Recalling how easily Alanna had put him in his place after church, Ian shook his head. "Alanna ought to make that point herself. It would only be meddling if such a suggestion came from me. Stuart doesn't say more than three words a day, but I didn't see her giving him much encouragement at the party."
"No, they didn't take to each other either. Do you know someone else, another officer Alanna might like as much as I like you?"
"I've no idea what your cousin would like, but you've met everyone at one time or another at church, and so has she. She can make her own choice. You needn't be so concerned about Alanna. She's shy, but very pretty, and I'm certain she'll find someone to love before long."
Knowing Alanna's reluctance to encourage suitors, Melissa did not share Ian's optimism. Fearing he was becoming cross with her, she chose a shaded path where her lavish kisses soon distracted him so completely, he could not even recall a mention of Alanna, much less Melissa's desire to find her a beau.
Chapter 6
In a rare lazy mood, Hunter lay back in a thickly cushioned bed of bluegrass, and gazed up at the clouds slowly skimming by. Predictably, George Washington's portion of the Virginia regiment was making steady progress along the trail to Will's Creek, and the scout's days had been as uneventful as he'd feared. Understanding his restlessness, Byron and Elliott had dropped their insistence that he trudge along with their men during the day, and allowed him to roam free, as long as he ate his meals in camp and slept there at night. He had begun hunting to supplement their rations with fresh meat, but that took only a few hours each morning, leaving him long afternoons to fill on his own.
While no one expected to encounter French troops this near the coast, it was always a possibility, and Hunter went out each dawn to make certain the day's march would not end in an ambush. So far, he had found no sign of an imminent threat, but that morning he had seen a wolf, his clan symbol. Sighting a wolf might mean nothing, since the forest was their home, but this one had been larger than most. His behavior had also been peculiar, for rather than fleeing when Hunter had come over a ridge and startled him, he had remained motionless for several seconds.
They had stared at each other, feral yellow eyes locked with calm brown, until the wolf had lifted his head as if responding to an unheard cry, and loped away into the pines. If the wolf's presence on the trail were mere coincidence, then it meant nothing, but if it had been a warning, Hunter knew he would be wise to adopt a far more cautious attitude. He closed his eyes to recapture the brief scene in his memory, and envisioned it with astonishing clarity.
The wolf had not simply possessed a greater size than most, his glossy gray coat had retained its winter thickness into the spring, and his fangs had been wickedly sharp. There had been no fear in his gaze, but instead, a light that signaled recognition. Extraordinary in every way, Hunter now believed the wolf had to have been a messenger, bringing a warning he'd be a fool to ignore.
Sitting up, he scanned the surrounding valley for some sign of trouble, but it was as peaceful a place as any he had ever seen. The gentle breeze was fragrant with spring blossoms, and sweetened by the song of the meadow lark. Lulled by such tranquil beauty, Hunter again stretched out on the grass. He had been warned, but whatever danger lay ahead would not come that day.
His thoughts strayed to Melissa, but shimmering with reflected light her image danced in his mind and refused to come clear. That bothered him badly, for he wanted to recall the passion they'd shared in all its splendor. He could remember the bright sparkle of her blue eyes, the softness of her blond hair, and the delicacy of her touch, but he could not picture the sweetness of her expression as she had reached up to kiss him.
Blaming that failure on the fact that his most stirring memories of her were lit by moonlight, Hunter was annoyed rather than worried, but he hoped by the next time they parted, Melissa's image would fill his mind as surely as her love filled his heart.
* * *
Alanna turned slowly as Sally Lester fitted the waist on the first of her new gowns. Melissa might have shamed her into wearing prettier clothes, but she was far from happy about it. She told herself that at least the skirts would be of a fashionable length appropriate for her height, but she dreaded the thought of drawing attention to herself. It was Melissa who sought the constant thrill of admiring glances, not her.
She had been complimented when wearing blue and pink, but the fabric of this gown was a glossy white printed with such charming bouquets of violets, she could almost smell their delicate perfume. The moment she had seen the striking floral material on the bolt, she had reached out to touch it; delighted that something in the dressmaker's shop appealed to her, Melissa had encouraged her to buy it. Now that the dress was ready for the final fitting, Alanna thought it so exceptionally pretty, she doubted she would ever want to wear anything else.
"You ought to have lavender slippers to wear with this gown," Sally advised, "and keep it scented with lavender sachet."
"We'll buy some lavender perfume this very day," Melissa enthused. "You never wear perfume, Alanna, and it adds so much to a woman's appeal."
First new clothes, and now perfume? "You sound like you're baiting a trap," Alanna replied.
Both Sally Lester and Melissa laughed, but clearly they agreed it was a woman's natural right to capture the attention of an attractive man by whatever means she chose.
Alanna ignored them for the moment and stroked the folds of her skirt with a reverent touch. This was the first time she could recall being excited about having a new dress. Her aunt and uncle had always been generous, but she had never shared Melissa's fascination with clothes, and couldn't remember any particular favorites. It was the floral print she liked so much about this gown, for the violets held a shy sweetness that touched her heart.
"What about the yellow gown
?" Melissa asked. "Will you have that one finished by next week, too?"
"Yes, Miss Melissa, I surely will."
"Good, then Alanna will have no excuse to miss any of the fun of the Publick Times."
Alanna made a face at her cousin. Twice a year, in April and October, Williamsburg was the site of fairs, races, and fabulous parties to mark the convening of the General Assembly and courts. The inns were filled with men from distant plantations, while their women boarded with friends, and the entertainment provided for them was continuous. Alanna enjoyed the fairs and watching the auctions in Market Square, but the prospect of having to attend parties or—God forbid—the ball at the Governor's Palace, was more than she could bear.
"I've always gone to the fairs and auctions," she reminded Melissa.
"Yes, I know you have, but that's not what I meant. This year you're old enough to go with us to the more lavish parties, and I'm going to insist you attend the governor's ball."
"I should have gone with Byron and Elliott," Alanna sighed sadly. "I'd much rather fight the French, than pretend I enjoy dancing."
Sally Lester assumed Alanna was teasing and began to giggle. "You can't mean that, Miss Alanna. The yellow satin gown will be perfect for the ball. You and Miss Melissa will be the prettiest girls there."
Alanna watched Melissa's smile widen into a triumphant smirk, and knew her cousin would talk her mother into insisting she attend whatever function the family chose to enjoy. Uncle John was a member of the Assembly, and always received more invitations than he could accept, but he had never insisted that she go along. Perhaps at seventeen she was too old to be left at home, but she wished she had been given more than a week to get used to the idea.