Wild Rapture

“Somewhat,” he said, then very intently brushed William Joseph’s coat from her shoulders.

But as he leaned down to kiss her, footsteps approaching made him draw away from her and move quickly into the bushes to hide.

Mariah reached a hand out to him, to tell him that it was not necessary to hide from anyone. She was going to shout their love to the world! She was proud of him—proud to be his woman!

William Joseph rushed to Mariah and placed gentle hands on her bare shoulders. “Mariah, I’ve got some bad news to tell you,” he said, his voice drawn.

“What?” Mariah asked, a sudden fear grabbing at her insides. “What is it, William Joseph?”

“Your father’s trading post has been burned and your father is missing,” he said in a rush of words.

Mariah stared up at William Joseph, stunned numb by the news. Then her gaze went to the bushes where Echohawk hid, her eyes locking with his before he turned and ran soundlessly from her, hidden from William Joseph by the black cloak of night.

Echohawk, she whispered to herself. Oh, God, no. Surely not Echohawk. . . .

But she would never forget how he had vowed revenge against those responsible for his people’s sorrow.

All he had lacked was a name.

Chapter 19

The good are better made by ill,

As odors crush’d are sweeter still.

—Rogers

“Mariah?” William Joseph said, clasping his fingers more tightly to her shoulders.

Her name being spoken wrenched Mariah out of her sad reverie, her grief over having perhaps lost with one blow both her father and the man that she loved. If Echohawk was responsible for this latest tragedy in her life, then what they had said only moments ago to one another meant nothing at all.

“I must go and see for myself what happened at my father’s trading post,” Mariah said, wrenching herself free from William Joseph.

She gathered the skirt of her gown into her arms as she rushed away from him, determined not to think about Echohawk’s likely role in what had happened. Her father had to be her prime interest now.

She had to find out if he was alive—or dead!

“Perhaps I might find tracks that could lead me to him,” she said over her shoulder as William Joseph came after her. “I won’t let myself believe that he . . . that he is dead. I just won’t.”

“You can’t do that, Mariah,” William Joseph fused. “I’ll go. I’ll take care of things.”

“William Joseph, he is my father and I insist that I ride with you to see if there is anything that can be done to find him,” Mariah said, taking the steps up to the veranda two at a time.

“It won’t be safe,” William Joseph said, hurrying ahead of her, opening the door for her.

She breezed into the ballroom, past gawking partygoers, and into the corridor, very aware now that Abigail had joined William Joseph, one on each side

of her. “Abigail, tell your son that I am capable of riding with him to search for my father,” she said, giving William Joseph an annoyed glance. “I can ride a horse as well as you, William Joseph. And I can also handle a firearm just as well.”

“But, Mariah,” Abigail fussed, walking on into Mariah’s bedroom with her as William Joseph paused and waited in the corridor, “you are so beautiful tonight in that gown. You can’t seriously want to . . . to play the role of a man again. Let William Joseph take care of things. I assure you he is a most capable man. He can do anything he sets his mind to.”

Mariah turned and gave Abigail a stern stare. “So can I, Abigail,” she said flatly. “And so shall I tonight!”

“Oh, Mariah,” Abigail said, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. “Please don’t do this.”

Mariah was already out of her dress, petticoats, and fancy slippers. She went to the chifferobe, grabbed her buckskin dress from a hook, and hurried into it. Again her thoughts returned to Echohawk, the dress a reminder of the many hours spent with him.

She did not want to believe that Echohawk could come to her, professing his love for her, even forgiving her for her role in the raid, right after having taken vengeance against her very own father.