Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02] (15 page)

“It be none of my business, Logan, but—”

“She’s just a woman who wandered upon my cabin,” Logan supplied, knowing exactly what his friend was going to ask. Saving him the effort. “I don’t know how she got there. One minute I was alone. The next...” He shrugged into his shirt, smiling at Malcolm’s expression. “I’ll be the first to admit it sounds strange.”

The older man scratched his nearly bald head, then stuffed a battered felt hat back over the remaining red curls. “You planning to take her to Charles Town?”

“Nay.” Logan fell in step beside him. “I was thinking to bring her here, but then Lone Dove paid a visit and invited her to the cementation festival.”

“The Adawehis asked
her
to the
Ah,tawh,hung,nah
?”

“Unbelievable, isn’t it.” Logan stopped and turned to face Malcolm. He’d been a friend since the fall of ‘59 and was probably the only one Logan had who wasn’t Cherokee. Except of course for his half-brother Wolf. But then Wolf was part Cherokee himself. “I’m afraid she says some rather strange things sometimes.”

“How do you mean?”

Logan finger-combed his damp hair, taking a leather thong from his pocket and tying it back before figuring out exactly how to answer that question. He wished now he hadn’t spoken, friend or no friend. Anything he would say made her sound madder than a rabid dog.

But Malcolm was looking at him, and Lord knew the woman
was
madder than a rabid dog. “She has this... fantasy, I suppose you’d call it, that she used to live with the queen.”

“Of England?”

“Aye.”

“Then perhaps she’s saner than you or I. She left that hellhole, didn’t she?”

Logan chuckled and slapped Malcolm’s rounded shoulder. “Do you think Penny made scones for supper? It’s been awhile since I’ve had something decent to eat.”

“I thought since you’d gotten yourself a woman you might be faring better.”

Logan just slanted him a wry look before lifting the latch. He’d hardly say Rachel Elliott, or whoever the hell she really was, had improved his life.

When they reached the cabin, he noticed she’d braided her hair and twisted it around her head. The effect made her appear a bit neater, though as he sat down at the table Logan found himself missing the wild riot of golden curls. And then he discovered it wasn’t she who had dressed her hair but Penny. The older woman mentioned during supper how much she’d enjoyed playing lady’s maid to Rachel and Logan’s eyes jerked toward his companion. She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

As soon as the table was cleared he grabbed her wrist. “If you’d be kind enough to join me for a short walk,” he said, never giving her a chance to decline. It wasn’t until they were outside that she pulled her hand away.

“What do you think you’re about?” she demanded.

“I was going to ask you the same thing, Your Highness. What’s the idea of treating Penny as if she were your servant?”

“I did no such thing.” Rachel stopped walking along the split-rail fence and turned to face him. “Penny is a sweet woman.”

“So sweet you can take advantage of her.” He came to a halt also and stood looming over her. Behind them the sun illuminated the sky with its swan song of color. The passionate fire reflected in Rachel’s eyes.

“I never—”

“Then explain this.” Logan’s fingers toyed with a lock of golden hair that had come loose from the pins.

“Penny braided it for me.”

“Like a lady’s maid?”

Rachel’s chin lifted. “Like a friend.” She tried to turn but his fingers opened, catching her chin and jaw, keeping her eyes fixed on his. She swallowed, wishing it didn’t feel as if the breath was sucked from her body.

“You forget, I know you.”

“You don’t know me at all,” came her reply. But the vehemence of her words lost its sting as his mouth descended to capture hers.

He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Hell, he was angry with her and had been since Penny made that comment about a lady’s maid. The kiss deepened. Make that ever since she stumbled into his life, disrupting his peace and solitude. But he couldn’t seem to stop touching her and now she was in his arms and he could taste his anger blended with hers. And her arms were twined around his neck.

His tongue thrust deep, attacking, retreating, making her knees weak. How could she allow this to happen again? Moments ago she hated him and his insolent comments.
I know you
, he said. But he didn’t. No one knew anything about her, yet he could dissolve her anger with a look, a touch.

His lips tore from hers and for breadth of a heartbeat they stared into each other’s eyes, each with the same expression of bewilderment and desire. And then he was reaching for her again, his mouth hungry.

It was the barking that made them jerk apart.

Rachel turned guiltily, wiping her hand across her tingling lips, then reaching down to brush wrinkles from an overskirt too torn and frayed to hold a crease.

Logan stepped forward calling toward Penny who was tossing a bucket of soapy water out the door. She looked up and waved, but Logan wasn’t foolish enough to think she hadn’t noticed them before... or that his voice was unusually husky. He scowled and headed for the cabin only stopping when he felt her hand on his arm.

“I asked her to show me how.”

Logan glanced around, his expression puzzled.

“To braid my hair.” Rachel shrugged. “I’d never done it before.” There was no reason to tell him that she usually
did
have servants to do such tasks for her. He wouldn’t believe her. But she didn’t want him to think it was in her nature to take advantage of a sweet person like Penny.

He looked at her long enough to make her wish she hadn’t spoken, then nodded. “It looks pretty,” was all he said before leading the way back to the cabin.

Malcolm sat next to the fire, a clay pipe cupped in his palm. He motioned for Logan to join him. Rachel settled on the other side of the hearth, beside Penny. She held the yarn as the older woman wound it into skeins. They talked of the frontier, of the hardships and pleasures, and her dreams for her son. It was warm and cozy and an evening like none Rachel had ever spent.

She felt comfortable and relaxed except for the times she could feel Logan’s eyes on her. She tried to ignore him, not to meet his stare, and succeeded until she heard Penny say that she and Logan could sleep in the loft.

Then their eyes flew to one another.

“I don’t think... I mean—”

“I’ll just make myself a pallet by the fire, if you don’t mind.”

Both Penny and her husband had risen and were on the way toward the door that led to their bedroom. They paused and turned as one, looking first at Rachel, then Logan.

They shrugged in unison. “If that be what you want.”

Of course it was what
she
wanted. Rachel lay on the cornhusk mattress sometime later. She couldn’t seem to fall asleep even though she was tired. She wondered if Logan was awake on his pallet by the fire.

It was a silly notion to think they would want to sleep together, no matter if Penny had seen that kiss. She was only here to save his life. It was not as if she cared for him. Yet as she lay there in the darkness with the slivers of moonlight slanting through the cracks between the logs, she couldn’t help thinking about what he said about her hair.

He thought it pretty. Somehow that meant more to her than all the compliments she’d received from the accomplished gentlemen of her acquaintance.

“Angels and ministers of grace defend us.”

— William Shakespeare

Hamlet

“She did not say for you to follow her.”

Logan turned, blocking the doorway to the Cherokee house he and Rachel were to share and folded his arms across his chest. The old woman who’d shown them to their lodging also gave Logan the Adawehis’s summons to come to the Town House. And she had clearly mentioned only his name. But as usual that didn’t seem to stop Rachel.

“But certainly the Adawehis wishes to see me also.” Rachel took a step forward, sighing when Logan didn’t move, only stood there, his jaw jutting out. She smiled. “Perhaps if I wait for you outside.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But...”

“Rachel!” His arm shot out when she tried to skim around him. “Stay here.” He spoke firmly and meant every word he said.

As they entered the Cherokee town earlier this afternoon she turned to him, her expression apprehensive. “You mustn’t go anyplace without me,” she said. “I... I feel there is something amiss.”

He scoffed at her concern then, as he did now. Perhaps he shouldn’t have.

“Ostenaco has returned from Kaintukee.”

Logan sat across the ceremonial fire from the Adawehis and glanced up only to look away again. The Cherokee didn’t turn their eyes toward those they spoke to, and were often suspicious of those who did. But Logan hadn’t expected the news Adawehis imparted... even with Rachel’s dire warning. And he wasn’t pleased by it either.

“There are those who remember his deeds,” Logan said, knowing he was one of them.

“And there would be many would wish to take their satisfaction. But this is the season of the
Ah,tawh,hung,nah
.”

“The chance to begin anew,” Logan translated instinctively.

“Yes.” Lone Dove’s somber face bore the marks of many years. “It is our custom to forgive.”

“I do not think Ostenaco will forgive... or forget.”

The Cherokee’s eyes did meet Logan’s then, briefly. “We must hope you are wrong.” His body seemed to settle more deeply into the robes draped about his shoulders. “You have brought the
Adan’ta Woman
?”

Logan couldn’t help it. He studied the holy man through the haze of smoke drifting up from the fire. His knowledge of the Cherokee language was imperfect though he could carry on a rudimentary conversation. And he knew Rachel was being referred to as the soul woman. He leaned forward, resting elbows on knees. “I don’t know what she told you...”

“She told me nothing my spirit could not see for itself.”

“I don’t want you to tell her that Ostenaco is here.”

“Why is that? She may be able to persuade him to let the past lie only in our memory.”

“Rachel?” For God’s sake, what did she do to convince the Adawehis that she had powers beyond mere mortals? Ostenaco would chew her up and spit her out if she ever tried to reason with him. Just as surely as a bear—Logan paused in mid-thought, a vision of the bear looming over him, of Rachel rushing forward. He tried to swallow and couldn’t.

“It will be as you say. She is your woman.”

Which she most certainly was not. But this didn’t seem the time to convince the Adawehis of that. Even if it did mean he might be spared the frustration of sharing a cabin with her. His fingers nearly ached with the desire to touch her again. It would be a long week till he could take her back to MacLaughlin’s Mill, and leave her for good.

Logan walked back across the common area. Though the dancing wouldn’t start until tonight, there was already a sense of anticipation in the air.

Ah,tawh,hung,nah
was a much heralded ceremony among the Cherokee. They looked forward all year for the opportunity to begin anew. Everything from their homes to the village square was swept clean. They burned old clothing and possessions, and danced, purged themselves, and forgave old trespasses.

At least that was the theory.

“There’s something wrong!”

Logan no sooner stepped into the cabin he shared with her before Rachel was on her feet, staring intently at him and seemingly reading his mind. He shook his head to dislodge that perplexing notion and to convince her she was wrong. “I was only thinking of the coming ceremony. I doubt it’s to your liking.”

“Why do you say that?” She approached him, her head tilted, her expression contemplative. “From the Adawehis’s description it sounds quite interesting.”

“Did he mention the black drink?”

She paused, folding her arms and clamping her mouth shut as Logan continued. “It’s a physic. One of the most powerful.” He thought he noted the blood draining from her cheeks and continued. “The purpose is to—”

“I am aware of what a physic is used for.”

“Ah.” Logan shut the door and leaned back against it. “Then I suppose there is no need of me to describe it to you, Your Highness.”

“None at all.” Rachel let her gaze travel slowly from the casually crossed ankles, clad in deerskin moccasins, up to the confident turn of his sensual lips. “What you may explain is why you are all of a sudden so anxious for me to be gone from this place.”

His mouth thinned, the dimples deepened. “I don’t wish...” He pushed his shoulders away from the door. “The hell with it. I was only trying to save you some unpleasantness.”

She didn’t doubt him there, but Rachel wasn’t sure he referred to drinking a physic. Which she had to admit didn’t sound appealing. But for some reason she knew this was where she must be.

“Lone Dove wishes to see you.” Logan realized there was no sense prolonging the inevitable. The Adawehis had requested a visit from her and if Logan didn’t send her someone would be knocking on the door soon. Besides, with her safely ensconced with the old man discussing... whatever it was they discussed... he could find Ostenaco.