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"If only..." Alanna began wistfully, but her thought was too sad to put into words, and she fell silent.
"If only what? If only I had answered Elliott's letters, then you two could have stayed at home, and he would still be alive?"
"No."
"Tell me."
Alanna had difficulty finding the words. "I was just thinking, if only Melissa had married you rather than Ian. Then maybe both she and Elliott would still be alive."
"How could Melissa have married me?" Hunter scoffed. "Would she have caught my breakfast in the Sacandaga, or slept on the ground to be with me? Would she have made even the smallest sacrifice to become my wife?"
"I don't know what she might have done. Did you two talk about marriage?"
Alanna's expression mirrored the innocent sweetness of her soul, but Hunter still interpreted her question as showing far more sympathy for Melissa than it did for him. "The only conversation I can recall is our last one, and I won't repeat what she said then."
Hunter was growing adept at using his cane to get to his feet, and did so now. "I've had enough. Stay here. I'll come back."
"But I didn't mean—" Hunter had already turned away, but Alanna had seen his expression and knew that she ought never to mention Melissa's name to him again. Clearly he was the one who had been betrayed, not her cousin, and she felt desperately sorry that she had reminded him of it.
"Hunter, please wait," she called.
Intending to tell her to leave him be, Hunter turned back, but Alanna had also gotten to her feet, and as she hurried toward him, the hem of her dress swung dangerously close to the fire. "Be careful!" he shouted, but startled by the harshness of his tone Alanna drew back, sending her hem directly into the flames.
Dampened from her stay out on the rocks while fishing, rather than igniting, the fire-kissed fabric sent up a small cloud of steam and smoke that instantly caught Alanna's attention. Fearing her gown would burn as brightly as a torch, she moved back so quickly, she tripped and fell. Seeing her trapped in her still-steaming garment, Hunter rushed forward and threw himself across her feet to smother what he mistook for the first hint of flames.
Pinned to the ground, Alanna knew exactly what Hunter was doing, but she was terrified he might be the one to get burned in the process. She struggled to sit up and push him away, but realizing the danger to her had been slight and was now over, Hunter moved forward rather than away. His momentum again forced Alanna back against the ground, and when he grabbed her hands, that's where she had to stay.
"Even a wood sprite can get burned. Why weren't you more careful?"
He was so close, Alanna had no time to reply before his lips found hers. He had shown her both passion and sweetness, but this time his kiss held more than a hint of anger, and she rebelled rather than respond. She shoved against him, but he held her too tightly for her to gain any leverage. She tried using her legs, then, fearing she would reopen his wound, she ceased to struggle. To be scolded with brutal kisses felt strange indeed, but it wasn't until she relaxed and lay perfectly still, that Hunter ended what she considered curiously inappropriate punishment.
"Answer me," he ordered.
Alanna regarded him with a blank stare. He had pressed himself against her just like this the morning she had awakened him in the barn, and now that she knew him better, the experience was even more affecting. She was fully clothed, but he wasn't, and looking up at his bare shoulders, her only thought was how much she wanted to touch him.
"I can't recall the question," she finally admitted in a breathless whisper.
Hunter would have repeated it, but distracted by his own reflection in her bright green eyes, he could not remember it either. He leaned down to kiss her again with teasing nibbles, and when he released her hands, she untied the leather thong at his nape, spilling his hair down over his shoulders. While the gesture brought a familiar ache to his heart, Alanna was the only woman on his mind.
Chapter 21
Hunter's kisses turned soft and sweet, lulling Alanna into a blissful euphoria where painful memories ceased to exist and only the rapture of the moment mattered. No longer feverish, his skin held a delicious warmth, and she ran her fingertips down his spine, then wrapped her arms around his waist to hold him close. He felt so good to her, so right. There was none of the awkwardness she felt with other men, but only a magical allure that made her cling to him with undisguised longing.
Without a pause in his ever-deepening kisses, Hunter unfastened the row of buttons that ran down her bodice, then slipped his hand inside. The top of her sheer cotton chemise was as heavily decorated with lace as the hem had been, and he pushed it aside to expose the creamy smoothness of her breasts. She was so fair her nipples remained a delicate pink, even after he had teased them into firm peaks. Hungry for the taste of her, he slid his tongue over one breast, and then its twin, before drawing the crest of the first between his lips for a more appreciative appraisal of her endearing charms.
Tender, taunting, insistent, demanding, he used his lips, tongue, and teeth to arouse her passions, until her response was as wild as his own. He wanted her out of the clothes that hampered his every move, and reached beneath her skirt to slide her drawers down over her hips. She arched her back, leaning into him to make his task easier, and the undergarment was swiftly flung aside. He ran his hand up the smoothness of her inner thigh, parting her legs with a gentle caress that left her lying totally open to him.
Considerate as well as ardent, he created superbly tantalizing sensations in a slow, deliberate assault on her senses. He could feel her desire growing with each heartbeat, and yet drew away before she reached the ecstasy he had made her crave. He sat up and yanked first her gown, and then the remnants of her chemise off over her head. Now nude, Alanna watched him with a soft, sultry glance, as he ran a fingertip slowly from her lips, down between her breasts, across the warm hollow of her belly, and through the triangle of golden curls veiling the last of her secrets.
He had likened her to a wood sprite, but there was nothing elfin about her now. Tall and slim, her proportions were as lovely as her features, and he again stretched out beside her, eager for the thrill of her loving. Having had only a sample of her favors, he again suckled at her breasts, while his fingertips danced in a slow circling motion that dipped and slid ever deeper, testing the limits of her virginity, until she was straining against him, silently begging him to end the last separation remaining between them.
Hunter wanted her just as badly, but the ache in his thigh was now a throbbing pain, threatening to bring tears to his eyes. Fearing his injury would make him so clumsy Alanna would be revolted rather than satisfied with his talents as a lover, he chose to teach her only how good he could make her feel. There would be other days, when he was stronger, when he would make love to her until she begged him to stop, but for now, he was content with giving her pleasure with the subtle pressure of his fingertips.
Neither Rachel Barclay's halting description of romance and its consequences, nor Polly McBride's far more explicit summary of the act that insured the continuation of the human race, had adequately prepared Alanna for the splendor of Hunter's fevered kisses and
adoring touch. She could scarcely breathe as an exquisite joy swelled within her to a stunning crest, then spilled forth a delectable warmth that brought her the first glimpse of true contentment she had ever known. Lying relaxed in Hunter's arms, she felt truly loved, until she realized he hadn't spoken a single endearment, nor made any promises of love. That Melissa's first midnight encounter with the incredibly affectionate Indian had left her pregnant, made his lingering preference for Alanna's late cousin tragically clear.
Taking a practical view, she supposed she should be grateful he had not wanted to risk sending her home carrying his child. For a sensitive, introspective young woman, however, it was far easier to see his reluctance to make love to her in more personal terms. She feared she lacked Melissa's beauty, charm, and most importantly, her cousin's easy command of Hunter's heart. The glory of their affectionate interlude dissolving in a wave of self-pity, she felt too ashamed of her many shortcomings to remain in Hunter's embrace. She reached for her discarded garments as she sat up, and when she rose to her feet, her gown presented a modest barrier to Hunter's puzzled glance.
