My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) (12 page)

Telling Robert MacQuaid that she couldn’t marry him would be difficult. But she was sure he’d understand eventually, especially after she and Wolf explained that... Caroline didn’t know exactly what they would explain to Wolf’s father, but she was certain together they would think of something.

The coming confrontation with his father obviously weighed heavily on Wolf’s mind, too. He barely spoke as they ate, and later mounted for the final leg of their journey. An early morning mist curtained the path, making it difficult to observe too much of the landscape. But every now and again, the fog lifted enough for Caroline to make out a veiled vista of breathtaking valley.

They stopped midmorning to rest the horses. “Seven Pines is beyond that ridge,” he offered after helping her dismount.

Caroline wanted to cling to him, to have him hold her as he had last night, but his manner invited no such intimacy. She followed as he led the horses toward a nearby brook that splashed over some rocks. When he ignored her presence, Caroline touched his arm. Just the feel of him, muscle hard and warm, brought back vivid, erotic memories. Caroline swallowed, ignoring the color flooding her cheeks. “I know this won’t be easy for you,” she said.

He turned and stared at her long and hard, and for a moment Caroline thought he was going to pull her to him. But he didn’t. He only gathered the horses’ reins and started back to the path. Before he bent forward to boost her into the saddle, his gaze met hers. “You are right, Caroline,” he said. “This is not easy for me.”

The house at Seven Pines was much grander in scale than the cabin where they’d spent the night. Caroline noted the comparison with little interest. Wolf’s home was sufficient for her. She didn’t need the two stories of planed wood to be happy. The house they approached appeared to be built in stages. The center section containing a door and two glass windows on the first floor and three on the second formed the base. What appeared to be a kitchen was on the left, and another room balanced the whole on the right. This area had its own door and several men, Cherokee by the looks of them, stood near the opening.

Wolf nodded their way, but said nothing as he lifted Caroline down from the horse. She could feel the tension in his hands and longed to make this easier for him... for both of them. She prayed the confrontation would be short, that his father would be understanding. Neither she nor Raff had planned for last night to happen.

But her heart was heavy and her step hesitant as she followed the man she loved into the house.

Inside heavy curtains draped the windows making it difficult at first for her to make out the man sitting in the straight-backed winged chair. His leg was wrapped and resting on a stool. But there was no missing his voice. It was loud and laced with a mixture of Scottish brogue and rum. “About time you got here, boy. Is this her?”

Wolf said nothing, though he stepped aside so that Caroline had a better view of the man she came to America to wed... and he had a better view of her. Caroline didn’t know what to do except stand still and allow the thorough examination he gave her with his pale green eyes.

He didn’t seem overly impressed with what he saw. He ended his appraisal with a grudging, “I suppose she’ll have to do,” then yelled, “Mary!”

Caroline glanced toward Wolf, waiting for him to explain that it didn’t really matter what his father thought of her because she wouldn’t be staying with him. But as a young woman rushed into the room, a young woman heavy with child, Wolf turned on his moccasined heel and headed for the door.

“Mary will show you to your room,” the older Mr. MacQuaid was saying, but Caroline paid him no heed.

She could only watch dumbfounded as Wolf opened the door and walked through it.

“Did you not hear me, girl? Where are ye going?”

Caroline ignored the questions hurled at her as she took one step, then another toward the entrance. She lifted her skirts and her pace quickened, but by the time she reached the porch, Wolf had remounted. His horse pranced nervously, and he turned the animal about in a tight circle when she called his name.

“I... I don’t understand,” was all Caroline seemed able to say as he looked down at her from atop the stallion. But he offered no words of explanation, simply met her stare, his handsome face grim, before twisting the reins.

As he galloped away, Caroline could only stand and watch in disbelief.

Behind her came the angry bellow of her name.

“L
ady Caroline. Lady Caroline.”

Caroline responded more to the gentle touch on her arm than the sound of her name. She tore her eyes away from the empty trail leading into the tall pines and faced the young woman she’d seen in the parlor. She noticed calm grey eyes in a pretty face, but little else.

“He wants you, Lady Caroline.” The woman seemed hesitant to reinforce the command, which Caroline now heard being bellowed from inside. Her smile was shy as she patted Caroline’s hand. “Are you all right?”

Was she? Caroline didn’t know. Physically she seemed fine, standing there on the wooden porch. But... Caroline glanced back toward the path, hoping... praying this was all a terrible mistake. Any moment now, Wolf would come riding back in a cloud of dust and explain why he left.

But there was no cloud of dust, only the endless sea of pines and the sound of a mocking bird chattering away.

“He never stays here long.”

Caroline twisted to stare at the woman when she spoke. “He comes by occasionally, and if his father was gone, he used to stay and chat with me a bit.” She shook her head and wisps of brown hairs escaped her mob cap. “But he and the older Mr. MacQuaid don’t get on. Come along now.” The woman took Caroline’s arm and turned her toward the house. “We might as well get this done with. Then I’ll bring a nice pot of tea to your room. Doesn’t that sound inviting?”

The woman—whose name Caroline now remembered as Mary—stood by her, arms locked as she faced Robert MacQuaid. He’d managed to get himself from the chair, though his fleshy face was red from the strain. He stood now, leaning heavily on a cane, glaring at her.

“What in the hell is the idea of running out like that?”

Caroline could think of no explanation so she said nothing, a response that seemed to anger him even more.

“Damnation girl! You might be used to all manner of bowing and scraping and the like back in England. But here I’m the king.” He leaned toward her, his eyes narrowed. “And you do what I say.”

When Caroline again said nothing, his expression darkened. “Are you deaf, girl? Did I send the whole way to England for a mite of a girl who can’t even hear?”

“She hears fine, Robert. I think she’s just tired from her journey. ’Tis a long way she’s come.”

Robert’s eyes shot to the other woman, and his tone grew dangerously low. “I don’t recall asking for your advice, Mary.”

“But she’s correct.” Caroline felt the tension in the other woman’s linked arm. She lifted her chin, trying to remember that, whatever the circumstances, she was still Lady Caroline Simmons. Despite the fact that she was penniless—and betrayed—she still had the heritage of her name to bolster her. “I am fatigued.” She turned toward Mary, catching only a glimpse of the dumbfounded expression on Robert’s face. “Would you please show me to my room.”

But his apparent surprise at her dismissal of him was short-lived. By the time she and Mary entered the hallway behind the parlor, he was yelling that she best get herself rested. “I want you down here for dinner. Do you hear me?”

“One would have to be deaf indeed not to,” Mary quipped as she led the way up narrow box steps. “But he isn’t as bad as all that.” She paused at the top to catch her breath. “He doesn’t like being confined as he is.”

Caroline made no comment. She felt as if what little strength she had was spent on defying him belowstairs. And she wouldn’t have done that if he’d kept to berating only her. For some reason she couldn’t bear the awful man yelling at Mary.

“I hope you find this to your liking.” Mary stepped back after she led the way into a small bright room. “There wasn’t much but dress material to work with, but I thought you might like some fresh curtains.”

“They’re lovely.” Caroline was surprised her voice sounded so calm. She felt shattered inside. “Everything is very nice.” She touched the coverlet on the bed. It was made of the same pale yellow fabric as the curtains. “You needn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

Mary smiled and folded her hand over her rounded stomach. “It gave me something to occupy my time. With Logan away, I... Well, it can get lonely.” She reached out toward Caroline. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her smooth forehead wrinkled. “Are you certain you’re all right? Your hands are like ice. And you’re so pale.” She wrapped Caroline’s fingers in her own, then their eyes met. “It won’t be so bad.”

Turning away before Mary could see the tears that sprang to her eyes, Caroline made a show of examining the curtains. “You’re very kind. But do you suppose I could be alone for a moment?”

“Oh, of course. I’ll send one of the Cherokee women up with your things in a bit. Have a good rest.”

When the click of the latch sounded, Caroline was tempted to call Mary back. Perhaps solitude was not what she desired after all. Alone in the room, she had nothing to do but think.

Caroline sank into the chair by the window. She tried to imagine a reason for Wolf’s actions... a reason other than the obvious one. But try as she might, nothing came to mind. No one had forced him to abandon her.

But then no one had forced her to make love to him last night, either. He’d made no promises. She’d just assumed... closing her eyes Caroline leaned back against the chair.

Foolish. She’d been a foolish, foolish girl.

Hadn’t she learned at her father’s knee what she must always do? The lesson was plain. Rely on herself. Yet she’d been willing to toss aside that hard learned exercise, and for what? A handsome face and muscled body? Eyes that seemed to speak volumes but in truth said little.

Knowing that she wasn’t the first nor unfortunately the last woman to succumb to her own passions didn’t help Caroline feel any better. To her disgrace she still sat by the window, a part of her listening for the soft clop of horses’ hooves to proclaim her mistaken about Wolf.

But the sound never came; and when Mary knocked timidly at Caroline’s door, announcing the evening meal, it was a hardened, more cynical Caroline who bade her enter.

“I didn’t want to disturb you, but Robert did say...” Mary left the rest of her sentence unsaid.

“I know.” Caroline stood and shook the wrinkles from her skirt.

“Were you able to rest any? You still look pale.”

“I’m fine. Really.” Caroline smiled, for she had no wish to upset her. “Shall we go down then?” Caroline took Mary’s arm... some small comfort as she left the room to face her future.

“I see no reason to delay. It’s not often we get a visit from a man of the cloth.”

Caroline kept her eyes focused on the tiny stitches she sewed into the shirt hem. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Speak up girl, I can barely hear you. Hell and damnation, you’re as bad as Mary with your whining about.”

Caroline tried to conceal the hatred in her stare as she looked up. Here hardly more than a fortnight and already she despised her betrothed... nay, almost husband, with an intensity that was difficult to hide. “Neither Mary nor I whine. You yourself have made it clear that we are to keep our voices low.”

“You mean I don’t want you harping at me like a pair of fishmongers.”

“As you say.” Caroline’s tone was clipped as she resumed her stitching.

“You best watch it, girl.” Robert slapped at the chair arm. “I could still change my mind about this marriage.”

Do it! Do it! she wanted to scream the words at him, but they both knew she couldn’t. It hadn’t taken long for the lines to be drawn. Robert knew she was penniless. Knew of her brother and her desire to see him provided for. It was a convenient threat for Robert, and one he used often and well, to simply abandon her and her brother.

Caroline took a calming breath. “When will the clergyman arrive?”

“Any day now. Last I heard he was ministering to the Cherokee up near Estatoe. Though why he bothers with those heathens I don’t know.”

Caroline bit the thread to keep from telling him her opinion of his Christianity.

“Where are you off to?” Robert tapped his cane against the chair leg.

“I thought I’d help Mary oversee the candle making.” Caroline folded the shirt into her sewing basket. “The day is too warm for her to work so hard.”

He scowled at her, but did not call her back as she left the room. Another thing Caroline could count upon. Robert might summon her often to his side, but he never let on that he enjoyed her company. And though she knew his disability was irksome for him, and that he was often lonely, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to stay.

Caroline decided it was no credit to her kindness that she took every opportunity to leave him.

Mary was behind the wing that served as a kitchen. Several Indian women, whom Robert paid in goods to work for the family, stood with her beside a large kettle that hung over a fire. They each held a rod strung with wax covered wicks, and took turns dipping them into the hot tallow.