Black Eagle Page 12

  “I wouldn’t hear of imposing on your hospitality without paying sufficient coin.” Marisa opened her purse and offered the man two gold coins. “Both Sarah and I understand the inconvenience of guests, though I can assure you we appreciate your offer.”

  “Thank you, miss.” Stiler pocketed the coins. “Now if you’ll both come this way, I’ll introduce you to my missus.”

  Marisa nodded, and upon taking hold of Sarah’s arm, they followed the innkeeper, leaving Black Eagle to await Thompson.

  Thompson was drunk, no doubt. His slurred voice, along with a few others, was raised in singing a ditty or two, with one song following right after the other. But the good Lord be praised, Thompson was at least keeping himself holed up inside the tavern and hadn’t ventured out into the back, where Marisa and Sarah were seated.

  Both the young women were surrounded by the log stools and carved tables, which were fashioned picnic style, in back of the tavern. About ten feet away ran the shallow, quick-rushing stream, its splashing against the rocks and the shoreline a welcome backdrop to the rustling of the wind through the trees. Crickets and other nightly creatures were beginning their serenade, while within her line of vision Marisa could discern the figure of Black Eagle, who stood sentry off in the distance.

  He was leaning on his musket, and although Marisa was more than a little leery of him, there was one aspect of the man she could not deny: He cut a handsome figure. Though she could barely make out the blue of his tunic, the remembrance of how the style of his leggings allowed for a clear view of masculine thighs and buttocks remained etched upon her mind.

  Evening was falling over the land, the last rays of the sun coloring the golds, reds and oranges of the leaves with the pinks and corals of sunset. Even the brown bark of the trees and the dry grass mirrored the sky, allowing a pinkish glow to settle over the landscape. It was an extraordinary sight.

  Above her, the clouds were lit with the same intense color, while closer to hand their fire was mirrored in the luster of the wood from the crude-cut tables and stools. There were trees everywhere—pine, oak, elm, maple and white birch. They surrounded this place, and they sheltered and hid the two women. The scent of smoke, barbecued venison and stewing meat permeated the air, and combined with the fragrance of the last vestiges of fall, it induced a feeling of well-being within Marisa.

  Odd that such a feeling should come over her in this rough and untamed place. Yet she couldn’t deny that something here moved her. It was as though she were awakening from a slumber of mind and soul, as though something within her were being coaxed to life.

  She inhaled deeply, recognizing the scent of pine mixed within the other fragrances pervading the air.

  “Are you tired?” asked Sarah.

  “No.” Marisa gave Sarah a critical look. Sarah’s color was good; however Marisa feared only time would heal the cut to her lip, as well as the gash that extended from her eye to her nose. “Are you?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid I am very tired. Indeed, I am looking forward to that bed in the inn. In fact, I think I might enjoy it all the more since it may be the last true bed we’ll be seeing for many a night.”

  “I believe you are right. Are you thinking of retiring, then?”

  Sarah yawned. “The thought has crossed my mind.” She smiled. “What of you? Are you ready to go to bed?”

  “Not yet I think. But please, don’t stand on ceremony. I beg you to seek your bed and rest. It has been an unusual as well as a long day.”

  “But are you not tired? You have had little to no sleep.”

  “No, perhaps I should be tired, but I am not. For the moment, my mind is racing, and I fear I would find little sleep if I sought my bed so soon.”

  Sarah nodded, although she could barely stifle another yawn. “Perhaps it is the food that makes me so sleepy. It was delicious.”

  “Yes, it was.” Marisa’s glance at Sarah was again studious. “Should I take you to the inn and tuck you in?”

  Sarah grinned. “No, but the idea has some merit. Still, I’m not accustomed to going to bed before you do.”

  “That very well may be, yet I see no harm, and a great deal of good, in your retiring now. I think you need the rest.”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll be assaulted if you leave?”

  “The thought has occurred to me. We are, after all, surrounded by men, many of whom appear to be intoxicated.”

  “True, but if the men in the tavern get too rowdy, I can appeal to Sir Eagle, who seems to be standing guard over there.” Marisa nodded toward him.

  “Mayhap that is the reason I should stay.” There was a twinkle in Sarah’s eye.

  “I wouldn’t hear of it, Sarah. I’ll be fine.”

  Sarah leaned forward to place her arms on the table. “Marisa, tell me. Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

  “Of course.”

  “And are you falling in love with him?”

  “Who?”

  “Sir Eagle.”

  “Of course not.” A muscle twitched briefly in Marisa’s cheek. “You know my opinion regarding love and marriage. Just because I favored him with a night of pleasure does not mean that I grace him with the idea of love. Indeed, not. Besides, he did tell me that marriage between us could never be. Something about his people and his grandmother’s warning about women…”

  Sarah paused. “What if people’s attitudes were different?”

  “But that is an impossible question. Their attitude is not different. ’Tis bad enough that the one time I decide to step out of character I am unable to hide the occurrence from one and all. ’Twas my fault, I admit, but…”

  “Ah, I see, when taken as a whole, it would be easier had no one known?”

  “Indeed. But I had little time to consider such matters. As you might recall, it all happened quickly. Looking back on it now, I can hardly credit what came over me. There I was at the dance, glancing over to see my guardian’s disapproval of me by the look on his face, and all simply because I was talking to someone he believed was beneath me.”

  “’Tis a bad character trait when a man feels superior to another, regardless of the reason why.”

  “True, but there was more. For whatever reason, while there at the ball, I recalled that time long ago, when my step-uncle called me to his study and made his plans for my future marriage well known to me. I had forgotten.”

  “So had I,” said Sarah.

  “He also struck me. I had buried that in my memory most of all.”

  Sarah gasped.

  “And then there was James. I swear that man has no leave to think bad thoughts of me, yet he too scowled at me for associating with someone he considered beneath me, and he made a move toward me, as if to stop me. Had I not done what I did…”

  “You would have been made over into a slave to your step-uncle’s whims,” said Sarah. “I see it now. If you were to be true to yourself, you literally had no choice but to rebel against your step-uncle.”

  Marisa frowned but said nothing.

  “And so here you are,” continued Sarah, “on a journey with a man upon whom you conferred your favor, thinking to never have the pleasure of his company again.”

  “Yes. And I fear that each time I see him, I am not only reminded of my folly, but I recall again the satisfaction of his embrace. And, Sarah, I cannot do it again. Not ever. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  Sarah frowned.

  “’Tis one matter to do it once in an act of rebellion,” Marisa continued, “to then try to put your fall from grace behind you, and to settle down and endeavor to become respectable. It is quite another to continually commit the act that should be confined to only those who are married, or to those who make their living by it.”

  “And of course you can and would never marry him, thus to continue the affa
ir would put you in the class of the latter.”

  “Exactly.” Marisa paused. Then wistfully, she murmured, “He most definitely should have told me who he was.”

  Sarah sat silently for some time, then cleared her throat. “Did you and he talk of what might happen if there were to be a child?”

  “No. But I should have thought of it. It was sheer madness on my part. A pleasant madness, I confess. But madness, nonetheless.”

  Sarah looked hesitant. “Well, since this is to be your only induction into a real romance, I should hope that he showered you with love, even if neither of you meant it.”

  Marisa smiled. “He did.”

  “You could simply refuse to return to Albany,” suggested Sarah. “Once we are in New Hampshire, you could find a new life for yourself there.”

  “I have considered that in light of all that has happened. But I fear that this might not be an option for me. Whatever else my step-uncle might be, he also ensured my upbringing, and for that I owe him at least my loyalty.”

  “Yes, I suppose I can understand why you would think so. And yet, I can hardly keep from observing that if a man does not have your best interest at heart, do you truly owe him your allegiance? If a man raised you, yet wished to kill you, would you let him do so?”

  “I hardly think he wishes to kill me.”

  “No, of course he doesn’t. However, the point still remains.”

  “And it is a matter I cannot consider. John Rathburn may be all kinds of vile things. But he took me in and raised me. I would hardly be worthy of being human if I didn’t wish to give back to him, would I?”

  Sarah touched Marisa’s hand. “You are one of the sweetest people I have ever known. Perhaps too good for the likes of John Rathburn.”

  “If I am so, then it is your making.” Marisa sighed, and extracting her hand from beneath Sarah’s, she placed her hands in her lap.

  “’Tis too bad that cultures are what they are. Your Sir Eagle is a fine figure of a man, and very devoted to you, I think.”

  “Perhaps. This I know. I will take the memory of our night to the grave. But I am who I am.”

  Sarah nodded. “And he is who he is.”

  “Yes.”

  “I fear that the Iroquois Indians are right in one regard.”

  “Oh?” said Marisa. “And what is that?”

  “A person should be sovereign,” said Sarah. “Perhaps because God in Heaven created human beings in his own image, a person, then, is meant to rule his own life.”

  Marisa frowned. “Is that what the Indians believe?”

  “Yes, I do believe they do. Though I know only bits and pieces about them, of course. But as a governess, I have studied their beliefs a little, and I am aware that they have a form of government that owes its allegiance not to itself, but to the people.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes. ’Tis a far cry from England, I must say, where the people are expected to support and give allegiance to the king regardless of what he does, right or wrong.”

  “Are the Indians similar to the Greeks then?” asked Marisa. “Have they managed to carve out a republic here in the wilderness?”

  “I truly don’t know. But I would say that ’tis not so unusual that you would rebel against the ironclad hand of your guardian. Such sentiments seem to be caught upon the wind of late.”

  “Yes,” said Marisa. “Thank you for trying to make sense of it. I’m glad that at least one person on the face of the earth understands.”

  “’Tis very easy to understand. Do you wish me to protect you against your knight, so that your heart remains untouched?”

  “No.” Marisa looked away. “Maybe. Yes.”

  “Then I will do so.”

  “Thank you, Sarah. You are the best friend I have ever had. But now, I think you can safely seek your bed. I shall join you shortly. I fear I’m still too overwrought to come to bed yet.”

  “Yes, I understand. Yet it is my duty to stay here, not do things to suit myself.”

  “It is also your duty to take care of yourself. My darling Sarah, you look exhausted. Now go. I’ll be fine. It won’t be long before I, too, will seek my bed.”

  Sarah stifled another yawn. “If you are certain.”

  “Please.” Marisa shooed her off with the flick of her hand. “Go. I promise you I will be fine.”

  Sarah nodded, and rising slightly, she placed her hand atop Marisa’s shoulder. “The making of one more memory should not scandalize you overly much, but I would caution you to make it one more memory alone.”

  Marisa frowned. “I have no intention of seeking Sir Eagle out in order to make one more memory. He has given me his word that he will not seduce me. I should return the favor.”

  “Very well.” Sarah smiled. “After tonight, I will guard you well. Good night.”

  “Good night, Sarah.” Marisa glanced in Black Eagle’s direction and wondered if perhaps she should follow Sarah’s example and go to her bed this very minute.

  It might be safer. However, for the moment, her bed would remain cold.

  Chapter Ten

  The evening was turning cool, and though Marisa longed for a wrap, she stoutheartedly endured the crisp breeze. From her position on the inn’s porch, she could see that the evening star was becoming evident in the night sky. The moon was also rising, and it was an extraordinary sight, being a large, orange orb just above the horizon.

  Marisa smiled in fascination at its beauty, and inhaled deeply. This was going to be an exceptional journey. Indeed, she felt privileged to simply be alive and to witness the panorama of nature as it spread its magnificence before her.

  Sarah had left to go to their shared room, but Marisa had been quite truthful when she’d said that despite having no sleep the night before, she was far from tired. Indeed not.

  Arising from the stool where she had been positioned for the past few hours, Marisa stepped toward the flying bridge. At present, the orange moon was reflected on the fast-running water, making the stream appear as if tiny orange jewels were bobbing to and fro within its waves.

  How she would love to step onto the bridge. To look down into the water and admire its sparkling grace. But was the bridge safe?

  It rocked slightly in the wind, but then wasn’t that the way of bridges that were simply tied down and moored to each side of the water? Surely it was safe enough.

  Besides, if it fell, all she would receive was a short dunking, since the bridge was not more than three feet above the water. Plus the stream itself was not deep.

  Why not do it? Especially because she might never have another chance.

  Stepping onto the bridge, she took a moment to attain her balance, due to the bridge rocking back and forth. Within moments, she had conquered her fear, as well as having regained her equilibrium and she stepped farther out onto the swinging structure, about midway across.

  A warmer and kindlier breeze blew against her, pressing back the tendrils of her hair. It billowed at her dress as well, causing the silky material to flutter back, accentuating her figure.

  The pure scent of the babbling stream beneath her and the pine-scented air caused her to inhale deeply.

  Ah, what a feeling. A part of her reached out to the environment as a peace settled over her. She felt less confined here, freer, as if the woods had coaxed her very thoughts to gain space and move away from her.

  It was a good feeling.

  A deeply masculine voice said, “How my heart sings to see you. You appear as though you belong in the heavens above us instead of stepping here on the face of this earth.”

  She looked over her right shoulder to observe that it was, indeed, Sir Eagle who had joined her and was standing on the shoreline of the creek. He was gazing at her with that look of admiration she was beginning to appreciate greatly.

  She smiled at h
im. “Thank you, Sir Eagle. But I assure you that I belong here on this earth, same as you. At least until He decides to bring me home again.”

  Black Eagle nodded. “Then you do believe that there is a Creator of this earth and sky, a Maker of human beings?”

  “Most definitely. Did you think otherwise?”

  “No, but an Indian mind cannot be certain how the English may view life. In many ways, the Mohawk and the English are alike, but often I find differences I cannot explain or understand.”

  “Differences? What differences are these?”

  “Differences of the heart. The heart of the people, for He has created all people.”

  She sighed and carefully made her way back across the bridge to the shoreline. As soon as she had secured her footing on solid ground, she asked, “And what has caused this desire to delve into the Englishman’s heart, Sir Eagle?”

  He paused slightly. “I seek to understand you.”

  “Me? That is not so difficult a task, I fear.”

  “I disagree. But perhaps I should not try. Maybe these differences are between man and woman and not Mohawk and Englishman.” He turned to walk away.

  She started to follow him, but hesitated. Was that it? Was the man going to explain himself further or not?

  Apparently not. Watching his retreating figure, she knew a desire to call him back, but stopped herself short. It would be better to let the man go, better to not foster any attraction between them, even though she found she had more to say on the matter.

  Yet she wondered about him. What did he mean? Differences between men and women? Eventually, she called out, “Wait.” When he didn’t respond or comply at once, she raised her voice slightly and commanded, “Sir Eagle, I have more to say on the matter. I order you to wait.”

  He turned halfway around, a slight grin pulling at his lips. “There it is again, your ordering me to do your will.”

  “All I wished was that you wait for me. Besides, I am accustomed to command, since I have that privilege.”

  “Privilege?”

  “Yes, I am at liberty to command others. After all, ’tis natural. Certain people have special privilege and a right to expect others to do their will.” She swept forward, pacing toward one of the crude, wooden tables. “Such is the way of things,” she continued as she walked. “I did not make the rules. I simply follow them.”