Wild legacy (36 page)

After midnight, Liana had joined the others tending Falcon, allowing Johanna to lie down in Dominique's room for a brief nap, but despite the women's exhaustive efforts, the injured brave's condition continued to deteriorate. Sweat poured off his body and soaked the bedclothes, and no amount of cool water eased his torment. Unconscious, he gave an occasional moan, but never opened his eyes.

Jean came to the door at midmorning. "Hunter and Christian are back. They said anyone who wishes to observe may. I thought I should ask you first."

Arielle came to the door to speak to her son. She dared not tell him that she feared all anyone could do now was bid Falcon a loving good-bye, and instead opened the door wide. "It is a large room. Everyone is welcome."

Belle and Dominique were on the far side of the bed as the rest of the family began to file in. David brought his sons and they ran to Johanna. Liberty tame in, holding her three-year-old brother's hand, and Jean carried Christian's year-old baby boy. Byron entered and leaned against the wall, followed by Etienne, who caught Dominique's eye and then moved aside. Many of the servants lined up in the hallway, but respectful of the situation, they remained outside.

Dominique reached for Belle's hand and held on tight. They heard male voices intoning a rhythmic chant, accompanied by a rattling sound, pebbles bouncing inside Hunter's turtle-shell rattle, but they could not identify it until he came into view. Even after being warned the Seneca ritual required masks, none of them had expected such ghastly faces and when Hunter and Christian entered, there was a collec-

tive gasp; frightened, Christian's youngest son began a high-pitched wail. Liana quickly plucked him from Jean's arms and carried him to the window to distract him.

The braves tapped their staves on the floor in a brisk, thumping cadence and made straight for the fireplace. The fire had gone out before dawn and the ashes were cold. Each scooped up a handful, and with Hunter leading, they circled the room, sang, and sprinkled ashes on the heads of everyone gathered there. To continue the ritual, Christian returned to the fireplace and built a new fire. When it was burning brightly, he and his father moved to the bed.

Their deep voices filled the room with the sacred chant of the Seneca, punctuated by the turtle-shell rattle. Hunter shook ashes along the length of Falcon's leg, then, taking care not to inflict more pain, rubbed them into his skin very gently. He sprinkled more ashes on the poultice, and this time blew them away. He again shook his rattle over his son and never breaking the rhythm of the ancient chant, led Christian from the room.

Dominique was so tired she wasn't sure what she had just witnessed, but she did not consider the ritual nearly as strange as the masks Hunter and Christian had worn to perform it. She had actually found the sonorous chant comforting and hoped Falcon had heard it, too. He appeared to be breathing easier, which was an enormous relief, even if there was no other visible sign of improvement. She smiled at her family lining the room. From their weary and confused expressions, she doubted they had understood any more than she.

"I think we can go now," she suggested softly, and with nods of agreement, everyone except Belle began to shuffle out slowly. When Dominique sent her sister a questioning glance, Belle shook her head. "I just need a moment's rest, then I'll be back," Dominique promised, but as she went out the door, Etienne took her hand.

"You have not slept at all, have you?" he asked.

"There was no time."

"There is time now," he urged, and with a slight tug, encouraged her to come with him up the stairs. "You are very good with others, Dominique, but who takes care of you?"

"I don't need anyone," she insisted, but she did not object when he followed her through her door. Her bed looked so wonderfully inviting, she did not even take the time to undress before she lay down and curled up on her side.

Etienne came to the bed to remove her slippers and sat down to rub her feet. "Your feet are as pretty as the rest of you."

"Hmm." As usual, Etienne had a magical touch, and after a few minutes of his gentle attentions her feet were no longer sore. Dominique knew it was improper for him to be in her room, and that she should send him away, but she could not seem to find the energy to do so.

Etienne waited for a word of encouragement or appreciation, then realized from Dominique's easy breathing that she had fallen asleep. He ran his fingertips up her calf, and remembered how good the rest of her had felt. He leaned against the post at his back and tried to decide what to do. Someone had to drive the injured men home, and he was the logical choice, but he had not gotten much sleep last night either.

He kicked off his shoes, removed his borrowed vest, and still clad in his shirt, gray pants, and stockings, curled up behind Dominique. He dropped his right arm over her waist to catch her hand, and snuggled close. He longed to make her love him with a passion that would bind them together for all time, but thus far, he had had scant success with that. He closed his eyes and wished they were again down by the river so he might have another chance to convince her to accept still more of his affection. For the moment, just holding her close was nice. She might not care all that

much for him, but he felt certain she must like how he made her feel.

It was a beginning.

After leaving Falcon's room, Arielle and Byron sat down in the parlor for a few minutes, where each hoped Hunter's ceremony had given Falcon's body the time it needed to heal. They were both so tired, the fact they were now relying on a primitive ritual did not even strike them as odd. "I need to change my clothes, and then I must return to Falcon's room," Arielle said to her husband.

"Let's just go to bed," Byron encouraged. "You said yourself you've done all you could."

"Yes, that is true, but—"

Byron helped her to her feet. "Come on. I insist. Belle and Dominique will know where to find you should you be needed."

Her sense of responsibility clashing with her fatigue, Arielle did not give in until she realized that she must. "Let us pray that I am not called." She covered a wide yawn, but as they reached the landing, she veered toward Falcon's room. "I just want to check on him," she whispered, and Byron went on into their room.

Arielle looked in on Falcon and found Belle asleep beside him. She tiptoed over to them, then, pleased that Falcon was resting so peacefully, saw no reason to disturb her daughter. She went on up to Dominique's room and rapped lightly at the door. When she did not respond, Arielle thought she might be elsewhere, but peeked in.

A single glance made it apparent Dominique had fallen asleep the instant her head had touched her pillow, but Arielle could not believe her daughter would have invited Etienne LeBlanc to join her. She approached the bed, meaning to send him out of the room at once, but asleep, with

his dark curls spilled over his forehead, he resembled his father so closely that she was taken aback.

Dominique had been up here in her room when Arielle had told Belle and Falcon that she might have known Etienne's father, so Dominique had no reason to fear the young Frenchman. Were it not for harsh memories of Gaetan LeBlanc, Arielle would have thought them a handsome pair. After the awful way Sean O'Keefe had behaved, she hated to reveal Gaetan's history and perhaps prejudice her daughter against a young man who had already proven himself to be responsible.

Because the day had been extraordinary, and fatigue made any serious contemplation impossible, rather than awaken Etienne and send him to his own room, Arielle turned and left the pair to enjoy what she assumed would be an entirely innocent nap. She could not manage anything else herself, and was grateful that Byron was sound asleep when she joined him in their bed.

Etienne had felt Arielle's presence, and without having to open his eyes, had recognized her by her perfume. He had hoped she would be too tired to be provoked with him, and was relieved that had proved to be the case. He had to laugh to himself then because with such a lovely daughter, Arielle ought not to be so trusting.

Hunter, Alanna, Christian, Liana, Johanna, David, and the children were gathered on the front steps. Hunter and Christian had left their masks upstairs, but the roles they had played were not as easily laid aside, Neither man spoke as the others expressed their hopes for Falcon's recovery. The eldest at five years, Liberty was the only child who really understood just how dire her uncle's situation was. While her brothers and cousins played on the steps, she stared at Hunter with a level gaze he could not ignore.

"What is it, Liberty?" he finally had to ask. "Did our masks frighten you, too?"

"I'm not one of the babies," the little red-haired girl replied proudly.

Hunter caught her mother's eye. "Was she ever a baby?" he asked.

Liana shook her head. "She was small, but never a baby. Liberty was born wise."

"She has a good name then," Hunter said. He reached out his hand and Liberty came to him and leaned against his knee. She was an affectionate child and was frequently in her grandfather's arms.

"Well, Miss Liberty," Hunter encouraged, "tell me what you think."

Liberty cocked her head, but her gaze was steady "I think Falcon is going to be angry he missed seeing you dance."

Hunter laughed, but the rest of his family was still too frightened to appreciate the humor in Liberty's comment. "I hope he is furious," Hunter told her. "Then I'll know he's well."

Liberty played with the fringe on his sleeve, then glanced over at her father. "Falcon's going to be mad at you, too."

"I certainly hope so," Christian swore. "In fact, I'll be real disappointed if he isn't."

"Do you want to go home, too?" David asked Johanna.

"I don't know. Do we dare?" She searched her parents' faces for a hopeful sign but they both looked very tired, Johanna waited until she could not be overheard. "I'm still terrified we're going to lose Falcon."

Alanna reached out to take her daughter's hand. Alanna had lost her whole family in an Indian raid when she was small, but once she had recovered from the horror of that day, they had continued to live on in her heart and mind. "No one is ever really lost, sweetheart, as long as someone who loved them remains alive. Happy memories last forever."

Johanna was close to tears, but refused to give in to them. She rose and shook out her skirt. "I'm going up to stay with Belle and Falcon. Why don't you get some rest?"

"Perhaps later." Alanna took her husband's hand as soon as they were alone. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Do not thank me yet," Hunter warned.

Alanna rested her head on his shoulder. "No. I want to thank you now for trying as best you could to save our son."

Hunter could have done no less, but choked on tears, he could not refuse her gratitude.

The sun had set before Dominique awakened from her nap; horrified to have slept so long, she left her bed and hurriedly lit a lamp. She went to the washstand and splashed water on her face, then, needing a change of clothes, stripped and washed her whole body clean. Praying that Falcon's condition had improved, she donned fresh lingerie, a rose silk gown, and restyled her hair atop her head.

It wasn't until she returned to the bed for her slippers that she noticed the light dusting of ashes on the second pillow. There was a smudge on her own, but she had awakened in nearly the same position as she had fallen asleep. Puzzled, it took a moment for her to recall that Etienne had followed her into the room. That he would have lain down beside her, which he obviously had, annoyed her no end.

She cursed herself for giving him the mistaken impression that she would welcome his company, and shoved her feet into her shoes. She would deal with Etienne later Right now, she had to see Falcon. When she reached his room, the door was slightly ajar, and her spirits soared when she heard soft conversation rather than weeping coming from inside. She knocked as she entered, but stopped just inside the door.

Falcon was sitting up in bed, and Belle was feeding him

a bowl of soup. Hunter and Alanna were standing at the foot of the bed; her father was seated in the rocking chair while her mother was at the fireplace brewing a pot of tea. They all turned toward her and smiled.

"I didn't mean to sleep so long," Dominique apologized as she came toward the bed. "It's so good to see you awake again, Falcon. I've really missed you."

Falcon responded with a sheepish smile and swallowed another spoonful of soup. He had to lean back against his pillow to rest a minute, but his eyes had lost their fevered glaze. Bare-chested, he was much too thin, but Dominique thought he looked wonderful. When she came up to the bed, Belle moved aside so she could kiss his cheek. His skin felt cool; elated, she had a difficult time containing her tears.

There was no way to tell what had worked the miracle— her mother's herbs, the whole family's prayers, or Hunter and Christian's Seneca incantations—but clearly Falcon had had one. "I hope that your whole life is as blessed as it has been today," Dominique told him.

"I've always been lucky," Falcon claimed. "Isn't that right, Belle?"

"Yes. That's true." Belle laughed as she fed him more soup. "Of course, I'm so happy to see you smiling I would agree with anything you said."

"It is true," Falcon swore.

"Can I bring you anything else?" Dominique asked.

Falcon thought a moment. "Blackberries?"

Dominique started for the door. "I'll bring some cream," she assured him. She raised her skirt and hastened down the stairs. There was no one in the parlor, and she was surprised to find Jean seated in the dining room. A big bowl of blackberries had been set out for supper, and she spooned some into a small bowl and poured on cream.

"Have you seen fetienne?" she asked as casually as she could.

Jean had been reading and looked up from his book. "He's gone."

Startled, Dominique nearly slopped cream over the tablecloth but caught herself before she spilled the first drop. "Gone?" she repeated calmly, but her heart was caught in her throat. "Where?"