A Heart for the Taking (11 page)

Jonathan had frozen, and with his mother crying and clinging to his arm, begging him not to risk his life in a brawl with Chance, he had spun on his heel and left the field to Chance. Once again Chance and Hugh prepared to leave.

Despite the scene with Jonathan, Sam had shaken Chance’s hand and said, “I pray God that you are successful.”

Chance had smiled. “I usually am, sir. If the women can be found, Hugh and I shall do so. Rest easy on that fact. Worry instead as to the state we will find them in.”

Sam had nodded grimly, and then, with Hugh at his heel, Chance had melted into the forests. Picking up the trail was not easy. Sam and Jonathan had trampled over many of the signs of the passage by the two women and their abductors. It took the two men several hours of searching in everwidening circles before they discovered what they were looking for: a scrap of pale yellow material clinging to a briar vine.

In the time that followed there were not many clues for them to find: a feminine footprint near a creek bed; a blue thread dangling from a branch; several strands of blond hair tangled in a bush. But with their keen eyes and extensive knowledge, slowly, methodically, and inevitably they followed the scant trail left behind by the women. Darkness was falling that first day when they stumbled across the
camp where the women had made their escape. It was too dark for them to continue their search, and reluctantly they camped for the night at that same spot.

The next morning Chance’s mouth had been grim as he and Hugh began to follow the obvious trail left by the women. The fact that their captors had abandoned the women seemed very ominous, and he feared that the pitiful trail he was following would end in tragedy.

But by the time they made camp that second night, Chance was hopeful again. It was apparent that the women had not been followed very far by their captors, and the painful thought of finding the baroness’s lifeless, mutilated body in some shadowy glade gradually faded from his mind.

As he and Hugh continued to follow the traces left by the women, Chance was conscious of a grudging admiration for the baroness and her sister. They might be delicate, pampered Englishwomen, but they had shown pluck and great daring in managing to escape from their captors.

Despite his growing optimism that they would find the women alive, it wasn’t until he and Hugh actually stood there looking down at the two exhausted ladies as they slept on the ground that the anguished knot deep in his belly finally loosened. They had found them, and they were alive.

And not, he thought with grim humor, exactly pleased to see them, either. The quickly masked expression on the baroness’s face certainly suggested that she would have preferred to be rescued by just about anyone other than Chance Walker. His lips quirked. His baroness certainly wasn’t a hypocrite; she didn’t like him, and even the present circumstances weren’t going to change anything.

Grudging admiration flickering in his eyes, he drawled, “My apologies that your charming host was not the one to have found you, Your Ladyship. But then if Jonathan had been looking for you, well, I fear you would never have been found.”

“It does not matter who found us,” Fancy said crisply, as she rose to her feet and shook out her tattered gown. “All that matters is that we
have
been found, and for that I thank
you with all my heart.” Despite her sincere and deep gratitude, some imp of mischief made her add, “You
were
looking for us? You have not simply stumbled across us as did those wretched Thacker creatures?”

The good cheer vanished from Chance’s gaze, and Hugh audibly sucked in his breath. “Udell Thacker?
He
was your abductor?” Chance demanded roughly.

Unconcernedly helping Ellen to her feet, Fancy replied, “Mmm, yes, that was his name, Udell Thacker. I believe that the other cretin with him is called Clem.” Smiling sweetly at Chance over her shoulder, she asked, “Are they friends of yours?”

Hugh choked and hastily looked away.

“Not exactly,” Chance growled, not best pleased by her manner. Under the circumstances, a little more gratitude would have been expected and, he admitted ruefully, appreciated, but he should have known that his baroness would do precisely the opposite—bait him instead of placating him. And damned if he’d let her get the better of him.

Blue eyes suspiciously guileless, he inquired innocently, “Did you enjoy your stay with them? Other, er, ladies, have not found them, ah, polite.”

Fancy glared at him, suddenly tired of the situation. “We did not, as you know very well! From the moment that those wretched beasts made their presence known, it has been most,
most
disagreeable.”

Hugh spoke up. Gravely he said, “You are very lucky to still be alive, Your Ladyship. Few women who fall into the hands of the Thackers live to tell about it. And those who do . . .” He hesitated and then asked awkwardly, “They did not ...?” He cleared his throat, not certain how to proceed. “You were not . . .?”

Fancy shook her head, knowing precisely what the young man was attempting to ask. “No. They did not violate us, but only because we managed to escape before they could.”

Her big eyes fixed on Hugh, Ellen said shyly, “Fancy was wonderful! She hit that awful Clem over the head with a skillet!”

“And do not forget,” Fancy added softly, hugging Ellen to her, “that you threw the coffeepot at Udell. Had you not done that, we might never have escaped.”

“Resourceful of you,” Chance murmured, again admiring the women despite himself, this time for the way they were attempting to make light of their frightening ordeal. It was obvious that they had been terrified and were now exhausted and, he suspected, extremely hungry. Their faces were thin and worn, remembered terror lurking in the depths of their eyes; their clothing was torn and stained, hanging in tatters on their slender forms; yet both acted as if nothing untoward had occurred. Gently he said, “You have been very brave. Not many women, even those raised in the wilderness and used to its dangers, could have survived.”

Fancy sent him her first genuine smile. “Why, thank you,” she said softly. “That was very handsome of you.”

Chance was stunned by that smile, something warm and powerful unfurling within him. He stared bemused at her for a long moment, then seemed to shake himself and turned away. He glanced around the little glen and said gruffly, “We will camp here for tonight. You both are in need of rest and probably a good meal.”

Ellen laughed and clapped her hands. “Oh,
yes.
We have talked and dreamed of nothing but food these past four days.”

Chance smiled at her, liking the baroness’s younger sister. “You may have to make do with cornmeal mush unless I can find some game.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Ellen exclaimed, her blue eyes bright with anticipation. “Anything other than berries.”

Chance looked across at Hugh. “You stay here with the women. I’ll see what I can find.”

After placing his long black rifle against the trunk of a tree next to the large pack he carried, he unslung his bow and took a few arrows from a quiver, then disappeared into the forests.

Fancy almost cried out in protest as his tall form slipped into the green gloom. Something about Chance Walker
seemed to bring out the worst in her, yet she had felt bereft when he left. Telling herself that she was being utterly irrational, she looked at the young man who remained and smiled brightly at him.

“You have rescued us and we don’t even know your name,” she said softly.

Hugh smiled. “Hugh Walker, Your Ladyship. Chance and I are cousins of a sort—at least that’s what my father claims. Just about all Walkers in Virginia are cousins of some sort.”

“Well, I am very glad to meet you, Hugh Walker,” Fancy said warmly. “This is my sister, Ellen. Considering the circumstances, I think we can dispense with ‘Your Ladyship.’ My name is actually Frances, but all my friends call me simply Fancy. I hope that you will do so.”

Hugh stared at her, admiration obvious in his blue eyes. The baroness was not as he expected. Neither haughty, nor demanding, nor very old, and despite the circumstances, extremely pretty.

A slow, lazy smile curved his long mouth. “I’d be honored to be counted as one of your friends, Fancy.” He glanced at Ellen. “And I’m very happy to meet you, too, Ellen.”

Ellen gave a little sniff and held her head high, muttering, “Mistress Ellen, if you don’t mind!”

Fancy glanced at her in astonishment. Ellen never stood on ceremony and occasionally accused
her
of being stuffy. So why was she acting so stiffly to this very nice young man?

A gleam entered the nice young man’s eyes as he looked, really looked, at Ellen for the first time. The knowledge that the baroness’s young sister was also very,
very
pretty suddenly dawned on him. “Very well,” he said with mocking amusement, “
Mistress
Ellen it shall be . . . and you may call me Master Hugh.”

Ellen shrugged. Her nose at an imperious angle, she said, “Well, now that we have that settled, shouldn’t you be
doing
something,
Master
Hugh? Or are you just going to stand around and chat with us?”

It didn’t help Ellen’s frame of mind when, not the least
put out by her haughty manner, Hugh asked affably, “And what would you wish me to do, Mistress Ellen? This is hardly the queen’s drawing room.”

Ellen took in an indignant breath, very much aware that this far-too-handsome young man was amused by her. Feeling bewildered and mortified by her contrary actions, she said crossly, “I am aware of that. But are you just going to stand around and wait until Chance returns?”

“Chance?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow, laughter dancing in his thickly lashed dark blue eyes. “Not Master Chance?”

Ellen gave a sound like a thwarted kitten and turned away, just as Fancy recovered her wits and entered the fray. “I am certain,” she interjected hastily, “that Chance would not consider it impertinent. In fact,” she added with a speaking look at Ellen, “I think that this is no time to stand on ceremony.” Quietly she said, “These gentlemen have, no doubt, saved our lives. We owe them a great deal.”

Ellen nodded her blond head, shame flashing through her. Contrition in her big blue eyes, she looked up at Hugh. “I do not know what was wrong with me. I am not usually so horrid. Please forgive me?” A beguiling smile teased the corner of her pink little mouth. “And call me Ellen? Please?”

Hugh stared down into Ellen’s face. Even dirt stained and tired, she was undeniably lovely. And that smile of hers . . . His heart, normally the most reliable organ, seemed as if it would leap from his chest, and for a second he was struck dumb, his mind going curiously blank. It was Ellen’s gentle touch on his hand that brought him back to the present.

She had stepped closer to him, and, concern on her pretty face, she asked, “Are you all right? You look ... queer.”

Huskily Hugh said, “ ’Tis that smile of yours. You should not spring it on a man without warning, Ellen.”

“Oh, what a handsome thing to say,” she said happily, her smile deepening. “Now may I call you Hugh?”

He swept her a low, gallant bow. “I would be honored.”

Amusement in her voice, Fancy murmured, “If you two
have worked out what you will be calling each other, could we please set up some sort of camp?”

Roses bloomed in Ellen’s cheeks, and Hugh, his color a little high, glanced over at Fancy as if remembering for the first time that he and Ellen were not alone. “Our camp will not be very luxurious, I fear,” he warned. “We had to carry everything with us. But if you ladies will sit down over there, I will see what I can do.”

“We will help,” Fancy said. “Ellen and I can gather firewood, while you unpack what we’ll need for the night.”

When Chance returned just as dusk was falling, with the hindquarters of a small deer slung across his back, he found a fire burning brightly near the stream, a pot of coffee burbling merrily near the edge, and the smell of baking johnny cakes wafting on the air. Hugh and the two women were absorbed in their conversation as they sat around the fire, and it wasn’t until Chance was almost upon them that Hugh became aware of his presence.

After leaping to his feet, his hand going automatically to the long-bladed knife that hung at his side, Hugh grinned sheepishly when he finally recognized Chance in the fading light. “I did not hear you.”

“And if I had been one of the Thackers, or an Indian seeking scalps, you would not be hearing anything ever again,” Chance returned dryly.

Settling his knife once more in its accustomed position, Hugh grimaced. “You are right. I should have been paying more attention.”

Chance merely grunted and, laying down the hindquarters, said, “This should still the worst of everyone’s hunger. What we do not eat this evening, we can smoke through the night and finish it off in the morning.”

The meal that followed was one of the most delicious Fancy could ever remember eating. The venison was sweet and succulent, the coffee strong and dark, and the johnny cakes, which Hugh explained had originally been called “journey” cakes, were crusty on the outside and tender in the middle. She and Ellen would have made pigs of themselves,
but both men warned them not to subject their empty stomachs to too much food at one time. Fancy ate slowly, relishing the pleasing flavor of the deer, and only when Chance took her pewter plate from her and said quietly, “That’s enough for now—in an hour or two you can have some more,” did she realize that her hunger had abated.

Her stomach satisfied for the present, Fancy leaned back against the trunk of a nearby tree and sighed. They were, as Hugh had explained, a long distance from Walker Ridge and habitation, but the long and possibly dangerous journey ahead of them didn’t worry her at the moment. The blackness of the night pressed close, but the fire was cozy, fear and hunger were no longer her constant companions, and she was aware of an odd contentment. For the first time since they had been captured by the Thackers, she felt safe.

Her gaze traveled over to the shadowy spot just beyond the fire, where Chance sat partially concealed. She didn’t like him very much. When he wasn’t irritating her, he was mocking her. But inexplicably, he also made her feel . . . protected. All her life, Fancy had been the one doing the protecting. It was a strange sensation for her to be on the receiving end. This feeling wouldn’t last, of course, she told herself sternly. Once they were at Walker Ridge, she would seldom see him, and, she reminded herself grimly, she
really
didn’t like him.