Into the Wilderness (48 page)

Elizabeth
stopped where she was, held her newly throbbing head in her hands. Her father
had read this letter and known that his troubles were solved, but he had kept
this information from her. Knowing what he knew, he had pushed, until he could
push no longer, for Elizabeth's engagement to Richard Todd. These ideas did not
fit together, and yet they must.

It
wasn't the money, then. Or the land. In spite of his protestations of wanting
to keep the land in the family, her father was so desperate to pass the patent
over to Richard that he had lied to her. He had stolen this letter, hid it away
from her.

Jill
announced herself at the door, and Elizabeth flung it open, frightening the
woman so that the tea things she carried swayed and clattered dangerously on
their tray.

"Pardon
me, please," Elizabeth said. "But I must speak to Nathaniel,
immediately."

"Shall
I fetch him, then?" the girl asked, flustered. "Is something
wrong?"

Elizabeth
took the tray from her, nodding. "Please tell him to come to me, that I
need him. Straightaway. And please—don't alarm anyone else. Just send him to
me."

She
was sitting on the edge of a chair with the letter on her lap when he came in.

He
hadn't escaped Mrs. Schuyler's attentions, that was clear. Sometime in the last
hour he had bathed and shaved and he was wearing a fresh shirt, linen this time
rather than homespun or buckskin, creamy white against the tanned column of his
neck. There were shadows under his eyes, but he smiled at her, a relaxed smile.
She tried to smile back.

"You'll
have the Schuylers in an uproar, inviting me in here."

She
handed him the letter. He walked to the window to read it, leaning with one
shoulder against the jamb as he did so. The light moved on his face as his eyes
scanned the lines, one after the next. Then he raised his head and looked at
her.

"When
did this come?"

"Yesterday.
I found it with the deed and the patent in the secretary last night. I just
read it now."

He
was watching her, waiting.

"Nathaniel.
What does it mean?"

There
was a guarded look about him. "It means you don't have to marry me
anymore, if you don't care to."

She
stood up and crossed the room.

"That's
not what I meant," she said peevishly. "I was asking about Richard,
and my father, and why—"

"I
know what you meant. But there's something else we got to get settled here
first. You can do what you like now."

"Of
course I can," Elizabeth snapped. "But I could do that before as
well. Do you imagine that I was doing this against my will?"

"In
the name of a good deed," he said, shrugging. "Maybe against your
better judgment."

Elizabeth
drew up, feeling her face flood with a bright, burning indignation. "Then
you know me not at all, Nathaniel Bonner," she said. "And perhaps you
had better reconsider yourself what it is you said you wanted from me.
Unless—" She hesitated, and pushed on. "Unless you've already had
that and satisfied your curiosity."

Even
in her discomposure, Elizabeth could see how the anger took hold of him, how
his lids lowered and his jaw settled hard.

"Is
that what you think of me?"

She
hesitated, and he grabbed her by the upper arms, pulled her in close.
"Answer me. Is that what you think of me?" His grip was punishing,
but she bit her lip rather than cry out.

"Let
me go," she said. "At once." Nathaniel dropped his hands and
stepped back.

"No,"
she said finally, rubbing her arms. "It's not what I think of you."

There
was an almost imperceptible shifting of his mouth.

She
said, "And what do you think of me? That I am here to fulfill some good
cause?"

"If
you don't need to be here, and you're still here, then I want to know
why," he said, his voice hoarse now, on the edge of anger but steady.

"I'm
here because I love you," Elizabeth said in a voice more calm than she
would have imagined. "In case you hadn't noticed."

"You
never said." There was something of an accusation in his voice.

"Neither
have you!"

He
looked out the window, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

She
laughed, because otherwise she knew she would cry. Woodenly, she moved across
the room to stand in front of the bed, far away from him, where he could not touch
her.

There
was a hesitant knock at the door; neither of them turned.

"Is
everything all right?" Mrs. Schuyler asked.

"Fine,"
Elizabeth and Nathaniel barked in unison.

"The
minister has arrived," she sang out.

"Please
allow us a few more minutes of your patience, Mrs. Schuyler," Elizabeth
answered, her gaze fixed on Nathaniel. "We'll be down shortly."

When
her footsteps had faded reluctantly away, Elizabeth blinked.

"Won't
we?"

He
came across the room in three strides and bore her down on the bed before him,
pinning her there with his hands and knees. His expression was absolutely
ferocious; she thought that this must be the way he had looked in battle when
he had an enemy squarely in his rifle sights.

"You
could have what you want for yourself." His voice dropped, very low.
"Live in the schoolhouse, teach. The land's yours to do with as you
please. There's money enough to buy you independence, from your father and from
me, too. If you don't want to sell us Hidden Wolf, we'll be good tenants."

Her
eyes swam with tears; his face doubled and tripled. She could not raise her
hands to touch him or to wipe her own cheeks.

"Is
that what you want?"

"No,"
he said, a muscle in his cheek jumping. "No."

"Tell
me," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Damn
the land," he breathed against her face. "And damn your father and
damn your aunt Merriweather and most of all goddamn to everlasting hell your
know—it—all Mrs. Wollstonecraft."

"Tell
me why," she said, more forcefully now, straining up toward him.

"Because
I love you, damn it. Since you have to hear it. Because I love you. That's why
I want you."

"Well,
you have me," she whispered, no longer fighting him. "If you really
want me."

He
groaned then, gripping her harder, his fingers pressing into her wrists as he
pulled them up and over her head. He dropped his face to the curve of her
throat, nuzzling her like a loving and thankful child, his mouth open against
her skin.

Then
he was a child no longer. He kissed her, a bruising kiss, stealing from her
even her gasp of welcome as he reached under her robe, his hands as hungry as
his mouth. She moaned with the terrible pleasure of it. He yanked at his own
clothing and then he was with her, sinking deep inside with a cry, whispering
in her ear, shocking, entrancing words in bright colors as piercing and
immediate as the thrust of his body into hers. She arched against him but
another part of her waited, terrified, for the next knock on the door.

It
was over quickly. When he began to shudder in her arms she held him tightly until
his trembling subsided, stroking him and wiping her wet cheeks against his
hair.

"I
would guess this is what they call putting the cart before the horse," she
said softly, when he was quiet.

He
laughed then and gripped her closer to him.

"You
didn't get much out of that," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I
beg to disagree," she said, stretching under him a little. His head came
up in surprise. "Do you now?" One hand slid over her damp skin to
capture a breast. "Well, let me show you, then."

"Oh,
no." Elizabeth began to untangle herself from him, pulling back from his
embrace. "Mrs. Schuyler will be outraged. We're late already."

But
his hands were everywhere, touching her, his mouth moving across her bare
shoulder. She tried to stop him and managed only to press his palm against her
breast.

"Nathaniel!"
"With a great shove she removed herself from the bed and stood there' with
the robe half draped about her, her hair dancing wildly, her chest heaving with
every breath. "Listen to me!"

He
focused, with considerable effort, on her face.

"Don't
look at me that way!"

"What
way?" He reached out to touch her; she scrambled away.

"Like
you want to—devour me whole."

"Darlin',"
he said, finally producing a smile. "That's just what had in mind."

She
clutched her robe tighter, and tried to modulate her voice.

"Nathaniel.
We are supposed to be in the parlor being married, right now. Do you realize
that the whole household is waiting downstairs for us while we—"

A
wolfish grin, flashing white.

"While
we—do—this." She stamped her foot. In irritation and frustration and
fierce, undeniable arousal.

"All
right, then," he said, sitting up. "I suppose
this
"—that grin again, scalding her—"will have to wait.
If you think you can keep your mind on the business at hand, as unsatisfied as
you are."

"I
am perfectly satisfied!"

He
raised one brow, and his voice came hoarse. "You don't know the meaning of
the word, Boots. Not yet."

Elizabeth
choked back a hasty reply, realizing that she could not enter into this
conversation, not without fear of repercussions which might keep them here
while the whole household waited. Pressing her lips together, she whirled away
from him and stood in front of the mirror, trying to bring some order to her
hair with shaking hands. He pulled his clothes into shape and came up behind
her. Gently, he caught her wrist and took the brush away from her.

"Let
me," he said, and he did, he brushed her hair while she stood and watched
him in the mirror, unable to break away from his gaze.

"Leave
it free."

"But—”

“Leave
it free," he repeated. "Please."

She
nodded, finally.

"I'll
be waiting downstairs," Nathaniel said. "Don't be too long."

She
watched him go, his hand on the handle, the way it turned. His shirt, somehow,
looked completely as it had when he came in. He was unruffled, with no sign
about him of what he had just done. Elizabeth looked in the mirror at her own
flushed face and cursed him soundly, but silently.

"Nathaniel!"

He
raised a brow.

"What
about the letter, and my father?"

His
look of preoccupation cleared, completely and absolutely.

"I
don't know what it means," he said. "But I'm guessing we'll find out
soon enough."

She
who had always been punctual to a fault, who had always saved her strongest
censure for those who could not keep their appointments, she was late for her
own wedding. It took longer than she would have thought for her color to
settle, for the tremble to leave her hands, and then she put on Many-Doves '
wedding dress, looked in the mirror, and had to work hard not to start weeping.

Elizabeth
recognized herself not at all. She did not understand how this could be her,
Elizabeth Maria Genevieve Middleton once of Oakmere. She stared at her image
for long minutes. Soon Mrs. Schuyler or Nathaniel would come to her door again,
and what could she say? That she must have wedding dress that was satin and
lace, in which she would feel like who she was? That she could not attend her
own wedding as an imposter, wearing clothes she had no right to? In the end,
because she could not do otherwise, Elizabeth took off the dress and the
leggings and put on her good gray dress with its neat, round lace color, the
same dress she had worn in the night to go looking for Nathaniel. It was not
fashionable, certainly. But it was her own. Now, in the mirror, she saw
herself.

It
took another few minutes to tame her loose hair into something that might not
affront sensibilities. From the hem of her shift she pulled the satin ribbon
and this she wrapped around her head to hold her hair away from her face, tying
it to a bow under her ear. It was too girlish, but it was better. The curls
drifted around her temples and she resisted the urge to comb them back, tuck
them away. This much she could do for Nathaniel, if she couldn't wear
Many-Doves ' beautiful dress.

They were
waiting for her; she felt the hush fall on the house, when she stepped onto the
stair. She had never been more frightened in her life, more acutely aware of
herself and her shortcomings, more self—conscious. Poised there at the head of
the stair with so many strangers watching and waiting, she sought out Nathaniel
and found him, as she knew she would, smiling at her. And it was then that she
discovered that it was possible to be terribly frightened and extraordinarily,
inconceivably happy, all in the same breath.