The Barefoot Bride (14 page)

"Don't you think it's a little late to be worrying about that?" he teased, his smile spreading into the moist arch of her neck.

"But—"

"Keely, nothing as sweet... as absolutely wonderful as you are could be bad. He sat up, pulled her into his lap, and simply held her for the longest time. He loved holding her, holding his little mountain girl. "I've a solution to your worries," he said very quietly. "As you know, I've got to return to Boston. But I want you to go with me. As my wife."

She wondered if she'd heard him correctly. "Are you a-sayin' you want to marry me?"

"Is the thought so appalling?"

Chickadee's gaze fell to his chest. "I cain't marry you, Saxon. It ain't that I don't like you, but..."

When her voice trailed off, he lifted her chin. "But what? Don't you want to marry me?"

"No."

"Keely, I don't understand. I thought we meant something to each other. I thought what just happened—"

"Would make it differ? Saxon, I like a-makin' love with you, but I ain't gwine marry you jist to keep on a-doin' it. Marriage is more'n that, the way I see it. You got to have love too. And y'know what I'm a-thankin'?"

"I can't begin to guess." Dammit! This was the first time in his life he'd proposed to a woman, and the little twit had turned him down!
Turned him down!
How could she, after what they'd just felt together?

"Well, as good as what we jist done was, I thank it'd be better iffen we loved one another. Seems to me love'd bigger it—give it more meanin'. I like you a powerful lot, but I don't thank I love you. You don't love me neither, so I ain't gwine marry you. Do you understand?"

He understood all right. Understood he'd underestimated her wisdom. He'd been a fool to think she'd fall for the trap he'd set. Unlike all the other women he'd left with bleeding hearts, this one could live without him. He could leave right this minute, and Chickadee would be no worse off because of it. Her life would go on just as it always had.

And his would never be the same again.

*

Once again, he put off his return to New England. Matrimony with some vapors-prone woman awaited him there. He knew he couldn't leave until he'd exhausted every possible way to make Chickadee his bride.

Nights found them imprisoned in that special cell of desire known only to lovers, and when morning came, they were often still incarcerated within it. And the joy they found in each other's arms wasn't confined to the cabin. When the sparks between them began to smolder, they succumbed to the fire wherever they happened to be, the mountains smiling down upon them.

It was an idyllic interlude, but as summer passed to autumn, Saxon became restless. Boston was calling him back. Desdemona's welfare and his future were threatened with each day that slipped by. He doubled his efforts to win Chickadee.

He tried to tempt her with descriptions of the gorgeous jewelry and gowns he would give her. He explained how certain foods would literally melt in her mouth if she'd only come with him to sample them. He compared his own carriage to the one she said she'd seen in Asheville when she was young. He teased and cajoled, but she still refused to be his bride.

The more he tried to entice her, the more she clung to her ideas about love. She yearned for him constantly, but was hesitant to believe those feelings were true love. She knew he would leave, and though the thought made her ache, without love, she saw no chance of a happy marriage.

The day she and Saxon dreaded came all too soon. Dawn chased away night as always, but when those first timid rays of sunlight filtered into the cabin, they both knew what the day would bring. Neither of them spoke during breakfast, each silently wondering what the other was thinking, each afraid to ask.

"You et good, Saxon. Yore belly's tight enough to crack a egg on. I reckon yore a-wantin' to work some of it off." Chickadee cleared the table, the tin plates clanging in her shaking hands. "Let's go a-fishin'. We'll have a bait o' fresh fish fer supper, I'll fry cornbread—"

"I won't be here for supper." He put on his boots and stuffed his extra clothes into his saddlebag.

She caressed the raccoon tail at the waistband of her breeches, its softness nothing compared to the silk of Saxon's hair. Her eyes roamed his body from head to foot several times before she swallowed nervously and spoke. "You... Saxon... I never did take you a-huntin' fer sang."

He saw the sadness in her eyes and quickly looked away. "I hate to miss that."

"A-galaxin' neither. I really wanted to show you my galax spot." She crossed to stand close to him.

The warmth of her body made him ache with the strangest emotion he'd ever felt. "At Christmas I'll buy an arrangement with galax in it and wonder if you were the one who picked it." By the end of his sentence his voice had become a whisper.

She reached for his hand and held it to her cheek. "You ain't never gwine come back here, are you? Once you git to that Boston city, yore gwine stay thar ferever."

His fingers twined her hair. Molten tresses he'd always yearn to hold, to smell, to caress. "If Grandmother buys that land in Moore County, I'll be back."

"But you'll be so busy with all that turpentine makin', you ain't never gwine have time to git up here. You—"

"Keely, you could come with me. I've been begging you to marry me for weeks. If you really want to be with me, why—"

"Done tole you why, and I ain't gwine change my mind."

"Then that's that." Saxon snapped his bag shut, reached for his hat, and went outside.

Chickadee followed close behind him. "Try to git to a town quick. I larnt you a lavish o' thangs up here, but you outlanders is better off whar thur's civilized thangs around you." She tried to smile but failed miserably.

Saxon pressed his forehead against Hagen's side, and he too tried to grin, to no avail. Straightening, he turned to her and pressed a thick wad of bills into her hand. "Take this money and use it for whatever you need. Winter's not far away, and there must be many things you could use to get ready for the cold."

She stuffed it back into his bag. "Don't want it."

"But—"

"No, Saxon. Not nary a penny."

He stared down at her, trying to capture her image, then realized he'd never forget what she looked like. Every time he saw emeralds, he'd remember her eyes. Ivory satin would remind him of her skin. That gingerbread Araminta's chefs made would bring to mind Chickadee's many freckles. Every time he looked at the crumbs on his plate, he'd think of them. And whenever he saw something that was sort of red, sort of orange, and sort of gold, her wild mane of hair would tumble into his thoughts.

And to remember her essence, he need only be close to nature. Soft, warm breezes and ferocious, freezing winds. Thunder, lightning, and sunshine, rain, and even snow. How they changed, the seasons. Just like Chickadee's thoughts and moods.

He kissed her then, and hoped his kiss conveyed his thoughts. He willed her to understand that he didn't love her, but she was special in a way he knew he'd never really be able to explain. She made him mad, she embarrassed him, and she made him think of things he'd never thought of before.

But most of all, she made him laugh.

"Take care, little mountain girl," he whispered to her. "I wish you nothing but happiness—the same joy you've given me these months I've been with you." He released her then and mounted quickly. "I'll miss you, Keely McBride, and I won't ever forget you."

She nodded and reached up to touch the lips he'd just kissed. Her fingers brushed them briefly before they swept away from her mouth, throwing one final kiss to him. With that, she snapped for Khan, and the two of them ran into the rhododendron thicket.

The copper swing of Chickadee's hair was the last Saxon saw of her.

*

His heart felt like a boulder in his chest. He traveled relentlessly onward, yet even when the Appalachia was behind him, he could still see the girl who lived there. Her image refused to leave him; her sweet voice remained in his mind. He ignored his feelings as best he could, but when he was two days out of the Blue Ridge, he did the one thing he'd restrained himself from doing since leaving it.

He stopped Hagen. Slowly, hesitantly, he twisted around in the saddle.

He sat stiffly as he looked into the distance. He could only see the peaks of the majestic ranges he'd left, but how he stared at them. His concentration was so intense, time ceased to exist for him, and the dark of night found him still astride his horse, still gaping at the obscure mountains.

And by the time the moon finally caught his eye, he knew what he would do.

The Appalachia. As he raced back toward it, he felt he was answering its call. And when the beauty of those lush hills finally surrounded him again, that thing called heartease poured over him.

Chickadee McBride.

She was like these mountains that sheltered her. She could be soft and yielding, but when it came to protecting herself, her spirit rose to her defense. And there was no getting around that tough shield that safeguarded her. It was as flinty as these rocky hills.

But as Saxon urged Hagen up the pebbled path, he smiled at his foolproof plan. Chickadee was different, she was special, but she lacked one thing to make her truly happy; one thing she would find impossible to resist.

Revenge on Barton Winslow.

The man could be dead or on the other side of the world, but Saxon had the power to find out.

So intense was his concentration on his infallible scheme, he never saw how close Hagen was to the edge of a rock-peppered gully, never heard the horse snort in alarm, and never felt him stumble.

Never realized the danger he was in until he was flying headlong into the deep ravine.

Chapter 7

Fire.

Damn that ravine and damn the three hours it had taken him to climb out of it! Dread flooding his veins, Saxon stared at the black pillar of smoke rising above the treetops. He drove Hagen onward unmercifully, but when the horse began to tire and falter, Saxon leaped from his back and ran the rest of the way up the steep, rocky cliff. He charged up an endless path, horrendous fear twisting through him. The smoke was thicker now; its acrid smell burned his nostrils as he neared the area where Chickadee lived.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes. The cabin was burning furiously, but not even the fires of hell could have kept him from rushing inside in search of Chickadee. Flames licked at his coat, his sleeve began to burn, but all he knew was the panic that seared him at the sight of Chickadee lying in the far corner of the room, bound and gagged.

The fire formed an almost solid sheet of flames around her. He burst through it, almost falling when he tripped over a man's body. Ignoring the corpse, he slung Chickadee over his shoulder and made a mad dash for the door. Just as he was leaving the inferno, he heard Khan whining to him from the other corner.

"Khan! Damn! Wait there, boy!" he yelled. He carried Chickadee well away from the blazing cabin, then laid her on a soft bed of flowers, nearly bursting with relief when she opened her eyes. "Keely, I've got to go get Khan!"

As he entered the cabin a second time, a flaming wall crashed to the floor in front of him. Burning wood flew everywhere, one piece landing on his boot. He saw it was the stock of the rifle Keely's ancestor had at the battle on King's Mountain. Without thinking, he picked it up and saw it was undamaged. He slipped it into his coat and started for Khan.

The floor around the wolf was burning into the ground beneath it now. Indeed, Khan was lifting his paws to keep them from the heat. There was no way Saxon could reach him. "Khan, jump! I'll catch you, boy! Jump!"

Khan circled once, his tail between his hind legs before he crouched and leaped through the fire into Saxon's waiting arms. He staggered backward through the door, fell off the porch, and tumbled head over heels into the yard just in time to see the entire cabin collapse. Khan sprang from his arms and headed straight for Chickadee.

The fury in her eyes was hotter than the fire. Saxon tore the gag from her mouth. "Keely—"

"It's about dang time you got here, you God-burn worthless—"

"About time? What the hell are you—"

"What did you do? Have a dang picnic in that ditch-gully I seed you fall inter?"

His muddled mind tried to understand how she knew about the ravine. He'd still been miles away then!

"When them bushwhackers got holt o' me, I jist knowed you was gwine come a-bustin' through the door, a-shootin' ever' one o' 'em. Afore they come, I'd been a-watchin' you fer near about three hours, but you didn't git here till the last dang minute! Some hero you are!"

"Bushwackers! What—"

"Untie me, Saxon! We got to git that far out afore it reaches the woods!"

Two hours later the blaze was extinguished. The only thing left of the cabin was a hissing sound, lingering smoke, and the blackened chimney. Exhausted, Saxon and Chickadee lay on the ground, and she explained what had happened.