Hunter pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. "Don't forget that I love you. Don't ever forget that."
Surrounded by his sensuous warmth, Alanna didn't doubt his love, but she couldn't understand why there wasn't enough to include Christian, too. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine how she could survive even a day without the husband she adored; his fervent vow of love didn't ease her pain. When he took her hand to lead her upstairs, she went without complaint. As unwilling as he to waste the last few precious hours they might ever spend together, she pulled off her cap and removed her combs on the way.
"We've had far too much sorrow," she said.
Luck, fate, God... Hunter did not know whom to blame, but he agreed. It was too soon to know if he had succeeded in giving her a child, but he did not want to miss his last opportunity to try. He was positive a babe of their own would signal the beginning of the happiness he wanted to give her, and when they reached their room, he pulled her down onto the bed eager to make the infant a reality.
Unaware of his purpose, Alanna felt only love and relaxed in his arms, but it was her sorrow she shared rather than passion, and he could not erase the taste of disappointment from her lips. He made love to her with all the tenderness he possessed, with a tantalizing caress and devouring kiss, until sated by pleasure, they were enveloped in a glorious haze where the bright sparkle of love glistened all around them. When Alanna fell asleep in his arms, Hunter lay awake, knowing the joy they shared wouldn't save them, and that if he did not return from the Ohio Valley with a solution for Christian's future that she could accept, their marriage would be over.
Melissa would be to blame if that tragedy occurred. How he hated her! She had not wanted him, but even from the grave she continued to twist his heart and cause him pain. Thinking she must have cursed him with her dying breath, he could not stop the tears that stung his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He had never seen Alanna cry, but he could no longer hide his emotions with the courage she hid hers. He loved her so desperately, but he had to leave, before the wedge Melissa's child had driven between them, separated them forever.
* * *
The next morning, the Bruton Parish Church was filled with mourners, and Elliott was laid to rest with the same solemn dignity that had attended his sister's burial six months prior. That the Barclay family should have again suffered such an agonizing loss brought forth a wellspring of sympathy from the good citizens of Williamsburg. Taking care to remain out of sight, Alanna benefited from none of their solicitous concern. Along with Randolph O'Neil, she and her buckskin-clad husband had been the last to enter the church, and the first to de
part.
The weather was warm, but despite the sunshine, Alanna felt a disquieting inner chill. She had awakened with a painful headache long before dawn, knowing the new day held no hope for the longed-for compromise she and Hunter needed so badly. Her horizons bleak, she had not been surprised when Hunter awoke in an equally depressed mood. She had clung to his arm throughout the service, buoyed by his strength, but she would always miss Elliott and the sweetness of his love.
"I'll visit his grave later," Alanna told her two escorts as they began the walk home.
Equally unwilling to create another unfortunate scene, Hunter understood why she refused to be a part of the crowd of mourners. He had not wanted her to have to attend the funeral alone, but now that it was over, he was anxious to be on his way. He knew that would seem cold, but it was an abundance of emotion rather than a lack of feeling that was prompting him to leave.
"I'd like to buy the bay gelding I borrowed yesterday," he announced abruptly. "How much do you want for him?"
Startled by Hunter's request, Randolph nevertheless recovered quickly. "Marshal? He's not for sale, but you may ride him as often as you please."
"I want to join Braddock's forces," Hunter explained, "and I'll need my own mount to catch up with them."
Appalled, Randolph stuck out his arm to compel his companions to come to a halt. "Wait a minute, are you sure that's wise?"
Unaccustomed to having to justify his decisions to others, Hunter straightened his shoulders proudly. "All I need is a horse, not advice."
Randolph noted the unspoken challenge in the shift in Hunter's posture, and quickly waved it off. "You may take Marshal. He isn't really the issue. I'd understood you to say that you'd be staying here in Williamsburg for a while. What made you change your mind?"
Hunter took Alanna's hand to encourage her to keep walking with him, and when she did, Randolph again fell in beside them. "We had no definite plans. Now I've decided to go to the Ohio Valley, and Alanna's going to wait for me here. I appreciate the loan of the horse, but I'd rather buy him."
Randolph opened his mouth to argue, for this struck him as the worst possible time for Hunter to leave his bride. As he saw it, she had just buried her favorite cousin, and the rest of her family wasn't even speaking to her. Then he realized he would be arguing against his own best interests, and swallowed his objections.
"I'm afraid I made a mistake in buying Marshal last winter," he admitted instead. "He's a handsome beast, but too headstrong for my tastes. Frankly, I'll be happy to have him gone. Consider him a gift."
Hunter shook his head. "No, name a price for the horse and a saddle, and I'll pay it."
When the silversmith hesitated, Alanna described Hunter as an extremely successful trapper and alluded vaguely to a second enterprise which added to his income. "The cost of a horse won't bankrupt us," she assured him.
Fearing that he had inadvertently insulted them, Randolph hurriedly apologized and revealed what he had paid for Marshal. "I'll sell him to you for the same price, and that includes his saddle and bridle."
Hunter knew how much the horse was worth and, satisfied Randolph's price was fair, he agreed to it. "Thank you for listening to our side and being willing to help us. I know you'll be a friend to Alanna, while I'm gone."
Randolph's only regret was that he could not be much more. He tried not to sound too eager to see him gone. "When are you leaving?" he asked.
"As soon as I can saddle Marshal. I have very little to pack."
"Now, today? You're leaving today?"
Hunter was beginning to find Randolph's company tiresome. "Yes, and I might be gone for several months. Do you have an opinion on that, too?"
Alanna's headache was rapidly becoming more severe. She raised her hand to her brow. "Please. This was a difficult morning. Let's just go home."