Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02] (23 page)

After rolling them both away from the edge Logan lay as did she, on his back, his chest heaving with each breath. His head twisted to the side, staring at her and only then did all the fear he’d felt for her settle over him. Logan swooped over wrapping her in his arms and hugging her tightly against him.

Her sobs tore at his heart. “Did he hurt you? Tell me.”

“No. I’m fine. Well, my jaw pains me a bit, but it’s nothing really. I was just so frightened.”

“’Tis over now.”

Rachel clung to him, her fingers digging into the soft animal skin of his shirt. He was safe. That was all that mattered. She’d saved his life. Then why wasn’t she gone? Not that she wanted to leave just this moment. It felt too good, just holding him, knowing he was alive.

But in the next instant he sat up, grabbing her shoulders and thrusting her to arm’s length. “What in the hell were you thinking coming at him like that? You could have been killed.”

That
was not very likely. But this didn’t seem the time to point out that she had already died. “Well, so could you.”

“Me?” He simply stared at her a long moment. “For God’s sake, Rachel, I had a weapon at least. Ostenaco and I were closely matched. But you...” He couldn’t continue. In his mind’s eye he saw her again, coming at the Cherokee, being knocked aside, rolling toward the edge.

She didn’t appear at all contrite though. “I was afraid he would kill you and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“My God.” Logan’s arms stiffened. “Does this have anything to do with your foolish notion that you are to save my life?” She didn’t need to answer. He knew it did. What in the hell was he to do with her? She obviously was so committed to this crazy idea that she acted without thought to her own safety. If he wasn’t careful there would be yet another woman feeding his guilt.

“Come on,” he said, standing and pulling her to her feet. “Are you well enough to walk?”

“Of course, I am.” She yanked her hands from his grip. She was tired of him making light of her predicament. She did everything she could, risking her own life—if she actually had one—for him. And this was the thanks she received.

Rachel took a step down the path only to stumble. If not for his strong hands clutching her elbows she would have fallen to her knees. She whimpered when he folded her into his embrace.

“I’m sorry.” He smoothed curls back from her forehead. “None of this was your doing. ’Twas mine. And that’s where the fault lies.”

“But you did nothing.” Rachel looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It... it was that man.” Her gaze left his to stray toward the cliff’s edge.

Logan shook his head. “I brought you here. Come on, lean on me and we’ll get down off this mountain.” He lifted her chin with his thumb. “He didn’t force you...?”

It was clear from the expression on his face, the way his green eyes looked at her, what he meant.

“He said things.” She felt Logan’s body stiffen. “But there was no time for him to do anything but drag me about. You came so quickly.”

“I couldn’t let him take you.” He held her a moment longer before scooping up the tomahawk, jamming it into his belt, and retrieving his musket. Then he moved slowly toward the edge of the path, searching the rocks and underbrush below for Ostenaco’s body.

“You should have, you know.”

She was behind and slightly to the side of him. He couldn’t tell whether she could see the grotesquely twisted form below or not. At any rate it wasn’t something he wished to dwell on.

“Should have what?”

She just shook her head. There was no reason to make him angry. And telling him he should have let Ostenaco take her would do that. “I’m ready to leave now.”

She sounded more like her old self and Logan couldn’t help smiling as he offered his arm. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

She gave him a look which clearly showed her displeasure and Logan nearly laughed. But his spirits sunk as they made their way down the mountain, for his thoughts kept straying to what might have happened if he hadn’t found her in time. If he hadn’t killed Ostenaco.

Whoever she was, Rachel Elliott didn’t belong here.

“The restraints we impose on ourselves to refrain from loving are often more cruel than the severities of our beloved.”

— La Rochefoucauld

Maxims

“I thought you refused to go East until spring.”

“I’ve had a change of mind.”

“Because of me?” Color blossomed in Rachel’s cheeks when he glanced up at her. Of course it was because of her. She wasn’t such a ninny that she didn’t know that.

He didn’t answer, instead returning to his task of tightly rolling several blankets together. She watched him a moment longer. His hair was unbound and fell forward, shadowing his face as he worked. She wished he’d look up at her again. But no, that wouldn’t help.

Her ability to connect with his thoughts and feelings seemed to have disappeared.

Though she knew it wouldn’t work, Rachel tried to concentrate on him, but she sensed nothing. Yet in this instance did she really need to read his mind to know what he thought?

Restless, she pushed out of the chair... his chair... and began pacing the cabin. They arrived back at his cabin yesterday, two days after leaving the Cherokee town of Cheoah. And they were leaving again tomorrow. For his brother’s place at Seven Pines.

“I thought you were tired.”

“I am,” she insisted. At least that’s one of the excuses she used when he told her they were leaving his mountain. It didn’t help. He was adamant about leaving.

“Then perhaps you should lie down and rest.” He tied off a rawhide thong and stood, raking fingers back through his hair. She saw him glance toward the jug on the shelf over the fireplace, then look away, his jaw tight.

He hadn’t imbibed rum since they left for Cheoah, but it was apparent he wanted to now. A wave of desolation swept over her. She moved closer, standing between him and temptation. If anything his body grew more tense. Instinct had her reaching out to touch his shoulder. Pride halted her hand in midair.

Ever since the episode with Ostenaco on the mountain Logan avoided any contact with her. He was solicitous, but unfailingly distant. Never touching her unless absolutely necessary.

What would he do if she dared to dance for him?

Rachel could almost hear the drums pounding in her head, feel her blood heat. What would he do if she began swaying to unheard music, undulating her body against his? If she stripped from her gown and danced in the glow of the fire?

The urge to find out was near irresistible.

She wanted him to look at her as he had then. To hold her. To kiss her and fill her and make her forget everything but him.

But when his eyes met hers, they were hard as green glass. “You should get some sleep. We will leave early.” Without even waiting for a reply he turned away, continuing to scoop cornmeal into small leather sacks.

She wanted to scream at him, rail and pummel his chest with her fists, anything to break this wall he’d erected about himself. She didn’t understand it. But then that wasn’t all she didn’t understand.

His life had been saved again. Perhaps it wasn’t all her doing, but she had helped, had done all she could to keep him out of danger’s path. And she was still here.

Though not for long. She knew he planned to take her to his brother and leave her. That much she was able to learn. And if he did she was doomed.

~ ~ ~

“Do you have any other mortal enemies?”

They were making their way along the path leading to MacLaughlin’s Mill. As Logan promised last evening, they started their journey early this morning, waking and eating a bowl of scorched, lumpy porridge before the sun splintered light over the crest of the mountain.

Logan paused, staring back at her when she spoke. “I doubt we’ll be attacked between here and Seven Pines, if that’s what you mean.”

“It isn’t, and you know it.”

He started walking before she finished speaking and Rachel hurried to catch up with him.

“Mind the cow,” was all he said when she did.

Of course, the cow. He gave her the chore of urging her along the trail, herding her as if Rachel were some milkmaid. He even gave her a switch from a poplar to help with her task. Rachel considered using it on Logan, in the end deciding it wasn’t one of her better ideas. Before twisting her head round to see what the cow was doing, she dropped the branch on the trail.

“Do come along, Mistress Ellen.” she said, adding an encouraging, “That’s a good girl. Yes, I know you’re tired, but we shall rest soon,” when the cow complied.

Logan pretended not to notice the exchange. No one could communicate with a cow. Or a dog either for that matter. He slanted a look at his dog... Henry, and shook his head.

“You didn’t answer my question, you know.”

“I know.” He tramped on along the trail, finally glancing down at her and letting out a gust of air. “Nay, no more mortal enemies... that I’m aware of.”

That was good... she guessed, though it left open the question of how she was going to save his life, yet another time. As if he read her mind his gaze caught hers. For the first time since Ostenaco captured her, Rachel saw a glimmer of humor in the emerald depths.

“You can consider your assignment complete.”

He was teasing her. Rachel knew that. He didn’t believe she was sent to save his life any more than she believed the job was finished. But talking to him—even enduring his bedevilment—was better than trudging along in silence. Or listening to Henry complain about missing his nap.

“Is your brother like you?”

Again he glanced at her, merriment showing about his eyes. There were even hints of the dimples on either side of his mouth. “How exactly do you mean that?”

“I wasn’t asking if he was a taciturn hermit. You already mentioned he has a wife and children.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a hermit.”

“Really?” She arched her brows as if to say he’d be wrong. “In any case tell me about your brother,”

“He’s the Indian agent for the area. Very dedicated to his work. Equally dedicated to his wife and children.”

“He’s interested in the Cherokee?”

“Aye, his mother was one.” Logan motioned behind him with his chin.

Sighing, Rachel called out to the cow. “You really must keep up, Mistress Ellen.” She hesitated, then turned back to Logan. “Do you think we could rest for a while?”

“Is that
your
request or the cow’s?”

Her lips thinned but she didn’t respond. With a shrug, Logan stepped off the trail into a small clearing where a slow-moving stream reflected the color of the surrounding hills. It was as good a time as any to take a break. They’d been walking for hours and he had to admit Her Highness hadn’t complained... much.

“Is your brother’s wife a Cherokee also?” Rachel dabbed at her lips delicately after drinking from Logan’s water pouch. She passed it back to him, glad to find out that it did contain water and not some of his rum.

“Caroline? Nay.” He took a drink and backhanded his mouth. She’s from England.”

“Really?” Rachel sat straighter. “Where in England?”

“I’m not sure.” Logan pulled at a tuft of dried grass. “I think Wolf told me her father was an earl.”

“An earl?” Rachel leaned forward. “What was his name?” Perhaps Logan’s sister-in-law would turn out to be someone she knew. The notion brought a wave of excitement. But Logan could only tell her the woman’s name.

“Lady Caroline Simmons,” Rachel repeated, tapping her finger against her chin. “I don’t believe I know her.”

“Hmm.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“By what?”

Rachel crossed her arms. “I know what you think of me.”

“Well, I’m glad you do, for I haven’t a clue what to make of yon.” Logan pushed to his feet. “We need to get moving.”

“You think I made up everything I’ve told you.” Rachel scurried to stand, turning to brush debris from her skirt, deciding it wasn’t worth the bother. “Well?” she continued when he said nothing. “Isn’t that true?” She grabbed hold of his arm.

“Listen, Rachel. You tell me you’re a friend of King George, and that you died in some lake in London, and that you...” He glanced toward the cow busily chewing her cud. “And you pretend to talk to dogs and cows, and want to save me from untold threats of death.” He picked up the gun and turned on his heel.

“What do you want me to say? Would you prefer I made up some lie?”

He didn’t answer, only stared pointedly at the animals who were her responsibility. Neither of them had moved. “Henry. Mistress Ellen,” Rachel snapped. “I shan’t want to tell you again.”

Logan gritted his teeth when the dog and cow immediately ambled after them.

She shouldn’t let him bother her so. Rachel stared at Logan’s broad back and shook her head. What did it matter if he believed any of what she said? She should never have told him anything. Perhaps if she’d pretended to be a... what? What could she have been? Surely not someone used to living on the frontier. He would have seen through that ruse in an instant. Yet he wouldn’t believe the truth.

Rachel sighed. In all fairness the truth was rather difficult to believe.