drink than he should have and he was obviously angry with her. They should have taken their meal back in the kitchen where they would have been less conspicuous. She reached across the table, trying to take his hand. "Don't pick a fight, Harrison, let's eat and go to bed."

  Harrison pushed back her hand. "I said you need something?" he repeated to the pig-tailed trapper.

  "Not from you I don't," the man said out of the corner of his mouth. "Redskin . . ."

  "Harrison," Leah whispered harshly.

  Harrison pushed out of his chair slowly.

  She reached for him again. She'd dealt with enough men at Tanner's Gift to see a fight when it was coming. "Harrison, don't."