Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (11 page)

Dakota shook his head. "I feel the responsibility will be great. I have not been trained for this. Besides, I am not sure I want to remain in England."

"It's in your blood. You can manage it," John said with confidence. "Already you know that this is where you belong."

Dakota surveyed the beauty around him and in some hidden corner of his mind, he felt as if he had truly come home. He did not know what the future would hold, but for the moment, he belonged to this land as surely as if he had been born here.

"People die—brothers might turn on one—but land endures, and Weatherford Hall is forever," John said solemnly.

When the carriage pulled through the arched, vine-covered gateway, it was apparent there was some kind of commotion in front of the house. Several servants were milling about, some of them were mounted on horseback. John stepped out of the carriage, followed by Dakota and Levi.

"What's the trouble?" John asked the head groomsman.

"Oh, sir, it's glad I am that you are here," Frazier declared. "The Lady Breanna's horse returned without her. We was about to ride out and search for her ladyship."

"This is the Viscount," John introduced Dakota hurriedly. "Give us three horses, and we will begin the search."

Frazier bowed to Dakota. "I'm sorry that you should arrive to such disturbing news, my lord. Her ladyship is a good horsewoman, and I never considered she'd take a tumble."

Dakota glanced at John. "Are they saying that the woman who is my wife fell from her horse?"

"Yes," John confirmed. "We had better hurry; she might be injured."

A horse was led forward, and Dakota quickly swung himself into the saddle. "In which direction did your lady ride?" he asked Frazier.

"She rode in that direction, my lord." The groomsman pointed toward the meadow.

Before the others could mount their horses, Dakota's sprang forward. Racing over the meadow, he easily followed the fresh tracks that Breanna's horse had left. Dakota outdistanced the others and was soon out of sight.

10

Dakota saw the woman lying on the ground, and concluded that she was unconscious. Leaping from his horse, he knelt beside her.

A strange emotion took hold of him as he looked for the first time upon the face of his wife. Red-gold hair was tumbled about her porcelain face, a face that was almost too perfect to be real. Her long lashes fluttered open, and he stared into eyes that were golden like the autumn leaves of Arapaho land.

Breanna opened her eyes, momentarily blinded by the sun streaming through the branches of a tree. She felt someone beside her, and when she could focus her eyes, she stared into a pair of the greenest eyes she had ever seen.

Breanna was frightened at first. She tried to move away from the stranger, but he held her firm. "Do not move," he cautioned. "You have been thrown from your horse and may be injured."

She could tell by his voice that he was not from England, but she could not place his accent. Perhaps he was Italian, or even Russian, she thought. He was certainly the darkest man she had ever seen.

His eyes swept her face, and she saw concern there. "I remember falling," she said. "I must have been knocked unconscious."

"Sit up slowly," he urged, while he supported her back. "Do you hurt anywhere? Your arms —your legs?"

"No, I . . . my head aches, but other than that, I do not believe I am hurt"

Dakota tenderly brushed her silky hair from her forehead and saw a slight discoloring of the skin and a pebble-size bump. "Yes, I see that you have hit your head. Do you think you could stand with my assistance?"

John and several of the riders topped the rise, with Levi in the lead. When the hunter saw Dakota with his new bride, he knew that they were not needed. "The lady is in capable hands," he said to the others, motioning for them to ride on and leave the two young people alone. "He certainly doesn't need us to complicate his first meeting with his wife."

Breanna leaned heavily on the handsome stranger. Her head was swimming, and she clutched his shirt-front. "I am sorry to be such a bother, but I feel weak as a kitten."

Dakota looked into her soft eyes, and a feeling not unlike drowning shook him. "You are not a bother. Would you like to sit down for a moment?"

"Yes, perhaps that would be best," she said, wanting to distance herself from this disturbing stranger.

He led her to a smooth rock and eased her down gently. Kneeling down beside her, Dakota watched as she twisted her long hair up and secured it to the back of her head.

"I fear I have lost my hat," she said, feeling strange under the man's close scrutiny.

He glanced around until he spotted an object the same color of her gown, which he judged to be her missing hat. Standing, Dakota walked in that direction.

Breanna watched the man move away, thinking he must be someone of extreme importance. His coat fit snugly across his broad shoulders. He was tall and carried himself with an air of assurance. He was perhaps the handsomest man she had ever met, but his green eyes were the most unusual thing about him. They were probing, searching, startlingly open and honest eyes. She felt drawn to him, and it frightened her. She touched the bump on her head and decided her reaction to the man was caused by her confused state. Yes, that's what it was. After today, she would never see or think about him again.

When Dakota returned, he held her hat out to her and watched her place it atop her red-gold head. Could she tell that his heart was beating fast? he wondered. Could she sense the turmoil that was going on inside him? She was so lovely it unsettled him. He realized he should tell her who he was, but how could he tell this lovely creature that he was her husband?

"Perhaps it would be good if you walk about for a bit," he said, offering her his hand.

Hesitantly, she placed her small hand in his, and he eased her to her feet. "I should return to the house," she said only half-convincingly. The mere touch of his hand sent a thrill through her body, and she moved away from him, her heart throbbing. Over the rise, Breanna could hear the surf pounding, and she hurried in that direction. What was the matter with her? she wondered frantically. The bump on her head must surely have unsettled her mind.

Breanna breathed in the sea air in deep gulps. She turned so the salty spray would hit her in the face, hoping it would have a calming effect on her emotions. She felt the stranger beside her, and she glanced up at him. Their eyes met, and for what seemed an eternity, they stared into each other's eyes.

Dakota was the first one to move. He reached forward and lightly touched her cheek, which was moist with beads from the salty spray. When she swayed on her feet, his strong arms went about her waist.

"Allow me to support you. You are still too weak to stand alone." Suddenly he feared this lovely woman might not be his wife. He had to know if she belonged to him. "I do not know your name. Will you tell it to me?"

"Breanna" she answered breathlessly. "Breanna K—Remington " she said, remembering she was a married woman. "Lady Breanna Remington."

"Breanna," he repeated in a deep voice, as joy sang in his heart.

She quickly glanced up at him. "You must not call me by my first name. We have not been introduced. I shouldn't even be speaking to you!" She moved to put some distance between the two of them, but he held her to him.

"I apologize if I have committed an offense. I am unfamiliar with many of your English customs."

She drew in a cleansing breath. "I am grateful for your assistance, sir, but you see, I am a married woman, and I must go now. It would not be suitable for me to be alone with a man who is not my husband."

His eyes softened. "This man, your husband, is a very fortunate man. What is he like?"

"I . . . don't know." She gazed at the distant horizon. "He is from America."

Dakota sensed in her a bewilderment that was tinged with fear. He wanted to tell her that he was her husband, but he was silenced by the thought that she might reject him.

"I have the feeling you are troubled about something," he said, wondering how she felt about being married to a man she had never met. "I am a good listener if you want to talk."

Breanna experienced a tide of feelings that she did not want to examine. This sympathetic stranger was tugging at her heart and drawing out all her secrets. She had been alone for so long with no one to confide in, and the words poured from her mouth.

"I am troubled because I have never met my husband." She turned her face up to him. "You see, we were married by proxy:"

"And this disturbs you?"

"Yes," she admitted. Raw feelings riveted through her mind—feelings of being used by her brother for his personal gain, anger that she had been sent to the country and abandoned to her fate by the old Marquess. Too many nights she had lain in her lonely bed, fearing the noises she heard were her new husband, and that he would demand his husbandly rights.

There was a tightening in Dakota's chest, and he could feel Breanna's unhappiness. He had never considered that his bride might be as much against the marriage as he had been.

"You did not wish to be married to a stranger?"

"It's not even that . . . it's . . . it's, that he was raised by Indians, and I am frightened of him. I think he must be uncivilized and I don't even know if he can speak English. I have a horror that he will eat with his fingers and have no social graces. I am afraid he will hurt me."

Dakota's jaw clamped tightly together. "Why should you think him uncivilized?"

"Are the Indians not savages?" She lowered her eyes to avoid his brilliant gaze. "I should not have confided in you, but it seemed so easy since we are strangers and I shall never see you again. No one seems to understand my fears. I suppose I am foolish, but I always thought I would marry a man who . . . who . . ."

"A man who is your peer?"

"Yes, and a man who—"

"Whom you can love?"

Her eyes glistened because of her embarrassment. "I know it sounds fanciful, but yes."

Dakota's eyes flamed. "What will you do when your husband arrives?"

"I don't know. I have considered running away, but I have given my word that I shall honor this marriage. I have never gone back on my word."

"So, you will submit to this man out of duty?" Dakota asked with interest.

Fear clouded her eyes. "I cannot allow myself to think about that. I pray that someone will come to my rescue and spirit me away before my . . . husband arrives." She looked embarrassed. "But of course, that is a childish dream. When my husband comes, I will do what is expected of me."

"A moment ago, you said you had given your word that you would honor this marriage. What do you mean?"

Breanna knew she was revealing too much to this stranger, but it somehow comforted her to tell someone about her problems. "It's not actually my word that was given. You see, my brother, Fielding, was deeply in debt. He is a gambler, and he lost all the family fortune." She blushed and ducked her head. "I cannot believe I am telling a complete stranger such intimate details about my life." She smiled. "I suppose the solitary existence I have been living has unhinged my mind."

He raised her chin. "I want to know what your brother's gambling had to do with your marriage to the American."

"Fielding and the Marquess of Weatherford made an agreement, that I was to marry his grandson and he would pay Fielding's debts and give him additional money to live on."

"Why did you not protest?"

"You said you are not accustomed to English traditions. In this country, a girl cannot always choose whom she will marry. Often that decision is made for her."

"That is not a good custom"

"No, but I am bound by it."

"So you wait for the man who is your husband?"

"Yes, I wait for him, and I dread the time when he actually arrives." Breanna finally realized she had said too much. "I should not have told you about my situation. I pray you will forget all I have said. Please, if you are going in the direction of Weatherford Hall, would you send someone for me," she said, dismissing him.

"That will not be necessary."

Before she could protest, he scooped her into his arms and carried her back up the hill. When he reached his horse, he hooked his boot in the stirrup and mounted with Breanna in his arms. "I will take you home," he said, pulling her securely against his body so her head fit against his shoulder. He felt her stiffen, and he smiled down at her with tenderness. "Rest easy, I will see you safely home."

Breanna had never been this close to a man before. She knew she should insist that he put her down, but she didn't want to. She felt safe for the first time in many years. Her eyes moved up to his face. There was something about him that was different from other men. It was . . . it was as if he was from another time, a time when knights roamed the land slaying dragons and rescuing young maidens. Yet there was something almost primitive about him, as if he was uncomfortable with the role of gentleman.

She raised her eyes and found him looking at her. With a maidenly blush, she turned her face into the rough material of his coat. She became conscious of the strong arms that encircled her waist, and she was very aware of him as a man. She wondered what he would be like if he loved a woman. Perhaps he even had a wife, she thought, and then pushed that thought aside.

Closing her eyes, Breanna listened to the drumming of his heart against her ear. What was the matter with her? she wondered. Why was she feeling so strange? She had certainly not been herself since the bump on her head.

"Are you comfortable?" he inquired in a deep voice that seemed to vibrate through her whole body.

"Yes. Are you married?" The words seemed to have come out of their own accord, and she blushed at her daring.

He smiled slightly. "Yes, I am."

To hide her embarrassment, she quickly stated. "I hope your wife will not mind that I have confided in you, but you have been so understanding."

"I am not sure how my wife will react," he admitted ruefully.

"What is your wife like?"

He was reflective. "She is lovely." He was thoughtful again. "I suspect she can be obstinate at times, and probably has a temper," he said, eyeing the red highlights in Breanna's hair. "Beyond that, I cannot say what she is like. Does any man ever truly know a woman?"

Breanna felt the pain of disappointment as he spoke so lovingly of his wife. Why should she care that this man was married? He was a stranger to her. Besides, she was a married woman and had no right to be having such unsettling feelings about any man other than her husband.

She stared at his sun-browned hand as he easily controlled the horse. They were strong hands, sensitive, yet masterful. Did he control his wife with the same strength with which he controlled his horse? she wondered, and then blushed, hoping he could not imagine her thoughts.

Breanna saw that they were nearing Weatherford Hall, and she sat up. "Please let me down here, and I will walk the rest of the way. I do not want to have to answer a lot of needless questions."

"Are you sure you feel well enough to walk? I would not mind taking you right up to the house."