My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) (23 page)

But neither of them felt the need to rush.

“What do these lines mean?” Caroline traced the dark lines across his chest, feeling powerful and alive when his stomach muscles contracted.

“They are proof of my manhood,” he said and again the smile showed his teeth white against the sun-darkened skin.

“I don’t think you need to prove it,” Caroline quipped and a giggle bubbled up. In the next instant they were both laughing.

The mirth ceased when Wolf thrust deeper into Caroline’s body. His hand closed over her breast. Caroline sucked in her breath as his thumb slowly drew circles around her sensitive flesh. With each turn he grew bolder, closer to her nipple. The torture was exquisite.

“You are beautiful,” he said, and this time Caroline recognized the words spoken in Cherokee. She wrapped them around her like a down comforter. For tonight she felt beautiful... was beautiful.

But then he said something that threatened to break the spell. Still touching her, still carefully working his way toward her nipple, he leaned forward and kissed her chin. “My memory is a poor substitute for reality, for I recall your breasts as smaller.” He flashed her a grin before taking the distended tip in his mouth.

Caroline tried to think of a response, one that didn’t involve her pregnancy. She had noticed herself the subtle changes in her body, and knew that soon they would not be so subtle. Then she would have to tell him... what?

The truth?

You are the father of my bastard child. She closed her eyes and tried to keep her mind clear as he drew her deeper and deeper into a web of passion. Caroline imagined telling him right now, pushing him away and telling him the truth. What would he do? She didn’t know; and as he moved his hand down toward the juncture of their bodies, she hadn’t the nerve to open her mouth.

He touched her, and she cried out, but it was the alternative to telling him the truth as much as the pleasure that made her do so. If her child was to be born without stigma, she must claim Robert as his father. There was no one to deny her. But could she tell that lie to people... to Wolf?

“Caroline?”

She opened her eyes and stared into his. Heavy-lidded and black as night, they held a trace of concern. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” Caroline wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “No,” she whispered again as his thrusts grew faster and harder, wiping her decisions from her mind.

When they both could breathe evenly again, Wolf pulled the edge of the blanket over them, and they both slept. Later he woke and added wood to the fire, then cuddled her closer when he lay beside her. She opened her eyes and reached for him, and they made love again.

Sometime later, she was awakened by the smell of something mouth-watering. Caroline stretched, realizing for the first night since the attack she hadn’t been troubled with the dreams of blood and violence. She colored when she remembered why.

Sitting up she brushed tangled curls from her face and looked around. She was alone. Spitted over the fire on a double Y of branches was a rabbit. The skin crackled and sputtered hot fat into the smoldering flames. And the aroma. Caroline took a deep breath, and her stomach growled. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Not a complete meal since the attack surely. All Caroline knew was that she’d never been so hungry.

Gathering the blanket around her, she stood and inched toward the fire.

“You will burn yourself,” came a voice behind her.

Caroline whirled around to see Wolf, soaking wet and dressed only in his loincloth. Streams of water ran from his slicked-back hair, down the broad chest and lower. Just looking at him made Caroline long to be held in his arms. She wet her dry lips and decided perhaps breakfast could wait.

But Wolf didn’t seem so inclined. Though his manner was friendly, there was none of the passion from the previous night, flaring in his dark eyes. He nodded behind him toward the pool of water above the falls. “I’ll take it off the fire while you clean up. Your clothes are dry.”

When he shrugged into his shirt and hunched by the fire, Caroline turned away. He was right, of course. There was no time for anything this morning. She wanted to return to Seven Pines as quickly as possible. To assure herself that Mary was all right. Still, Caroline thought as she dipped her hand into the cold water, a kiss would not have taken too long.

By the time Caroline returned to the camp, her attitude had changed. As she stepped, shivering and covered with gooseflesh from the water, she remembered that what happened last night was not reality. She had asked him to help her forget. And he had.

It was not his fault but hers that she wished to pretend past the dawn. But she couldn’t. She was his father’s widow. And carrying a child who must be acknowledged as her late husband’s. Love played no part in this. Especially a one-sided love like hers. For Wolf might desire her, but that was all. He proved that when he left her at his father’s house. She had been foolish enough then to expect more from him. Now she knew better.

They traveled the better part of the day, resting only occasionally, and by late afternoon, they entered the clearing at Seven Pines.

Caroline had tried to brace herself for the scene she’d find. The view she saw when the Cherokee led her away. But there was no grotesque body draped from the sycamore tree. The smokehouse was gone, a mass of burned rubble on the ground, and so was the storage barn where trade goods had been kept, but the house stood, apparently unscathed.

When Wolf touched the small of her back, Caroline realized how long she was standing... staring. When she looked up at him, he glanced toward a grassy knoll to the right of the main building. It took her a moment to realize that he was pointing out her husband’s grave. She felt ashamed by her lack of remorse.

The chickens scattered, protesting, as Wolf and Caroline started toward the house. Before they reached the porch, the front door opened, and Mary rushed out. She carried a musket.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Caroline asked as she hurried forward and wrapped her arms around her friend. It seemed a foolish question considering all that had happened, but it was all she managed to say before tears sprang to her eyes.

Mary returned her hug, and Caroline noticed through blurry eyes that Wolf had removed the gun from her grip. He stood to the side for a moment before entering the house. When he came back onto the porch, both women were wiping their damp faces.

“Where are Sadayi and Walini?” he asked.

“They stop in occasionally to see how I’m doing, but they have their own families. Besides, I have nothing to trade them for being here.”

Caroline caught a glimpse of Wolf’s dark expression before he turned away.

“I know they agreed to stay,” Mary said, moving toward her brother-in-law, “but I really have been all right. Worry over Caroline was my main problem, and now that is relieved.” She gave Caroline’s hand a squeeze.

Her words didn’t seem to brighten Wolf’s countenance. He scanned the area around the house. Except for the burned buildings, all seemed serene and peaceful. A bluejay chattered in the birch, and, in the background, was the gurgling sound of the creek as it tumbled over rocks.

But Wolf knew how deceptive such a scene could be. He ushered the women inside. “Pack a few things, necessities,” he emphasized, “Then we will be on our way.”

When Mary looked to Caroline for an explanation she said, “Raff is taking us to Fort Prince George.”

“But why? Sadayi indicated the trouble was over. She said the Headmen denounced the raid.” She grabbed Caroline’s hand again. “I don’t want to leave Seven Pines.”

There was something in her eyes that made Caroline draw her to the nearest chair. After she’d settled her into it, Caroline sank to the rug in front of her. “Raff thinks it best if we go to Fort Prince George... and so do I.” She glanced up to him for support, but he seemed willing to let her do the talking. He disappeared toward the back of the house.

“I realize the Cherokee Headmen are going to Charles Town to work out a treaty with the English, but we can’t forget what happened here.”

“Raff buried Robert on the hill.” Mary shut her eyes. Tears leaked from the corners. “There was no minister to say any words over his grave.” She lifted her wet lashes. “No one deserves to die like that, Caroline.”

“I know.” Caroline rested her head on Mary’s knees which was about all the lap she had left.

“I didn’t like him,” Mary said, simply. “I know it wasn’t very Christian of me to feel as I did, but—”

“I didn’t like him, either,” Caroline said. “He wasn’t a very nice man.”

“Still...” said Mary, “if you could have seen what they did to him.”

The fingers braided with Mary’s tightened. “I saw.” Caroline lifted her head. “We must get ready to leave, Mary,” she said gently.

“Logan doesn’t know about his father.”

Caroline took a deep breath. “He will find out when he returns.”

“He won’t know where to find me.” Mary’s brows drew together. “Logan will come home and see that grave...” Her voice trailed off. “And I won’t be here to tell him what happened.”

“Raff will tell him.” Caroline wanted to scream for Wolf now. Wanted him to come talk to Mary. Instead she drew the pregnant woman to her feet. “Don’t worry about Logan. He’ll know where to find you.”

“What if he doesn’t come?” Mary stopped her progress toward the stairs and turned toward Caroline. “What if he never comes home?”

“He will,” Caroline assured her. Glancing back into the parlor, Caroline guided Mary back into the room. “I have an idea. Why don’t you lie on the settee, and I will bring you a cup of tea? Would you like that?” Caroline smiled when Mary nodded. “And something to eat? I’ll bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Mary didn’t answer, but she seemed to relax as Caroline continued to speak to her in quiet tones. After she was seated, and as comfortable as Caroline could make her, she rushed toward the kitchen. Caroline had hoped to find Wolf, but he was nowhere in sight.

The fire was almost out so Caroline built it up and poured water from the bucket into the kettle. Then she went about finding something to eat. There were no muffins, or fresh bread, either. But Caroline managed to find some apples and day-old cornbread. While the tea steeped, she cut the apples, then carried it all into the parlor on a pewter tray.

Mary appeared to be sleeping, but she opened her eyes when Caroline entered. She smiled, and Caroline sighed with relief. Though she looked very pregnant and tired, the panic was gone from her expression.

“Thank you.” Mary accepted the tea and leaned back against the cushion. “You are so good to me, Caroline.” Their gazes met. “And I was so frightened they would kill you.”

“They didn’t hurt me at all,” Caroline assured her. “And then Raff came and brought me back.”

“I’m glad.” Mary smiled. “Aren’t you having any tea?”

Caroline glanced down at the hands folded in her lap. “No actually, I’m not thirsty. What I do think I’ll do is run upstairs and pack a few things. Don’t trouble yourself, I can take care of your necessities, too.” She was to the door before Mary’s voice stopped her.

“I don’t want to leave. Logan...” She left the rest of her thought unspoken.

“Raff will take care of it, of him,” Caroline insisted before she ran out the door.

Up in Mary’s room, Caroline rolled clean shifts and the tiny baby clothes she and Mary had made over the fall into a blanket. Then she went to her room and did the same thing with her shifts and stockings. Knowing they would have to carry anything she packed, Caroline tried to take as few things as possible. But she had no idea how long they would be staying, and Mary’s baby would assuredly be born at the fort.

She was dragging clean sheets from the wardrobe when she heard his voice. “Damnation Caroline, I said a few things.”

“Don’t you curse at me! Just don’t do it,” she added almost in a whisper, as she threw the sheets onto the bed.

Wolf stepped into the room and shut the door. “What is it?”

“I told you. I don’t wish for you to—”

“Yes, I know what you said.” He stepped closer.

“Well then—” Caroline snapped the sheet out. “Your father yelled at me all the time and cursed, and I hated it. I won’t have his son doing the same.”

“I don’t wish to think of myself as his son.”

“Well you are,” she said. “Rafferty MacQuaid, son of Robert MacQuaid.”

Wolf grabbed her shoulders, twirling her around to face him. “What is wrong with you?”

“Not a thing. What could possibly be the matter?” Her tone was petulant and childish, and she didn’t care. “I’ve seen my husband tortured and slain, been kidnapped by Indians, my feet are sore—”

“You are telling me nothing I do not already know.” His eyes narrowed. “Why now are you acting this way?”

Caroline tried to wrench from his grasp, but he held her firm. “How am I supposed to act, Raff?” She sucked in a breath. “Perhaps you are used to this but I—”

“I know it has not been easy for you. If you recall, I warned you not to come.”

“Yes, you did.” Caroline turned her face away. “Perhaps I should have listened to you then.”