"You'd be with me. I'm sure that would make the fact that you know how to behave as a gentleman plain."
"Last spring, I was with Byron and Elliott, but that failed to convince you I was worth knowing."
"Yes, I know. I was very rude."
"No, you were merely frightened. I'm being very rude now to remind you of it."
Another knock at the door announced the arrival of their supper, and while Hunter chose to stay out of sight, Alanna took the tray from the maid, rather than again invite the girl into the room. There was a small table in the corner, and she placed it there. They had been sent a huge bowl of beef stew, a loaf of bread still warm from the oven, butter, half a dozen apricot tarts, and a pitcher of ale.
"This all looks very good. I know you don't drink ale, and I should have asked for something else for you, water at least."
"The water here tastes like it came from a ship's bilge. I'm better off with nothing." Hunter came to her side and set the ale and goblets on the table. He then picked up the tray, carried it over to the bed, and placed it in the middle. "Let's eat here rather than at the table. We'll be more comfortable."
Alanna had no objection to making a picnic of their supper, and when he climbed up on the foot of the bed, she took her place opposite him. She scooped up a plate of stew for him, and then fixed one for herself while he sliced the bread. They had eaten so many meals together, that they fell into a comfortable routine, and served each other without waiting to be asked.
"Among the Seneca, we eat only one meal each day, and that's in the morning. Men and boys are served first, and when they are finished, the women and girls eat together."
"What happens if the men are so hungry, they don't leave enough for the women to eat?"
"Food is always so plentiful that doesn't happen, but if it did, the women would simply cook more. They'd not go hungry. Whatever the women leave, goes into a clay pot that's kept on the embers of the cooking fire. If anyone is hungry later, they help themselves."
"With just the two of us, I hope you don't want to dine separately."
Alanna was looking down at her plate rather than up at him, but Hunter could sense her confusion. "You're not an Indian girl, Alanna. I'll never expect you to act like one. Besides, I would get very lonely eating all by myself. I'd much rather we shared our meals, as we always have."
"You'd tell me if there were something you'd like me to do, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, but you must ask me, too. Don't worry that because I'm Indian, I'll always say no. I'll do whatever I can to make you happy."
Alanna looked up at him, her green eyes filled with a skeptical glint. Her only wish was to raise Christian, but he already knew that. He had grown increasingly considerate, but had not once mentioned his son. Keeping to her original plan not to discuss the boy until Hunter had had the opportunity to see him, she kept quiet about him now.
"Thank you, but you're already a wonderful husband."
Not convinced of that, Hunter worried that she was merely flattering him. "Do you think a woman ought to flatter her husband?" he asked.
"Only if he deserves it," Alanna replied, "and you do."
"We've not been married even one day," Hunter reminded her. "Perhaps you should wait a week or two, before you make such a decision."
Alanna hoped that within two weeks' time, Christian would have become a part of their family. She prayed for that with every breath, but she smiled easily as though his son's welfare were not such a horribly divisive issue between them. "All right, I will, but if you continue to be as attentive as you've been today, I'll not change my opinion." Hunter responded with a smile that warmed her clear through.
"I'll try not to give you a reason to change your opinion in an entire lifetime," he vowed. "Two weeks will be no challenge at all."
Alanna reached across their plates to caress his arm. Their experiences that day had taught her they would have to overcome not only society's stern condemnation of their union, but their own very real differences. And yet, when she touched him, all she felt was the delicious sensation of love. Wanting their wedding night to be perfect in all respects, she told herself that for the time being, it was enough.
Chapter 25
Hunter insisted that Alanna eat the last of the apricot tarts. He then removed the tray and brushed the bread crumbs off the bed. "Did you have enough to eat?" he asked.
"I'm afraid I had too much." Alanna licked the apricot filling from her fingertips. She fluffed up the pillows and leaned back against them. "That was a truly wonderful meal."
"It wasn't as fancy as what your aunt serves."
"Food doesn't have to be fancy to be good."
"That's true." Hunter stretched out across the foot of the bed. They had been having such a good time, he did not want to spoil it, but he had a concern he felt compelled to share.
"There was a lot of talk at the trading post about war with France. If it comes to that, the British will probably follow the Hudson River north, and sail through Lake Champlain to strike at Montreal and Quebec. Your aunt and uncle may tell you that living with me on the Mohawk will be too dangerous. They might try and convince you to remain with them, until all threat of war is past. That could take years. We should talk about it now, and be prepared for such a suggestion."