My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) (20 page)

But when Caroline asked about Mary, his manner turned gruff. And even though she was sure he understood at least part of what she said, he only shook his head. “Tell me if she’s alive,” Caroline insisted, but he only turned on his heel and left.

Caroline was used to commotion and excitement in the camp. The first night there, a festive atmosphere prevailed, with drums and dancing long into the night. After that whenever someone came or left the town, the people would call out. So when there was a definite rumbling of activity on the third day since her arrival, Caroline thought little of it.

She was huddled by the center fire, trying to stay warm when a shadow blocked the light from the door. She sensed who it was before she turned.

Tears sprang to her eyes when she saw Wolf, and she scrambled to her feet. But when she would have flown to his arms, he held his hand out, and she noticed the sharp warning in his stare. The motion of his head was barely perceivable, but Caroline expanded her focus and noticed the women bunched into the doorway.

Wolf turned and said something to them, and they left, but not without grumbling their protest. Then he carefully shut the door. When he turned back, Caroline stood her ground, no longer sure of her welcome.

“Are you all right?”

His tone was not that of a lover wrought with concern. And that bothered her. “If you mean am I alive, the answer as you can plainly see is yes.”

He arched a dark brow but made no comment. Instead he shrugged a leather pack from around his bare shoulders. He held it out to her. “This is for you... from Mary.”

“Mary?” Caroline stepped toward him. “You saw Mary? Is she...?”

“Mary is well.”

“Oh thank God.” Tears of relief sprang to her eyes and ran unchecked down Caroline’s cheeks. “I thought they’d killed her. I thought—” Her words caught on a sob, and she turned away, suddenly too spent to go on. But after a moment, she glanced over her shoulder. He still stood by the closed door. He still held the pack out toward her as if he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Robert is dead.”

“I know.” He dropped the bundle to the dirt floor and moved toward her when he saw her shoulders tremble. She’d turned away from him again, and he hesitated. When Wolf had seen Caroline for the first time, he’d thought that she looked fragile, like a rare China doll. Though he knew now how strong she was, that image still remained. It seemed to him as if she’d shatter under his touch.

As gently as he could, Wolf reached out. Her beautiful hair was matted and tangled. He felt her stiffen, and he nearly pulled away, but the next instant she whirled around, burying herself in his arms. Letting out a deep breath, Wolf tightened his embrace.

“They scalped him.”

“I know.” Wolf repeated. He could think of nothing else to say that might soothe her. Her tears were hot against his chest, and her fingers dug into the skin of his back.

“There was blood everywhere, and he screamed and screamed.”

“Hush now, don’t think of it.”

“But I can’t stop.” She pushed away enough to lift a wet face to him. “Can’t you understand? I keep seeing it again and again...”

His hand cupped the back of her head, and he touched his lips to her forehead. He did understand. The scene played itself out in his imagination. But he wouldn’t allow her to become a slave to her memories. He pressed her cheek back against his shoulder. “You must put this behind you.”

“But—”

“Behind you, Caroline, do you hear me?” She glanced up at his sharp tone, and he softened it. “It is over.” He knew what she’d been through—as much as he could piece together from talking with Mary—but her ordeal wasn’t over yet.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” Caroline breathed in the male scent of his bare skin. “How did you know? You were on your way to the mountains.”

“I stopped at Fort Loudoun. Word reached me there. I returned as soon as I heard.” He didn’t tell her of the terror that had sliced through him when the messenger related the news of the raid. When he reached Seven Pines, riding non-stop, and found her gone, he’d been half crazed. Mary had calmed him.

“If they were going to kill her, Raff, they would have done it here,” Mary had said logically.

He held onto that notion as he made his way to Estatoe. Once here, he’d been so relieved to find out she was safe that it took him a moment to understand what the Headman of the village was saying to him.

Wolf held her a moment longer. “Come,” he said when he finally, reluctantly, let her go. “Let me take care of you.”

After leading her to a mat and motioning for her to sit, Wolf went to the door and called to the woman standing near the entrance. She entered the cabin carrying several pottery dishes and laid them on the floor. With a nod, Wolf dismissed her.

“What are you doing?” Caroline propped herself onto her elbows to watch him.

“I’m going to use an ointment on your cuts and bruises. Just lie back.”

“I want to know about Mary. Are you certain she’s all right?”

“Yes.”

“But I saw them strike her. She fell.” Caroline sucked in her breath when he squeezed water from a rag onto her soles.

The bottom of her feet were blistered. He felt her pain as he dipped his fingers in the foul smelling medicine and applied it to her bruised skin. But he kept his expression blank and his tone unemotional. “She was not injured. Sadayi is with her.”

“And the baby?”

“She still carries the child.”

“I’m so glad.” Caroline lay back as he wrapped her feet in clean bandages he took from the pack Mary sent. She had worried constantly about her own child at first. But days passed, and she saw no sign that she would lose the baby.

“I have your shoes,” he said, “but there is no need to put them on yet.”

“Why not?” Caroline sat up and stared at him. “I want to leave here.”

“I know.” If only it were that simple. Wolf moved around to her head. “Lean back,” he ordered.

“What are you doing now?”

“Washing your hair.”

“But I—” Caroline put a hand to her head. “I can do that.” But he was already pouring water from a gourd over her curls. It dripped down her shoulders, absorbing into her dirty shift.

“Put your head back,” Wolf urged. “Pretend you’re in England, and I’m your lady’s maid.”

“I never had one.” But she bent her neck and allowed him to continue his ministrations—in part, because it felt so wonderful. His strong fingers worked through the tangles then massaged her scalp. And every place he touched her, she burned with sensual awareness.

She didn’t resist when after he rinsed her hair and wrung out the excess water, he skimmed the shift from her shoulders. He washed her face, and then her neck. And all the while, his eyes held hers.

Caroline knew she should protest when he nudged the shift over the tips of her breasts, but she could only suck in her breath. Her nipples were beaded; and when he drew the wet linen across them, Caroline closed her eyes. But she could still see him. His vision was etched in her mind, his eyes dark and intense, his nostrils flaring.

He reached behind her, and the cool cloth slid around her rib and across her back. With every breath she took, her breasts skimmed his chest.

“Stand.” Wolf’s voice was husky. He helped her up and the torn shift floated to the floor. He forced himself to concentrate upon washing her. The swell of her hip, the plain of her stomach. Wolf dipped the cloth in the pail of water then wiped it across her pale skin. But each stroke was torture. He ached for her, and it was only the memory of what she’d been through, of what was yet to come, that kept him from succumbing to his desires.

Her legs were long and firm, and Wolf dropped to his knees in front of her. His movements grew slower, more caressing. But he didn’t realize how intimate his touch was until he felt her fingers in his hair.

“Raff.”

The imploring way she whispered his name forced him to face reality. He leaned into her, his face pressed to her flesh. “Not here,” he said, his breath fanning the tight curls between her legs. “Not now.”

Wolf stood. Forcing himself to look away, he searched through the clothing Mary packed and found a clean shift. Her hair was still wet; and as the soft linen drifted over her body, it left patches of damp cloth. He handed her a corset, unable to meet the questioning expression in her eyes.

“What ’tis it you aren’t telling me?” She took the garment. “’Tisn’t Mary...?”

“No.” Wolf took a deep breath. “I am not sure I can simply take you away from here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tal-tsuska has claimed you for himself.”

“W
hat does that mean?” Caroline tried to comprehend what he told her, but it seemed as if he spoke a different language. Earlier when she turned her head to see him standing in the small cabin that had become her prison, she assumed he was there to rescue her. Perhaps she’d forgotten how rarely he did what she expected.

Now she stalked away, back and forth between the fire and opposite wall. “Why did you come here if not to rescue me? ’Twas it to gloat? I wouldn’t listen to you when I had the chance, and now look where I am! ’Tis that it? Or did you think I would accept my fate better if you washed me first? Touched me...?”

During her tirade, Wolf stood by dispassionately, as if carved from marble. Nothing moved but his dark eyes as he followed her pacing. When she stopped, her bottom lip quivering, Wolf strode quickly to her side. His hands cupped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Have you finished?” he demanded, shaking her when she tried to turn her head from his hard stare. “Have you?”

Caroline swallowed the tears clogging her throat and nodded. She had nothing else to say. She’d already said too much.

“You have been through a difficult time, so I will ignore most of your words. But hear me, Caroline, and hear me well, if we are to leave here, you must be more circumspect.”

We. He’d said we. Caroline wet her suddenly dry lips.

“Tal-tsuska is the man who captured you,” he said. “He is a relative, but that will mean nothing. He desires you, and his claim is valid.”

“Well, I don’t want him.” She sounded like a petulant child, but at the moment didn’t care. The memory of her captor was vivid from that night, the painted face and fierce expression.

“That is of little consequence.”

Caroline wanted to scream at him. His voice was so flat, as if he spoke of the trees in the forest, or the weather. But she did listen as he continued.

“You are a captive and though the Headman is denouncing the attack on Seven Pines, in his heart he applauds the warriors’ courage.”

“Courage? We were an old man with a broken leg and two women.”

“They defied the British,” he said simply. “But that is not for us to debate. I merely tell you how the Headman... how many here, view the act. How it affects you.”

“There seems to be little doubt how it affects me.”

“Except that I have also claimed you.”

“What?” Caroline’s stomach dropped as she stared up at him.

“A member of my family was slain. It is my right to be compensated.”

“With me?”

“That is what I choose.” Wolf let his hands drop and turned toward the door. “The Headmen await me, and I shouldn’t tarry.” He didn’t tell her that he’d stayed too long as it was. His only goal when he entered the cabin was to assure himself that she was alive. There had been no plan to bind her feet, or wash her hair... or touch her.

“Wait.” Caroline grabbed for his arm before he could leave. “What are you going to do?”

“Tal-tsuska and I will each speak. Then the Headmen will decide.”

“But what if they...?” Caroline blinked back the tears. “I don’t want to stay here.”

His hand tightened over hers, and Caroline forced herself not to collapse against him. “You will not.”

But she knew he couldn’t be sure.

And Wolf was not without his doubts as he crossed the foot-packed ground toward the Council House. Tal-tsuska stood by the doorway of the circular building, his arms folded across his chest. He had not approved of Wolf’s visit to Caroline’s cabin. His protest was loud and vocal to the Headman, but he had agreed with Wolf that he needed to see for himself the wife of his dead father.

“They will not allow you to take her,” Tal-tsuska said now. “She was wife to the hated
inadu
.”

“Who is now dead.” Wolf pushed past him, not wishing to argue the point. His blood ties with Tal-tsuska were strong—he was son of his mother’s brother. Stronger still were the ties of youth that bound them. But Wolf had told Caroline the truth when he said it would make no difference.

It didn’t matter that Wolf had been forced to leave the village and his mother’s people when Robert sent him to England—it didn’t matter to Tal-tsuska. Nor did it matter that Wolf came back. In Tal-tsuska’s eyes, he was now English. And Tal-tsuska had only hatred for the English, the white man. Which made his claim of Caroline all the more sinister.

First Wolf slipped the leather musket strap from around his shoulders. He laid the gun along with his powderhorn, tomahawk, and knife on the ground beside the weapons of Tal-tsuska. He ducked his head to remove the beaded belt of his grandfather. Beneath his fingers the tiny shells that told of his family gave comfort as he entered the council building.

Inside it was dark and smoky, the only light corning from a small fire that smoldered in the center of the room. The Headman, Astugataga, sat watching solemnly as the two young men entered. The hair protruding from his topknot was white with age, and his face was mapped by many lines, but his vision was clear and his judgment strong.

With quiet ceremony Wolf offered the belt of his ancestors to Astugataga as proof of his sincerity. “
Asiya
,” he said in greeting. “I have come to ask for your wisdom.”

“What is it you desire, Wa`ya, son of Alkini?”

Wolf kept his eyes on Astugataga, but he knew Tal-tsuska had followed him into the building and stood behind him to the right. “My father has been killed.” He did not like laying claim to Robert, but had no choice.

“I know of this deed. And I have already reproved the men responsible.” His gaze shot briefly toward Tal-tsuska then back to Wolf.