"I know you enjoy making me laugh, Ian, but we are going to be all right together, aren't we?"
Ian stroked her hair lightly. "Of course, we are. We're a perfect match." Intent upon proving that, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. The linens were fresh, and he lay her down on them before turning away to douse the lamp. Despite his earlier protests, he had no difficulty removing his pants. He would not have forced her to look at him nude, but he could not help but feel that she must be curious about how men are made. She did have brothers, but that did not mean she had ever seen them without their clothes.
He lay down beside her, reached for her hand, trailed her fingertips down his chest, over the taut muscles of his stomach, and then lower still. She didn't try and pull away, which rather surprised him. "That feels good. Leave your hand there," he whispered.
Melissa felt him grow hard, but it was no surprise to her. She caressed him lightly, and then pulled his hand between her legs. "It feels good to me, too," she explained. "You showed me last night."
Ian couldn't recall their wedding night in sufficient detail to know what he had shown her, but her seductive tone convinced him he must have pleased her. That's all he wanted: to please her, since she delighted him so. He enticed her out of her chemise, and then kissed her luscious breasts, while he continued to tease her with a gentle touch that coaxed a grateful moan from deep in the back of her throat.
He moved over her then, and brought their bodies together with a smooth, sure thrust that seemed strangely familiar. Knowing it couldn't have been that easy the previous night, he thought he was remembering other women and, ashamed of himself, promptly banished the thought. Melissa was the only woman he would ever want, and he gloried in the warmth of her response, and fell asleep snuggled in her arms.
Ian's tender loving left Melissa languidly combing his curls, rather than euphoric, but knowing he had not questioned her virginity relieved her of a heavy burden of dread. He was the dearest of men and, even if she never loved him with the enthusiasm he had shown her, it would be another of her secrets, rather than a truth that would cause him pain.
Chapter 9
The forest had always been Hunter's home, and he had roamed it with the effortless enthusiasm of a deer, but now that the French had entered the Ohio Valley, and clearly intended to stay, he grew far more cautious. He had always taken his early morning patrols seriously, but now that a confrontation with advancing French soldiers could come at any time, he became acutely aware of the possibility that men out scouting for the French might see him. He would have thought himself a great fool if he were taken prisoner, and he intended to avoid such a humiliation.
Now, before moving forward, he climbed the tallest tree and scanned the horizon for telltale wisps of smoke that would indicate a campfire. There were still men trapping furs, so smoke in itself might only mean their presence, rather than that of troops in the area. Whether or not there were campfires that needed to be investigated, he remained aloft to study the terrain thoroughly. He was searching for anything unusual: birds that suddenly took flight, or a waving motion in the foliage caused by frightened animals fleeing human pursuit.
Each morning his careful observation failed to disclose any ominous signs, but he continued to exercise care when he began to explore on foot. He relied not only on the sharpness of his eyes and ears, but also on his intuition to warn him of danger. Certain he would sense the presence of the enemy before they could be seen or heard, he often sat quietly and waited for the forest to reveal its secrets. It was only after he felt its natural calm remained undisturbed, that he returned to camp.
Washington's men were carving out a road wide enough for wagons and cannon, and their progress through the mountains was tortuously slow. Because the French had cannon, Hunter understood the British need, but he envied the ease with which the French had floated theirs down the Allegheny River. In his view, the French had far too many advantages, but he had to admire the courage of his traveling companions when, according to Ensign Ward, the force that opposed them was nearly ten times their size.
Hunter heard his name being called as he entered camp, and turned to see a burly young man approaching. No one had dared to bother him since the day he had broken Vernon Avey's arm, but he was instantly on guard. "What do you want?" he asked.
"Whoa, Indian, there's no reason for you to get mad at me. My name's Thomas McGee. Some of us were talking this morning, and we got to wondering who's the best man in camp with an ax. Now I said the only way to settle that question is to have a contest. We find trees of equal size, and see which man can fell his first. Some of the men think you would win, others don't, but a difference of opinion is what makes a contest exciting. You want to try it?"
Anxious to see the competition, men had already begun to gather, but Hunter didn't feel like doing such hard work just to entertain them. "What do the officers say?"
"There's no reason to bother them," Thomas replied. "We're supposed to be chopping down trees, aren't we?"
That was certainly true. All the men were working from dawn to dusk to widen the trappers' path through the forest. How two of the trees were removed couldn't be of much interest to their officers, but Hunter had another objection. "Are the men going to place bets?"
Thomas was shocked. "Well, of course, they're going to make bets!" he answered. "That's part of the fun."
"I'll do it, if I'm given a quarter of the money won on me," Hunter offered.
"A quarter! Hell, nobody will agree to that."
Hunter shrugged. "Then have someone else do it."
The men began to voice their opinions in the matter, and it soon became apparent that without Hunter, there would be no contest, and their spokesman had to give in. "All right, you get your quarter of the amount won on you. Is there anything else you want?"
"Yes, I want to choose the trees, as well as my ax, and I want time to sharpen it."
A respectful murmur passed through the crowd, for now everyone realized that Hunter was not merely strong, but also clever. "We've already chosen the trees, but I guess you can pick two others, if you don't like them. As for the ax, each man ought to work with his favorite, and they ought to be sharp."
"Do you want to do this now?"
"Sure, as soon as you're ready."
"Who's the other man?"
"Carl Schmidt, you must know him."
Having heard his name, Carl pushed his way through the crowd. He was a brawny young man with a ready smile, good-natured and strong, but not overly bright. He walked up to Hunter and offered his hand. He was the same height as the Indian, but easily outweighed him by thirty pounds. Big and tough, his grin showed what he thought of his chances of winning.
Hunter shook Carl's hand, but quickly released it. "Make them give you a quarter of the money, if you win," he urged him.