An ache rose deep inside him. He wanted Emma, longed for what they’d shared in the cave, needed those carefree moments where they could act like children and run wild across the prairie, but most of all, he wanted her in his arms each night. But he stubbornly refused to force the issue. He wanted her to come to him. He wanted forgiveness and understanding.
Many hours later, he returned to his village, his horse loaded with enough meat to feed three families but his heart still empty. Sitting on his horse at the edge of a ring of tipis, his hungry gaze searched for Emma. Frustrated, nearing the end of his patience, he felt tempted to go to her and say, enough! The white woman should be grateful he’d found Renny and purchased her from Night Hunter. Was the girl not happy and healthy and robust as any other child in his village?
Though the air remained brisk and cold, most of his people preferred to be outdoors. His gut clenched when he still saw no sign of Emma. Where was she? He urged his horse forward, scanning quickly. Had she run off again? Whenever his duties as chief took him away from his tribe for days at a time, he feared he would return and find her gone.
This time, he’d led a raiding party to take back some horses stolen from them by some Cheyenne. He smiled, his dark thoughts momentarily lifted. Raiding in the winter had become a way to pass the time, enhance skills and prove greatness. Seldom was there bloodshed. The object was to move in and out without the other tribe knowing until it was too late.
Across the way, Renny and Morning Moon rounded a tipi and ran over to him. “You’re back!” Renny shouted. “I’ll take care of Zuya Yanka.” She reached for the reins of his war horse. It amused him to see how much she loved horses. His brother White Wolf, who raised and trained horses, would have appreciated the girl’s shared obsession with the beasts.
Seeing the child reassured him somewhat. Emma had not run off. She would never leave her sister behind. Striking Thunder spent a few minutes answering Renny’s questions and talking to Morning Moon.
He dismounted, unloaded his weapons and game, then allowed Renny and his niece to lead the animal away. Staring after Morning Moon, he knew he had to talk to her about her visions. If she had the gift as he suspected, then their people had once again been honored by the spirits and there would be much celebrating. Frowning, he worried about Star’s reaction to it. Soon, he would have to broach the subject but not yet, not while she still grieved.
Juggling his shield, lance and bow in one hand, he lifted the carcasses of two rabbits and a scrawny prairie chicken in the other and strode into his tipi. A blast of warmth greeted him from the banked fire. Everywhere he looked, he saw evidence of Emma’s hand. He turned in a slow circle. Something was missing.
Emma. The knowledge that each evening she was here made him eager to return home each night. And on those occasions when duties took him away days at a time, a strange restlessness took hold. She was a special addition to his life and he missed her. His shoulders sagged.
Frowning, Striking Thunder tried to distract himself by putting away his supplies, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the white woman. At first, he’d referred to her as such to distance his emotions. Now, it was with affection. She was his woman. His white woman. His Emma, the flame of his heart.
In a few short months, she’d become his lifeline and without her comforting presence, he felt lost and lonely. The realization did not sit well with him. Reaching out, he stroked his feathered headdress. Each feather cascading down the pole from which it was hung, he had earned. “I am a warrior. I am strong, brave and fearless.” The words he spoke were true, with no conceit. They were plain fact, not that it helped. When it came to the white woman, he was weak in mind and heart.
“What need have you for one white woman who causes you to lose concentration and forget your destiny?” Yet the thought of setting Emma free left him strangely depressed. Could he keep her? Refuse to let her go? No. He’d given her his word to release her once he had no more need of her.
You have need of her, his heart cried. It jumped. Had his father and brother not taken a white woman for their mates? Yes, but it was different. In his father’s case, White Wind’s father was Sioux. And his brother lived among the whites. By marrying Jessie, he had fulfilled the vision their grandmother had foreseen. With Striking Thunder, it was not possible. Pain cleaved his heart in two.
“You have duty to your people,” he told himself, but where those words had once instilled pride, now they left him feeling bereft. Stalking back outside, Striking Thunder headed for the river. A cold dousing would ease not only his heated loins but perhaps numb his heart and soul to this pain.
To his dismay, he found the person responsible for his inner torment sitting near the bank, knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on her fisted hands as she stared out across the fast-moving stream. Coming to a halt well behind her, he hesitated, loath to disturb her. No. That was not true. He was afraid of another rebuff.
The sun dipped low on the horizon and its light fell on her head, lighting the candle of his heart. The sight warmed him from the inside out and just being near her brought him peace and contentment. Closing his eyes, Striking Thunder finally admitted the truth.
He’d fallen hopelessly in love with the white woman. After weeks of denying it, he could no longer ignore the fact that he loved Emma O’Brien.
Why her? Why did she carry him to the highest level of passion both of the flesh and of the mind? What was it about her that forced him to give up the tight band of control he kept on his emotions? Being around her, talking to her, added something to his life that he’d been missing. He saw his own world with a new understanding through her eyes and when they made love, when he gave her pleasure, it took him to heights never before reached.
“She reminds me of your mother.”
Striking Thunder glanced over at his father who’d joined him. Still reeling from his shocking discovery, he felt vulnerable—something else he’d never experienced. He frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked all these new unfamiliar emotions. A great warrior had to be in control. “She has no Indian blood.” He said the words to convince himself more than his father that what he felt and yearned for was wrong.
Golden Eagle lifted one brow. “Is blood and the color of the skin more important than what is in the heart? Are you less Sioux because of your mother’s white blood? Though your woman’s skin is white, her spirit is Sioux.”
Recalling her drawings, Striking Thunder knew his father spoke truthfully. “She is only here for another few months.”
Nodding, his father folded his hands across his chest. Silence gathered in the dimming light. “I still remember bringing your mother to my village. I had promised her safety but couldn’t keep her for myself as I was committed to marry her younger sister.” He chuckled. “We did not know Wild-Flower was her sister then.” He sighed contentedly. “But I fell in love with a spirited white woman named Sarah. I would have done anything to keep her at my side.”
“Even start a war?” Striking Thunder asked.
Golden Eagle spoke, his voice low and husky with emotion. “No. I would have done my duty. I would have married Wild-Flower to prevent war.”
Striking Thunder nodded. “As I must do mine.” Luckily for his father, Sarah’s father had been none other than White Cloud and as his eldest daughter, she and Golden Eagle were allowed to marry and fulfill the pact between the two tribes. If only it were so simple for him and Emma.
His father spoke. “Time will reveal what is to be.” Then he launched into a story of how he had not revealed the truth of his promise to marry Wild-Flower to Sarah and how she’d run away, refusing to allow him to explain about the marriage agreement. “I finally took her away where we could be alone and made her listen to what was in my heart.” Golden Eagle turned and left.
Striking Thunder considered his father’s words. In keeping with their ways, his father had not told him what to do but had told him a story that made him think. Staring at Emma, he smiled. If his father could
swallow his pride and take the woman he loved away to make her see reason, then so could he.
Sitting on the bank of the river, misery and heartache overwhelmed Emma. Why did love have to hurt? Striking Thunder had betrayed her in the worst way. Though she knew she couldn’t stay here with Striking Thunder forever, she’d thought that she’d found something special, wonderful, to carry with her always. But no. He’d allowed her to worry and suffer needlessly. For that, she couldn’t forgive him.
When she thought of all the tears she’d shed, the worry that had made her sick to her stomach and the guilt that had wracked her with each passing day, her anger renewed. How could he have done that to her, to any person? He’d proven he was heartless and didn’t care about anyone or anything except getting what he wanted.
She needed to believe he cared for her, at least a little. But did he? Had it all been an act? She rubbed her eyes and moaned. Oh, what was the point in this torture. She had Renny back. Her sister was safe and happier than she’d ever been. Wasn’t this enough? This was more than a case of simple hurt feelings. She loved Striking Thunder. No matter what. “Fool.” The word came out as a mere breath of air. Emma rose, unable to stand the inactivity any longer. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t help. She needed to keep busy.
Turning, she stopped, her breath hitching in her throat. There he stood, the object of her troubling thoughts. They stared at each other for long moments, then he came toward her and held out a thick robe.
“Put this on.”
Emma put her hands behind her back and eyed him. He also wore a warm fur slung over his shoulders. “Why?”
“We are leaving.”
Glancing over his shoulder toward the camp, Emma frowned. “What do you mean, leaving? Where are we going?”
Striking Thunder draped the fur around her shoulders and tied it so it wouldn’t fall off. “We are going where we will be alone. We will talk.”
Pulling back, Emma shook her head. “No. I’m staying here. I have nothing to say to you.” She feared being alone with him. If he touched or kissed her, her heart and body would override her mind. He didn’t love her, not the way she needed to be loved. Only by keeping her distance, both physically and emotionally, could she guard what was left of her heart.
She walked past him but he swept her up into his arms and strode away from the village.
“Put me down,” she ordered, pushing at the hard wall of his chest.
“No.”
She glanced around wildly, searching for any excuse to stop him. “I can’t leave Renny. She’ll worry.”
“No. I told her we would be gone.”
Tears pricked her eyes. How could she stand firm if they were alone? “You are nothing but a big bully, Striking Thunder. Why can’t you leave me alone? Haven’t you done enough?”
Stopping, but not releasing her, Striking Thunder stared down at her with surprisingly gentle eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. “No. Don’t—” But her words were lost when his lips descended. Though he did little more than brush his lips across hers, it weakened her resolve.
He tightened his hold. “This warrior wishes to tell you what is in his heart.” His gaze grew intense with emotion. “I was wrong to keep news of your sister from you. It was not my intention to cause you pain.”
The fight drained from Emma. Her head fell to his shoulder. “You hurt me. You knew how much I worried, yet you let me suffer.”
Striking Thunder sighed. “I told you she was safe, that the Sioux and Cheyenne treated children well, no matter the color of the skin or hair. You did not listen.”
Emma lifted a hand to his jaw and forced him to stop and look down at her. “You spoke in general terms. I had no way of knowing you spoke of her. Still, you knew I worried, as much as any mother fears for her child. You did not say the words I needed to hear. Words I needed to know.” Her voice broke. “I’ve done so much harm in leaving home to bring her out here. I’ll never forgive myself for putting her through all this.”
Striking Thunder set her down but still didn’t release her. “Does your sister look as though she harbors ill effects? She has not been mistreated, not by the Sioux or Cheyenne. Even Yellow Dog did not harm her.”
At her questioning look, he confessed, “I asked her during one of my visits,” he said simply. “She made it quite clear that she was angry with him for his mistreatment of you and of the horses he stole from the soldiers.” Striking Thunder chuckled softly. “In fact, from my observations of her, I believe your sister is happy. Was that not your goal when you brought her out here?”
He cupped her face between his warm hands, and his eyes held hers. “Where is that unhappy child? I have not seen her.”
Emma searched his gaze then tipped her head back to stare up into the sky. As she thought of what he’d said, she noted the orange streaks spreading across the horizon. Soon it would be dark but she felt safe out here with Striking Thunder. He waited patiently for her answer.
Finally, she nodded. “You are right. Renny hasn’t been this happy in a long time.” She pinched his chin playfully. “Of course, you bribed her with horses of her own.”
“It made her happy.”
His words caused tears to spill from her eyes. “Happier than being with me?”
Striking Thunder groaned. With his thumbs, he wiped the moisture away. “Never. Always, she asked about you. And Night Hunter knew he was to bring her to me should she grow unhappy. Please. Do not cry, Emma. Kiyapi kahaha kin,” he whispered and undid her braids. Bringing a fistful of her red hair to his face, his eyes reflected the brightness of the moon and a sheen that bespoke his own tears.
“Flame of my heart.” His lips brushed hers briefly. Instantly, need and passion ignited. The kiss turned frantic as long-suppressed emotions rose to the surface. Lowering her to the ground, Striking Thunder cradled her in his lap, tightening his hold on her.
By the time they broke apart, darkness had fallen completely. Above, a silvery moon rose slowly to shine among the stars. Emma reached up and untied the leather thong binding Striking Thunder’s hair into two braids. Using her fingers, she separated the strands. “Where is it you planned to take me, my fierce warrior?” She glanced around. Total darkness surrounded them as well as silence. In the far distance, she saw the fires from their camp but here, they were alone.
He grinned down at her. “Here will do.” He spread his fur robe beneath them.
Emma kneeled before him as he pulled his shirt over his head. His cloud of black hair framed his face and flowed partway down his chest. Without taking her eyes off him, she slowly pulled off her dress, then winced when the cold air slithered across her nakedness.
Striking Thunder drew her close. His hands roamed down her back, leaving a trail of burning heat that matched the flame of desire in his eyes. Cupping her buttocks, he pulled her into the cradle of his hips. His mouth lowered to hers. “I will keep you warm.”
Shivering, but not from cold, Emma had no reason to doubt him.
Two young girls surveyed the moonlit land. “Where did they go?” Renny whispered with a frown. She glared at her friend. “I told you we were too far back.”
Morning Moon peered into the darkness, then put her hands on her hips. “If we had been any closer, my uncle would have known we were following.”
Renny rolled her eyes. Morning Moon was so cautious! “But now we don’t know where they are. Now what?”
“We go back before we are missed.”
Glancing around the shadows, unwilling to admit she didn’t like being out in the dark, Renny nodded. “Okay.” The girls retraced their steps. “Will Emma and Striking Thunder fall in love with each other?”
Morning Moon frowned. “I can’t tell.”
Renny skipped a couple of steps, forcing her new friend to do the same. “Well, I hope so. I like living here.”
This time Morning Moon rolled her eyes. “It is the horses you love.”
Giggling, Renny nodded. “I’m going to stay her
e and raise horses just like your other uncle, the one who’s gone. And maybe I’ll even marry an Indian. That way, we can be together forever.” Stooping to grab a rock, she tossed it into the river. “Who are you going to marry? I like Brave Rabbit. He’s handsome and runs fast. I think he will make a fine warrior someday.”
Morning Moon wrinkled her nose, then stopped. Her eyes glazed over.
Renny stopped as well and watched. It was unnerving when this happened but her friend didn’t seem to mind, so she waited with as much patience as she could. Luckily, it never lasted long. After a few seconds, Morning Moon resumed walking.
Hands on hips, Renny stared after her then ran to catch up. “Hey, what’cha see this time?”
Morning Moon shook her head, her eyes wise beyond her years. “I can’t always tell. But I know we will be together, as sisters. And I saw you grown with a man—”
“A warrior like Striking Thunder?”
“Don’t know what he looked like but he’s tall. Real tall.” Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I’ve already seen the face of the man I will one day marry.”
“Honest?” Renny thought this gift to be one of the most amazing things she’d ever encountered. “Who is he? I won’t tell.”
Morning Moon shrugged. “I don’t know. I only know he comes from far away.”
“That’s it?” Renny watched her friend’s brows pucker as they did when she thought really hard.
“He dresses in strange clothes.”
Renny sighed, then remembered what else Morning Moon had said. She reached over and grabbed her friend’s hand. “I’m glad we will be sisters.”
“Me, too,” Morning Moon said.
White Flame Page 24