Too Far to Whisper (15 page)

“Rosalind,” Shadow whispered.

She pretended to be asleep…even when he moved closer to her…even when she felt his hand on her arm.

“Look at me.” His voice was husky.

The heat of him next to her nearly was unbearable. Slowly, Rosalind opened her eyes and turned to face him.

Shadow stared silently at her, drawing her into the hypnotic depths of his eyes, rendering her incapable of concentrating on anything other than the nearness of him.  For a moment, she feared her heart had ceased to beat.

Shadow leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, followed by another on the tip of her nose and another on her chin. With each kiss, Rosalind held her breath in anticipation of the moment when he finally would find her lips and
really
kiss her. She could think of no better way to forever preserve him in her memory.

Shadow lifted his head and studied her face, as if he were carefully considering his next move. His face was so close to hers, Rosalind could feel his breath against her lips. A sudden, driving need from somewhere deep within her took control. It no longer mattered if she humiliated herself, she thought defiantly, for in a few short hours, Shadow would forever be gone from her life.  She longed to kiss him, over and over again – and that, she decided, was exactly what she was going to do. Reaching up, she slipped her arms around his neck and urged his head forward until their lips met.

The moment Shadow felt the softness of Rosalind’s mouth innocently coaxing him to respond, his willpower dissolved. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her back onto the ground and then covered her body with his. He returned Rosalind’s kiss with a hunger that made their previous kiss seem almost fatherly in comparison.

Shadow’s response delighted Rosalind, but it also frightened her, for she had not the slightest idea how to pleasure a man. She felt his lips travel down to her neck, leaving a trail of lingering kisses in their wake before sliding back up to reclaim her mouth in a fiery kiss. Rosalind closed her eyes and blotted out all but the feel of him. Nothing else existed in her world at that moment but the two of them. Instinctively, her hands stroked the back of his neck and she arched her back until her body was tightly pressed against the full, muscular length of him.

Rosalind began to feel lightheaded, not unlike the time she had drunk too much of her father’s aged cider. She knew she should feel naught but shame for her actions, but instead she found herself wishing her garments and Shadow’s suddenly would disappear, so she could run her hands over every part of his taut, bronzed body. If indeed this kiss was to be their last, she wanted it to be one that still would take her breath away twenty years from now when she recalled it – the touch of Shadow, the taste of him, the feel of him – forever branded in her memory. 

Shadow’s desire to become one with Rosalind ignited a fire within him that threatened to erase all rational thought. Her lips, her soft sighs, her breasts pressed so tantalizingly against his bare chest, all fueled his passion to such an extent, it nearly overwhelmed him. He held little doubt that if he so desired, Rosalind would deny him nothing, but his sense of honor was too deeply ingrained to allow him to take advantage of her innocence. He knew all too well that giving herself to a man who was about to walk out of her life was not what Rosalind truly wanted. She was not some unfeeling doxy who could bed a man and then forget him. No, he was forced to remind himself, Rosalind, although very much a woman, still was childlike in far too many ways.

With great effort, he broke free of Rosalind’s arms, rolled off her and sat up.

“Shadow?” she breathlessly whispered, lifting her head to look up at him. “What is wrong?”

He only stared at her, his breathing uneven as he struggled to maintain his self-control. Her tousled hair, her flushed cheeks, her lips – slightly swollen from his kisses – were almost more than he could bear. Rosalind’s skirts had hiked up to her thighs, revealing long, perfectly shaped legs. Feeling his resolve crumbling as he battled the urge to climb between those legs, Shadow stood and turned his back toward her.

“Get up!” he snapped at her, sounding much more harsh than he had intended. “It is time to make our way to Adam’s.”

“But the sun barely has set,” she said, not moving…nor making any attempt to pull down her skirts.

Shadow turned to her and extended his hand. “Come, now.” His tone was less commanding.

When Rosalind, her expression displaying her confusion, did not accept his hand, Shadow dropped it and moved to collect their things. Without another word, he slipped into his shirt, then swung the blanket and pillow sack over his shoulder and walked off.

Rosalind was too stunned to comprehend what had just occurred. Frantically, she searched her mind for some explanation for Shadow’s confusing behavior. In a matter of only seconds, his fire had turned to ice.
But why?
  Did he think her too inexperienced to satisfy him?

“Please, Shadow,” Rosalind called out as she struggled to her feet and hastily straightened her clothing. “Wait for me!

He halted, keeping his back to her.

Together, they walked in silence, neither looking at the other as they followed the winding footpath down the tree-lined hill that led to Adam’s house. Tension hung between them, Rosalind thought, like an impenetrable fog. Several times she opened her mouth to speak, but then, not knowing what to say, remained silent.

The ocean breeze was cool and she suppressed a shiver as they walked. She was uncertain if the chill she was feeling was due to the breeze …or from Shadow’s icy treatment of her.

The longer the silence continued, the more urgently Rosalind felt the need to discover why Shadow so abruptly had chosen to distance himself from her. She could not allow him to leave her, not the way things currently stood.

“I do not understand what just occurred between us,” she finally gathered the courage to say. She touched Shadow’s elbow to gain his attention. “Once we reach Adam’s, we will be unable to speak privately, so please, grant me the courtesy of talking to me now.”

Shadow paused, his eyes fixed straight ahead. “I cannot explain what just occurred between us,” he said tightly. “But it should not have gone as far as it did.”

“Why?” Rosalind softly asked, silently cursing the quiver in her voice. “Do you not find me appealing? Is it because I am…white?”

Shadow’s head snapped in her direction and she saw the anger in his eyes. “You are
too
appealing! It is fortunate for you that I am not the sort who would take advantage of your passion just as he is about to walk out of your life!”

When Rosalind did not respond, he turned and grasped her by the shoulders, then leaned toward her until his face was very close to hers. “Tell me, Rosalind, is that what you wish? For me to sate my lust and then disappear from your life as though it never occurred?”

Rosalind’s eyes brimmed with tears as she slowly shook her head. “I-I was just too caught up in the moment to consider anything beyond it. I cannot even comprehend what I was feeling because it was all so new to me. What I
can
say with certainty is I wanted the moment never to end.” She drew a shaky breath. “Was it so wrong of me to want something special to remember you by?”

Shadow’s expression softened. He removed his hands from her shoulders and reached down to take her hands in his. “I do not wish you to remember me for something you will too soon come to regret. Can you not understand that? We have shared much during these past few days, Rosalind, and I have gathered a thousand memories of you that will forever live in my heart. I do not need to know you…intimately…to remember you.”

Rosalind shyly lowered her lashes. “Although your words make sense, a part of me still believes that in the future, when I think back upon this eve and the way your lips and body felt against mine, my greatest regret may be that you stopped when you did.”

Shadow released her hands and looked away from her. “Perhaps it shall be mine also.”

CHAPTER NINE

“Their latchstring is not out,” Rosalind said as she and Shadow approached the Stoddards’ front door. “They do not wish to be disturbed.”

Shadow frowned at her. “This is not the time to concern yourself with your silly English customs.”

“They are
not
silly!”

Ignoring her, Shadow knocked on the thick wooden door, then stood glancing uneasily about as he waited for someone to answer. It seemed like hours before the door creaked open to reveal the scowling face of a short, balding man whose shirt appeared to have been carelessly thrown on. The man’s eyes widened as a look of recognition crossed his heavily jowled face.

“Shadow Runner?” his eyebrows rose. “What brings you here?” At that moment, he spied Rosalind and curiously eyed her from head to toe.

“I seek your help.” Shadow responded. “Please, may we enter?”

“Certainly, lad.” The man opened the door wider. “Come in, come in.”

The interior of the house was warm and inviting, but, Rosalind thought, much too cluttered. The single room held a table, stools, benches, a large bed, and near the hearth, kettles, buckets, pots, fishing nets, and more. From a kettle that hung on a lug pole in the fireplace, wafted such a delicious aroma, Rosalind feared she might embarrass herself by drooling.

“Be seated,” the man offered, waving his arm in the direction of a cushioned bench. “Are you hungry?”

“As a bear in the spring!” Rosalind answered without hesitation.

The man chuckled as he moved toward the hearth. “By the way, I am Adam Stoddard,” he said for Rosalind’s benefit.

“Pleased to meet you, sir. I am Rosalind Chandler. Shadow has told me much about you and your daughter, Mary.”

“All good, I hope?” He cocked an eyebrow at Shadow.

“Very good!” Rosalind smiled.

Adam turned to fill two wooden bowls with steaming pottage, then set them, along with two spoons, on the table. “Come, eat!”

Rosalind and Shadow needed no further encouragement. Eagerly they dug into the thick soup, gulping down the chunks of meat and vegetables without pausing to savor the flavor, or to take caution not to burn their mouths.

Adam seated himself on a stool near the fire and silently studied the pair as they ate. He allowed several minutes to pass before he spoke, his voice calm. “Are you the one they are searching for, Shadow? Did you murder a man?”

Both Rosalind and Shadow ceased eating to stare at him. “Where did you hear such a thing?” Shadow asked.

“At the docks, just this afternoon,” Adam responded. “Two men were questioning people, asking if perchance they had seen an Indian and a fair-haired young woman…his hostage…pass this way.”

“Have you a description of these two men?” Shadow asked.

“The older man was round-faced with thinning hair. The younger was solidly built with dark hair.”

“Elias and Matthew!” Rosalind gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Dear Lord, Shadow, they know we are here!  You must leave posthaste!”

“Nay,” Adam said, shaking his head. “They were only seeking clues to your whereabouts. When they found none, they assumed you had ventured elsewhere. They gathered some supplies and several volunteers and said they were heading north to continue their search.”

Shadow’s brows creased together. “As I anticipated, the Corwins shall not rest until they see my neck in a noose.”

“You have not answered my question,” Adam reminded him, his gaze unblinking. “Are you guilty?”

“Nay, he is not,” Rosalind answered before Shadow was able to. “I am solely to blame for all that has occurred, including the murder of which they speak. Not only is Shadow innocent of all he has been accused, I am with him of my own free will. He has been naught but kind to me and has sacrificed much for me.”

“I do not understand,” Adam said, shifting his gaze from Rosalind to Shadow, then back to Rosalind. “Why then, pray tell, does everyone seem to believe you have been taken hostage?”

Rosalind rolled her eyes and sighed. “’Tis a long story, fraught with false notions.”

“Tell me,” Adam encouraged her, leaning forward with obvious interest. “I have been told I am a good listener.” He paused before adding, “Besides, if you expect me to help you, should I not be informed of the events that led you here, to my home?”

Rosalind hesitated, not wishing to relive the nightmare of the past several days.

“Tell him,” Shadow gave his consent with a nod. “You can trust Adam.”

Rosalind lowered her eyes and studied her half-eaten pottage, which too quickly had grown cold. Choosing her words carefully, she related to Adam how Jonathan had died, how Shadow had been falsely accused of the murder, and how she had freed him and run off with him.

Adam took a few moments to digest the information before he spoke. “Well, well,” he finally said, mostly to himself, “you two certainly have managed to get yourselves into one fine predicament, have you not?”

Shadow and Rosalind both nodded.

Adam looked at Shadow. “Forgive me, lad, if I insulted you when I asked if you were guilty. Knowing you as well as I do, I should have thought better than to ask.”

“No need to apologize,” Shadow said. “It is best if everyone believes the worst of me. When Rosalind returns to her people, I want them to believe she was taken against her will. I want no suspicion to fall upon her for anything that has occurred.”

“So,” Adam said, trying to understand, “your sole purpose for shouldering the blame for everything is to protect Rosalind?”

“Yes,” Shadow responded without hesitation. “What happens to me is of little consequence.”

“But why not make the truth be known?” Adam asked. “Do you not care how your father – your people – will react when they hear these terrible falsehoods about you?”

Shadow smiled bitterly and shook his head. “Do you sincerely think anyone would believe me…a
savage
? I see no benefit in trying to convince anyone of the truth, especially not now.”

Adam released a long sigh. Shadow’s behavior greatly puzzled him. He had known the Indian for years, and during that time, Shadow had spoken of little else but his burning desire to follow in his father’s footsteps as sachem of his people. Now, here he sat, casually stating that nothing was as important to him as his need to protect this woman…a white woman. For what reason, Adam wondered, was he so willing to cast everything aside for her? Had he so easily fallen prey to the pretty blonde’s charms? Nay, Adam decided, dismissing the thought. It was too unlike Shadow to be swayed by a woman.

Nevertheless, he felt compelled to ask, “Might there be something…deeper…between the two of you?”

Rosalind felt her heartbeat quicken as she recalled what had occurred between them just a short time before – the memory of Shadow’s kisses still burning her lips. “Nay,” she responded. “There is nothing between us. The man who was asking questions earlier – he is Magistrate Elias Corwin from Eastwell. He has another son, Nathaniel.” She forced a weak smile. “Nathaniel is my betrothed.”

Adam’s eyes widened. He had not anticipated that answer. “Oh…I see. ‘Tis no wonder then that this magistrate is so determined to find you.”

“And hang me,” Shadow muttered.

“So what are your plans now?” Adam asked.

“It is time for Rosalind and I to part company,” Shadow explained. “I thought we would arrive here ere the Corwins and they would find her here in the port and escort her back home…or find someone to do so while they continued their quest for my hide. But now that they already have passed through here, I suppose Rosalind will be in need of someone else to safely escort her back to Eastwell.”

“That should be no problem,” Adam said, nodding. “And what of you, lad? What are your plans?”

“Perhaps I shall head to the mountains, or up to New France.”

“The same direction in which the magistrate and his group were headed?” Adam asked.

“It is as good a direction as any,” Shadow said. “And if they already are ahead of me, then they cannot very well track me.”

Adam rubbed his chin thoughtfully and was silent for several moments. “I just may have a solution to your problem,” he finally said. “What would you say if I told you there might be a way for you never have to concern yourself about being hunted again?”

Shadow stared at him. “What is your plan?”

“That you stow away aboard a ship,” he calmly answered, paying no mind to the scowl that immediately crossed Shadow’s face. “A British vessel, the
Conway
, is in port. Its hold is loaded with timber to be used for the Royal Navy’s masts. The ship sets sail for England the day after tomorrow. But tomorrow eve, as is the usual custom, most of the ship’s crew will gather at the tavern to celebrate their last night in port. ‘Twill be relatively simple for you to gain access to the ship then.”

Shadow eyed him in disbelief. “What you are suggesting is absurd…out of the question!”

“Do not be so hasty to dismiss the idea,” Rosalind broke in. “I think Mr. Stoddard makes good sense. No one would think to look for you at sea. Do you wish to condemn me to spend the rest of my life worrying about you, wondering if you ever made it safely to New France or if some angry mob finally caught up with you and hanged you on the spot?” Her eyes became imploring. “Please, Shadow, give serious consideration to Adam’s suggestion. You could begin a new life in England or Europe as a free man.”

Shadow remained silent, hoping his expression did not reveal how close he was to laughing. He did not wish to hurt their feelings, but the idea of him sailing off to England as a stowaway was too ridiculous to even consider. Shadow wondered, with some indignation, why Rosalind and Adam did not think him intelligent enough to outwit Elias Corwin and his men. He knew these lands well – every tree, hill, mountain, stream and cave, every hiding place. He belonged here, the place of his people, and not in some far-off country on the other side of the ocean. Still, Shadow thought, it probably was best not to further distress Rosalind by flatly denying her request. She had been through too much of late. The matter, he decided, would require careful handling.

“I shall consider it,” he finally said.

“Well, do not take too long,” Adam advised. “If you do decide to board the ship tomorrow eve, I shall have to go into town beforehand and pick up supplies for your voyage. You cannot expect to stow away without sufficient provisions.”

“I shall let you know in more than enough time,” Shadow said, his tone indicating he wished to discuss the matter no further.

Adam wisely turned the topic. “I visited your village two weeks past,” he said.

He instantly gained Shadow’s full attention. “How is everyone faring?”

A proud smile curved Adam’s lips. “Fine, fine.  Mary and Storm Dancer finally have made me a grandfather. They have a strong, healthy son.”

Both Rosalind and Shadow smiled at the news. “I am pleased for them…and for you,” Shadow said. He hesitated, as if debating whether or not he should ask the next question. “And my father…how fares he?”

“White Eagle is well,” Adam replied.

Shadow sensed an uneasiness as Adam spoke the words. He looked directly into the man’s eyes. “My father has disclaimed me as his son.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Adam shifted his weight on the stool. “Nay, but you greatly disappointed him, getting caught for such a petty crime as thievery. I fear the deed has cost you much respect in the eyes of your people.”

“Most especially my father’s,” Shadow said.

“’Tis not fair!” Rosalind protested, fully prepared to come to Shadow’s defense by divulging all she knew about Little Bird and the Corwins’ sheep. A warning glance from Shadow, however, silenced her.

Sighing, Shadow shook his head. “It matters not anyway. I cannot return to my people while I am being hunted. As it is, I am concerned that Elias may send men there who will tear the village apart in their search for me. If that does occur, the blame for any harm that may come to my people or their homes will fall solely upon my shoulders. And, as you said, my father will think even less of me when he learns of these new accusations against me. I am certain I shall then be dead in his eyes.”

Rosalind clearly heard the pain in Shadow’s voice. She wanted to offer him some words of comfort but could think of none that would be appropriate at that moment.  The subject of Shadow’s people, she decided, would best be dropped. She turned to Adam. “Shadow tells me you have a lovely wife. Will I have the pleasure of meeting her?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Adam said. “She is away, caring for her sister. I do not anticipate Esther’s return until week’s end.”

“I regret I shall be unable to meet her,” Rosalind said. She dropped her gaze and studied her dirt-encrusted hands and chipped fingernails as she contemplated how, or if, she should ask her next question. Somewhat timidly, she finally inquired, “Mr. Stoddard, might it be possible for me to have a bath and a change of clothing? I do not wish to impose upon your hospitality, but I would feel so much better if I were clean.”

“Certainly, child,” he answered, immediately rising. “I shall fetch the tub and heat a kettle of water.  And I also shall find one of Esther’s dresses for you.” He measured Rosalind with his eyes. “You also will be in need of a nightdress.”