A Heart for the Taking (49 page)

Only when they were both sated and lying together in lazy exhaustion did the subject of Ellen’s marriage to Hugh come up again. His fingers leisurely tracing an aimless pattern on her arm and shoulder, Chance said quietly, “I know that it will be a wrench for you to let Ellen go, but you shall still be able to see her frequently. We shall go and visit them several times a year, and Hugh will, no doubt, bring her here often enough.”

Fancy nodded, saying softly, “It is just that she is so young and I have had the care of her for so many years. We have always been together. It will be an adjustment, but one I will gladly make.” She rose up to look down into his face, the faint light of the moon outlining his chiseled features. “She
is
happy, isn’t she? And Hugh will make her an excellent husband, won’t he?”

“Indeed, he will. Almost as excellent a husband as I have made you,” Chance said teasingly.

“If that were the case,” Fancy retorted tartly, “I should forbid the banns.”

Chance chuckled and pulled her onto his naked chest. He kissed her with great relish, his lips warm and knowing against hers. “I think,” he said eventually, his breathing somewhat erratic, “that we shall deal very well together, sweetheart—despite our unpropitious beginning.”

A soft little smile curved Fancy’s mouth as she thought of all her foolish fears and silly misgivings. Chance had not said he loved her, but he had proved himself to be a most exceptional husband so far. There was still rough water ahead of them, but they
had
managed to deal very well with each other indeed.

Fancy was aware that she was looking forward to their fu
ture together, that she had no regrets at the hand fate had dealt her. And there was the joy of knowing of the babe that was already growing within her. She had never thought she would have a child, and the wonder of it was too new and sweet and overwhelming to speak of. At present it was still her secret, and she clutched it to her, relishing the private knowledge and yet taking delight in imagining Chance’s face when she finally told him that he was going to be a father. Next spring, she mused dreamily, we shall have a child ... a boy, she decided sleepily, with his father’s brilliant blue eyes.

*     *     *

The first of October dawned cool and clear, a hint of frost in the air. Standing on the wide porch of the house, just as the first rays of the rising sun kissed the treetops, Fancy watched teary eyed as Hugh and Ellen, followed by Annie, rode slowly away from Devil’s Own. Jed and Martha and the rest of the Richmond party had departed just a few minutes previously, and Fancy was feeling a little dejected and lonely. She
was,
she told herself repeatedly, happy—no, delighted—about Ellen’s engagement to Hugh. It was what she always wanted for her sister, a true love-match. Hugh was a fine young man, and there was no doubting that the pair of them were deeply in love. But, oh, I
am
going to miss her, she thought wryly, surreptitiously wiping away a tear.

Chance, standing by her side, noticed the furtive little movement and put his arm around her shoulder. “Perhaps we can find time to visit at Fairview in early November,” he said softly, “if the weather is not too inclement.”

“No, that will not be necessary. I know that we have much to do to prepare for winter, and with Martha and Jed gone, we shall be very busy,” she said tremulously. “I can wait until the wedding to see her again. ’Tis just that I am a little emotional at seeing her leave. This is the first time that we have ever been separated.”

She flashed him a misty smile, her lovely topaz eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and Chance felt something shift painfully in his chest. She was garbed simply in a
green-and-russet-striped bodice worn over a white cotton blouse; her skirt was made of green merino wool. Due to their early rising, her hair was loose, a dark cloud that tumbled charmingly around her pale face to her shoulders; her cheeks were pink from the chill morning air; and her lips were a soft, rosy temptation. Completely riveted by her, Chance decided that he had never seen her appear lovelier than she did at that very moment. He was unutterably thankful that she was his wife—no matter the means he had used to marry her. Which reluctantly caused him to admit something else, something he had been denying for weeks. He had never felt about anyone the way he did Fancy—not even Jenny. The fierceness and strength of the emotion he experienced every time he looked into Fancy’s sweet face frightened him, and he was baffled at the way just one sad look from her could make him willing to do the most foolish things. He stared down at her intently, trying to understand what had happened to him.
I love her,
he thought suddenly, dazedly.

Becoming uncomfortable by his fixed stare, Fancy moved restively. “I wish,” she said with a touch of acerbity in her voice, “that you would not stare at me in that fashion. If you are trying to put me out of countenance, you have done so.”

Chance shook himself as if coming out of a stupor. A slow, incredibly tender smile crossed his handsome face. “Out of countenance, Duchess? Never. I was merely congratulating myself on my good luck in marrying you.”

Fancy flushed and shot him an uncertain glance. The look in his blue eyes made her heart flutter, and almost shyly she asked, “Were you really?”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her very,
very
thoroughly. “Indeed I was,” he said huskily when he finally lifted his mouth from hers. “And you? How do you feel about our marriage?”

Her flush deepened, and keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the middle of his chest, she murmured, “ ’Tis not too terrible a fate, I think.”

Chance laughed, his eyes dancing. He was, he admitted,
utterly besotted—even her tart tongue delighted him. It was all he could do not to sweep her up in his arms and declare himself to her—and the world—and demand that she love him as much as he loved her. She was not indifferent to him, of that he was convinced. But would she ever love him? Trust him?

He sent her a calculating glance. Winning Fancy’s love, he realized, meant more to him than anything else on earth, and he was not about to be denied it. She
will
love me, he vowed. I shall woo her, court her, and snare her heart before she is even aware of what I am doing. Her heart, he swore softly, will be mine for the taking. And only mine.

If Fancy noticed a difference about Chance that day, she put it down to the departure of the others. It was true that they were both extremely busy during the daylight hours, and not much in each other’s company, but there was an intimate dinner that evening with just the two of them. Neither was aware of the servants hovering in the background as they talked and teased and unknowingly fell deeper in love with each other. And afterward, when they were alone in Chance’s big bed, there were the long, leisurely hours in which he made exquisitely sweet love to her and brought her completely under his spell. That night as she lay in his arms, Fancy was blissfully certain that she had never been happier in her entire life, and she blessed the fate that had brought her and Chance together.

If there was any cloud on her horizon, it was the fact that Chance had not yet mentioned those three magic words she most wanted to hear—I love you. Aware of his baby growing stronger within her, she longed to hear him admit that he loved her. It would, she thought sleepily, allow her to look forward to a cloudless future.

*     *     *

Udell and Clem had been watching the comings and goings at Devil’s Own for only two days when Jed, Martha, Hugh, and the others had departed. They were elated at their luck, having thought they would have to spend several more days lurking about in the underbrush before the party for Rich
mond had left. Fancy’s presence as well as Ellen’s had come as a pleasant shock, and they were both looking forward to renewing their acquaintance with the two Englishwomen who had escaped them. The fate they had planned for the sisters was not at all promising. That it appeared that Fancy was Chance’s wife made Udell’s eyes gleam with an ugly expression. He swore that he’d keep Chance alive just long enough to see his wife defiled and gutted in front of him.

Make the bastard suffer first, Udell thought savagely, unconsciously touching the scar on his cheek. Make him listen to his woman scream and plead for mercy—
then
I will kill ’im.

Neither Thacker had been pleased to see Ellen and Annie leave with the main party. They had recognized Annie from the detailed description they had been given, and it presented them with a quandary. The man who had hired them had said
both
Chance and the old woman were to be killed in the Indian raid. But Udell didn’t see how it could be accomplished, now that Annie had left Devil’s Own. Clem was all for sloping off after the departing party and attempting to get rid of Annie and waylaying Ellen before coming back to Devil’s Own to finish up their chore. Udell thought it over and finally convinced him to wait, unaware that their quarry was not going to Richmond.

“There will be time enough for thet, once we git Mister Chance Walker taken care of,” Udell had insisted. “Think of all thet gold. We will finish up here tomorrow morning and overtake ’em. With them wagons and such, they will travel slower than us. Richmond is a fair ways off. There will be chances along the trail for us to git our hands on thet yallarhaired gal and take care of the old woman.”

With much grumbling Clem had agreed. “But you jest remember, the yallar hair is mine. I owe the little bitch a thing or two.”

Udell had nodded, and in perfect accord the two men went back to studying Devil’s Own. Udell figured from their earlier reconnoitering that there weren’t more than three or four able-bodied men, including Chance, left on the place.
There were several women and children, as well as the slaves, but he did not think they’d give them much trouble.

Clem grunted his agreement. “And if we do it at first light,” he said thoughtfully, “everyone is likely to be still abed. We should be able to git inside the main house and take care of Chance and the woman afore anyone else even knows what is happening. Besides, they will all be busy with them”—he snickered—“other Indians.”

Udell rubbed his bearded chin. Peering at the house from their hiding place in a clump of tall grass at the edge of the forest, he said softly, “I been thinking some about them other Indians. I shore do hate the idea of us having to share thet gold with anyone else.”

Clem looked surprised. “You figgering we do it alone? Jest the two of us?” He swallowed. “Won’t thet be kinda risky?”

“Might. But then again . . .” Udell grinned wolfishly at him. “If just us do it, thet gold will be all ours.” Clem considered it. Cautiously he said, “If we wuz to slip in and pick off as many of the other men as we could, quiet like ...”

“There would be,” Udell said with satisfaction, “nobody to trouble us when we go after Chance and his woman.” He grinned craftily at Clem. “Nobody to share any gold with, either.”

A grin as greedy and ugly as the one on Udell’s face broke across Clem’s dirty, bearded features. “Don’t have to worry none about anyone mebbe talkin’ about it sometime, either. Be jest between the two of us—gold and all.”

The two brothers nodded to each other, and a moment later, after one last calculating look at Devil’s Own, they silently slunk off into the forest. Tomorrow, Udell promised himself savagely, tomorrow a lot of debts would be settled with Mr. Chance Walker and that uppity English bitch.

C
hance never knew what woke him. One second he was sleeping soundly, the next he was alert and wide awake. A swift glance at Fancy, sleeping by his side, told him that it had not been his wife who had disturbed him, and another glance at the purple-gray murk outside the windows that bespoke those moments before dawn informed him that it was not yet time to rise.

So what had wakened him from a deep slumber? Something had, and he lay there, listening intently. All seemed normal, but a tightening in his gut, the compelling sensation that all was
not
normal, had him rising silently from bed and quickly dragging on a pair of breeches.

Every sense alert, the feeling growing second by second that something was seriously amiss, that there was danger in the air, he laid his hand on the wide-bladed knife that was seldom far from his side. A loaded musket stood ready in the corner, a seemingly curious oddity in the elegant surroundings, but a grim reminder that for all its serene, civilized air, Devil’s Own
was
a lone outpost in the midst of wilderness. Indian attacks were rare these days in this area, but the war with Corn Stalker and his allies had not yet been settled, and while Corn Stalker’s raids were farther west, it didn’t pre
clude
other
Indians from striking out on their own. And Indian attacks were not the only danger a place like Devil’s Own faced—there were always ruthless men who preyed upon the weak and vulnerable.

Normally Chance would not have been alarmed, but with the major portion of the inhabitants of Devil’s Own on their way to Richmond, the plantation was not up to its usual fighting force. Considering the situation, he realized that he had grown too confident these last years, a little too secure. The semiannual trips to Richmond for replenishment of supplies were common knowledge, and he concluded grimly that if someone were planning to attack Devil’s Own, now would be a very good time.