The Duchess and the Dragon (23 page)

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Authors: Jamie Carie

BOOK: The Duchess and the Dragon
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“Water?” He held out the flask, and she nodded, taking it and drinking, clearly not caring that water ran down her chin and neck.
“It should not be so hot in May.” She smiled up at him, her hand shielding her eyes.
“Rest a minute. We will catch up with them soon.”
Serena gave him a grimacing smile. “I had no idea the trail would prove so difficult.”
Drake could only agree. This land astounded him. From the time they had left the outskirts of Philadelphia and hiked into the lush vegetation of the forests, Drake felt he had entered another world. In places the undergrowth was so thick they had to hack their way through with swords and cutlasses. Birds squawked at them from the trees. Squirrels and raccoons scurried across their path, stopping to stare with round unblinking eyes, as if they had never seen a man before. Deer startled easily, their turned-up tails fluffy white, a beckoning target as they disappeared into a thicket. The woods smelled of moss, grass, and wet earth, the air moist and unusually hot.
Serena took another drink and passed the canteen back to Drake. “There. I am better now.”
“You could ride awhile. The horse seems well enough to hold your slight weight.”
“No, I’ll not add to the poor beast’s burden unless I truly fear collapse.” She grinned and took a deep breath. “Let us be on our way, husband, or we shall find ourselves in the forest at dark. That thought alone should spur me on.”
Drake kissed her quickly and nodded. He had to agree with her: It would be far better to be in town by nightfall.
Here was the wild land he had heard tales of back in England, fraught with the perils of hostile Indians and wild creatures. Sometimes, especially at night, he felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise, sure that someone or something lurked in the dense brush, watching them. Drake gripped the comforting butt of his flintlock musket, felt the steady slap against his leg of the English cutlass he’d traded for, and set his teeth. He watched the trees, listening to the life of the forest, alert to any danger. His nerves hummed, his muscles stood out and ready, and he was amazed to discover he felt better than he had since the night they had read his father’s will. Here, he felt a man, with the strength of his arms and the quickness of his senses their protection.
Truth be told, he found it exhilarating.
Five days into the wilderness and Drake felt he was finally finding himself once again. Well outfitted by Josiah and released from all debt, it was truly a new beginning for them. Drake insisted he pay Josiah back with interest as soon as he could; Josiah insisted he would do no such thing as they were family now. They had left the issue in a stalemate.
With the proceeds from selling his ring and the meager savings they had accumulated, they thought to have enough to get a start. Drake traded the clothes of a nobleman for clothes better suited to wilderness living: buckskins, moccasins, and simple linen shirts. Serena’s clothes were already appropriate, but they purchased a warmer coat for the cold winters in the valley.
Leah insisted on going through her store of blankets, linens, dishes, and the basic tools to cook and clean and do the laundry. By the time she was done, they’d loaded their small cart to the brim. Josiah gave Drake a gun and an ax to build their cabin with. The thought of building Serena a cabin had filled Drake with excited anticipation. He wanted nothing more than to get out from under her parents’ security and provide for her with the labor of his own two hands.
Going west to Lancaster, they’d trudged through the dense forest and then turned southwest to cross the Susquehanna River at Wright’s Ferry. At its shores they met up with a party of four Scots-Irish, three men and a woman, also headed to the Shenandoah Valley.
Davis Lyle, Thom Patrick, and Henry and Delana Trimble were looking for the same thing Drake and Serena sought—cheap land. But their differences soon became known as the four became more and more themselves, course speech and manners surfacing. They constantly bickered and belittled each other. In the face of Drake’s cultured speech and manners and Serena’s quiet innocence, the others turned from friendly to watchful. And then their eyes had turned to mistrust and hate.
Finally Drake noticed how the men’s eyes watched Serena.
He became more and more protective of his wife, trying to shelter her from their companions’ influence, wanting to be rid of the four but having no real excuse to leave them until York. From there, he and Serena would travel the rest of the journey to Christopher’s land alone. Hopefully their letter had reached him and he would be expecting them.
SERENA CAUGHT UP with Drake. “Are we close to York?” She couldn’t disguise the anxiety in her voice.
“We will not stop until we get there.” He smiled encouragement. “Come, climb up on my back for a bit of piggyback. You’re light as a feather, and I would see you rested if we get lucky enough to have a bed to ourselves tonight.”
Serena laughed at the wicked sparkle in his eyes. They had been too exhausted to appreciate a night together since starting out, so it was little wonder he was hopeful. Scrambling up onto his strong, broad back, Serena giggled. “I have not done this since I was five. I am not too heavy?” Before he could answer, she leaned in and blew into his ear. He groaned and attempted to slap her on the backside.
“None of that, my dear.” Hoisting her up into a better grip, they went along.
They heard the town before they saw it. The others had been there for some minutes, waiting on the outskirts.
“Looks like the missus found herself a right comfortable seat.”
Serena didn’t care for the odd tone in Thom Patrick’s voice. She slid down to the ground, gazing at the village in the twilight. “I hope there is an inn. I am famished.”
Delana Trimble huffed. “Don’t be counting on it, miss. Nor a bed to yourselves. We’ll be lucky to all share a room.”
Serena exchanged a look of trepidation with her husband.
Drake whispered down to her. “No. I will find you a bed, my dear.” His hand came to rest possessively at the small of her back as they walked into the town.
It wasn’t hard to find the inn, alive with music as it was. The Golden Plough Tavern, or so the sign read, was a large building with red shutters and a red painted door. The bottom half was made of timbered logs with white mortar chinking; the top half was red brick with timbered crossbeams.
Serena watched as Drake spoke with the innkeeper. The man was shaking his head but then suddenly did an about-face and showed Serena directly to a private room with a large feather bed.
“Whatever didst thou say to the man to change his mind?” She flung herself back into the feathers. The mattress sunk down, encompassing her in the softness. Drake’s face appeared above her.
“I have amazing powers of persuasion, remember? Just wait, the best is yet to come.”
Serena giggled. “What hast thou done?”
As if in answer to her question, there was a knock on the door. A young girl came in bearing two steaming bowls of deer stew. Another, even younger, with hair so light it was almost white, appeared behind her carrying a bottle of wine and two cups. Even more astonishing was the boy who followed with a bucket of steaming water, a large bowl, and a cloth with a sliver of soap tucked inside. Serena’s delight escaped on a gasp.
“I can
wash?
” Looking at her beaming husband, she shook her head. “Truly amazing.”
The food was tempting, but the steaming water beckoned. Serena smiled in happy contentment as she poured water into the deep bowl, dipped the cloth into the water, and lathered it with the precious piece of sweet-smelling soap. She could feel Drake’s eyes on her as he busied himself pouring wine and setting out the bowls for their dinner.
Head thrown back, she washed her face and neck, dipping the cloth as far into the bodice of her gown as the neckline would allow. She longed to strip naked and really get clean, but there wasn’t enough water and she wanted to save some for Drake. Instead she rinsed, poured fresh water into the bowl, and soaped up the cloth again before walking over to Drake, a half smile on her lips.
He sat still on the edge of the bed, eyes closed as she ran the cloth along his face, jaw, and then neck. Unbuttoning his shirt, she opened it and cleaned the rugged planes of his chest, then ran the warm wetness over his shoulders and onto his back, dragging the shirt off as she went.
They were both breathless, the food forgotten. “However didst thou manage all this?” She spoke with her lips close to his as she reached around one shoulder. It was the first time she had taken the lead in their lovemaking, and she found it powerfully affecting.
“Some things are better left secret.” He rasped out, eyes closed.
Serena gazed at his features. He hadn’t shaved since they’d been on the trail, and dark whiskers covered the lower half of his face. His dark hair was blue-black, shiny as a raven’s wing. Long black eyelashes lay against lean cheekbones. She wanted to see his eyes and on an impulse kissed one eyelid. His lips, almost too red for a man, curved into a smile, but he didn’t open his eyes. Serena tried again, this time touching the outer eyelid with the tip of her tongue. His response thrilled her.
With sudden strength he pulled her down on the bed. “What are you up to, madam minx?” She always forgot just how strong he was until he handled her. Arms like manacles wrapped around her, caging her against him.
“I want to play.” She squirmed out of his grasp. His eyes finally opened and Serena caught her breath. There was such a look of happy love coming from them. She sat up and, movements slow, sought to mesmerize him. She uncoiled her hair from its knot, letting the strands wrap around her shoulders the way he liked. He watched in worshipful silence, then reached for her, the dance begun.
MUCH LATER THEY ate the cold stew and drank the warm wine, still wrapped in one another’s limbs among the feathers.
“We should sleep, love. Another hard day on the trail faces us in the morning.”
Serena nodded sleepily against his chest. “We are about halfway there? Another five or six days?”
“Hmm,” he answered almost asleep. “Another eighty miles to Frederick Town, but we must cross the Potomac first.”
“And then how far to Christopher’s?”
“Shouldn’t be more than a day’s journey from Frederick Town. In a valley between the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Appalachians.” He smiled against her. “It should be a sight.”

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