Wild legacy (32 page)

Etienne used the post at his left to pull himself to his feet. Dominique rose and stepped close. The sleeve of her gown was whisper-soft against his bare skin, and she smelled delicious, both spicy and sweet. He believed she was being nice to him because of what he had done for Falcon rather than out of any sincere affection for him, but he allowed himself to enjoy it and slipped his arm around her waist.

"I will not faint," he assured her, "but this is nice."

Ignoring his compliment because she feared he would misinterpret any reply, she clucked her tongue softly. "You were too thin to begin with, Etienne. I'll bet you don't even cast a shadow now. Don't you dare leave until you've had enough good meals to gain some weight."

She was fussing over him the way his mother had, and Etienne had not expected that. He longed to lean down and kiss her, but thought he'd better get rid of his beard first. "Did you miss me?" he asked instead.

"Miss you?" Dominique scoffed. "You're thinner but no less conceited, are you, Monsieur LeBlanc? It will undoubtedly surprise you to learn that I have better things to do than pine for you and don't lie and say you've thought of me because I'm sure you haven't."

"Constantly," Etienne swore.

Dominique looked up to scold him, and then was sorry. He was tired and dirty, utterly forlorn, and yet his teasing glance touched her. The war had twisted all their lives, and while she had learned a sad lesson in love from Sean O'Keefe, she did not want to learn anything this dashing Frenchman obviously wanted to teach her.

that he is at home." She waited for Alanna to leave, then peeled back Falcon's pant leg past the bandage. She heard Belle gasp, and did not try and discount her fears. His wound was so badly infected his leg was swollen from hip to toe. It would require all the knowledge and skill she possessed not to simply save his leg, but his life.

Falcon's eyes were closed, but Belle was watching Arielle closely. Arielle raised her finger to her lips to warn her daughter to be still. She removed the filthy bandage and dropped it on the floor. She could see the puckered edges of the entry wound, but did not want to touch it. "Is the bullet still in your leg, or was it removed?" she asked.

Falcon looked up at her, his dark eyes glazed. "It missed the bone and went clear through. At least I didn't get hit in the knee, but I don't want to try and bend it."

"The wound isn't healing well," Arielle told him.

"I know. There isn't an inch of me that doesn't ache. Maybe I just have the fever that's made so many men sick." He squeezed Belle's hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come home like this."

Belle wiped the tears from her eyes. "You're home. That's all that matters."

Arielle had cared for Falcon since he was small, but he, Christian, and Johanna had always been as healthy as her own three children. Except for the cuts and scrapes all children receive, he had not caused her a minute of worry. Now she felt sick to her soul.

"Belle, I want you to sit with Falcon for a moment while I brew some comfrey tea and make a poultice. I'll have to reopen the wound and encourage the healing to begin again."

Falcon winced. "I don't think I can stand that."

"Let's put you in a hot bath first to soak the whole leg," Belle suggested. She pulled the chair at his desk over to the bed and sat down. "You'll feel much better after that. Then let's ask Uncle Byron for a bottle of his brandy."

The second idea had more appeal, but Falcon had taken a vow. "You know I don't drink."

Belle smoothed his hair off his forehead. Caked with dust from the trail, it had lost its vibrant sheen. "I won't have you screaming, and we don't have any laudanum to numb the pain."

Christian knocked lightly at the door, and then came in. "I know you don't want me in here, so I won't stay, but I had to see my brother." He took one look at Falcon's swollen leg and uttered a curse. "Aunt Arielle gave me such good care when I got shot in the arm no one even knew I'd been wounded. She'll give you the same excellent care, but I wish you'd gotten home sooner."

"So do I." Falcon managed a smile, but it was faint. "Will you look after the other men? We didn't feel well enough to talk much, but I've grown fond of them anyway."

"Of course." Christian drew Arielle aside. "What can I do to help?"

"Help your mother, please. As soon as there's enough hot water, bring it up here with a tub. I want to bathe Falcon before I do anything else." She saw the question in his eyes, but could not promise a cure and hurried him from the room. She paused at the door. "You needn't worry, Falcon. Belle will be the one to help you bathe."

As soon as her mother had closed the door, Belle leaned down to kiss Falcon. "I've been so worried about you. One afternoon I was helping Mother tend her herbs and I heard you call my name. I know you weren't there, but I heard it so clearly, and I've been sick with dread ever since. It was October 7. WTiat were you doing that day?"

Falcon brought her fingertips to his lips. "That was the day I got shot."

"It wasn't merely my imagination then, was it?"

Falcon could barely keep his eyes open. "No. I thought of home, and you. I'm glad you heard me."

Belle began to cry, and Falcon slipped his arm around

her shoulders to draw her head down upon his chest. "We'll be all right, Belle. Your mother can work miracles."

Belle gripped his hand more tightly. "Yes. She can," she assured him, but she was so afraid a miracle might not be enough.

Dominique and Etienne passed her brother, Jean, on the stairs. He was carrying clothes he had borrowed from Beau's room for the injured men, and paused to greet them. "Is it true you were in the battle at King's Mountain?" he asked.

"The story was reported in the Virginia Gazette' 9 Dominique added.

"Yes. We were there. The battle was nearly over when Falcon was hit. I will have to tell you about it later. Now, I am too tired to remember everything you would enjoy hearing."

"Later then," Jean insisted, and he hurried on down the stairs.

Etienne saw the worried look on Dominique's face and tightened his hold on her waist. "The war must sound very exciting to him, but I will tell him the truth about how awful it is. You need have no worries that I will encourage him to enlist in the militia."

"He's only sixteen, but I know there are other young men his age fighting. He's been content to help our father until now, and perhaps seeing Falcon so badly wounded will keep him from thinking of the war simply as an adventure."

"Perhaps I should have stopped to seek treatment for Falcon and the others along the way, but I did not know whom to trust, and Falcon wanted so badly to come home."

They had reached the third floor landing and Dominique nodded toward the end of the hall. "The guest room is on your right. It has a beautiful view of the river." It was also the room where Melissa had died giving birth to Christian,

but the Barclays never explained its macabre history to guests. "You'll want a bath, of course."

As they entered the room, Etienne eyed the bed longingly. "All I want is to sleep. If there is water in the pitcher at the washstand, I'll clean up there and bathe later."

Dominique quickly checked the pitcher. "We weren't expecting guests, so I'm afraid it's empty but I'll fill it from the one in my room."

The guest room was painted a pale green, and the pitcher and bowl were white with delicate ivy trim. Dominique picked up the pitcher and carried it across the hall to her room. Etienne followed her to the door and caught a glimpse of the pretty pink room. The color suited her, but he did not know how he felt about spending the night so close to her.

"Where is Beau's room?" he asked as she returned the ivy pitcher to the washstand.

"It's on the second floor, Have you changed your mind? Would you rather be there?"

"Who else has a room there?"

Dominique wondered why he had suddenly become so curious and swept him with a skeptical glance. Unlike Sean O'Keefe, his chest was as smooth as Falcon's, but his pants were slung low on his hips, revealing a trail of dark hair descending from his navel. Her lively imagination provided a vivid glimpse of how he would look nude, and completely losing her train of thought, she looked up abruptly and then recalled what he had asked.

"There are four bedrooms on that floor, too. My parents have one, my aunt and uncle another, and Beau and Falcon have the other two."

Etienne had taken only a couple of steps into the room. He had expected just a cot and washstand, but there was a fine bed, a large wardrobe, a desk with its own chair, and a thickly padded chair near the windows where a guest might sit to read or enjoy the view. There were fine paint-

ings and a beautiful rug with softly muted shades of blue and green. Never having slept in such a splendid room, he was overwhelmed.

"The Barclays treat their guests very well," he said. "I will stay here. Then I won't be in anyone's way."

Dominique did not understand why that concerned him, but did not argue. "You'll need clothes," she offered as she came toward him. "I'll see what we can find for you."

Etienne still held his buckskin shirt in his hand. Dominique's generosity made him feel as though he were a stray dog she had decided to keep for a pet. While it was flattering, it was also a most uncomfortable feeling. "I'll wash these buckskins tomorrow, so I won't need clothes."

"What do you expect to wear while you wash them, Etienne, and while they dry? Just take them off and leave them outside the door before you lie down to nap. I'll see that they're washed and leave clean clothes hanging on your doorknob."

"I do not want to trouble you."

Dominique read an entirely different intention in his gaze. If he had his way, he would give her plenty of trouble, but she was too worried about Falcon to spar with him and hurried around him to the doorway. "Is there anything else you need?"

What Etienne needed was to lose himself in her, but he was too tired to make such an offer, or follow through on it should she accept. "Merci" he called softly. "I am fine."

Dominique closed his door on the way out, but paused on the landing. Her mother and Belle were going to be occupied treating Falcon, which meant the other three men had to be looked after. She found them still huddled on the front steps, arguing with Jean about accepting Beau's clothes.

"Gentlemen, please," she scolded them softly, and instantly had their attention. "Jean, Etienne needs fresh clothing, too." She told him to leave what he had gathered in

the sitting room, and what to do for Etienne. Then she smiled at the wounded men.

It was easy to discern the injuries of two with their bandaged arm and foot, but the third fellow was seated where he could lean against a marble column, and was nearly as pale as the stone. She knelt beside him and touched his forehead. He was feverish, and she wanted to get him inside. When her cousin, Johanna, came running up, she asked for her help.

"What's your name?" Dominique asked the soldier.

He tucked his hands in his armpits and began to shiver. "Henry Smith, miss."

"Well, Henry, Johanna is going to help you inside. My mother knows more about herbs than anyone else alive, and we'll see you have a hot bath, slather you with one of her salves, rebandage your wounds, and send you off for home tomorrow feeling a lot better than you do today."

Fascinated by the fetching blonde, Henry nodded. "I feel better already." He looked up at Johanna, who, while a brown-eyed brunette, resembled Dominique slightly. They were both such pretty women, he wondered if they might not be angels. When he asked, Johanna took his arm to help him to his feet.

"You might call us that," she agreed, "for surely we're doing heaven's work."

Dominique waited until Johanna and Henry had disappeared inside to speak to the other men. The one with the bandaged arm was clad in buckskins, the other in a threadbare black suit. "Tell me your names," she encouraged.

"I'm Robert Haywood," the one in buckskins announced, "and this here's Gregory Berry. Neither of us wants your charity, but the Frenchman brought us here anyway."

"You're serving with the militia?" Dominique asked, and the pair nodded. "Then you're fighting for all of us, and if we wish to give you a meal and a change of clothes to

thank you for your sacrifice, then you ought not to refuse the gesture."

The men exchanged an uneasy glance, and then hung their heads. "We don't want to be no trouble/' Stephen mumbled.

"You're not the first soldiers I've tended," Dominique told them, "and I doubt you'll be the last. Now let's get you inside. Aren't you hungry? When my sister and I traveled up from South Carolina with Falcon we had little other than fish and berries. I'll bet you men haven't had much more. Wouldn't you like some ham and biscuits?"

Robert moaned in eager anticipation. "We didn't mean to be rude, miss."

Dominique got them on their feet, then slipped her arm around Stephen's waist to help him along. "Of course not. You're just tired and sore, aren't you?" She got the pair into the sitting room and sent the cook's daughters, who worked in the house during the day, out to the kitchen to fetch the meal she had promised. Liana came to the door as she was trying to decide how to arrange for baths for everyone.

"How is Falcon?" Liana asked fearfully.

Dominique waited for Johanna to come close. "I haven't seen him since he arrived, but now that he's home, he'll surely make a quick improvement. Let's do what we can for these men so my mother can concentrate on him." With the same excellent organizational ability she had displayed in Camden, Dominique soon had their wounded guests' needs met, but she still did not know what to do about Etienne, who, with a single glance, always seemed to see too much.

Arielle found Byron and Hunter seated on the back steps. She sat down between them, looped her arms through theirs, and laid her head on her husband's shoulder. "I have never

been so frightened," she confessed in a trembling voice. "Your son is a strong young man, Hunter, but he is very, very ill. You may wish to summon a physician from town, but I fear he would advise amputation and it is too late to save Falcon's life by taking his leg. He would never agree to it even if it could."