Chapter 13
The remaining company sat around the table.
Conversation became much lighter than it had been, as if everyone was determined to be polite—and careful.
Captain Jenkins talked about some of the pranks played at West Point, and David Anderson kept them all laughing about mishaps that had occurred on the way west. Sabrina made a point of paying close attention to all that was being said, as if she were perfectly comfortable and not worried in the least.
But, she noted, no matter what stories he told, Jenkins was still tense himself. It was visible only when his wife came near him. He all but barked at her once when she put more potatoes on his plate, and the glance he gave her was chilling.
Sabrina told herself that she was reading greater rudeness and hostility into his character than was truly there because she was angry about the fight he had picked with Sloan. Still, she didn’t like him, even though she did think that Jean was as gentle and sweet as a shy little dove.
Eventually, the remaining guests finished eating, and the dishes were cleared, washed, and put away.
The young Reverend Anderson and his pigtailed wife escorted Sabrina back to Sloan’s quarters, and she discovered that she liked the two of them very much.
“You stay here, David,” Sarah said as they approached Sloan’s quarters. “I’ll walk Mrs. Trelawny to the door and be right back with you.”
“Gossip!” David sighed.
His wife frowned.
“Go on now. I’ll be waiting right here.”
Sarah let out a Hmmph! and slipped an arm through Sabrina’s. She walked up the two porch steps with Sabrina and warned her in a whisper, “Do not let that woman bother you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Sabrina said.
Sarah smiled. “Ah, there, now! That’s the spirit!”
“I don’t know—”
“Yes, you do, but don’t you worry. You’re very beautiful, young, sweet, and strong.”
“I don’t know about the ‘sweet,’” Sabrina murmured.
“Well, if you’re going to make it out here, you can’t be a reed, getting flattened by any wind that blows your way. But you do know exactly what I’m talking about, and your husband apparently wants you very much, so just don’t let her get to you!”
“But—”
Sarah gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and went running back to her husband. Sabrina pushed open the door to Sloan’s quarters.
As she entered, she worried that he wouldn’t be there.
But he was.
He sat at his desk, apparently absorbed by his work. Thanks to the dinner conversation, she now knew why he had been distressed by what he had read when he’d returned to the fort.
She closed the door behind her, knowing he was well aware that she had come back. He always heard the slightest sound. He turned, acknowledging her with a nod.
“Was dinner nice?” he queried.
“Very good. You shouldn’t have left.”
“It wouldn’t have been so nice had I stayed. Jenkins and I do not get along.”
“Many men feel the same way he does about the Indians.” ·
“There is more to the difficulties between Jenkins and myself than our fundamental differences regarding the Sioux,” he said simply.
“But still—”
“Let it suffice that I needed to leave.”
Sabrina nodded, walking on into the room. “All right.”
“And though I do appreciate the way you chose to defend the Indian way of life, I don’t appreciate anyone fighting my battles for me.”
Sabrina hesitated a moment, keeping her tone measured. “I wasn’t the only one attempting to wage battles for you.”
He stared at her a long moment.
“Ah. You’re referring to Marlene. Well, I don’t appreciate her misconceived conceptions of defense, either. As I said, I can fight my battles alone,” he told her. He turned away from her. “You should go to bed, Sabrina. You must be tired.”
He was dismissing her, she thought, and she felt bad. She couldn’t blame him; she’d been antagonistic enough.
“Sloan, Jenkins is a fool. He had no right to attack you.”
He turned around, studying her curiously. He smiled then. “Well, thank you for that vote of confidence.”
She nodded. “Sloan, when you left dinner…”
“Yes?”
Again Sabrina hesitated. She didn’t want to appear to be petty or absurdly jealous. “Marlene followed behind you.”
He smiled. “I didn’t suggest that she follow me.”
“I wasn’t saying that you did.”
“Well, she might have followed, but she didn’t catch up with me. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“No, no, not really—”
“Yes, really,” he said. A quick flash of amusement touched his eyes.
“You mustn’t let her disturb you, or you’ll be giving her what she wants.
Marlene has a flair for trouble, and I have told you she is nothing more than an old acquaintance, and there’s nothing between us now.
I do appreciate your support. But please, go on to bed.
I’m in a wretched state of mind and not in the mood for company. ”
Sabrina nodded, surprised to realize that she felt strangely hurt.
She hesitated, then murmured. “I’m tired; I am going to bed. But Sloan, you told me in the tipi that your grandfather had a present for me. If it’s not too inconvenient, may I see what it is?”
“Oh,” he murmured. “I’m afraid it’s not that exciting.
” He stood and reached into his pocket, drawing out a locket on a gold chain.
He walked over to her. “It’s a picture of me.
Grandfather was aghast that I didn’t have your likeness with me.
Anyway, the picture may just be a reminder of the man you don’t want to be married to, but the locket is a family heirloom. My mother wore it throughout the war.”
Sabrina studied the little locket. It was exquisitely crafted, and the picture of Sloan within it was very handsome. He looked younger in it. There were fewer lines about his eyes, and yet…she liked the lines now etched into his features. They spoke of tremendous character.
“It’s a very nice present. I’ll write to him tomorrow, thanking him.”
“I’m sure he will greatly appreciate it.”
He stared at her a long moment but then turned away, heading back to his desk. Once again, she felt his need to be alone. Considering her hostility regarding their marriage, she couldn’t blame him.
She turned around, leaving him alone.
She had told herself for so long that she wanted her freedom. Yet now, it felt so very odd to have him push her away. She had already been growing accustomed to his demanding her company.
She disrobed, slipped into a nightgown, and carefully folded her clothing.
She lay in bed, listening. She heard the fire crackle in the hearth by the bed, and she drew the covers about her.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to get some sleep. Indeed, it was odd; it had seemed that she was always fighting him. And now, when she didn’t feel like fighting…
He was nowhere near her.
Still, she eventually drifted to sleep.
She awoke to a luxurious feeling of warmth.
Sloan…
He was with her, and she was both warm and lulled.
His hands were upon her, stroking her, drawing up the length of her gown.
She thought that he had probably been arousing her while she’d been sleeping for quite some time.
He was behind her, his lips searing slow, provocative kisses through the cotton of her gown at her back.
She felt his hands over her hips, between her thighs, seeking.
Then she felt him, suddenly thrusting, strong within her, and it seemed that a swiftly churning, molten heat began a wild sweep within her. ...
He made love hard and fast and was quickly explosive. She had no chance either to protest or to give in return, and she wondered if he had decided that she was never going to admit to wanting him, and therefore he no longer felt compelled to prove just how easily she could be seduced.
At that particular moment, she wasn’t certain that she cared. His arms were around her, she was pressed against his body, and she quickly drifted in a sea of warmth and security.
And slept.
George Armstrong Custer, anxious to return to his men of the Seventh, had left departmental headquarters in Chicago by train to return to the fort and prepare for his part in the three-pronged attack upon the hostile Sioux.
But his train was cut off by the snowdrifts, and he telegraphed his brother for help.
Sloan discovered the situation in the morning when a tapping sounded at his door.
He rose, careful not to wake Sabrina. He was somewhat surprised by the pleasure it gave him just to see her sleep; her dark hair was splayed out over her nightgown, pillow and sheets, her lips curved into a charming half-smile.
He paused, halfway into his trousers, watching her and experiencing a strange tremor.
He liked marriage; he’d never imagined it possible, but he did like sleeping beside Sabrina, holding her, making love to her…
waking beside her. Watching her sleep. Even if she wasn’t quite ready to leap into his arms at any given moment, neither did it appear that she’d rather slit her throat than be with him.
Slipping into his jacket, he touched a length of her hair, wondering how it might have been if they hadn’t lost the child.
They could still have children, of course.
The children he had determined that he wanted.
A family. Yet he realized, oddly enough, that she was what mattered.
He had wanted his wife, but he hadn’t realized just how much strength and fire lay within her, and he was beginning to realize that he was becoming involved with her in a way that went beyond mere desire.
And it seemed that she was at least becoming resigned to their marriage. And last night…
She’d actually defended him.
He sighed, hearing the soft tapping at his door again. He buckled on his scabbard and slid his cavalry hat onto his head.