'You will hold true to the truce?' Perry questioned, raising her eyebrow in doubt.
'I will,' Hunter answered. 'If you will agree to stay below in bad weather.'
Perry thought for a moment. She couldn't endure much more fighting. 'I agree.'
'Then for the next few days we won't fight but relax and enjoy each other's company.' Hunter stepped away from the ladder and swept his arm across it to allow her to pass. 'I'll see you at dinner, Miss Perry.'
She walked to her cabin, her mind eased somewhat by Hunter's truce, but she couldn't help wondering how long this lull would last before another storm erupted between them.
And the next storm might drown them both in its fury..
Chapter 31
The next few days passed peacefully. Hunter saw Perry at meals and in the afternoons when they talked on deck. Each evening he'd walk her to her cabin and politely say good night. It bothered him that after she closed the door he'd hear the bolt being pushed. She didn't trust him. He'd always prided himself on being a man of his word. Each time she threw the bolt, he swore to convince her of his good character. It was vital for Perry to trust him again- as vital as trusting himself.
They anchored in the same cove where she'd been put ashore months ago. Amid the music of the sails being lowered, Perry hurriedly dressed and packed her belongings. She'd just begun tying her hair back when Hunter knocked.
Opening the door, she struggled with her ribbons. 'I'm almost ready. Please, give me minute.' She picked up a brush and combed back her ebony curls.
Hunter leaned against the door frame, showing no signs of impatience. 'I'll wait all morning if I can watch.' He'd grown in his belief that there was no more beautiful woman than this creature before him. With this knowledge in mind, he studied her movements.
Glancing over her shoulder, she became very aware of the intimacy of her act and her fingers suddenly became clumsy.
Hunter stepped up behind Perry. 'Let me tie your ribbon?' he asked at her ear.
In an effort to save time she agreed. His large hands tried to wind the ribbon around her curls as she held her hair together at the nape of her neck. Within a few minutes the ribbon was twisted and knotted while Perry's hair hung in a messy tumbling of curls about her shoulders.
She looked in the mirror at Hunter's confused face behind her and burst into laughter. 'Have you ever tied a ribbon, Mr. Kirkland?'
'Well, no,' Hunter admitted, twisting the ribbon around his long finger, 'but it didn't look all that difficult.'
Perry turned to face him, and for an instant she saw the boy within the man. She gently pushed him until he backed into the only chair in the room. 'Sit down and wait. I'll do it myself.' Her laughter filled the cabin, and he leaned back, content to relax.
With renewed purpose she pulled the end of another ribbon from her bag. 'I have another ribbon,' she said as she tugged, wishing she'd packed more carefully.
Finally frustrated, she yanked on it. Several items tumbled from her bag. Her mother's pouch landed on the floor between Hunter and her.
He slowly reached down and lifted the old leather pouch, a question in his eyes. She made no move to take it from his hand. He knew, of course, that it was the same one she'd fought to keep away from him in the old barn.
She stared at the leather in his hands. 'It's all I have left of my home. It belonged to my mother.'
Hunter smiled, realizing she was trusting him with her secret. 'You needn't tell me.'
'I don't mind.' She worked her hair into place. 'My mother, for some reason, made my father swear he would keep this pouch with me always. All it contains is a few rings and several old papers, but it was all we saved from the fire and the Yankees.'
'What kind of papers?' Hunter asked curiously.
'Oh, nothing unusual. The kind all families keep. Birth certificates, baptismal certificates. There's even a letter from the doctor who delivered my mother.'
Hunter seemed lost in thought as he stared at the leather. Slowly she closed her fingers around the top of the pouch and pulled it from his grip. 'I'm ready.'
Looking up, he said, 'You look like a vision.'
Perry suddenly burst into laughter. 'I hope I don't frighten anyone.'
'What?' he asked, confused.
'Everyone in these parts thinks I'm dead.'
'I'll step ahead of you and tell everyone you're very much alive.' Hunter bowed, like a knight offering his services.
Perry curtsied before disappearing through the door, and he wondered, even now, if she weren't more a vision than a reality. For he couldn't help but fear she might vanish from his life at any moment.
Twenty minutes later, when they stepped out of the row-boat and onto the dock, they were met by John Williams's hired hand, Hank. He greeted them with a twitch of a grin and sadness in his eyes.
After Hunter introduced Perry, Hank cleared his throat several times. His large, calloused hands twisted his slouch hat. 'Mr. Kirkland, I'm glad you're here. We got your telegraph wire yesterday. I've been coming down every four hours since.' His face was as gray as the day.
'How's my grandfather?' Hunter words were as tight as his grip on Perry's elbow. She could feel him bracing himself for whatever Hank answered.
'He's mighty bad, sir. They didn't think he'd make it through another night.' The hired hand lowered his head, not wanting to see the pain in young Kirkland's face. Hank had known Hunter as a boy, and he'd always liked and respected him.
'Let's go.' Hunter moved toward the wagon.
Hank followed with the bags. 'I didn't know you'd have the lady with you, sir. I brought you a horse in case you wanted to travel faster. The lady is welcome to ride with me and the bags back to the house, or, if you like, I'll ride the horse.'
The man was obviously confused by Perry's unplanned presence. He grew confused and frightened when everything didn't go as planned. Hank had suffered greatly because of John's illness, for there was no one to tell him what to do. He'd been glad to hear of Hunter's coming. Now he could resume his accustomed pattern of life. Hunter would tell him what to do, and he'd follow without question. To Hank there were only two kinds of people, those he believed and followed and those he avoided. He'd tried the army at the beginning of the war, but he'd become too baffled trying to decided whom to trust and whom to avoid. In his first battle he'd injured his arm in a fall before the first shots were fired. The army sent him home to sit out the war.
Placing his arm on Hank's shoulder, Hunter's tone told how well he understood the older man. 'Hank, I want to get to my grandfather faster than that wagon can travel. You did right to bring the horse. I'll ride and you bring the bags.'
Hunter swung into the saddle and looked down at Perry. 'The lady will ride with me.' He offered his hand down to Perry and removed his foot from the stirrup. 'I've seen her ride, and this will be no challenge for her.'
He wasn't ordering but asking. He could have easily lifted her into the saddle, but he awaited her decision. She hesitated only an instant before lifting her skirt and stepping into the stirrup. As her hand touched Hunter's he pulled her into his arms so that she sat sideways in front of him. He held her close to him as he turned to Hank, who was staring, somewhat shocked, at the pair.
Hunter laughed. 'I assure you the lady may look fragile, but she's able to ride. We'll cut across the fields and be at the farm an hour before you.'
Within minutes they were out of Hank's sight, riding swiftly across the winter fields toward the Williams farm. For safety she slid her arm around Hunter's waist and rested her head against the rock-hard wall of his chest. The pounding of his heart thundered in her ear, and she remembered accusing him of having no such organ.
Finally Hunter slowed his horse to a walk as they moved through trees. Branches, barren in winter, lashed out
