"But I should have. I knew how badly you'd been hurt."
She was again blaming herself for something that wasn't her fault, and Hunter couldn't bear to see her suffer so needlessly. "I want to make you laugh until your sides ache, but neither of us is in the mood for jokes." He rolled over on his back and pulled her against him, so her head would rest comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder. Loss of blood had left him feeling tired and weak, just when he needed all his strength to impress her.
"I can't keep you with me, if I don't get well," he announced suddenly. "To take an Indian for a husband will be difficult enough. I won't tie you to an invalid."
Alanna sat up slowly. "What if I'd been the one who had been stabbed? Would you send me away, because I was no longer perfect?"
"It's not the same," Hunter argued.
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's the man who provides for his woman, not the other way around."
He was confusing her again and Alanna drew back. "In one breath you talk about us being together forever, and in the next of sending me away. Can't you make up your mind? I'm sure you'll recover completely, but even if you don't, I'd not leave you. It just so happens that I have some money of my own, and if it's managed properly, it will be enough to take care of all three of us."
It was now Hunter who was badly confused. He sat up so they could discuss the matter more easily. "I would rather starve to death than live off your money," he insisted. "There are only two of us," he added. "Why did you say three?"
Alanna couldn't believe he had to ask that. "Have you forgotten why Elliott and I came to see you? You have a son, Hunter, and he belongs with us."
Sickened by her mention of the boy, Hunter turned away. "His mother despised me, and her poison is in his blood. I could no more love him than he could love me. Do not speak of him again. He will never be a part of us."
The love that had filled his gaze only moments before, had been replaced by a look of such virulent hatred Alanna couldn't bear to remain with him. She rose and walked out of the clearing without offering any apology for leaving, or promise of when she might return. Afraid of becoming lost in the woods, she wandered down by the lake until it grew too dark for her to see the way. She had forgotten to take her shawl, but hoping the night would be mild, she lay down and slept in the grass.
Hunter kept waiting for Alanna to reappear, but when he heard the howl of a wolf in the distance, he feared it might be a warning that she would never return. He thought she still had Elliott's knife at her belt and, having seen her kill two men, he knew she wouldn't hesitate to defend herself should any danger arise, but he did not want her to have to face any such challenge ever again. Frantic with both worry and despair, it took him a long time to fall asleep. When he awoke the next morning and found himself still alone, he became even more depressed.
He got up and tried putting some weight on his injured leg, but the resulting pain wrenched a groan from his throat, and he had to ease back on his cane. He knew he had to eat to grow strong, but he still had no appetite. Forcing himself to fish, he caught enough trout for two, but there was still no sign of Alanna by the time they were finished cooking. Although quiet and shy, she had been such good company, he missed her very badly and hoped she would come back before noon.
Alanna had berries for breakfast, and then, wanting to be certain Hunter was all right, she circled around their camp and approached it from the south. When she saw him leaning on his cane to fish, she crept away before he felt her presence, and returned to the spot where she had spent the night. Feeling drained of all emotion, she sat watching the lake for most of the day. She retreated into herself as she had as a child, but she no longer had her cousins' happy laughter to draw her from the sadness of her daydreams. Disconsolate, she did not even notice the sun had set, until long after it had grown dark.
Hunter had known women who pouted when they failed to get their way, but after briefly considering that possibility, he rejected it. Alanna wasn't the type to sulk. She was far too considerate a person to manipulate others. Clearly she saw herself as Christian's champion, and perhaps he had been unforgivably harsh, but didn't his feelings merit equal consideration?
Then a truly awful thought occurred to him. What if Christian was the one she loved? What if her only interest was in providing a father for the boy? With Elliott gone, he had been a convenient and logical choice, but once he had refused to raise Christian, Alanna had immediately lost interest in him. Perhaps she had not said so in words, but didn't her absence make her position clear? If it was Christian she loved, and not him, then she had made an even bigger fool of him than Melissa had.
Infuriated that he had again been duped by a white woman with beguiling ways, Hunter channeled all his energies into getting well. His leg was still sore, but he could take a few steps at least, and the next day several more. He removed the bandage and found that Alanna had wrapped his wound so cleverly, it would leave only a thin scar rather than the ugly puckered gash he had expected.
Encouraged that his leg was healing properly, he began walking a few steps each hour, making a great effort to stand tall, rather than bent over favoring his left leg. It was difficult, and painful, but by the time Alanna had been gone five days, he felt fit enough to go after her. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say, and would be brief rather than abusive. He would sign whatever statement she wanted about Christian. He would gladly give her the boy, but after taking her back to the trading post and putting her on a barge, he did not want to ever see her again.
His handsome features set in a disgusted frown, he prowled along the lake's edge, attempting to follow her last set of footprints. She had stepped across r
ocks here and there, but every yard or so he came across a clear print. It was no challenge to track her, but rather than return to their last camp as he had expected, she had gone on. Perplexed, he continued following the river's curving path, until at last he sighted her seated on a rocky point that jutted out into the water. She was so still, he thought she might have fallen asleep sitting up; and when he called out to her, she didn't turn, or answer.
When he got close enough, he could see that her hair was damp, but so was her dress, as though she had gone swimming fully clothed. That seemed like a very silly thing to do. Now within a few feet of her, he again spoke her name. As before, she remained oblivious to him and continued to stare out at the lake. It wasn't until he knelt by her side and touched her arm, that she noticed him.
Lacking a way to catch and cook fish, she had been living on berries, and while the juice had lent her lips a subtle rose tint, she was noticeably thinner. Perfectly calm, she sat staring at him now, her features serene, but there wasn't the slightest glimmer of recognition in her glance. Terrified that he had lost her in a way he had not even imagined, Hunter grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
"Alanna, answer me!"
Alanna cocked her head slightly. Hunter was again fully clothed in buckskins. He looked fit and strong. Compared to him, she felt very small and insignificant. He seemed insistent that she speak, but only one thought occurred to her.
"I'm cold," she told him.
As her lower lip began to tremble, Hunter's suspicions dissolved instantly, for it was painfully clear that she hadn't been avoiding him out of spite. He could see the grief that had sculpted the stillness of her pose reflected in the sorrow of her gaze, and knew that while he had worked so hard to get well, she had been silently mourning the love they had lost. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the shore, where he hurriedly helped her out of her wet dress. He tugged his shirt off over his head, and used it to pat her dry.
"You're supposed to remove your clothes before you wash them," he scolded. "Did you forget that?"
Unable to recall how she had gotten wet, Alanna just shook her head. It was very pleasant having Hunter touch her. It felt like love, even though she knew it wasn't, and she relaxed against him, unwittingly encouraging attentions of an entirely different nature.
Hunter's conscience told him that this was neither the time nor the place to make love to Alanna, but he was deaf to the voice of reason. He didn't care if they had differences that could never be reconciled, when her fragile beauty touched him so deeply. He wanted to take her for his wife, to make her feel cherished, as he knew no other man ever could. He drew her down into the grass, and covered her dear face with adoring kisses.