The American Bride - By Karla Darcy Page 0,18

over narrowed eyes as he squinted toward the Hall and Julian's departing figure.

"Found your Indians stalkin' a couple squirrels."

The children attempted a shamefaced expression but fell short of the mark. They capered around the big man who was as undisturbed as a cow by buzzing flies. With an economy of words Pennyfeather dispatched them to the stream for some water, giving the distraught girl a chance to collect her scattered poise. Without impatience, he waited in silence until they returned with a dampened cloth.

"Give over," Pennyfeather ordered, holding out an enormous hand.

"Aw, Pennyfeather, only babies get their faces washed," Richard muttered as the wet cloth descended on his face.

"Quit your bleatin', young sir, and let me finish."

In fascination, Cara watched as Pennyfeather scrubbed the paint off each of the children's face. His features screwed up in concentration, he bent to the task in total absorption. Although the children wriggled in his grasp, it was obvious that the huge man's touch was gentle. Without pausing, Pennyfeather turned to Cara, tipped her face upwards and proceeded to wash the paint from her forehead and nose. Although Cara was surprised that he treated her like just one more child, she was content for the moment with her role. Surveying the three shining faces, the old man shoved the red stained cloth into one of the pockets of his jacket, and started off along the path.

Hurrying to keep up with Pennyfeather's rolling gait, Cara was pleased to find that her ragged emotions were once more under control. She refused to think about Julian for the time being. Soon she was caught by the outdoorsman's knowledge of plants and animals as he kept Richard and Belin searching for objects of interest. The silence between the two adults was comfortable with little need of words. From time to time the children squealed for attention and then Cara and the old woodsman would admire each discovery. It amazed her that despite his heaviness, Pennyfeather's enormous boots trod silently on the paths, barely ruffling the leaves.

"You'll have to watch Pennyfeather," Cara suggested to the children. "Then you can move through the woods like shadows."

"Pennyfeather's a poacher," Richard confided in awe. "He's so quiet he can sneak up on the deer and pet them."

Cara glanced sideways to encounter the discomfited grin of her companion. She hoped the boy was exaggerating because she knew that in England the punishments meted out for poaching were still harsh. From Richard's chatter Cara was aware that Julian had gamekeepers always on the alert for trespassers.

As the late afternoon sun began to glow with a reddish hue, the children were rounded up for a return to the Hall. Standing beside Pennyfeather's enormous silent figure, Cara watched Belin twirling in the sunshine.

"What's the matter with Belin?" she blurted out. During her short acquaintance with Pennyfeather Cara had detected the giant's devotion to the children. It seemed right that she ask him how to solve the puzzle of the wild child.

"Tis not mine to tell," Pennyfeather's deep voice rumbled. It was not spoken unkindly.

"Will I be able to help her?"

The silent man towered over Cara's diminutive figure. Unlike her reaction to Julian, she found nothing threatening in the man's presence. Cara met his inspection calmly. Shaggy brows knitted over deepset eyes, the old man frowned down at the young governess. His glance was neither insulting nor impertinent. The pleated headdress covering her hair caused his eyes to crinkle in merriment. After a thorough scrutiny, Pennyfeather nodded his head, indicating his approval.

"If anyone can help the lass, I think you can."

Pennyfeather's heartening words rang in Cara's ears on the trip back to the Hall. However that evening as she waited for the children's arrival her heart was heavy with trepidation.

Chapter Four

The schoolroom door opened and Richard entered. At his well groomed, yet closed-in expression, Cara sighed. Gone was the boy, painted face aglow, who had leaped out of a tree brandishing an Indian tomahawk.

"Richard, could you do me a favor?" Cara asked.

"I suppose so," he answered, far from enthusiastically.

"Despite the fact that the days are warm it does get a bit cool once the sun goes down. I thought perhaps you could take care of the fire each evening. I can do it but I thought you should be in charge. Belin might be able to help but she is still very young."

"Oh, rather," the boy drawled, trying to hide his elation. He reached for the largest log and began to drag it over to the fireplace.

"Would