Rebel (29 page)

“There’s not going to be a right time to tell her,” Lawrence said.

“That may be true,” James said, agreeing with his son-in-law. “You could just forget what really happened, Ian. Spare her any further misery.”

“I can’t, Uncle James. It wouldn’t be right,” Ian said.

“No, it wouldn’t be right. But you are the one to make that decision.”

Alaina hadn’t realized that she’d been walking around the porch to accost the men until she reached them, her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she came to them at last. James was by the door, Jerome and Julian were in the rockers, Lawrence Malloy was on the steps. Ian was leaning against the railing.

He was the one she needed to face.

“What are you all talking about?” she demanded hoarsely. “If there is something that has to do with my father—”

Ian was angry. He moved away from the railing, setting his hands on her shoulders. “If you’d wanted to be a part of the conversation, you should have made yourself known,” he told her. She felt the power in his cobalt gaze, the heat and strength in his hands.

She felt, as well, that his anger was directed almost as much at himself as it was at her.

She pulled free from his touch, spinning around to Julian. “What is he talking about?”

Julian looked at her helplessly.

Jerome stood and walked to the far end of the porch.

“Alaina,” Ian said, turning her back to face him, “your father wasn’t killed by the convict. He was killed by the soldiers’ fire.”

Alaina inhaled sharply, stunned.

“My God, the
army
killed him!” she exclaimed.

Ian shook his head. “No, Alaina,” he explained patiently, “the army didn’t kill him—he was killed by reckless men.”

“One and the same,” she cried.

“No, you can’t blame an entire army for the misdeeds of three frightened young recruits who were pitifully trained.”

“They have to pay!” she insisted.

“We intend to see that there is an inquest.”

“An inquest!” she exclaimed angrily. “An inquest! Those men should go up for murder.”

“Alaina, you must understand. There was a situation—”

“You’re excusing them!” she cried to Ian. “They killed my father, and you’re excusing them!”

“Alaina, please! You’re misunderstanding. You’re distraught—”

“Distraught! Teddy is dead, my father is
dead!
And you don’t know anything about it because your parents are both living, your great, wonderful family is all alive, and you can’t begin to imagine what this feels like! You—”

“Alaina, please,” Ian said, catching her shoulders, his grip firm. “I’m trying to explain the law—”

“The law!”

“We can demand an inquest; the soldiers will surely be reprimanded, perhaps dishonorably discharged. But no matter how you’re hurting, you can’t go about this like a foolish child—”

He was interrupted as she slapped him—a sudden, reflexive movement she immediately regretted.

But it was done.

The sound of it echoed on the porch.

Every man there was quiet. Dead still.

Including Ian. Who simply stared at her, his cheek bearing the imprint of her palm.

She wanted to apologize. She wanted to tell him that he and his entire army could go to hell.

He reached for her. Her eyes had been dead dry; she felt tears welling against her lids. She wasn’t going to cry anymore. She backed away from Ian, stricken. “You’d defend the army over my father!” she charged him. She was filled with anger at Teddy’s death all over again. She was afraid of Ian, afraid of what she had done, and so angry that she couldn’t begin to control herself. She had backed away from him; suddenly she leaped forward again, slamming her fists furiously against his chest in a wild, desperate fury.

“Alaina!”

His arms came around her with force, drawing her to him so that she could no longer pull back to strike. “Alaina!”

His voice was softer.

She went limp against him.

“They killed my father!” she whispered.

He picked her up, striding around the porch to the balcony doors to her room. He set her down upon her bed. Sobs shook her, dry sobs. No tears came to her eyes. It had been bad before. It was anguish upon agony now. The army had been so determined to kill deserters
that the men had killed her father along with the convicts.

She gasped, drawn back up as Ian came to her side, firmly taking hold of her wrists and forcing her to face him. He took a seat beside her on the bed, staring into her eyes. “What do you want, dammit, Alaina? Should I have shot the three of them on the spot? Would that have avenged Teddy’s death?”

“They should be charged with murder!” she cried. “You’re defending the bloody military!”

He shook his head. “If they were soldiers, if they were civilians, lawmen—it wouldn’t matter. There was no intent to kill Teddy. He was caught in what happened. The men were negligent, they were at fault. And yes, they must accept blame. But you won’t be able to bring a murder charge against them. They were scarcely boys sent out in the line of duty to bring back two cutthroats who had deserted and robbed and killed one man already out on Indian Key. Do you really want those three men to hang for your father? Would your father want that?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know, I just can’t let it go, something has to be done, those men must pay in some way, maybe I do want them to hang—”

“And me along with them?” he interrupted wearily.

“Ian—”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Alaina?”

“Tell you… about what?”

“That you were expecting a child.”

That
she
was expecting a child.

“Alaina?”

“You weren’t here to tell.”

“I wrote letters. You could have done the same.”

“You wrote letters that said “I’ll be assigned in Washington indefinitely and not much more. You knew where I was, and there was no question about it, so there seemed little sense in responding to your letters.”

“Indeed, perhaps it was rather definite that you were remaining at Belamar, but I do consider the fact that you’re expecting to be something you might have considered important enough to write to me.”

“I didn’t know at first. I wasn’t certain. I would have written eventually.”

“Would you? I’m not so sure. But I imagine someone would have told me when the child was born,” he murmured dryly.

“I imagine—if you were somewhere to be told,” she replied sweetly.

“You knew exactly where I was.”

“With the army! And what can this matter now?” Alaina whispered. “My father was murdered by that same army.”

“It matters, because the child has to be first in everything now,” he reminded her. “Alaina, my God, I understand your grief, please believe me. I respect your pain. But you can’t change what happened with your fury. You won’t be able to—”

“You won’t even try!” she accused him.

“Alaina, I’ve already written a letter to the commanding officer at Key West. The matter will be handled. But for now, you have to forget about it.”

“Forget—”

“Not your father, Alaina. You should never forget your father. But you should forget what happened, because the wheels of justice can be slow. And your father died, you did not.”

“Damn you, Ian, you can’t possibly expect me to simply forget that my father was killed by the men who should have been protecting him. You can’t—”

She broke off, gasping suddenly, her features going very pale. She’d never appeared quite so delicately beautiful and fragile before.

So vulnerable.

“What? What is it?” Ian demanded harshly, frightened. He stood, drawing her to her feet along with him, staring at her anxiously. “Alaina! What, what now?” he persisted.

“The baby…”

“My God, what’s wrong?” He swept her back off her feet, laying her down on the bed, even as she protested.

“I’m all right, I’m all right, it’s just that…”

“What? For the love of God, what?”

“It moved, Ian. It moved. I’ve felt—well, little wiggles before, but never, never something like this! So very strong.”

Her palm lay over her stomach. His hand curled over hers. She shook her head. “Can you feel it? Oh, he is refusing to move again now that I am anxious for him to do so.”

He could feel nothing as yet except for the tightness of her abdomen.

“Children, at any age, seldom do as their parents wish,” he reminded her.

She offered him a brief smile. “Oh, God, Ian, he is alive. Definitely alive!” she murmured in wonder.

Ian stood in the shadows. He doffed his boots and shirt, then lay down upon the bed at her side, drawing her against him.

But she stiffened against his hold. “Ian, you can’t defend the army!” she insisted.

He refused to reply. His hand moved low again, over the curve of her stomach. The warmth of his breath burned damply against her forehead as he held her to him.

“The babe is alive. For the love of God, Alaina, let’s keep him so,” he whispered vehemently.

She closed her eyes. She felt the ripple of movement— so fascinatingly, wonderfully strange!—within her again.

Life!

And how sadly ironic. Teddy’s life was gone, yet new life quickened. Teddy’s grandchild.

lan’s babe as well, she reminded herself, lan’s babe, and she’d not told Ian, he’d found out when he’d come here, found out from someone else.

She felt the strength of his arms around her, and wondered briefly when he would cease to pity her—and allow the anger he was surely feeling to erupt.

And now, to make matters worse, she’d slapped him in front of his family.

Why was she suffering so now over her own actions? Did they matter?

“Something must be done,” she said stubbornly.

“Something will be done. Alaina, quit fighting me. Let’s get some rest.”

She bit her lip, but did as he bid her, feeling the warmth and power of his body as she rested against his chest, far too weary to fight any more that night. With
a twinge of guilt, she realized that she was glad he had come and was with her, and she wondered what might have happened had he not arrived. She had nearly escaped the man in the water, and yet, if she hadn’t been able to put enough distance between them…

Yet it all seemed so cruelly ironic. Had Teddy just come in when she called him, they’d have been safely at the house when the convicts and army came through. She felt a moment’s fierce anger with her father for being so obsessive, then she felt guilt along with that anger, and again the frightful pain of loss.

Ian’s fingers moved through her hair, stroking so very gently.

Despite her best resolve, she was shaken by another trembling, dry sob.

“Alaina…”

She shook her head against him, feeling the sleek warmth of his flesh, breathing in the scent of him. “I’m all right. I was just… Ian, you’ve such a huge family. You have your folks, your brother, your sister, aunt, uncle, cousins… Teddy was all that I had.”

He was quiet, still stroking her hair.

“Well,” he murmured after a moment, “you do have me.”

She found herself rising up against him, trying to read his eyes in the night. “Do I, Ian? Do I have you?” she whispered softly.

“Ah, now, Mrs. McKenzie, that works two ways!” he reminded her softly. “Do I have you?”

“How could you not? I am nearly four months along with child, too pathetically shattered to have my wits about me, married to you, and therefore apparently at your whim and mercy.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, and she felt the strange sweep of his gaze touching her in the shadows. “I wonder, my love, if I will ever have you exactly at my mercy,” he said, and the sound of his voice was dry, but not without a certain tenderness.

“It seems that you are the one who will dictate where I will live,” she reminded him.

“I’m in the army; I go where I am assigned. 1 will not leave you alone here, Alaina.”

“You could send me to Cimarron.”

She felt him watching her. “I could.”

“But?”

“But I’ve decided that you’re coming with me,” he said with some exasperation.

She wanted to go with him, she realized. Very much. She had spent far too much time when he was away brooding about his possible activities—and his proximity to Colonel Magee’s daughter.

But she’d never, never let him know.

And so she replied to him gravely with another question. “And what if Florida secedes?”

“Florida has not seceded. We don’t even know the results of the election as of yet. Besides, you are at my mercy—didn’t you just say so? You’ll just have to abide by whatever decisions I might make.”

“Ah.”

“You will do so.”

“Naturally, I will—assuming you make the right decisions,” she murmured.

“Trust me, they’ll be right,” he said firmly. He reached out, cradling her head gently, drawing her back to lie against him. “Let’s get some sleep, Alaina,” he said softly.

She closed her eyes. He hadn’t answered her when she had asked if she really had him—he’d turned the question on her. But he was here with her, and for her, now. And in her present circumstances, she was rather at his mercy, even if it was a good thing that he didn’t realize just how much.

“Ian?” she said, curling her fingers where they lay against the crisp dark hair upon his chest.

“Yes, Alaina?”

“Will you mind that I am with you?”

“Alaina, you’re my wife, expecting my child. I’ll certainly not mind in the least that you are with me. It was your choice to stay with your father, remember?” he asked.

“You’d intended that I should stay with my father before I asked,” she told him.

“Your father had asked that I leave you,” he said. “Get some sleep, Alaina.”

She wanted to sleep.

Perhaps, even, to begin to heal.

Maybe she didn’t want three young men hanged. Their deaths would not bring her father back to life for her. But she did want justice.

She was sorry; she couldn’t just forgive…

And she’d never forget.

Never.

T
he air was definitely taking on a cooler measure, especially in the early morning. And still the sun beat down through the cool, damp air, striking Ian’s bare back as he worked splitting the slender pines he’d hauled from the mainland to the islet, preparing to leave the place in the care of his family.