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"But if I don't need or want them—"
"I'm too hungry to argue about your clothes. We'll have to eat venison again. Do you mind?"
"No, it was very good." Elliott's valise was right where he had left it, and Alanna could not help but recall that the last time they had dined there, her cousin had been with them.
Hunter noted the direction of her glance and understood the sorrow that had softened her pose. "I'm going after Elliott's body tomorrow. I'm taking a wagon and several other men, so if any of the Abenaki are still lurking nearby, we'll have no trouble with them."
"How many men?"
"Three."
"Do you think four men can defeat more than a dozen Abenaki?"
"Yes, easily," Hunter boasted, "but I'm sure they're gone."
"I still think you should set the traps."
"Can you remember not to get up during the night and step into one?"
Alanna came forward and knelt at his side. She rested her hands on his knee and affected an innocent smile. "I shan't want to get up, if you give me good reason not to."
Hunter reached out to fondle her cheek. She was such a gentle creature, but also a very passionate one. The softness of her skin filled him with a longing that made it difficult to remember how worried he had been about the rustic nature of his house. He was lost in her adoring gaze, and wanted so badly for her to be happy.
"I love you," he whispered. He leaned down to kiss her, and he would have made love to her right then, had her stomach not rumbled noisily and made them both laugh. "I'm being a very poor host. Come sit outside to dry your hair, and I'll roast the venison outdoors."
Alanna followed him outside, and while attempting to be discreet, nevertheless kept a close watch on the forest bordering his home. Their home, she corrected herself, although it did not feel like home to her as yet. With nothing to do, her thoughts soon drifted to Christian. She wished she could think of a new and eloquent argument to soften Hunter's heart toward the boy, but none came to her.
The wistfulness of Alanna's expression wasn't lost on Hunter, but he assumed she was thinking of Elliott, and did not question her. One of the trappers who had shot a deer that morning had shared the meat with him, and as Hunter watched the venison roast, he decided he would have to become far more conscientious. He was now a married man and would have to provide for his family himself, rather than rely on the generosity of the men who had shared their provisions with him in the past. They had admired his skill with his fists, and had used gifts of food to gain his friendship. With the fighting over, he assumed those favors would also be at an end.
After supper, Hunter and Alanna remained seated outside to watch the stars appear. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and leaned against him. Neither had spoken for a long while, and yet she felt perfectly comfortable. He had laced his fingers in hers, and she brought his hand to her lips.
"I do love you, Indian," she murmured with unmistakable fervor.
As much as he was enjoying the moonlight, Hunter wanted to indulge his passion for Alanna even more. He rose and pulled her to her feet. "Let's go inside. Making love on a bearskin is far nicer than making love in the grass."
He was obviously speaking from experience, but Alanna didn't want to hear about other women, so she chose not to ask how he knew. Instead, she led him into the long house and then stepped into his arms. "As long as I'm with you, I don't care where we make love."
Hunter raised his hands to her hair, tilted her head back, and then spread hungry kisses down her throat. He needed her in a way he had never thought he would ever need a woman, and he gradually peeled away her clothing without ever once completely releasing her from his grasp. When she was at last nude, he dropped to his knees and pressed a flurry of kisses across the flatness of her stomach. In response, she slid her hands through the fringe on his shirt, silently expressing her delight before she pulled the buckskin garment over his head.
Hunter ran his hands down the back of her legs, and caressed the tender skin behind her knees with his thumbs. He had never met a woman whose skin delighted him so, but just touching Alanna was an endless thrill. He sat back and pulled her astride his lap, to bring the fullness of her breasts against the flat planes of his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and parted her lips with his tongue, to begin a deep kiss he planned never to end. Holding her tight, he plundered her mouth before slipping a hand between her legs. She was already wet, and when he slid his fingers up into her, she gave a small, grateful moan.
His fingertips wet with her essence, he teased her with a slow, circling touch that made her body's most sensitive bud swell with anticipation. She wrapped her legs around him, hugging him so tightly he had to suck in his stomach to release his belt, but then it was a simple matter to shove his breech-clout aside and enter her with a swift, upward thrust. His shoulders against a sleeping platform, he grasped her waist to guide her motions, and eased her not only up and down, but also in a slow, grinding oval.
Riding the rapture he fueled with each stroke, every inch of Alanna's flesh was pressed against Hunter. Her hands were wound in his magnificent mane, her tongue filled his mouth, and her legs clutched his back with a strength that mirrored her desire. She wanted all he could give and, even after the ultimate joy rocked them both, she clung to him still. Several minutes passed before she felt the need to speak.
"I don't think we needed a bearskin," she whispered, before sending her tongue darting into his ear.
His passions sated for the moment, Hunter groaned, but he then vowed to prove a bearskin's value just as soon as he was able.
Chapter 24
"Of course, I remember you, Miss Barclay," Captain Henderson welcomed Alanna aboard the barge. Expecting Elliott to be with her, he looked up and down the dock for him. "Where's your cousin? Surely you're not returning home alone?"
Hunter had expected such a question, and supplied the answer to spare Alanna the painful repetition of the details of Elliott's death. "We'll need space to transport his coffin." Then he added, "And a cabin."
On one of his barge's stops at the trading post, Henderson had seen Hunter fight, and had been as awestruck as any of the other men who had had that privilege. He had never spoken with him though, and was frankly amazed to find him not only fluent in English, but supervising Miss Barclay's travel arrangements. Preferring to take on that responsibility himself, he reached out to take Alanna's hand.
"I'm so dreadfully sorry to learn of your cousin's death. While our acquaintance was brief, he impressed me as being a fine, young man. I'll find a place for his coffin, and you may have the same cabin you occupied on the way here. Will there be someone to meet you when we reach New York City?"
