Tender savage (52 page)

"I would come back disguised as a woman if I had to, but I am not leaving you alone here, my beloved." Clasping his hands behind his back. Viper let his glance wander over Erica's delicate features and the slender curve of her throat, which was so attractively displayed by the layers of lace that trimmed the neckline of her nightgown. As always, she looked stunning. Her room was painted in a soft shade of rose, and in the evenings the dim light provided by the lamps gave the walls the warm glow of early sunset. That subtle color set off her fair beauty to perfection. "You are more beautiful each time I see you,"

^e whispered reverently.

While blushing deeply at that praise, Enca was tempted 'to hurl her brush at him to make him stop the flattery she was certain was undeserved. "I look wretched, and you know it. Save your lies for others."

Viper stepp>ed forward, and placing his hands upon her shoulders, he turned Erica toward her mirror. "Look for yourself. You are a very beautiful womai>. Don't say that

you are not." , t • j

\ Still embarrassed. Erica refused to study her miage and llooked away. "You must go. Goodnight." I Disappointed that she would give him so little of her time, and nothing of her love. Viper made no move to leave. "Where did your father go tonight?" he asked as he lifted his hands from her shoulders and began to caress her fair curls. He wound the ends around his fingers as he had once loved to do with the lock of hair he had taken without her permission. "I saw him as he left die house. Do you think he looks more impressive in his uniform than I did in buckskins, war paint, and feathers?"

The sly curve of Viper's lips told Erica he was teasing her again, and she almost laughed at the comparison he had made, then reminded herself she had to be as stem with him as she was with herself. "He looks as handsome in his uniform as you do in your buckskins, Viper. Stop fishing for compliments and tell me goodnight."

"Not until you tell me where he's gone," Viper insisted.

Knowing how stubborn the man was and wanting him gone. Erica immediately gave in. "He's taking Sarah to a party. She likes him very much, but unfortunately, he hasn't been interested in any woman since my mother's

death." ^ .^ ^ u

"Sarah and your father?" Viper considered them as a couple for a moment, then nodded approvingly. "Yes, they should get along together almost as well as you and I

do." "Viper 1" Erica had to force herself not to scream. "Please

gol" "Etienne," the wily brave reminded her. "Well, whoever you are, ^et out of my roomi" "Or what?" Viper asked m a challenging tone. "Your

father is gone, and Mark is asleep. There's nothing you

can do if I refuse to go."

Using the edge of the dressing table for balance. Erica rose to her feet. "Don't you dare threaten me."

Viper was delighted she had stood up, since that made her all the more easy to kiss. He leaned forward and did just that. "I love you. In my mind you will always be my wife. Don't ask me to go, not tonight or ever."

Suddenly feeling di^y. Erica raised her hand to her brow. "I'm sorry. I don't feel well enough to argue with you."

"Is it the baby?" Viper quickly stepped to her side, slipped his arm around her shoulders, and helped her over to the bed. "Well, is it? Tell me where your father has gone and I'll go for him right away."

"No, it's not the baby," she assured him shakily. "You just upset me and I stood up too fast. I'll be fine in the morning." When he turned down the covers, she didn't need his help to climb into the bed. "Thank you, now goodnight."

Viper, however, was in no mood to be dismissed so casually. He was too worried about her to leave her alone and prompdy decided to stay. To avoid another argument, he snuffed out die lamp at her bedside and went back to take care of the one on her dressing table. Rather than leave her room, though, he moved to the foot of the bed to remove his clothes.

"What are you doing now?" Erica called out, since the room was too dark for her to see him clearly.

In less than a minute, Viper had disrobed and crawled into the other side of the bed. "I want to stay with you," he declared as he drew her into his arms. Instantly Erica put her hands upon his bare chest to push him away, but he easily brushed aside that objection to his company. "You needn't fight me. Just ^o to sleep. I will sleep beside you like I did the first night we spent together. Do you remember that?" His mouth brushed her ears, then her eyelids before lightly caressing her trembling lips. "I want to stay with you so you will understand you are still pretty and still loved."

Enveloped in the loving warmth of his embrace. Erica had difficulty fighting back her tears. Finally she could no longer deny the depth of her true feelings. "Oh Viper, I

don't want to be mean to you. I love you so, but—" "Hush. Think only of our love. Nothing else matters.' As his mouth covered hers Erica found that commanc impossible to obey, for she was lying to him as well aj Mark, and he was bound to find out when the baby came Her life was in such horrible confusion that not even tht sweetness of Viper's affection could erase the pain thai filled her heart and tormented her soul. She ended the kiss before her senses overpowered her reason and she beggec for more. Sensitive to her distress, although he misread its cause. Viper pulled her against his side, and true to his word, simply held her cradled in his arms until she fell asleep. When she awoke the next morning, he was gone, but all of her {perplexing dilemmas remained to taunt her

Still astounded that Sarah Randall had a romantic interest in him, Lars did his best to be an attentive escort, but the delicious excitement he had always felt in Eva's presence was sadly lacking when he was with her. Perhaps he had treated her in a fatherly fashion too long for the pleasant nature of her company ever to provide a thrill. Whatever the reason, while he enjoyed seeing many of his old friends at the Bergstrcnns', he was grateful when il came time for the guests to depart. As they rode hc«ne in her carriage, Lars held Sarah's hand, quite awkwardly, he thought, and hoped she would never make the mistake oi invitmg him to be her escort again.

Without realizing it, Lars projected his desperation so vividly that Sarah had no doubt what he had thought oi the evening. Clearly it had been a complete and utter disaster for him. Lars had always been confident, so relaxed in his manner at the hospital, and she had expected him to display that same easy charm that night, but sadly, he had spent more time glancing at his watch than looking at her. Clearly, she bored him to death, and heartbroken to think she would be unlikely ever to spend another evening with him, she forced herself to put on a l»rave front to save what was left of her pride.

"Everyone was delighted to see you tonight. You must have noticed that. Now that you have taken the first step to re-enter Wilmington society, I'm certain you will be

deluged with invitations whenever you are in town. A han^ome widower never lacks for feminine companionship. You will be very popular with the ladies, I assure you."

That she would discuss his popularity with women in so flippant a fashion startled Lars, for Sarah had always seemed so demure he couldn't imagine what had possessed her to make such a bold remark. "I really don't care whether I am popular or not, actually," he admitted quite frankly.

Now fearing she had insulted as well as bored him, Sarah didn't know what to do and fell silent. She had been drawn to Lars not only because of his pleasing appearance, but because he possessed a depth of character young men her own age often lacked. But apparently he had revealed all of himself that he ever would. Crushed to think the only man she had ever really wanted to imparess cared nothing at all for her, she had all she could do not to weep openly in front of him.

Lars felt every bit as inadequate as Sarah. He opened his mouth, then shut it quickly when he could not think of any way to ask her forgiveness that didn't involve mentioning Eva, and he knew that was the very last thing he should do. It would only hurt the dear young woman all the more to think he was comparing her to his late wife. But he knew that was exactly what he had been doing all evening. She would never be Eva, and he didn't even want her to try and take the dead woman's place. No one could ever do that

When they reached her home, Sarah graciously offered him the use of her carriage. "I'm glad you could go with me tonight. I'll ask Roger to drive you home."

Not waiting for the driver to climb down from his perch, Lars opened the door and stepped out "Thank you, I'm glad you had an enjoyable time. I'll see you to your door, but then I'll walk home. I don't need to ride."

"As you wish," Sarah dismissed her driver, and as the carriage continued on toward the rear of the house she realiz^ she would probably never be alone with Lars again. Unfortunately, that dismal prospect did not inspfre any uniquely fascinating way to say goodnight that would instantly change Lars's opinion of her. As they reached her

front door, she turned toward him, her expression more forlorn than grateful. "I really did enjoy being with you tonight, but I know it was a difficult evening for you. I'm sorry for that. Well, goodnight and thank you again."

When she offered ner hand, Lars took it in a tender grasp, but again he had no idea what to say and did the only thing that seemed appropriate. He drew her dose, meaning to give her the bnefest of goodnight kisses, but her lips were surprisingly soft, and instead of releasing her quickly as he had planned, he slipped his left hand around her waist to pull her closer still.

That Lars would want to Idss her shocked Sarah, but she was delighted and returned his affectionate gesture with all the love that filled her heart apparent in her kiss. The kiss then took on a far more passionate flavor, endless, warm, sweet, then lingering and deep. When at last Lars released her, Sarah was as breathless as he. Since nothing she said to him seemed right, she decided to do no more than smile sweedy as she supped through the door, but her heart was pounding so wilmy she had to stop and lean back against it before going up to her room to bed. Was it possible Lars Hanson had some feelings for her after all? she wondered, hardly daring to hope that he might. She had been kissed perhaps more often than a respectable young woman should be, but never had she found another man's kiss so stirring. Thrilled clear to her toes, she took the stairs two at a time, so eager to see him again that she didn't think she could possibly wait until the next day.

Equally surprised by the ardor he had displayed, Lars jammed his hands in his pockets and scowled deeply as he strode home. He feared he had made it painfully obvious that he was a very lonely widower. Whatever would Sarah think of him now? She was a far more passionate young woman than he had suspected, but still, he felt the fault was his that their kiss had gotten so out of hand. He had let an innocent goodnight kiss turn into a near seduction, and he would not make that mistake again when die consequences could prove disastrous for them both. He was forty years oldl he berated himself. He ought to have more sense than he had shown. Still, Sarah's lips had had such an inviting rose tint that when she had smiled so shyly as she said goodnight, the emotions he had kept

suppressed for so long had swiftly betrayed him. It was something he would not allow to happen again, however. He told himself that again and again as he walked home, the words becoming a chant in his mind. "No, definitely not," he said aloud. "Never again."

On Sunday, when Sarah came to the Hanson home to visit her brother, she found Lars had gone to have dinner with William Dexter, the physician who had taken over most of his practice, and wasn't expected home before dark. Certain that he must think her wanton and that he had absented himself on purpose, Sarah stayed only long enough to chat briefly with Mark, then left without staying for dinner as she usually did on Sunday. On Monday she remained home all day, thinking it Lars wanted to see her, he would come to call. He did not. Too proud to turn up at his house each day, even though she knew her brother looked forward to her visits, Sarah stayed home two more days, and when she went to see Mark and Erica on Thursday, she discovered to her dismay that Lars had already left for Washington. Convinced that her memories of their kiss must have been far different from his, she refused to discuss the elusive physician with his daughter, and kept her sorrow that their brief encounter had led nowhere to herself.

Erica still read the newspaper each day and followed the news from Minnesota with avid interest. When she read that there had been more killings in the Big Woods and in Kandiyohi County where the uprising had begun, she found it difficult to believe that Little Crow would have left the safety of the Dakotas to again prey upon the settlers of Minnesota. Then, on July 3, the chief was shot and killed while picking berries with his sixteen-year-old son near Hutchinson on the border of the Big Woods. He had been slain by Nathan Lamson, who had been out hunting with his son, Chauncey. The Lamsons had not recognized Little Crow, but had shot him simply because feelings against the Sioux were running high because of the recent rash of murders.

At noon. Erica passed the newspap>er to Viper. He read the account of Little Crow's death, then looked up at her with an expression of such unbearable sorrow that she had to look away. She knew exactly what he was thinking:

would the Sioux and white man never be able to live in peace? Since the answer to that question was too obvious to merit comment, she kept still, but the way the chief had died troubled her greatly. He had been shot not because he was a wanted man, not because his guilt in the latest murders had been proven, but because he was an Indian. The unfairness of that was no easier for her to bear than for Viper, for not only was the man she loved a Sioux, but her child would be half-Sioux, as well. That they might one day be shot, not for their crimes but for what they were, only added to the fears that daily threatened to suffocate her with dread.

As July wore on. Erica found no escape from her inner turmoil. It was not the ordeal of childbirth that terrified her, but the certainty that the identity of the babe's father would be unmistakable. The baby was going to be the image of Viper, she knew that beyond the slightest doubt. She had had many friends come to call when she had returned home, and they would all come to visit the moment they heard of the birth. There she would be with a fair-skinned, light-haired husband and a dark-skinned, black-haired child, and there would be a far worse scandal than her father had warned her to avoid. She had lied to everyone, not only to Mark, Sarah, and her father, but to Viper as well and she knew they would all soon hate her with a virulent intensity she felt she deserved.