The American Bride (6 page)

"What will we use for paint?" Belin wailed.

"I think we could probably play without warpaint," Cara suggested. The downcast faces forced her to reconsider. Remembering her own joyful games she grinned in triumph and issued instructions. While the children gathered red berries from the nearby bushes, Cara rummaged in the empty lunch basket for a dish.

"First you mash the berries up a bit." She demonstrated with a stick and then let an eager Belin take over the task. "Watch your clothes. I suspect that concoction will stain."

While Richard set to work constructing a bevy of makeshift weapons, Cara tore a band of material from the bottom of her petticoat to fashion two headbands. The feathers were a little bedraggled but it was obvious that the children would not care. Checking the soggy mess Belin was pulverizing, Cara announced that the warpaint was ready. Using a corner of a napkin, she painted garish symbols on the children's ecstatic faces. After tying on the headbands, Cara stood back to survey her work.

"Well, you look like proper little savages," Cara pronounced, inspecting their ferocious expressions.

"I'll paint you, Miss Farraday," Richard offered.

"I thought I might just be a settler."

Cara was unsure of her role as governess but she was positive that running through the woods with a painted face would not be considered wholly dignified.

"Please, Miss Farraday? It would be much more fun if you were an Indian, too," Belin pleaded.

"I suppose I could be a squaw but they don't wear paint," Cara explained. However one look at the crestfallen faces and she relented. "Unless of course it happens to be during the harvest festival."

Both children nodded solemnly.

"I was afraid of that," she laughed as the children dissolved in giggles. "In that case, the squaws would have a streak of paint right down their noses. Like this."

Cara drew the red-soaked napkin from her forehead down to the tip of her nose. Wide-eyed with pleasure the children covered their mouths to muffle their laughter.

"Never mind, you little beasts. I think I make a charming squaw," Cara intoned then grinned as the children collapsed in glee.

"I'd say you look all the crack," Richard acknowledged when he could control his laughter. "Absolutely smashing!"

After parceling out the various crude weapons the garish threesome split up to stalk buffalo and settlers. Richard was more enthusiastic in the pursuit of settlers on the theory that his

chances of a good fight were better. There was much shrieking and whooping as each of the Indians battled with the elements, imaginary enemies and with each other. The game finally resolved itself into hide-and-seek.

Hurrying along the trail, Cara mopped at the perspiration dotting her upper lip. Readjusting her headdress she cursed the profusion of material, wishing she might abandon her disguise and let her hair loose in the warm June sunshine. She searched the woods for a possible hiding place. Nothing suited and she walked farther along the path. Hearing the rustling of someone moving behind her, she threw herself behind the nearest bushes hoping to evade detection. The footsteps came closer, hesitated then walked directly toward her hiding place.

Cautiously parting the greenery Cara gasped at the sight of two polished Hessians planted on the dusty path.

With a groan of pure embarrassment, Cara's eyes slid up the boots to the muscular thighs encased in buckskin breeches. She licked her dry mouth, tasting the salty perspiration on her upper lip and her eyes traversed the trim waist and expanse of chest in the many pocketed hunting jacket. Her glance faltered at the granite hard chin but, as if to punish herself, she completed the survey of Julian's expressionless face and ruffled black hair.

"Are you hurt, Miss Farraday?" Lord Wilton inquired in a deep voice that sent a shiver along Cara's nerve endings.

"Thank you, my lord, but I'm perfectly all right."

Cara ground out her answer, her eyes closing in agony. Praying that Julian would walk on or vanish off the face of the earth, she pressed her burning cheeks against the cool grass. When Cara continued to lay inert on the ground, the boots shifted restlessly.

"Are you planning to remain there for long, Miss Farraday?"

"For the rest of my life." Cara cursed under her breath. Then realizing the futility of the situation, she sighed in defeat and answered, "No, your lordship."

Summoning what dignity she could, she stumbled to her feet. It took all her determination to face her husband with a look of disdain which was somewhat marred by the streak of warpaint on her face.

"You're injured!" Julian stepped forward in concern. "What happened?"

"Indians," Cara declared straight-faced.

"I saw Richard and Belin a little while ago," Julian chuckled. "I thought their warpaint was fearsome but I didn't realize that you were a member of their tribe."

Taking Cara's arm Julian turned her toward the light so that he could get a better look at the painted face turned up to him. He had to admire the girl's coolness in such an awkward situation. Except for the flush on her cheeks, she appeared unconcerned as he scanned her features.

He noted the clean fresh quality of her skin and the soft brown hair of her lashes and brows. Throwing a look of disgust at the voluminous scarf on her head, he wondered idly if her hair matched her brows. His nostrils flared at the soft flowery scent that wafted up from her tiny figure. Though the girl neither cringed nor struggled in his grasp, he felt her physical withdrawal in her very stillness. Excited by the feel of her skin, Julian drew her closer.

"The warpaint is very becoming, Miss Farraday.”

Stunned by the sensual quality of his voice, Cara's eyes widened in consternation.

Once again Julian was caught by the jeweled eyes that stared up at him. Beneath his hand he could feel her body quiver. It reminded him of an injured sparrow he had once held in his hand. Julian was puzzled and dismayed at his reaction to the little governess. At thirty he was long past the easily aroused passions of a callow youth. Yet as he held the arm of the petite American he had an overwhelming desire to kiss the luscious mouth of the little innocent. Within those blue-green eyes he sensed a sleeping sensuality that he was curious to awaken. The urge to reach up his hand to soothe the girl’s fear was irresistible. Unable to stop himself, he stroked the back of his hand across her cheek hearing her indrawn gasp at the contact.

A low moan issued from Cara at the flame-like contact of Julian's hand. Her senses expanded and her arm burned where his fingers grasped her. Julian's male scent surrounded her and without volition she leaned in to his embrace. Her eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings as Julian's mouth closed over her trembling lips.

Julian's kiss jolted Cara like a bolt of lightning. His soft warm lips molded to hers, sucking and teasing her generous mouth. At the touch of his tongue along the outer edges, her mouth opened slightly and her senses reeled as the tip slid between her lips. Cara was awash in erotic sensations as Julian's tongue probed the soft cushiony interior. Knees buckling, she lay against his chest absorbed in the sensuality of his caress.

It was the knowledge that this man was her husband that finally broke through the spell that Julian had woven. In horror she realized that Julian's actions were those of an adulterer. He did not know that he was kissing his wife. In his mind, Cara was merely the governess. An employee to be treated as a plaything, an object of his desires. As anger welled up inside her, Cara instinctively drew back her hand and slapped Julian's face.

The sound was as loud as a shot and just as startling.

At the blow Julian's head snapped back and his eyes, glazed with desire, changed to a hard brown. Disgust at his own lack of control gave his face a look of contempt as he glared down at the furious girl. As quickly as his emotions were revealed, a mask of indifference crossed his face and he stood back, bowing to the girl.

"Your pardon, Miss Farraday," Julian drawled. "I would say I was sorry but I fear I quite enjoyed the kiss."

"I find your behavior both insulting and depraved."

"Softly, my dear child. It was nothing."

Cara was stunned that the kiss, which had been so all consuming for her, could be dismissed so easily. She ducked her head to hide the film of tears which threatened to overflow.

"You are a married man, Lord Wilton," Cara accused.

"So far, only in name, Miss Farraday. As I am sure you are aware a man has certain, shall we say, urges."

Anger at his own behavior made Julian strike out at the girl. Watching her face whiten at his cruel words, he felt a momentary pang of regret. However it would not do to become involved with the little governess. Staring at the girl under lowered brows, Julian could not imagine what had possessed him. Her downcast eyes dimmed the vitality of the American and he was struck by the demure innocence that was quite outside his usual philandering. The virginal look of the girl should discourage any further approach, Julian admitted, after all the debauching of schoolroom chits was definitely not in his style.

"Look, Miss Farraday. It's Pennyfeather!"

At Richard's triumphant shout, Julian snorted in disgust. With a cool nod of his head, Lord Wilton spun on his heel and stalked off along the path.

It was a full moment before Cara could take in Julian's abrupt departure. Her body shook with the fury of emotions unleashed by the confrontation with her husband. Hearing the shouting of her returning warriors Cara tried to pull herself together, her mind still presenting scathing remarks she should have made to Julian. As the children approached she brushed at the leaves and grass on her skirts.

"This is Miss Farraday, our new governess," Belin lisped.

"And this is Pennyfeather," Richard announced.

Cara had been deluged during the day with the exploits of the children's friend. It was suspected that he might have been either a pirate or, at the least, a smuggler. Cara was amused that either occupation held high favor in the children's eyes. Although she wanted to make a good impression for the children's sake, Cara felt less than adequate with warpaint on her face and her wits scattered by Julian's assault.

"The children have been telling me of your many adventures, Pennyfeather." Cara smiled into the gray eyes of a, hopefully, benevolent giant.

Great hamlike hands snatched off the tweed cap perched on a thatch of frizzy hair. The hair was neither brown nor white. It looked as though Pennyfeather's whole head had been spattered with white paint. As the sausage-shaped fingers kneaded the cap, his keen eyes inspected the girl, discerning her agitation. The wild hairs sprouting from his eyebrows lowered over narrowed eyes as he squinted toward the Hall and Julian's departing figure.

"Found your Indians stalkin' a couple squirrels."

The children attempted a shamefaced expression but fell short of the mark. They capered around the big man who was as undisturbed as a cow by buzzing flies. With an economy of words Pennyfeather dispatched them to the stream for some water, giving the distraught girl a chance to collect her scattered poise. Without impatience, he waited in silence until they returned with a dampened cloth.

"Give over," Pennyfeather ordered, holding out an enormous hand.

"Aw, Pennyfeather, only babies get their faces washed," Richard muttered as the wet cloth descended on his face.

"Quit your bleatin', young sir, and let me finish."

In fascination, Cara watched as Pennyfeather scrubbed the paint off each of the children's face. His features screwed up in concentration, he bent to the task in total absorption. Although the children wriggled in his grasp, it was obvious that the huge man's touch was gentle. Without pausing, Pennyfeather turned to Cara, tipped her face upwards and proceeded to wash the paint from her forehead and nose. Although Cara was surprised that he treated her like just one more child, she was content for the moment with her role. Surveying the three shining faces, the old man shoved the red stained cloth into one of the pockets of his jacket, and started off along the path.

Hurrying to keep up with Pennyfeather's rolling gait, Cara was pleased to find that her ragged emotions were once more under control. She refused to think about Julian for the time being. Soon she was caught by the outdoorsman's knowledge of plants and animals as he kept Richard and Belin searching for objects of interest. The silence between the two adults was comfortable with little need of words. From time to time the children squealed for attention and then Cara and the old woodsman would admire each discovery. It amazed her that despite his heaviness, Pennyfeather's enormous boots trod silently on the paths, barely ruffling the leaves.

"You'll have to watch Pennyfeather," Cara suggested to the children. "Then you can move through the woods like shadows."

"Pennyfeather's a poacher," Richard confided in awe. "He's so quiet he can sneak up on the deer and pet them."

Cara glanced sideways to encounter the discomfited grin of her companion. She hoped the boy was exaggerating because she knew that in England the punishments meted out for poaching were still harsh. From Richard's chatter Cara was aware that Julian had gamekeepers always on the alert for trespassers.

As the late afternoon sun began to glow with a reddish hue, the children were rounded up for a return to the Hall. Standing beside Pennyfeather's enormous silent figure, Cara watched Belin twirling in the sunshine.

"What's the matter with Belin?" she blurted out. During her short acquaintance with Pennyfeather Cara had detected the giant's devotion to the children. It seemed right that she ask him how to solve the puzzle of the wild child.

"Tis not mine to tell," Pennyfeather's deep voice rumbled. It was not spoken unkindly.

"Will I be able to help her?"

The silent man towered over Cara's diminutive figure. Unlike her reaction to Julian, she found nothing threatening in the man's presence. Cara met his inspection calmly. Shaggy brows knitted over deepset eyes, the old man frowned down at the young governess. His glance was neither insulting nor impertinent. The pleated headdress covering her hair caused his eyes to crinkle in merriment. After a thorough scrutiny, Pennyfeather nodded his head, indicating his approval.