Lord of the Wolves Read Free Page A

this—”
    “Kathryn,”
Sarah said, when he removed his hand. She forced herself to be calm. Perhaps if
she did exactly as he said, he would let her go. Perhaps he would allow her to
step back, to regain some small semblance of control over her beleaguered
senses. “Kathryn and I were en route to Harris’ Ferry—well, at least Kathryn
was. I was going on, to the Ohio country—the Muskingum River, to be precise—”
    Sarah
saw him frown. “The Muskingum lies deep in the Ohio country. What possible
reason could a fine Quaker lady like yourself have for traveling there?”
    “I
am Moravian, not Quaker,” Sarah corrected. “And I have business there.”
    “Business?”
he said, his frown growing more pronounced. “What business?”
    “Business
of a personal nature,” Sarah said, blushing. “Business which, at the moment, I
would prefer not to discuss.” It took all of her inner strength to deny him,
yet it hardly seemed proper to speak of Brother John Liebermann while she was
in the arms of this handsome stranger. And he was handsome.
    His
features had a Gallic cast—the fine, strong nose, the high, prominent
cheekbones and squared chin. It hinted at an obstinate streak, that chin, a
willful, determined nature. It was odd to see a man with silk tassels dangling
from his ear lobes, and odder still that they should suit him so perfectly,
lending a splash of color, a touch of the flamboyant to an already terrifyingly
dashing figure of a man.
    She
could see that he was not satisfied with her evasive replies, but he let her
have her head, pursuing a different course instead. “I believe you mentioned an
ambush.”
    Sarah
nodded. “They caught the men of our party unawares. By the time Kathryn and I
reached the summit of the hillock, it was too late to help them, so we hid in a
hollow log. It was nearly dark when we left the log and walked to this place.”
    “‘They,’”
he said, “who is ‘they’?”
    “Savages,”
Sarah blurted out. “Like—”
    “Like
me?” he supplied with a quirk of a dark arched brow.
    Sarah
was mortified. “How perfectly rude of me,” she whispered miserably. “I did not
mean to say that you—” She blushed furiously.
    He
laughed at her discomfiture. “You did indeed, but not to worry, Madame. I have
been called worse. Besides, what you say is true—at least in part. My mother
was half-French, half-Delaware; my father a French trader from Quebec. Now,
suppose you tell me about these savages?”
    “They
were painted, and armed to the teeth, and their hair was shorn, with a tuft
sticking up on top.”
    He
grunted. “Scalp locks and paint. A war party.”
    “There
was a man with them. Kathryn called him ‘Bear’.”
    His
head came up. “ La Bruin?”
    “Yes.
He was with someone called Tall Trees.”
    “Damn,”
he said, releasing her. He stepped away, then swung around to face her again. “Where
did this attack take place?”
    “Three
miles, perhaps four, west of here.”
    “When?”
    “This
afternoon,” she said. “We had just stopped to sup. But I cannot see what
difference that makes now.”
    “It
makes a great deal of difference to me,” he shot back. “If I leave now, I can
find them before they break camp before dawn.”
    “Leave?” Sarah’s
newfound courage deserted her, and a surge of panic flooded in. He had found
them, had forced his presence upon them, had exuded calm and competency,
raising her hopes, and then, with that one little word he dashed those hopes to
bits. “Leave? But you cannot leave! You have found us, and now you must
rescue us! It is the gentlemanly thing to do!”
    He
chuckled in the face of Sarah’s horror and outrage, spreading his hands wide. “Therein
lies the crux of your difficulty, Madame. I fear, I am no gentleman.”
    He
picked up his rifle, which he’d dropped during their brief struggle, and turned
his broad fringed back upon her.
    “But
you cannot leave!” Sarah said, following after him. “Kathryn is