No! she fought to convince herself. He was too clever a man not to realize Byron and Elliott would not allow him to talk about her as though she were a common trollop. Her brothers would beat him senseless—if not much worse—should they ever hear him speak of her in a disrespectful fashion. A fresh wave of tears followed that thought, for surely she had betrayed her brothers' trust that night, when she had betrayed herself.
"Melissa?" Alanna called from her bed. "Are you sick?"
Oh yes! Melissa longed to blurt out, but she dared not. She could not take the chance of drawing even the slightest bit of attention to herself. She felt as though anyone with a sharp pair of eyes would see her sinful secret, and brand her a harlot. To her way of thinking, she had merely made a stupid mistake, but unless she could forever keep the scandalous moment buried deep within her soul, her life would never be the same because of it. Hastily searching for an excuse for her tears, she found one she hoped Alanna would believe.
"No," she responded wistfully. "I'm just so dreadfully worried about Byron and Elliott."
Alanna sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed. "But why? They're grown men, who know how to look after themselves."
"Yes, but they've never gone out looking for trouble as they are now, and I'm so afraid they'll find it."
Touched by her cousin's anguish, Alanna left her bed, lit the lamp on the nightstand, and then went to Melissa's dresser to fetch her a handkerchief. "You mustn't carry on so," she said. "Your brothers are intelligent men. I doubt they'd go into the Ohio Valley if they didn't believe in what they're doing, and their ability to succeed."
Alanna had proven to be so gullible, Melissa became positively inspired. She sat up and made a great show of blotting her tears. "That's just the problem," she complained. "They are too confident, and that folly could place them in great danger."
Alanna had never seen Melissa is such a pitiful state. "I think I ought to wake your mother," she said. "Perhaps you'll find her advice more comforting."
"Oh no! We mustn't bother Mother. If she hasn't realized that Byron and Elliott are putting themselves in terrible danger, then I don't want to risk upsetting her."
Stymied as to what else to suggest, Alanna sat down on the edge of Melissa's bed. "It sounds as though the trip will be long and tiring, but it doesn't necessarily follow that it will be as terribly dangerous as you fear."
"But it can't help but be dangerous!" Having just convinced herself of the peril, Melissa's worries doubled. She had hoped Hunter's friendship with her brothers would prevent him from speaking ill of her, but what, God forbid, if something actually did happen to them? With loyalty to Byron and Elliott no longer a factor, would Hunter feel free to say whatever he chose about her? She bent her knees to provide a comforting resting place for her cheek, and wrapped her arms around her legs. She tried to catch her breath, but tears continued to pour down her face.
Never having realized her cousin was even capable of such abject despair, Alanna sat quietly observing her. She did not doubt that Melissa was dreadfully unhappy, but that she would weep so pathetically over her imagined fears for her brothers' safety just didn't seem plausible. Both young men had made similar trips with the militia, and she couldn't recall Melissa being even the slightest bit upset on any of those occasions. What was different now?
Her first thought was that Byron and Elliott had not been traveling with Hunter in the past. Could Melissa's endless stream of tears be because of the Indian? Was she heartbroken because a man she had insisted meant nothing to her was leaving? Not wanting to upset her cousin with a repeat of their last conversation in which Melissa had stubbornly denied any interest in the Indian, Alanna kept those thoughts to herself. As far as she was concerned, Melissa could weep and sob over Hunter as long as she wished. Alanna was too grateful he would be gone in the morning to complain.
"Would some tea help?" Alanna asked.
"How can you be so incredibly shallow as to believe a cup of tea would ease my pain?"
"It was only a suggestion."
Alanna was such a bashful girl, and when she looked away, Melissa realized how insensitive she had been to snap at her. "Please forgive me. At any other time the offer of tea would be most appreciated, but tonight, well, it just isn't enough."
"Brandy then?"
"Yes! Some of my father's brandy would be enormously helpful. Will you fetch me some, please?"
Alanna would have been happy to get whatever Melissa wished, rather than listen to her cry until dawn. She lit a candle to light her way, and went downstairs to her uncle's study. He kept a crystal decanter of brandy and matching glasses on a tray on the corner of his desk. She had never sampled it herself, but knew that her uncle regarded brandy as being of great value when he was troubled. Hoping Melissa would find it equally soothing, she poured a few drops into a glass, then added several more, and carried it upstairs. Melissa hadn't moved in the time she had been gone.
Alanna handed her the glass. "I believe this is supposed to be sipped."
Melissa eyed the scant quantity she had been given, fearing it would not be nearly enough. A quick taste revolted her completely, but the numbing warmth as the potent liquor spread throughout her body was remarkably pleasant. She finished the final sip in a hasty gulp and handed the empty glass to Alanna.
"Thank you. I feel better already."
Alanna set the glass aside on the nightstand. Not really wanting to believe that Melissa cared for an Indian, she probed the excuse for her tears with deliberate subtlety. "You seemed so happy last night at the party. When we prepared for bed, you didn't express any worries about Byron and Elliott. Did you have a bad dream about them? Is that what happened?"
Melissa had no choice, but she didn't relish lying to her cousin. It had not occurred to her to blame her drastic change in mood on a dream, but the suggestion was too good to waste. "Yes, that's precisely what happened. Perhaps the dancing was more tiring than usual. All I know is that I awoke overcome with both sorrow and fright. It's sweet of you not to scold me for being silly."
"It isn't silly to want the best for your brothers."
"No, of course, it isn't, but some would call me foolish for carrying on so." Melissa's handkerchief had become as soggy as a washrag, and Alanna brought her another. She thanked her between sniffles. "Let's try and get back to sleep, if we don't, we'll look awful in the morning when we tell the boys goodbye."
And Hunter, Alanna added silently. She would be ecstatically happy to wave goodbye to him. If Melissa felt differently, it would not matter, for the Indian would undoubtedly be gone long enough for her to forget him. Not that her cousin was fickle, of course, but she had never favored one beau for more than a few weeks. Alanna put out the lamp and got back into bed, content in the belief Hunter would soon leave their home, and with any luck, absent himself forever.
Melissa rearranged her pillows and attempted to find a comfortable pose, but despite the lingering warmth imparted by the brandy, she was still too restless to find peace. With but a tiny bit of imagination, she could feel the seductive sweetness of Hunter's caress, and the passionate hunger of his kiss. He had worked a sensual magic she had not even known existed, until the first time his lips had brushed hers and created the desire she had only dreamed of in romantic fantasies.