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Appalled by that flash of temper, Alanna stepped back to put more distance between them. Elliott had praised Hunter's tracking skills, but failed to mention that he had such an obnoxious personality. The Indian had been polite rather than rude the first time they had spoken together, however, and when she noticed the pulse throbbing at the base of his throat, she was stunned by the sudden awareness that despite his show of ill-tempered bravado, Jacob had frightened him.
She regarded Indians as the most fearsome creatures ever to stalk the earth, and had never even imagined they could be frightened by anyone, or anything, they encountered. That this man was as human in his responses as the other men she knew was almost beyond her comprehension, but she made a serious attempt to grasp the possibility. She looked away for a moment in hopes of seeing their confrontation from Hunter's point of view. It did not take long for her to understand why he had been so insulted.
"I'm sorry Jacob reacted to you in such a threatening manner. You're the first Indian we've ever had staying here, and he obviously assumed the worst. I'll see the others are told you're a guest."
Believing it must have hurt her pride to apologize to him, Hunter tried to be equally gracious, but all he could manage was a stilted nod.
Elliott had made a point of impressing Alanna with Hunter's importance, and she felt badly that his feelings had been hurt unnecessarily. "Would you like to take another look at the horses?"
In light of his earlier experience with her, Hunter could not help but suspect her motives, and he grew cautious. "Are there stable boys who will come after me with pitchforks?"
Alanna doubted he was teasing and tried to allay his fears. "There are two stable boys, and they do use pitchforks to clean out the stalls, but if you're with me, you'll be safe."
"You want to show me the horses yourself?"
Alanna knew he had every right to be incredulous, because she had been only slightly less hostile than Jacob when he had been introduced to her, but damn it all, he was an Indian! Her eyes started to fill with tears, and she bit her lower lip to force them away. Although she supposed she deserved his sarcastic question, it seemed very unfair.
"I won't force my company on you," she assured him. "There I s a barrel of apples to the right of the main doors. Hand them out the way I did, and you'll easily make friends. I'll find the stable boys, and tell them you're welcome here. I'll make certain everyone who works for us gets that message."
Fearing he had just ruined whatever slim hope he might have had to make friends with her, Hunter tried to think of some way to let her know how much he would enjoy her company. Before he could, Melissa appeared, and the opportunity was lost. She was smiling prettily as she approached them, but her warmth did not erase his guilt at having spoken harshly with Alanna.
"Breakfast is ready, and Byron and Elliott are waiting for you. We're all going to ride into Williamsburg after we've eaten. You want to come along with us, don't you?"
"Will the townspeople stare at me?"
"Probably, but you're very handsome, so why should you mind?"
Distracted by Melissa's flattering compliment, Hunter agreed to visit Williamsburg as they walked back to the house. He didn't notice that Alanna hadn't followed them until they reached the dining room, and then what she thought of him was all too clear. She might have chosen to avoid him again, but with Melissa's charming attentions, Hunter's resulting embarrassment quickly faded.
As promised, Alanna informed the stable boys that her cousins were entertaining an Indian scout, whom they were to treat with the utmost respect. She then sent them off to tell any of the other employees who hadn't heard about Hunter's arrival the previous evening. She seldom went into Williamsburg, and knew neither her cousins nor their Indian friend would miss her that day. She busied herself helping to make bayberry candles, and whenever her thoughts strayed to the attractive brave, she quickly banished them from her mind.
* * *
After a fire destroyed Jamestown's fourth statehouse at the close of the seventeenth century, the capitol of the Virginia Colony was moved to a settlement known as Middle Plantation, and renamed Williamsburg in honor of King William III. Built on a plan devised by the presiding Royal Governor, Francis Nicholson, the city soon grew to be a model of beauty and prosperity.
The hub of a plantation economy, Williamsburg resembled towns in agricultural areas of England more closely than did any of the large cities of New England. The main street was named for the Duke of Gloucester, and connected the Wren Building at the College of William and Mary with the new capitol building nearly a mile away. The streets running parallel to the main boulevard, Francis and Nicholson, paid tribute to the city's designer.
Charming frame houses were built on half-acre lots and required to have fences to keep stray animals out of the homeowners' gardens. All manner of shops dispensed the latest in goods and fashion, while Market Square was the site of auctions and fairs. Taverns were popular places for those with leisure hours to enjoy. Bruton Parish Church provided for the spiritual needs of the city's faithful.
Hunter entered the outskirts of the picturesque town not really knowing what to expect, but determined not to stray far from the Barclays. While he did not relish the prospect, he did not really mind being stared at by curious strangers. It was being treated like a stray dog—as Jacob had regarded him that morning—that he could not abide. Without warning, the memory of that unfortunate incident intruded upon his thoughts and his expression darkened.
Melissa loved to ride, and she was delighted to find Hunter was an expert horseman. When her two brothers urged their bay geldings out in front to narrow their procession, she was quick to start a conversation with the Indian. "I know you're at home in the woods, but have you seen many of our towns?" she inquired.
"A few."
"Are they anything like Indian villages?"
Hunter shook his head. "The Iroquois build houses of wood and surround them with stockades. They are like your forts, with corn and squash fields outside the gates, not open like this city."
"You grew up inside a fort?"
Melissa's question made Hunter smile. "No, we're not confined to the space we have chosen to defend from our enemies. I was free to hunt, to explore, to learn whatever I
could."
Both of her brothers were graduates of the College of William and Mary, but she had had ample opportunity to observe how they treated Hunter as an equal. "You didn't go to school?"
"My father taught me everything I needed to know to be a Seneca warrior. Whatever I have needed to learn to deal with white men, I have taught myself."
