Candace McCarthy (8 page)

“Can I take a look?” Daniel asked. Having saved him once, he felt a certain responsibility for young Will.

The cut was deep, but it was straight and it looked clean. Still, it looked like it needed stitching. “Reverend, that shoulder needs a couple of stitches.”

The minister nodded. “Can you do it? I’m squeamish, I’m afraid.” He shook his head, looking dazed. “If only the doctor was here—”

“Where is the good doctor?” Daniel asked.

“Missing,” said Allen Whitely. “Indians must have taken him.”

“And Miriam Lathom, too?”

Whitely nodded. “And poor Amelia Dempsey.”

“Amelia Dempsey is safe with Susie.”

The minister looked relieved. “Thank God.” His glance fell on Will Thornton. “Perhaps Amelia can stitch up Will’s shoulder.”

“I’ll stitch it,” Daniel said. “I think it’s best to keep Amelia away from here for a time. The Sioux could still be in the area. No sense risking her life.”

Daniel began to ask for the items he’d need to tend Will. With Jack’s help, Allen found what Daniel needed, then watched, white-faced, as Daniel, assisted by Jack, closed the young man’s wound with neat, even stitches.

It was late when Daniel got back to the house. As he entered the cabin, he saw that Amelia was up. She was seated in the dark, at the table where they’d dined only hours before. A faint touch of moonlight filtered inside the room, making it possible to see her. She didn’t appear to see or hear him when he came in.

Daniel frowned as he approached her. “Amelia?”

She didn’t say anything. Concerned, he went to the stove and lit a candle in the embers of an earlier fire. He headed back to Amelia with the burning candle.

“Amelia?” he whispered. He didn’t want to frighten her. The look in her expression worried him. She had her eyes open, but it appeared that she stared without seeing. There was horror in her brown gaze. He caught his breath as he saw tears trailing down her cheeks.

He set the candle down, then pulled out a chair and sat next to her. Her hands rested on the tabletop, tight white-knuckled fists. He felt an odd little pain in his midsection. The day had taken its toll on her. He wanted to help her, but wasn’t sure how.

“Amelia.” He reached out to cover her clenched hands with his own. She wore his shirt, which was several sizes too large for her, but it served her well as a nightdress. He raised his voice. “Amelia!”

She blinked, then gasped, scared until she recognized him. “Daniel!”

“I thought you went to sleep,” he said gently.

She shook her head. “I tried, but I couldn’t sleep. The mission. My father. Kidnapped. Dead.” Her words were disjointed as she turned inward to her thoughts again.

He touched her shoulder, then rubbed her back. Her expression chilled him. He needed her to look at him, talk with him. He had to know if she was all right.

He released her back to take hold of her chin and turned her toward him. Facing her, he looked into her eyes.

“Amelia, I just came from the mission.”

She jerked and met his gaze. “Did you find—” She paused to swallow hard. “—anyone?”

“Your father?” he said softly. He studied her with regret. “No.” He touched her face, stroked her cheek. “The minister was there, and young Will Thornton.”

Fresh tears filled her eyes. “That’s all?”

He nodded and slid his fingers along her jaw to her ear, combed her hair back, then cupped the back of her neck. She blinked at him, her brown eyes overflowing with her tears.

Daniel felt a wrenching in his gut. He wanted to make her pain go away, to see her smile, even get angry. “Amelia,” he said huskily.

She sniffed and closed her eyes. A tear pooled at the base of her lashes, then slowly trickled down her cheek. Daniel groaned and bent to kiss it away. “Amelia,” he whispered, then his mouth found her lips in a tender kiss meant to comfort.

He ended the kiss and studied her. She sat with closed eyes, a vulnerable young woman overwhelmed by the
day ’s events. Her lashes fluttered open and she looked at him. She appeared dazed, then startled, then embarrassed.

He reached for her, pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist. He slipped his arms about her waist and lifted her onto his lap. He heard her soft sob as she melted against him.

“We’ll find him,” he vowed with an intensity he’d never before felt. He’d lost Jane; he would find Amelia’s father and her friend.

She cried quietly for a time as he held her. She felt good in his arms. The sweet scent of her enveloped him. She clung to him as if she would absorb his warmth and strength, which he was more than happy to give her. Her hair felt soft against his neck and chin. He held her as he would a child, but his feelings were anything but fatherly. There was little fabric between them. He stroked her hair, enjoying its silky texture against his rough hands. He rubbed her back as she turned her head and lay against him, her face buried in the curve of his jaw and shoulder. He became conscious of the warmth and softness of her body.

“You’re not alone, Amelia,” he told her gently. “I’m here, and I’ll do everything I can to see that you and your father are reunited.”

She raised her head and gazed at him with red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes. “But what if he’s dead? What if the Indians—”

“Sh-sh,” he soothed. He pulled her back against him, cradled her head with his hand while he caressed her shoulder and arm with the other. “Don’t even think it. Believe that your father is safe. The fact that he is missing is a good sign.”

“I must go to him.” She lifted her head, started to get up, but Daniel held her firm. “My father is out there, and
he needs me.” A strangled sob burst from her throat. “He needs me!”

Daniel cradled her face with his hands, forced her to meet his gaze. “You’re not going anywhere. Think! Do you honestly believe your father would want you traipsing off into the night to confront his captors?”

“You don’t understand!” she cried. She struggled against his hold. He released her. “My father needs me!”

“I understand!” he exclaimed in a sudden burst of emotion that immediately caught her attention. “It’s happened to me!” He shuddered as the memory, the horror, came back. His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “It’s happened to me.”

Stunned, Amelia stared at him with glistening brown eyes. “Daniel,” she began, then halted at his pain-filled expression. He was a champion for the Indians, wasn’t he? He believed in their rights and their freedom to live as they’d lived for centuries. Yet, here he was telling her that he understood what she was feeling, that the Indians had done the same thing to him. His anguish reached out to her, making her shudder and hug herself. She wanted to comfort him, but her own pain was too raw. And he clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

Daniel closed his eyes to regain control. The events of the day had brought everything back to him, but he had managed to keep his emotions in line, to think, to reason, to plan. He didn’t want her to see him this way. It would only add to her fears. He just wanted her to know that he wouldn’t fail her as he’d failed Jane.

“Please,” he said without opening his eyes. “No questions. Not tonight.”

To his wonder, he felt her arms slip about his waist, heard her sigh, and felt her lean into him, her soft curves against his hard torso. Her hands fluttered at his back,
then she was offering him comfort with the soft, light stroke of her hands on his shoulder and neck. One hand reached to touch his cheek. He shuddered and relaxed beneath her hands. She held him, and he laid his head in the curve of her neck, breathing in her fragrance, feeling his tension dissipate, his pain ease and slip away.

They held each other, drawing strength and comfort from their closeness. After a time, they pulled back simultaneously, looked into each other’s eyes, then flowed together again in a kiss that began as the sweetest, most tender contact and quickly became a hot, searing fusion of mouths and breaths.

When they broke away, both were gasping; stunned by the force of their feelings, by the onslaught of desire that erupted between them; yet neither felt shame or regret. They were too caught up in an emotional whirlwind, which must have started when they’d met and spiraled after their horrific day.

Daniel didn’t want to release her. His heart pounding in his chest, he gazed into her eyes, stared at her mouth, and wanted to kiss her all over again.

Amelia gazed back at him with the same longing in her eyes.

“It’s late,” Daniel said in the softest whisper.

She nodded and started to rise.

He caught her arm, battled the urge to kiss her, then gave in and drew her down for one more gentle kiss. When he released her, she straightened with eyes glowing and cheeks flushed. He felt like a brute for having taken advantage of her at a time when she was weak … until he realized that he was as vulnerable as she at that moment.

He smiled and touched her cheek. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she murmured. She seemed reluctant to go.

He stood, and she stepped back. “You’ll be able to sleep?” he asked.

She nodded, but both knew that it was a lie, for he was sure neither of them would sleep well that night.

Daniel reached for the candle, snuffed out the flame with his fingers. The room plunged into darkness, but still Amelia made no move to leave.

He could hear her breathing, feel her presence in the tingling along every inch of his skin. He waited with bated breath for her to move.

“Daniel,” she began, then stopped.

“Yes?”

“I—ah—thank you.”

He suffered extreme disappointment. What had he expected her to say? That she wanted him to kiss her again? To make love? He knew then that the day had taken its toll on him to inspire such outrageous thoughts.

“Sleep late in the morning, Amelia.”

“If I can.”

He smiled in the darkness. His eyes had adjusted to the light, and he could just make out her outline, but he didn’t need to see her to envision her in his mind. “I’ll try to keep Susie from bothering you.”

The mention of Susie seemed to have an effect on her. He felt her withdrawing from him emotionally as well as physically. The loss hurt him, bothered him in a way he’d never known.

“Good night, Amelia.”

“Good night, Daniel,” she returned in a shy little voice.

“Can you see?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He could see enough to watch her enter her room and
close the door. A few minutes later, he left the lonely stillness of the room to seek his own bed—and the sleep that he was sure would elude him that night. He thought of her as he undressed and slipped into bed … then he dreamed of her as exhaustion took hold and he fell into a deep, fitful sleep.

Amelia woke to the delicious smells of breakfast. She stretched with closed eyes and wondered what Aunt Bess was cooking this morning. She caught the sound of a squeaking door, but kept her eyes shut, sure that it was Rachel anxious to tell her sister about an evening spent with her latest beau. She heard the door shut with a click and smiled. There would be time for her and Rachel later. She wanted these last few lazy moments in bed.

Amelia opened her eyes and saw the strange room. She heard a man’s voice and a little girl’s answer, and everything came back to her in startling, terrifying clarity.

The mission had been attacked. Her father was missing, and so was Miriam. Only two of the missionaries, and she, had survived.

Tears filled her eyes as she rose from her bed. She stared at the wall and cried for a time, until she had spent her tears and regained control of her emotions. She became aware of her apparel. She glanced down, saw that she wore Daniel’s shirt, and the memory of last night came back to her in a rush. She could feel her cheeks warm as she blushed. Then, she recalled the comfort of his embrace … the warmth and tenderness of his kiss … the hot curl of desire as they’d clung together, their mouths seeking, their bodies straining toward each other as if they couldn’t get enough.

She raised her hands to her cheeks, closing her eyes as
she wondered what had come over her, wondered what Daniel must think of her.

A niggling from the back of her mind gave Amelia pause. She recalled Daniel’s promise to help her, his pain when he’d told her that he, too, knew what it was like to know fear and suffering like hers.

Something inside her responded to the memory. He’d been so kind, so gentle with her last night. Unable to sleep, she’d sat in the dark, reliving the attack, fearful that she’d never see her father again. Daniel had pulled her into his arms, comforting her with his strength, his presence, his soft voice. He had vowed to find her father, and she believed he meant what he said. His words had given her a small measure of comfort, but she was still worried. If her father was still alive, he might be suffering terrible tortures at the Indians’ hands.

Anger replaced the self-pity. What had instigated the raid? Her father had shown only kindness to his patients. If Daniel was right, then the attackers were the same Indians as the young boy her father had tended, Little Cloud, the child with the bullet wound in his shoulder. As she got out of bed, Amelia thought of the men who’d stood like angry sentinels around the room as she and her father had worked. Had she done something wrong that night, something that incensed the Sioux?

Her hands hesitated on the buttons of Daniel’s shirt. She wanted to do something, anything that would bring her father back to her, but Daniel had said he would handle it. Still, it was hard to sit still when everything in her being was telling her to get moving.

Amelia raised the hem of her makeshift nightdress. The morning air felt cool against her bare skin as she reached for the chemise and gown she’d worn yesterday, her only articles of clothing, except for the corset that she refused
to put back on. She recalled how she could barely move when the Indian came after her, promised herself that she’d never again wear a garment that would restrict her movements—at least, not in this untamed land.

A soft knock on the bedchamber had her opening the door, clad in her gown but without having completed her toilet.

Susie stood outside her door, her blue eyes inquisitive, curiosity in her expression as she noted Amelia’s unbound hair. “Pa has breakfast fixed,” the child said.

“Thank you, Susie,” Amelia replied. “I’ll be out directly after I do something with my hair.”

“You can use my brush if you’d like,” Susie offered.

Recalling the filthy condition of Susie’s hair the other day, Amelia thanked the child for the offer and told her that she’d manage without the hairbrush.

Susie stepped into the room, went to the dresser, and opened one small drawer that Amelia hadn’t checked. She reached inside and pulled out an elaborate brush and comb set. “You can use my momma’s,” she offered as she held out the set.

Amelia felt a burning in her stomach. The brush set had belonged to Susie’s mother, Daniel’s wife. Just as she’d feared, she was using the woman’s room, and if she accepted Susie’s offer, she’d be using the woman’s hairbrush.

“Please, she wouldn’t mind. Neither would Pa.”

Amelia eyed the silver set doubtfully. She met Susie’s gaze and realized that the little girl didn’t mind her refusing her own hairbrush but Susie would be offended if Amelia didn’t use her mother’s hair set. With eyes locked on the child’s face, Amelia took the brush and comb. “Thank you,” she said softly.