My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) (18 page)

Caroline stayed in her room for a sennight with only Sadayi to care for her. The Cherokee tonic did seem to make her stronger and the mixture she put on Caroline’s face helped heal the cuts. But she still looked as if she’d been beaten.

“Which is exactly what happened to you,” Sadayi said in disgust, as Caroline turned away from the mirror.

Caroline ignored her words. “But I suppose I shall have to face Mary sometime.”

“She’s planning to get up and come to you.”

“Even though you told her she might catch my fever?”

“She is concerned.”

Caroline took a deep breath and nodded. Sadayi and Walini had concocted the story that Caroline was suffering from a fever to explain her keeping to her bed. Robert had neither questioned the excuse nor inquired about her health. His lack of concern meant nothing to Caroline. She still slept with the knife beside her bed in case he returned.

The time alone had given her the opportunity to think. Her first reaction was to flee, as far and as fast as she could. Anything to rid herself of Robert MacQuaid. And if there were only herself to consider she would. But there was Edward... Mary... her baby.

Caroline smoothed her skirts and glanced toward Sadayi. “I suppose I’m ready.”

“My heavens, what happened to you?” Mary sat in bed leaning against pillows when Caroline entered her room.

“I’ve been ill.” Caroline lingered by the door, staying in its shadows as much as possible. “It isn’t a good idea for me to get too close.”

Mary brushed away that explanation with a wave of her hand. “Your face? It’s bruised and—”

“Oh that.” Caroline managed to laugh as she absently touched her still tender cheek and lip. “’Tis the silliest thing. I fell from my bed while trying to get up. ’Twas when the fever was at its worst.”

Whether or not Mary believed her, she said nothing to dispute it. That was not the case with Wolf.

He appeared as before, when she least expected him. Caroline had been out of her room for days, working alongside Sadayi and Walini preparing Seven Pines for the coming winter. During those pleasantly chilly days, Caroline began to feel better. She was healing. She rarely saw Robert. He stayed to the parlor and his room, never venturing outside. Sadayi reported that his leg was worse, but Caroline felt no pity. Her main concern was that one day he would denounce her child as a bastard. But for the moment she didn’t know what she could do about that.

So it was that, early one morning in October, Wolf found her walking along the creek. The sun was barely risen and an ethereal mist hung close to the ground, swirling about her skirts with each step. Overhead a hawk circled, and Caroline glanced up to follow his progress.

“Don’t you realize how easily you could be captured out here by yourself?”

Caroline whirled around at the sound of his voice. She’d been thinking of him and wondered if her mind had conjured him up. But he was flesh and blood... and wet. The pewtery light reflected off beads of water that clung to his unbound hair, his naked chest.

Caroline’s breath caught at the sight of him. He was dressed only in a breechcloth and leggings; and though she shivered beneath her brocaded gown and shawl, he seemed unaffected by the early morning chill. She’d seen him like this before, on their trip to the frontier. It was his custom to rise early and bathe in the nearest water. Apparently it didn’t matter how cold that water might be. “What... what are you doing here?” He tilted his head and Caroline watched a drop of water from his hair slide down the smooth bronzed skin of his chest to disappear into the leather thong at his waist.

He opened his mouth to answer, and Caroline was drawn to step closer... out of the willow shadows that shielded her. Wolf’s expression darkened, and he closed the space between them in three long strides. “When did he do this to you?”

“I... I don’t know what you mean?” Caroline had come to think of her face as presentable. The cuts were nearly healed, and the bruises no more than a slight yellow tinge.

“Don’t lie to me, Caroline.” Wolf cupped her shoulders, turning her face into the sun now exploding over the treetops.

“I fell. The fever made me disoriented,” she began, but her words of denial died when he gave her a shake.

“You sound like Alkini, my mother, protecting him. Lying.” He dropped his hands and turned away abruptly. “I should kill the bastard.”

“No!” Caroline grabbed his arm. It was hard; and despite the sheen of water, she felt the heat of his skin radiate through her body. “Don’t you see, you can’t do that.”

His head whipped around, dark eyes burning into her with their intensity, but he said nothing.

Caroline swallowed and tried to speak rationally. “If you... hurt him, it will be you who suffers.”

“And you?”

Ashamed by what she must admit, Caroline’s lashes fluttered shut. “Yes. I shall suffer, too.”

He grunted and twisted away, but Caroline did not let him retreat. Gathering her skirts, she ran ahead, blocking his way. “It is not what you think. I care nothing for him, but he is still my husband. We are joined by God.”

“My people believe that a man and woman stay together because it is their choice. If the woman no longer wishes to stay, she returns to her family.”

If only it were that simple. Caroline took a deep breath and allowed her eyes to meet his. “I have no family in England, but a brother who cannot provide for me,” she told him honestly. “My family is now here. Mary and you... even Robert.”

He stared at her so long, Caroline thought he would say nothing. She yearned to wrap her arms around his strong body and make him understand. Tell him everything, all her reasons, but she knew better than that.

“When I was older, after she died, I heard that he had beaten my mother. But I thought it was because she was Cherokee.” He shook his head and looked out across the creek. “I never thought he would do this to you.”
But you should have
, a small voice within him said.
What did you imagine he would do when he discovered she was not a virgin?

“’Tisn’t your fault. And you needn’t worry. It shan’t happen again.”

“You are right about that.” With those words, Wolf turned and strode toward the house.

It took Caroline a moment to realize what he was about, but when she did, she hurried after him. “What are you going to do?” There was a knife handle, carved like the one he’d given her, sticking out of his leggings, and a tomahawk stuck in the thong about his waist. “No, no. You can’t kill him.” She lunged for his arm, but he stepped out of her reach and quickened his pace.

“I have no intention of making you a widow,” he said, his tone full of contempt. “You may keep your precious husband.”

“But...” Caroline hesitated only a moment before following Wolf into the house. He burst into the first floor bedroom without knocking, crossed the room and grabbed an obviously startled Robert.

“What the hell?” Robert struggled, but Wolf held him firmly by his bunched-up nightshirt.

“Hell is where you’ll be if you take a hand to her again. Do you understand me, old man?”

Robert’s grizzled head swung around, and his gaze caught Caroline. “What’s she been telling you?”

“Nothing.” Caroline moved into the room. “I didn’t tell him anything.” She didn’t want Wolf to know why Robert beat her. It was best he not think she and her husband had never consummated their marriage. It was best if no one knew that.

“She didn’t have to say a word.” Wolf shook the whiskey-bloated body, trying hard to control his desire to wrap his hands around the flabby neck. “I recognized your handiwork.”

Robert groaned and reached for his leg when Wolf lifted him higher.

“Stop it!” Caroline rushed into the room. It smelled of sour whiskey and an even sourer body. “It won’t happen again,” she insisted, but neither man paid her any heed.

Wolf smoothly transferred his burden to one hand. With the other he whipped out the tomahawk, holding it threateningly above Robert’s head. “I have no doubts it will not happen again.” His voice grew lower. “And do you know why?”

Robert’s response was little more than a squeak.

“Because if you do, I shall return and sever the top of your head with this.” The honed blade glistened in the first rays of sun shining through the window as he twisted it meaningfully in his palm.

Robert’s pale eyes bulged, but Wolf took little pleasure in his fear, except where it emphasized his point. With no care for his leg, Wolf dropped the old man back on his mattress. He fell with a flop.

Turning, Wolf replaced the tomahawk, then strode by a startled Caroline. He was out the door and nearly into the surrounding pine forest when he heard her call his name. Wishing he could continue as if the trees had absorbed her words, Wolf stopped. She came running to his side.

Caroline’s first impulse was to scream at him for confronting Robert. But when she reached him, she couldn’t waste time on that. He’d done what he thought he must, and she was grateful for his concern.

“Where are you going?” It suddenly seemed more important to know that than to chastise him.

“To the Overhill Towns. It is what I came to tell you. Most of the Middle and Lower Town Headmen have agreed to speak with the governor. I carry their message to the mountains.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

A ghost of a smile flirted with his sensual lips as he raised his hand to cup her cheek. “Yes, Caroline, that is good. Perhaps we can lessen the chances of war between my people and the English.”

Then as if he remembered who he was... and who she was, he let his hand fall to his side. “It is still no reason to take foolish chances. Stay close to the house, Caroline.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. Though she knew there was no choice, she didn’t want him to leave. But he seemed to know reality better than she.

“Go in to your husband now,” he said, before turning and jogging toward the woods.

Caroline watched him till he disappeared among the trees, and then she reentered the house. But she didn’t go to Robert. Instead, she slowly climbed the stairs to her room. Once inside she locked the door and allowed the impassioned tears to fall.

T
he screams woke her with a start. No, not screams. Shrieks. Wild savage shrieks that had Caroline’s heart pounding and skin crawling before her body jackknifed up.

Her first instinct was to grab for the knife on the commode. The knife Wolf had given her. The handle felt solid cradled in her hand, anchoring her when all her other senses were scattered. Who or what was making that terrible noise? She jumped from bed, running to the window. Outside, the night glowed a red-orange, grotesque reflections dancing on the walls.

Fire! Flames shot from the outbuildings and barn, illuminating the yard as if it were midday, and forming a backdrop for the fiercely-painted warriors running toward the house.

Now a new sound, shrill and terrifying, rent the smoke-filled air. It rang in her ears and held her prisoner with its heart-stopping intensity. It took Caroline a moment to realize it was her own terrified voice that reverberated in her head. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she tried to gain control of herself. But panic still held her in its grip as she watched, wide-eyed the scene below.

The Indians were almost to the house now, yelling and screaming as they came. There were too many to count, and they were like no Cherokee she’d seen before. They carried tomahawks and muskets, and they would be upon her in a matter of minutes.

Mary. Caroline turned, running wildly for the door when that rational thought broke through her terror. The hallway was dark and smoke-filled. Her eyes watered and her throat felt raw.

Mary’s door was locked and Caroline pounded on the wood with her fist. “Mary! Let me in!”

“I’m going to shoot.” Mary’s voice sounded strange, tight, with the same fear Caroline felt. But she tried to sound reassuring as her fingers clawed at the wood.

“No, Mary it’s me, Caroline.”

“Caroline?”

Leaning her forehead against the solid panel, Caroline could hear the soft click of the lock. Then the door swung open, and she threw herself into Mary’s arms. But their reunion was over quickly. “Come on,” Caroline yelled, grabbing her friend’s arm. Mary did indeed have a pistol. It hung limply from her hand as Caroline bustled her through the doorway. “We have to get out of here!”

Mary’s swollen belly made maneuvering through the hallway difficult. Caroline rushed down the narrow steps, pulling the other woman behind her. When they reached the ground floor, Caroline raced down the hall toward the door off the kitchen garden.

She was nearly there when it burst open. Indians, their faces painted black and ochre poured into the house blocking her escape. Turning, Caroline saw more savages screaming in through the front door. Without thinking she shoved Mary behind her, against the wall, and lifted the knife.

Caroline lunged at the first Indian that ran toward them. He stopped abruptly, naked legs spread, glaring at her as she held the knife out in front of her. He was tall and intimidating with a face pitted by pock scars and a streak of red paint across his nose. Strange, how she saw that more clearly than the tomahawk he held poised over his head.

With all her energy she fought him. He feinted from her next swipe and her next. She held the handle tightly in her fist and poked and jabbed, cutting through the air with the silvery blade. Missing him every time. But Caroline was beyond knowing what she was doing.

The high-pitched scream was loud, even amidst the riotous confusion as the Indians ran through the house. Caroline glanced around to see Robert being dragged from his room. His wails echoed in her head until she thought it would burst. Behind her she could hear Mary’s broken sobs and in front of her the fierce Indian seemed not to move as she stabbed at him over and over.

But of course he did move, for no matter how many times she tried to wound him, he was still unscathed. Then after what seemed an eternity, he appeared to grow weary of the game.

His hand came down on Caroline’s arm, and the knife clattered to the floor. Caroline dove for it, but a steel-like arm snaked around her waist, lifting her off her feet.