Into the Wilderness (59 page)

"What
could motivate Kitty Witherspoon to do such a thing?" she muttered.

"Marriage,"
said Nathaniel.

"Marriage?"
Elizabeth cocked one brow, her mouth pursed. "Richard has offered to marry
her?"

Nathaniel
nodded. "And none too soon."

She
blinked, tugging at her plait and then flinging it back over her shoulder.
"Kitty is with child?"

"Curiosity
says she is."

With
hands that were less than steady, Elizabeth turned to the kettle and began to
scoop out bowls of porridge. One of these she thrust into Nathaniel's hands.
The other she passed, absentmindedly, to Robbie.

"By
whom?"

"Your
brother, no doubt," he said. ""Course, that ain't common
knowledge. Although Curiosity suspects, it seemed to me."

She
sat down heavily next to him, and stared into her bowl.

"I
know that Kitty would be very glad to get Richard, but why would he want her,
under those circumstances?"

Nathaniel
waited, knowing that she did not really want an answer from him; she had a
habit of thinking out loud when she was trying to work through something difficult,
and he was learning to let her get on with it and not interrupt.

"I
expect it was the price she set on her testimony," Elizabeth muttered.
"The man is really beyond all reason and propriety." She shook her
head, and began to eat. After two spoonfuls, she let her bowl rest in her lap,
and turned to Nathaniel.

"What
a terrible muddle this is," she said. "What can I do, except deny
them? I never told any of them that I was engaged to Richard, but they are
three and I am only one. If I thought there was any chance of speaking sense to
them—" She broke off

"Come,
lass, ye mun eat," said Robbie. "Naethin' ever looks sac bad wi' a
belly fu' o' parr itch.”

"I
hope you're right," Elizabeth said softly. Robbie had carved her a spoon
of her own and she worried the end between her teeth, looking at Nathaniel in a
distracted way.

"Must
I go back and face these charges, and Kitty Witherspoon? Or Kitty Todd, perhaps
by then."

Nathaniel
tipped his bowl to his mouth while he considered the best way to reply.
"Eventually," he said. "But you won't go alone, Elizabeth."

She
noted his rare use of her name. He was looking at her with a calm affection;
there was nothing of humor or teasing or lust in him at this moment, just the
wish to reassure her. This was a comfort, because since the encounter of the
previous evening, Elizabeth often found herself lost in thought and suddenly
blushing furiously for no clear reason. He might have teased her, but he seemed
to understand how much his lessons in satisfaction had rocked her sense and
understanding of herself. It would require a great deal of thought, the whole
business of being together with him. This evening they would talk it through.
If she could find the words, if they could keep the talking separate for a
while, from the rest of it. In the meantime there was news of home.

Nathaniel
tugged on her plait to get her attention. "We have to give my father some
time to see what he can manage."

"Hawkeye?"
she asked, confused. "Manage what?"

"Hawkeye
is a skilfu' negotiator," Robbie offered. "Gi'e him time tae talk
sense tae nonsensical folk, and see if aught comes o' it."

"He
won't persuade Kitty Witherspoon if Richard Todd is willing to marry her on the
strength of her testimony," Elizabeth pointed out. "She'd testify
against God and King—or President, in this case—for that particular
reward."

"You
sound as though you're regretting the loss of the man." Nathaniel grinned
at her.

"Not
in this world, or the next," she laughed, reluctantly. But she recognized
that this idea of Richard marrying Kitty irked her, although she couldn't say
why, and didn't want to think about it overmuch. Not with the way Nathaniel was
looking at her.

"What
power would Hawkeye have with Martha Southern or Liam Kirby?" she asked.
"Or better said, Moses Southern and Billy Kirby, for I doubt Martha and
Liam volunteered their testimony without considerable encouragement."

Robbie
was waving a great beaver tail as if it were an outlandish new fashion in fans.
Elizabeth could hear that he had a story to tell by the way he cleared his
throat.

"Hawkeye
once persuaded a rantin' Huron war party that it wasna a guid notion to cook
his Cora for their dinner, and that' wi'oot a weapon on him," said Robbie.
"And they walked awa', the twa o' them, wit heir scalps. He's a sicht tae
see and hear when he's in a persuasive frame o' mind, is Hawkeye. I dinna
believe that Moses can stan' fast. And young Billy—" He laughed softly.
"He hasna a chance."

Nathaniel
was watching Elizabeth closely, wondering how much information he could give
her at one time. She had her chin in the air, her eyes flashing with anger and
frustration. In spite of the bad news that would keep them on the run, in spite
of the trouble that might still take Hidden Wolf from them, Nathaniel could not
look at her without a very real satisfaction and joy.

"What
are you thinking?" she demanded.

"Well,"
he said slowly. "I'm thinking that you're my wife, scowl on your face and
all. No matter what comes, nothing and nobody can change that fact, Boots. And
I'm glad of it."

"Oh,"
she said, her anger draining away to be replaced by a softer smile.

Robbie
cleared his throat. "It's a fine day on the water and I for one wad be
glad o' fish for my supper. Ye realize, Nathaniel, that this lassie o' yours
canna swim? Little Lost is the richt place to gain the art o' it, shallow as it
is wi' a guid sandy bottom."

"So
it is," Nathaniel agreed.

"You'll
need help with the beaver," Elizabeth pointed out to Robbie.

"Aye,
weel, I hae made my livin' withe se beasties, an' they wi' me, for muny a lang
year, aye? So I'll make do. And the truth o' it is, lass, that trout wa dna
taste sac bad after the venison." He was skinning a beaver as he spoke,
and he squinted up from this work to grin at her.

Nathaniel
was glad of an excuse to have Elizabeth to himself again. There was more to
talk to her about, and it would be easier if they were alone. And Robbie was
right: she needed to know how to swim. When he pointed this out to her, she
listened to his logic, but he could see that the idea was causing her some
uneasiness. The sight of her flushing was enough to make Nathaniel's blood leap
with wanting her, although it had been just a few hours since he had left her
last.

"I
have nothing to wear," she said in a low voice and out of Robbie's hearing.
And seeing his grin, she pushed him, hard. "Will you behave?"

He
caught her up against him. "Do you want me to behave?"

"In
company, at least," she said firmly. With a little shake of her head, she
pulled away from him and turned to Robbie, who was looking into the innards of
a beaver as if something of immense interest were waiting there, his color the
shade of poppies in bloom.

"If
you can manage," she said, "we'll go down and see about those
trout."

"Ach
aye, lass, gae on wi' ye." He did not look up from his work. "I can
manage if you can."

* * *

The
lake was smooth and clear and shone like a sheet of beaten silver in the
sunlight. The forest came down to its shores for almost three quarters of its
irregular shape, giving way reluctantly to broad banks of deep green moss. A
series of coves were hidden from view; Elizabeth had been here with Robbie, and
he had pointed them out at good distance, warning her to keep away.

"The
loons are nestin'," he had told her in hushed tones.

Elizabeth
had thought it unusual that Robbie would be so concerned about the privacy of
these birds, but in this as in other things she had taken his direction, and
now when she came with Nathaniel to the edge of the lake they were rewarded. A
pair of loons paddled past with their eyes blazing like rubies, each with a
fuzzy chick nestled comfortably on a checkered black—and—white back.

"So
simple in their coloring and still anything but plain," Elizabeth said
quietly. "Geometric detailing to the point of gaudiness."

Nathaniel
lifted his head and called across the water, "Whooo whooo whooo,"
until one of the pair raised its dagger like beak and gave back the call. They
watched the birds disappear around the corner.

"Come,
Boots, there's a warmish patch over there which will suit."

Elizabeth
hung back a little, for she was worried, in spite of the emptiness of this
corner of the world and their isolation, about the public nature of swimming.
Nathaniel glanced back at her and grinned.

"You
can leave your shift on," he called, once again reading her mind with an
accuracy which she was starting to find somewhat irritating.

"Am
I so predictable?" she asked when she caught up to him. At the water's
edge a series of flattish boulders cooked in the sun, extending out in a jumble
into the shallows where small fish darted. A bloodred lizard with a speckled
back flexed and disappeared into the cracks. Nearby, a blue heron paced
long—legged on the shore, ignoring them completely.

Nathaniel
had set his rifle to one side and stripped down to his breech clout in a few
movements. "About some things," he conceded.

She
dared not look at him as he stood there in the warm sun, his skin glowing and
his hair moving in the wind, for on her face would be evidence of what the
sight of him did to her.

"I
like your hair plaited," he said, surprising her. When she looked up, one
brow raised, he continued. "You tug at it when you're thinking."

"Do
I?" she asked, amazed to find that he was right, she had her plait in one
hand and had been pulling at it. With one hand she undid the silver clasp that
she now wore to secure it at the top; this she wrapped in her handkerchief for
safekeeping, hesitating for a moment while she traced the flowers etched into
the metal.

"What
are you thinking about?" he asked.

She
turned away from him to undress. She peeled the moccasins off her feet, untied
her breeches to step out of them and then pulled the long overdress up and over
her head. There was a breeze and it felt good on her bare arms and legs,
pressing her shift to her back. She curled her toes against the warmth of the
rock under her feet, and then she faced him, trying to smile but unable to.

"All
morning," she said. "All morning I've been feeling you—the evidence
of you—on my thighs, and I have not been able to think of much else. What that
means—what it might mean." She could not bear to look at him anymore, and
she dropped her gaze. "I may be with child. already." He was standing
very close to her, but he didn't touch her.

"Well,
it wouldn't be for lack of trying," he said calmly. He paused. "Is it
that you don't like the idea of a child, or you don't believe I can give you
one?"

Her
head jerked up at this, and she found a look she did not recognize on his face,
a vulnerability that he had never shown her before.

"I
like the idea very much," she said, answering only one of his questions.
She watched him struggle with what he was feeling, the way the muscles in his
throat worked as he swallowed.

"It
would interfere with your teaching," he said finally, and he raised one
finger to push a strand of hair away from her face.

"But
only for a while," she said. "There is no reason, given the way we
shall live, that I should have to give up teaching completely." This
proposal which she put to him with such thoughtfulness was one which had woken
her in the night; she had watched him sleep and worked through how best to
present it. She knew that the fine perspiration on her brow and the tremble in
her hands did not escape him. But she held his gaze until he nodded, slowly.

"If
that's what you want."

Elizabeth
sensed his hesitation, and her spirits fell. He did not want her to teach once
she had children to look after; aunt Merriweather had been right.

"You
would prefer not to share me," she said, and then added hastily:
"With other people's children."

"Elizabeth,"
Nathaniel said, crouching and pulling her down to sit next to him. "I
won't ask you to give up your school, no matter what comes, and I won't resent
the time you put into it. There's womenfolk enough to look after affairs at Lake
in the Clouds, including children that come our way. But it's no good,
pretending that there's nothing else on your mind. We have to talk this through
or it will fester. Ask me what you want to know."

Elizabeth
looked out over the lake. A loon was diving, disappearing in a smooth arc to
drop into the belly of the lake and come up and repeat the process over and
over again.

"I
don't know where to start."

"Hannah
is my child," Nathaniel said after a long pause.

"I
know that," Elizabeth said softly. "But Richard—”