"Well now, we don't see as how one loss could hurt you much. Besides, we'd all want a chance to win back whatever we'd wagered."
Hunter backed away. "No. Those are my terms. One loss and I quit."
Forced to accept Hunter as a man of his word, the group finally gave in, then scattered to look for a man foolish enough to fight an Indian brave for a cut of the winnings the hapless challenger would probably never earn.
* * *
That autumn, Alanna would often recall the sunlit morning when Hunter had bid her an affectionate farewell, for it marked a beginning as well as an end. He had shown her but a brief glimpse of how glorious love was meant to feel, but it was a priceless lesson. That it had come from an Indian brave was only one of its remarkable aspects. Perhaps they had simply been sympathetic to each other's sorrow, but whatever the reason, Alanna knew that for a few precious seconds they had shared a closeness she had never achieved with another human being, and it was impossible to forget.
Neither would she forget his involvement with Melissa.
While her cousin never mentioned his visit, it had left her irrevocably changed. She continued to prepare for her baby's birth, but without her former joy. The expected improvement in her health did not occur, and she grew increasingly demanding and petulant. She gave up the hope of returning to the house Ian had rented in Williamsburg, and spent her days curled up on the settee in the parlor. When the Publick Times came again in October, she had neither the energy nor interest to attend any of the parties and fairs.
The whole family was concerned about her, but none spoke their worries aloud, as though giving voice to their fears would not simply confirm them, but somehow also bring them to fruition. Byron and Elliott had left the militia and were helping to run the plantation. The Frederick sisters were frequent guests, but not even their sunny temperaments helped to lift Melissa's dark moods.
Graham Tyler visited each Sunday, but he spent as much time talking with Alanna's relatives as he did with her, in an apparent attempt to court the whole family. He did not press her for the affection he sensed she was still reluctant to give, but strove to be a true friend to her. If he ever despaired of his lack of progress, he never shared it with a soul.
Hunter was never mentioned, but his abrupt departure had left everyone curious. Byron feared he was somehow to blame. Elliott wrote to his Indian friend at William Johnson's trading post, but received no replies and, discouraged, finally gave up the effort to correspond.
* * *
Ian pulled on his coat and adjusted the fit across his shoulders, before walking over to the bed. All their friends believed their baby was due in January, but December was the true date. It was now early November, and, unable to find a comfortable pose, Melissa was having trouble sleeping. She had been discontented before, but now she was downright irritable, and while she never blamed him for the discomfort caused by her condition, he still felt responsible. The resulting guilt made him hate to leave her each morning; at the same time, he couldn't wait to get away.
"Do you have plans for the day?" he asked.
"Only to survive it. Is it foggy again?"
"Yes, but perhaps it will be clear by afternoon."
Melissa huddled down into the covers. "It's gotten cold too early this year. I don't even want to get out of bed."
"Then don't. The servants will pamper you as always, and your mother and Alanna are good company. You never lack for anything."
"No, that's not true."
Fearing she would begin a litany of complaints ranging from clumsiness to boredom, Ian leaned down to kiss her goodbye and strode from the room. He felt disloyal, but he did not want to risk losing patience with his wife and making a thoughtless remark he would soon regret. Beside himself with worry, when he entered the stable and saw Alanna feeding the horses, he delayed his departure for Williamsburg to speak with her.
"Melissa and I used to laugh constantly, but she no longer finds my sense of humor amusing. I know she doesn't feel like herself, and I try to be understanding, but I don't know how much more of this I can take. At first I thought she was depressed by the nausea, but when that went away, her swollen figure began to upset her. I keep telling her that she's beautiful still and assuring her that she'll be slender again after the baby comes, but that doesn't help at all. I thought this was supposed to be a happy time, but obviously I was wrong.
"Does she ever complain about me?" he asked. "If she regrets our marriage, I don't know what I'll do."
"Oh no, Ian, I'm sure she doesn't. Think of how prettily she smiles, when you come home each evening. You needn't doubt her love."
Anticipating a lengthy chat, Alanna sat down on an overturned barrel. She scuffed the toe of her slipper through the straw and immediately thought of Hunter, but that was a private thought, rather than one she wished to share. "Melissa was seldom ill before last spring. She's not a patient person, and I'm sure fee
ling poorly all these months has been extremely difficult for her."
"It's been difficult for us all," Ian complained. "I miss the charming young woman I married, Alanna. I miss her terribly."
"You don't have much longer to wait for the baby."
"That's true, but what if she's still not happy? What if there's something more that's bothering her?"
"What else could there possibly be?" Alanna asked.
"That's precisely the problem. I don't know. We were so close at first, and now, well, I don't expect her to want to make love when she feels so awkward, but—" Ian noticed Alanna's blush and realized he had said too much. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, but everyone knows married couples make love."
"Perhaps you should be talking to my aunt, since I know nothing about making love or having babies."