Runaway (57 page)

She smiled. She threw herself against him again, holding tight.

He lifted her chin, brushing her mouth with his own. Her lips were salty with the taste of her tears.

“Let’s go home, little runaway,” he told her.

She smiled. “A runaway no longer. For I have run home!” she whispered.

He kissed her again. The savage wilderness surrounded him, but he knew that she was right. It was home to her, as it had been to him from the very first.

Or perhaps home wasn’t even in this Eden he loved so much.

They had come home to one another.

“The war—the war is far from over!” he told her huskily. “Tara, I don’t know what the future will hold.”

“It will hold a son, so your brother says,” she told him.

“It is a savage and dangerous land, and you were loath to come here once.”

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Savage, dangerous, wild—rather like the man I married. And neither of them I would ever, ever leave!” she vowed passionately.

He smiled and swept her up into his arms and kissed her deeply before carrying her up the embankment and toward the hammock where their horses waited.

It was time to go home. Destiny had come full circle.

He had acquired a wife.

And God had given him love.

Now, they had to forge a future. Together.

I
t was fall. To Tara it had always been the most beautiful season. In the North the leaves on the trees would be changing to brilliant colors, the air would have a nip. Here, fall came more subtly. The dead heat of summer—and it had been dreadfully hot—was lifted. The humidity had suddenly eased as well, and the days were simply beautiful. It was still warm enough to make one want to plunge into an inviting stream or happily dangle bare toes from a log, but by night it was decidedly cool and completely comfortable.

It had been a beautiful time to have a baby. Ian McKenzie had come into the world on October fifth. She had personally expected him to arrive on the fourth, but he had been quite stubborn, and it was long past midnight when he actually arrived. Despite all the warnings she had received from Naomi and other young mothers, she hadn’t quite been prepared for labor, and she hadn’t been entirely gracious through the ordeal, nearly breaking Jarrett’s fingers, but when it had been all over, she had experienced peace and happiness as she had never truly imagined them possible on earth. Her son was beautiful, round, healthy, with a lusty wail, huge blue eyes, and a headful of dark hair. For hours after his birth she and Jarrett had simply lain on opposite sides of him,
marveling at his perfection. For that day they’d let nothing intrude. They were both dreamers and idealists, longing for such peace and perfection as this in their Eden.

In the outside world, however, there was no peace to be had.

The war raged on. James had led his people ever deeper into the South. The summer had been brutal. American troops had suffered cruelly from disease. Campaigns against the Indians had bogged down. With fall, and the cooler weather now arriving, the situation was due to grow worse. But she and Jarrett had long ago made the decision to stay, to do whatever they could to save the lives of innocents—white lives, red lives. They had been told they could not stay neutral. They intended to prove everyone wrong and do just that. In spite of the war, even through her pregnancy, she had managed to visit James and his family. In spite of the war James and Naomi managed to see them. They had made a silent pact. They would prevail.

Jarrett still left upon occasion. He carried messages for the army and for the Seminoles. It never ceased to hurt. But she understood. Each time she lived for the moment he would return, and she learned not to be so afraid. They had weathered so much. They would weather more. If anything, their love grew stronger with each reunion, and for that she was heartily grateful.

Sometimes the past seemed just a vague nightmare, and for that she was grateful as well. It was true that she had come home.

“Tara!”

She smiled, slipping on her second earring as she heard Jarrett’s voice from below. He was growing anxious for her to come down. He’d been very strange most of the morning and she’d been afraid that he had been
biding his time before telling her about another journey he must take. But he hadn’t been grave or reserved, he had been grinning like the devil’s own imp.

“Tara!”

She came out on the balcony and looked down to the yard below. She frowned, seeing that Jeeves and Molly had set a table out on the lawn. The sun was beating down on the silver, the white linen tablecloth was blowing just slightly. As she looked across the yard she could see that an army ship was coming into dock.

“Jarrett?” she questioned uneasily.

He was just below her, near the table. He was in a black frock coat with a crisp white shirt and embroidered waistcoat beneath. His ebony hair was smoothed back, and his eyes were dark as coal as he looked up at her, a slight smile curving his lip.

“It is not a call to duty, my love,” he assured her.

“Then …?”

“What is young Ian up to?”

“Sleeping peacefully and being an angel, quite unlike his father. Jarrett, tell me what is going on!”

“Come down here and see!” he commanded with wicked relish.

She checked the baby in his cradle, then hurried from their room, running down the stairway and out the back. Jarrett was awaiting her impatiently, offering his arm for a stroll down to meet the docking ship.

“You are quite certain you’re not going to surprise me with a sudden departure?”

He shook his head.

“Not this time.”

“Jarrett …”

“Behave. We’ve guests arriving. You’ll want to greet them properly.”

She was about to argue, but words suddenly stilled
within her throat. She could see the young couple and child who had come to the starboard side of the ship, ready to come ashore. She was a pretty young woman with rich brown hair and bright hazel eyes. The toddler squirming in her arms was a little boy with brown hair and blue eyes. The man was slim and tall with a fashionable mustache and rich curling blond hair.

“William!” She gasped, staring at her brother. She spun on Jarrett, who shrugged.

“Brother or not, you did whisper for him in your sleep. I was compelled to meet the fellow—and delighted, of course, to learn that he and his wife could manage a trip down here.”

She threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him off his feet. Then she raced down the dock to greet her brother, Marina, and her nephew. There was pure mayhem for a good twenty minutes. William and Marina and young Master Wyeth Brent met Jarrett. Tyler Argosy explained to Tara how he and the army men at Fort Brooke had been engaged to bring her brother and his family down the river, keeping it all a secret from her. Robert appeared even as they all made their way to the luncheon on the lawn, and the day stretched out with hours of wonder and delight. The war was forgotten; the conversation switched back and forth from plays to literature, music, infants, feedings, sleeping, and the national elections. Ole Hickory was about to leave the office of the presidency. Martin Van Buren would be taking the oath come spring.

By nightfall, with her family tucked in for their stay, Tara was both exhausted and exhilarated. She wasn’t certain where Jarrett had gone, but she stepped outside to the porch, shivering just slightly in the night air. A full moon was out, beautiful in the black velvet heaven. A night owl cried, and she smiled, closing her eyes
slightly as she listened to the flow of the river. There was another sound, something slight, just behind her. She spun around. Jarrett had come out, still so tall and striking in black, his ebony eyes giving away little, just as they had that night that seemed so long ago now in the tavern in New Orleans. He strode across the porch to her, lifted her chin, and studied her eyes.

“Happy?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Well, I did have to meet the man of your dreams.”

She smiled. “And now that you’ve met him?”

“I’m quite impressed. Ian has a most literary and talented fellow for an uncle.”

“His other uncle is equally impressive, of course.”

Jarrett smiled, shrugging. “Of course.” She saw a sparkle against the ebony darkness of his eyes and he suddenly lifted her into his arms.

“The army is still present, you know,” he whispered softly. “Tyler’s ship will not leave until the morning.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you see, I have intimate plans for my wife this evening, and I do remember once before her threatening to scream should I carry her up the stairs and to our bed.”

Tara slipped her arm around his shoulders. “I do remember the occasion, but I don’t remember you caring much one way or the other if I did or didn’t scream!”

“Umm. Maybe not.”

“And you are a gambler, of course.”

“How true.”

He turned into the house and started up the stairs, and she smiled as he made his way to their bedroom.

“Well, my little runaway?” he teased huskily in the darkness, laying her down upon the bed and easing himself on top of her. She saw the white flash of his smile,
the glitter of his eyes, and a sweet burst of fire seemed to ignite within her.

“Winner takes all,” she informed him solemnly. She threaded her fingers through his hair and drew him down to her. His lips found hers, and the fire burned to a steady blaze.

Tonight would be sweet tempest.

And life …

Indeed, it would remain a tempest as well. Bitter and tragic at times, but precious in these moments when they could lie together in peace.

But whatever lay ahead did not matter at this moment.

She was indeed one runaway who had come home, into his arms. And she would stay there happily, never to run again, living with him in his paradise.

For all of their lives.