"I have to bathe and dress," she announced with forced calm. "Then we can move the camp."
Thoroughly distracted, Hunter was shocked by her sudden interest in a matter he had completely forgotten. "Whatever you like," he assured her, but she looked anything but pleased as she hurried away, and he felt that despite his best intentions, he had disappointed her. He swept his hair off his forehead and searched for the thong to secure it, then lay back down and shaded his eyes with his forearm. Alanna had such a fragile spirit, and it saddened him to think he might have frightened her with his enthusiasm for her affection. She certainly hadn't seemed terrified at the time, quite the contrary, but the sorrow in her gaze had been unmistakable.
Maybe she had loved Elliott. If so, then he had rushed her, and would now pay the price for that thoughtlessness. She was a sweet girl, a very dear one, and if she had loved Elliott, then Hunter feared it would take a long time for her to fall in love with him. The challenge would be to keep her with him long enough for her feelings to grow that deep.
Alanna bathed hurriedly and washed her clothes. Having nothing else to wear, she sat in the sun in her wet chemise and drawers, and waited for them to dry. She had again drenched her hair, and used her fingers to comb the tangles from her long curls. Her mood a melancholy one, she could not overcome the nagging suspicion that in Hunter's eyes, she was a very poor substitute for Melissa. Even if that assumption were incorrect, his failure to make love to her proved she was lacking in some crucial aspect. Perhaps it was merely her inexperience that had disappointed him, but he had not told her how to please him, so how could she have known what he wanted?
Despondent, Alanna stayed away from Hunter for more than two hours. When she finally gathered the courage to return to their camp, he was asleep and, relieved not to have to face him, she went on along the shore to look for another place for them to spend a few days. Partial to a small clearing bordered by raspberry vines, she sat down, leaned back against a convenient spruce, and in a few minutes began to doze. She was very grateful Hunter was going to live, but she felt far from alive herself, and her dreams reflected the loneliness that was too often her only companion.
Hunter awoke with a start, sat up, and called Alanna's name. When there was no response, he lurched to his feet and, still relying on his cane, hobbled down to the lake to look for her. He had not meant to fall asleep, and hoped she wasn't angry with him for again leaving her with all the work. When he didn't see her, he shouted her name, but it echoed unanswered over the undulating waters of the Sacandaga.
The current was swift, but he doubted she would have strayed so far from the shore that she could have been swept away by it. After all, she had grown up on the banks of the James River, so she was no stranger to the water's peril. Frustrated, he felt certain she would have gone south rather than north, and started off in that direction. Hopping along over the rocky shore he made very poor time, and was completely worn out when he finally found her. He could not imagine why she had wandered off by herself, and scowled angrily as he eased himself down beside her.
He shook her shoulder to wake her. "Do you enjoy making me worry?" he asked.
Alanna's initial smile faded when she saw how displeased he was. "I had no such intention."
"Then why did you disappear? How was I supposed to know where you'd gone?"
"It doesn't look as though you had too much difficulty finding me. If this place appeals to you, wait here, and I'll go back to get our things and erase all trace of our presence at our last camp."
That was certainly a reasonable suggestion, but Hunter shook his head. "Wait awhile. It took me so long to find you, that I don't want you running off again."
Taking that as further evidence of his disappointment in her, Alanna twisted her hands in her lap. "You were asleep, so I decided to do a bit of exploring. I didn't run off and leave you."
Hunter hadn't meant to sound so cross with her, but damn it, he was. He had made love to her, but she was behaving as though it had never happened. "Is it Elliott, is that what's wrong?"
"Elliott?"
She looked merely confused, and Hunter tried not to lose his patience with her again. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Elliott was a fine man and if you loved him—"
"Of course, I loved him."
"Yes, he was part of your family and you loved him, but that doesn't mean you loved him the way a woman should love a man she plans to marry."
Alanna pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms over her bosom, to prevent him from touching her. "I don't want to talk about this again. What Elliott and I might or might not have done doesn't matter anymore."
"It matters if you prefer memories of him to me."
Aghast at that comment, Alanna rose and stepped out of his reach. "I'm not the one who—well, never mind. It doesn't matter now."
"Stop saying that. It does matter, or you wouldn't look so miserable!"
"Why shouldn't I be miserable?" Alanna shouted right back at him. "People are being killed. You're badly hurt. We're lost in the forest. Does that make you happy?"
"No, but—"
"I'm not leaving you," Alanna called over her shoulder. "I'll be back soon."
Eager to follow her, Hunter started to rise, but slipped; jarred by the pain that coursed through his leg, he needed a moment to catch his breath. He was trying so hard to be gentle and kind, but Alanna wasn't giving him even the slightest bit of encouragement, and he didn't know how to reach her. She was as skittish as a fawn, and he had no idea how to tame such a restless spirit. He pulled a clump of grass up by the roots and hurled it after her, but his anger wasn't nearly as easy to toss away.
As promised, Alanna returned shortly with everything they had left behind. She handed Hunter his shirt, leggings, and moccasins, but he just laid them aside. He had picked a magnificent heap of berries, and she scooped a handful off the top. "These are very good, aren't they?"
"Delicious," Hunter agreed. He looked up at her, his expression sullen. "I'm sorry I can't hunt yet."
Alanna had brought the two muskets she had taken from the dead Abenaki, along with the one belonging to Hunter. His bow and quiver lay with them. "We have weapons aplenty," she remarked absently, "but I'd rather not fire a musket again, and I've no idea how to use a bow."
"I'll teach you when I feel better."