Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 (27 page)

“What shall I do with you?” Allison laughingly said. “I know. Let’s sing a song.”

Tilly’s whining abruptly stopped as Allison began the first verse. “My love is like a mountain, beautiful, strong and true…”

When she finished, the child had quieted down.

Jacques spoke then, jealousy stinging his voice. “That is Golden Hawk’s favorite song, Angelle. I didn’t know you knew it.”

“Is it?” She glanced at Paul who sat in stony silence but abruptly nodded his head at her question. Indeed, she thought this was all so strange. She’d never heard him sing that song.

Tilly wailed her discomfort at that moment and sucked her fingers. She wiggled, and Allison handed her to Mary. “Here’s your mother, Kathleen.”

“Her name’s Tilly, not Kathleen,” Dorcas pointed out with a chill in her voice.

Allison, at first, was puzzled by Dorcas’ stabbing gaze,
then
she realized her error and laughed. “I’m sorry. My mind must have wandered.”

Unsettling emotions flooded through her because the name had sprung so easily to her lips, and she felt Paul stiffen next to her.

Joshua yawned. “Time to get some sleep,” he told his family. “We got to get an early start in the morning. Mr. Flannery has given the ladies the cabin for the night. We gents will sleep outside. A good clear night and not too cool.”

Instantly Mary bade them all a good night and carried a whining Tilly into the cabin. Dorcas lingered, smiling, her gaze on Paul. Jealousy sliced through Allison because he smiled back at the little vixen. He hadn’t smiled or spoken to her since she sang to Tilly. What was wrong with the man?
she
wondered. Perhaps he didn’t care for children.

In a matter of seconds Dorcas followed her sister-in-law inside. Allison got up to follow but felt the tug of Paul’s hand on her wrist. “Good night,” he said in a silken voice which caught at her heart.

How changeable he was! “Good night,” she mumbled and slowly disengaged her wrist. Then she joined the women in the cabin.

Mary sat and rocked back and forth with Tilly in her arms, crooning softly until the child grew drowsy. Dorcas brushed her flaming hair until it shown like copper in the candlelight. As Allison changed from her gown into Paul’s long shirt, she felt Dorcas’ piercing stare.

“You’re very lucky to be married to such a strong, able-bodied man,” Dorcas commented. Dorcas
laid
on a bed of blankets, a slight smile creasing her lips. “Handsome men like him are hard to find in the wilderness. I hope you never do anything that would result in his affections turning elsewhere.”

“Dorcas, hush!” Mary rebuked, as she covered herself and Tilly with a fur.

Allison slid beneath the furs of her pallet, aware of Dorcas’ penetrating eyes upon her. She doubted whether Dorcas would blatantly try to steal another woman’s husband, but what would the girl do if she discovered that she and Paul weren’t married? She shrugged and turned away from Dorcas. Dorcas had every right to pursue him. Since they would be living only fifteen miles apart, Dorcas might do just that after Allison regained her memory and left for home—wherever that was.

Drifting off to sleep, Allison dreamed of a huge house with mullioned windows and graceful gardens. A river flowed slowly past, and in the dream she saw herself kissing a man who made her heart beat faster. Her breath came in ragged gasps. He held her against him and she clung tightly to him. Oh, she loved this man with her whole being! But she couldn’t make out his features. Who is he?
she
wondered. Yet even as she wondered, she was afraid to see him. Then he looked at her and
she
at him, and she saw his face with a clarity that made her gasp into wakefulness.

She sat up, the slow rhythmic breathing of the other occupants magnified threefold in her ears. Her head ached, and she felt too stifled to stand the confining quarters a minute longer. Grabbing a fur, she silently left the cabin and headed for the quiet peaceful shoreline of the lake.

Moonlight washed the lake’s surface in a silvery hue. Though the night was fairly mild, there was a slight chill off of the lake, but Allison didn’t feel it. Her body was warm, her head pained her, and she desperately wanted some relief. The headaches were growing more bothersome lately, but that wasn’t what upset her. It was the man in the dream. Why must she imagine herself in the arms of Paul Flannery? Why must she dream of him kissing her, loving her?

Heedless of the dark and the slight chill in the air, she threw the fur on the grass and rushed into the water. Diving under the surface, she came up, breathless, but loving the way her body tingled from the cool refreshing water. Within minutes of paddling around, she felt better. The pain in her head had eased considerably, though the haunting dream resolutely floated through her memory.

She breathed deeply, gazing up at the dazzling array of stars in the heavens and the full moon shining upon her. The water lapped at her thighs, the thin shirt billowing out around her. The night seemed to be for her alone, its dark beauty bewitching her.

A slight splash caught her attention, and looking towards the shore, she saw Paul wading towards her. His muscular chest glowed silver, his face a dark mask. Suddenly she grew aware of her racing pulse and pounding heart. Then as he stood before her, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to pull her toward him, smothering her slightly parted lips with a passionate kiss.

The touch of Paul’s mouth left her too weak to protest, not really wanting to protest. She quivered against him, relishing the warmth of his hands as they stroked her wet buttocks then caressed her rounded hips and thighs through the clinging garment.

Without releasing her lips, he then untied the laces of her shirt, slipping it from her until it fell away and floated atop the water. She encircled his neck, merging her breasts with the muscles of his chest. Tingles of delight pricked her when his lips brushed over her throat to the soft curve of her shoulder, then downward to seek the ripe fullness of each breast.

Ecstatic moans escaped from her.
Her own
hands began to feverishly trace the broad planes of his back. Her body felt on fire, his flesh burning beneath her searching hands, the water about them boiling.

She imagined she dreamed again of the lover beside the river. These sensations were the same, love coursing through every pore of her body. She loved this man in her dreams, the man holding her now.
But how, why?

Paul’s breathing grew rapid as his fingers slipped inside her, softly stroking, infusing her with intense pleasure. With ease, he lifted her up, silky legs wrapping around his waist, and then he plunged into her, taking her breath from her. Undulating waves washed over her with each rapid stroke until she could stand no more. Her body shattered and arched against him. Her screams of pleasure were smothered by his mouth, and she felt she floated somewhere above herself.

Slowly, very slowly, she opened her eyes to see a smile lighting his bearded face. She was startled to find herself on shore, lying beside him on the fur. She hadn’t remembered being carried out of the water.

He traced her jawline with his index finger. “You’re very, very beautiful, a heavenly creature. I know why Jacques calls you Angelle.”

What was there about his face that was so familiar? Why did his voice sound like the man’s in the dream? Why must she be in love with a mysterious man like Paul Flannery who had lived with savages and married an Indian woman? Despite his satisfied smile, there was pain in his eyes, and she assumed it was for his dead wife. She was hesitant to say what was in her heart, but she plunged on, knowing she’d find no peace until she did.

“I love you,” she whispered, so low that he barely heard her. But she heard his long sigh, felt his breath upon her face.

“You shouldn’t love me. I can only hurt you.”

“But I can’t help how I feel. I don’t know for certain, but I think I’m married, and I should search for my husband. Maybe he was the younger man in the accident. But I don’t want to look for him, can’t remember him. I want you!” Allison threw herself against him.

He looked at her, stroking her hair, “Suppose I were your husband?”

“Then I would be the luckiest of women.”

Sadly he shook his head. “No, my love, I don’t believe you’d think so.”

The pain in his eyes dismayed her, but she couldn’t think of anything to say to ease it. Clearly, she reasoned he hadn’t gotten over the death of his wife and child. But she would help him. Somehow she’d make Paul Flannery fall in love with her.

He covered them both with the fur, and she clung quietly to him in the darkness, not realizing just how much he loved her.

Allison opened her eyes to a hazy purple sky as night gave way to morning. She stretched, feeling wonderfully snug and safe wrapped inside the fur blanket like a caterpillar yet to emerge from its cocoon. She sat up, shaking her long mane of hair about her shoulders and glanced around for Paul. She wondered where he had gone so early. She missed his arms around her and his manly scent which she had inhaled all night long.

Big Fox suddenly bounded through the bushes and lumbered towards her, his huge brown eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She patted the paw he offered her, then his furry head. “Hello, boy,” she crooned as if talking to a baby. “Have you seen Paul this morning?”

The dog looked quizzically at her but jumped about playfully and fetched a nearby stick. “Not now. We’ll play later,” she said as she slipped into her now damp shirt which Paul must have retrieved from the lake sometime during the night. Noticing her pants which lay nearby on the ground, she smiled to realize that he must have made a trip back to the cabin to locate them for her.

When she finished dressing, she grabbed the fur pelt and walked along the lakeshore hoping that he would be there. Not seeing him, she hurried to the cabin. Surely the Millers would be ready to depart and she didn’t want to miss bidding goodbye to Mary. But as she made her way up the trail, she heard Paul’s voice nearby, speaking in low tones. As she drew closer, she saw Dorcas with her arms wrapped around him, her body pressed close against his.

She felt sorely hurt that he had left her side to seek out Dorcas who was now rubbing suggestively against him. What made it worse was that Paul didn’t discourage the girl. He’s vile!
she
thought, skirting around them, through the thicket.

Fuming inwardly, she didn’t know how she managed to speak so calmly to Mary and the others minutes later when they carried their few belongings to their canoe. “You and your husband must visit us,” Mary said, settling Tilly beside her. “I should like to have a friend.”

Allison only smiled and kissed the little girl on the head, knowing that she’d never visit Mary with her so-called husband. She wouldn’t be in this savage wilderness long enough. Somehow she’d leave and make a new life for herself and forget Paul Flannery.

Richard and Joshua wished her well. “Where is that confounded Dorcas?” Joshua asked in agitation, but then the girl suddenly appeared with Paul beside her.

“Here I am, Papa. Don’t get so riled. Mr. Flannery was showing me around.”

“There’s nothing to see but trees, Dorcas,” Mary sternly admonished her. “Now get in this boat and let’s be off.”

They waved their farewells, but Dorcas barely looked in Allison’s direction as she blew a kiss to Paul.

That did it! The tears of anger and hurt she had managed to suppress bubbled over. She stormed from the shore to the cabin where she found Jacques outside, feeding Big Fox. Immediately he noticed the huge tears flowing down her cheeks. “Angelle, don’t cry.” He stood up and took her in his arms.

She leaned against him, laying her face on his chest, unable to tell him what was wrong. But Jacques knew. He had seen her leaving the cabin the night before, then watched as Paul got up and followed. Jealousy ate away at him, but he realized that she cared more for Paul than for him. Now, though he sensed Paul had hurt her, he would be the one to ease her pain.

“Sweet Angelle, you must not cry over Golden Hawk. He has way with women. He hurt you. You come with Jacques to Montreal and I buy you beautiful dress and we marry.
Oui?
”

She knew marriage to Jacques was impossible. Somewhere she had a husband—she knew that with a newfound certainty—and she must find him. But the main reason she had to refuse was Paul. She loved him and didn’t think she could give her heart to any man save Paul.

“I’m gone just for a few minutes to tell our friends adieu, and no sooner do I return than I find you two wrapped in each other’s arms.” Paul’s voice startled them both, and they jumped away from each other. He watched them with sardonic amusement, one eyebrow raised. “Does either one of you have an explanation for this intimate scene?”

“How dare you accuse
me!
You’d think we did something indecent.” Allison’s eyes blazed as her anger rose anew.

“Have you?”

“No!” Both she and Jacques chimed at once.

“Good, let’s keep it that way.”

She rushed forward and stood trembling with rage before him. “I saw you with Dorcas, so please don’t pretend you’re above such behavior, because we both know differently.”

She was pleased to see him look sheepish, only for a moment.

“I also know how hot-blooded you are, my love, and I don’t trust any man around you,” Paul admitted.

“I have not touched Angelle but to hold her, but I would like to do more,” Jacques said, as he placed his arm around her waist.

Though Paul wished to pull his friend away from Allison, he didn’t. He saw how hurt she was at having observed him with Dorcas.

Though she had seen them, she apparently hadn’t heard him tell Dorcas that he loved his wife and could never be unfaithful to her. Now, within the last few minutes, the embrace she’d shared with Jacques had caused a change of heart. The longer he delayed the truth, the worse it would be for Jacques. “My good friend,” Paul said to Jacques, “I advise you to stop having fantasies about my wife.”

Jacques laughed. “Angelle isn’t your wife,
mon ami
. I hope to marry her.”

“Then your Angelle shall be committing bigamy. I am her husband and have been for over a year now. Angelle is Allison Flannery, my wife and the mother of our two children. I am taking her back to Ireland.”

Jacques grew rigid with shock, but Allison instinctively knew he was telling the truth. That’s why she had the peculiar dreams concerning him. He was her husband, and deep within her heart she remembered him. However, her anger now reached an uncontrollable stage. Not only had he made love to her last night only to end up in another woman’s arms this morning, she now discovered he had been purposely deceiving her. She propelled herself forward and slapped Paul viciously on the cheek.

“I hate you! How dare you lie to
me!
”

He grabbed her arm, holding her so tightly that she was rooted to the spot. “I wanted to protect you, Allison, to keep you safe from me. Yes, I admit I’ve deceived you many times in the past. When I saw you that first morning in the cabin, I couldn’t believe you had come so far to find me. But think—think of why you’re here.
Surely not because you hate me.
Somewhere you’ve had a change of heart. I know you’re hurt, but somehow I will win you back. I swear I will.”

She had an insane desire to kiss him, to feel his hands again upon her flesh, but she drove such thoughts from her mind. Never could she trust such a man again!

“Your charms may have worked on me before, and though I can’t recall, I know enough about you—and my response to you—to understand how that could happen.
But no more.
No more!” She pulled her arm away, and with a detached air she didn’t feel, walked into the cabin.

“Have you nothing to say?” Paul inquired of Jacques, who looked as if the world had crashed around him.

Resentment rose in Jacques for the man whom he had trusted, the man he had called friend. “I do not know why you didn’t tell me—or her—the truth.”

“I had hoped she’d remember and return to Ireland. I didn’t want to hurt her again,
mon
ami
.”

“I am not your friend! I leave this place and return to my people. You were never one of us.”

“Forgive me.”

Jacques spat on the ground then turned to pack his belongings. When finished, he started to leave without a further word to Paul or Allison, but Allison ran from the cabin and threw her arms around him. “Take care of
yourself
,” she whispered.

He gave her a hint of a smile. “Be kind to Golden Hawk.” Jacques didn’t know why he said this, but once they had been family, and he remembered the agony that Paul had suffered when his wife and baby died. If Allison could give some love back to Paul, then Little Dove’s death wouldn’t have been in vain.

Releasing her, Jacques started off, with Big Fox beside him, into the dense forest.