"The yellow room it is then," Randolph agreed. "I think what we'd all like now is some supper. Will you please tell the cook I've brought guests?"
After a gesture that hinted at a curtsy, Mrs. Newcombe hurried away. Randolph showed his guests into the parlor and urged them to make themselves at home. "I do hope you'll be comfortable here. My daughter and her family are able to visit only rarely, and I'll enjoy having your company for as long as you'd care to stay. I'll be at my shop during the week, so I won't be in your way."
With most of their conversations taking place at his shop, Alanna had not realized that Randolph was so lonely. She had been so preoccupied with Christian's future that she had not appreciated he had needs as well, and that she could not fulfill them made her feel guilty. She sat down on the settee and patted the cushion at her side, but Hun
ter shook his head and remained standing.
"I'm afraid I've not been nearly as good a friend to you, as you've been to me," Alanna began. "If there's anything I can do to help while we're here, I hope you'll encourage Mrs. Newcombe to let me know. I've never been waited on, and I don't expect it here."
"Mrs. Newcombe has been with me for years, and she'd be mortified if I suggested she put you to work. You're my guests. You two won't be expected to do more than enjoy yourselves, while you're here. Would either of you care to join me in a glass of sherry?"
When neither accepted his offer, Randolph poured himself a glass and raised it in a silent toast before taking a sip. "This has been the most remarkable day I've spent in a long while."
Despite Randolph's friendliness, Hunter felt ill at ease in his home. The parlor was painted a pale creamy beige with a deeper shade of the same hue for the wooden trim and moldings. It would have been soothing, but for the rich ruby red of the damask draperies which was repeated in the upholstery of most of the furniture. Hunter had seen too much blood of late to find red an attractive color, and being surrounded by it made him restless. He circled the settee and walked over to the fireplace. Wood had been laid for a fire, but the evening was warm and it hadn't been lit. The sight of something so ordinary in the elegant home suddenly made him feel homesick for the comforting familiarity of his own long house.
"Unfortunately, our days seldom run smoothly," he mused, "but I'll do my best not to bring the continual peril of our lives into your home."
"No, please, I'd welcome it," Randolph argued.
Hunter had fought his last fight to amuse others, and he stared at the merchant with a puzzled glance. "I didn't enjoy fighting Jacob. Did you enjoy watching?"
"Not at the moment, certainly not, but now that everyone's safe, well, I'll remember the excitement rather than the fright."
"Jacob isn't safe," Hunter pointed out. "I may have crippled his hand, and his knee will trouble him for a long time. As for Alanna and me, we were hurt far worse. We've lost not only Elliott, but the rest of her family it seems. As usual, no one will think of our pain."
Randolph feared he had been very ill-mannered and hastened to apologize. "Please, I didn't mean to minimize what happened at the Barclays. I hope they'll soon soften their stance. You have my word as a gentleman that I won't repeat what I overheard to anyone."
Mrs. Newcombe announced supper then, and hungry, Hunter was glad for an excuse to end their conversation. He escorted his wife into the dining room, and took the chair at her side. The room was painted in a deep terra cotta shade brightened with white molding, and he found the earth tone far more calming than the jarring contrasts of the parlor.
Clustered at one end of the table, the threesome shared a quiet, but tasty meal of roast chicken and vegetables. As he had at the Barclays, Hunter watched Alanna's choice before selecting a utensil, and as he always had with her, gave his best effort to displaying his finest manners. When by the close of the meal Alanna was having difficulty hiding her yawns, he was relieved to bid Randolph good night and go upstairs to their room.
Their few pieces of luggage were already there, but as Alanna pulled her nightgown from her valise, Hunter realized just how much she had left at her aunt and uncle's house. "We'll have to go back for your things. You have so many pretty gowns, and I don't want you to lose them."
"I won't need satin ball gowns at the trading post."
"Do you like to dance?"
"Following music and trying to recall the steps without trampling on my partners' toes was never one of favorite pastimes. I just wasn't any good at it."
"Maybe you didn't have the right partner."
Alanna turned toward him. His smile was enchanting. "Why, Hunter, do you like to dance?"
Had it not been for his dark complexion, she would have seen his blush. "The Seneca dance for different reasons. I've never done any of your dances with a woman."
"I'm not very good, but if you'd like to learn, I'll teach you. Another night, though. Tonight I'd just fall asleep in your arms."
"I like that."
"Yes, but not standing up."
"It might be nice." Hunter came forward to pull her into a warm embrace and nuzzled her neck. She had replaced the combs she had lost and bought new caps while in New York, but he wanted her hair loose the way it had been in the forest, and quickly removed them. He shook out her curls and spread them over her shoulders.
"Where is Randolph's room?" he asked.
"I don't know. I've never been here before. Why do you ask?"
"I don't want to make him any more envious than he already is."