Lakota Princess

by Karen Kay

  He maneuvered between dancers, among people and their partners, coming ever closer and closer to the center of the room until finally he stood before her.

  He stared at her. She at him.

  A moment passed. Another.

  At last, with her hand still in the round box, she picked up the knife. She put it between her teeth and looking straight at Black Bear, she bit it.

  It was a highly symbolic gesture. With her hand in the hole of the box, she proclaimed she was a virgin; when she bit the knife, she vowed before all, even the spirits themselves, that what she said was true.

  And Black Bear, barely believing what he saw, stared at her.

  He Topa came up behind her.

  He smiled and Estrela, seeing him, removed her hand from the box.

  He Topa knelt, put his hand in the box and picking up the arrow, bit it. For a male, this too proclaimed his celibacy.

  Estrela gazed at him and smiled.

  She looked at the floor, then at the couples who continued to dance in the circle, and finally at He Topa.

  It was quite a long moment before Estrela found the courage to glance up at Black Bear.

  But at length, after taking a deep breath, slowly, so very, very gradually, she raised her gaze to meet Black Bear’s.

  He stood rigid, unflinching, his face carefully masked to hide what he might feel, though his chin jutted out, and he looked at her as though she were stalked game.

  Then at last, with a motion of his hand, telling her in sign exactly what he thought of her ceremony, he spun around, striding from the room with such intent, others gave way at his approach.

  He never looked back.

  And Estrela, watching him, wondered if the ceremony had been worth it.

  He knew it now. He knew and yet he’d left her just the same.

  Estrela lowered her gaze to the foot and picking up the box, the arrow and the knife, she prepared to leave the dance floor.

  Is she available?

  No! Black Bear answered his own question. She is married!

  Or is she?

  Black Bear stood within the shadows of the balcony and looked back into the ballroom with such an intensity in his gaze, it was a wonder the glass in the doors did not shatter.

  Was she lying?

  He didn’t think so. Her eyes had been clear, her cheeks slightly flushed when she had bit the knife.

  There were no signs of her lying and yet…

  He thought back to what he knew about her. There was no man in her life now and no one could remember seeing her with a man—ever.

  Anna had said that he should not be “fobbed off” by her marriage.

  Was she truly…?

  Black Bear shook his head as though the movement might shake his thoughts loose. He had left her there in the middle of the dance floor, not because he was angry with her and not really because he didn’t believe her. No, he had left her there because what she did, what she told him via the ceremony was too much for him to accept all at once. She was a virgin.

  He needed to think.

  Think. Wasn’t it what he had been taught all his life? That a truly great man will think before speech, before action. Hadn’t he needed then, as he needed now, to come to terms with all that the ceremony proclaimed?

  He thought back to it.

  She had bit the knife. It was not something she would do if the facts were not true.

  Which meant…

  Black Bear’s head spun and he felt lightheaded. His heart seemed to swell in that moment, though, and as Black Bear surveyed her out there on the dance floor, he ventured to think thoughts he had dared not consider ever since that day he had learned of her marriage.

  If the contest were true then…

  Among his people the contest she had given was well-known. It was a statement of virtue, a contest given by virgins, for virgins, especially those whose chastity had been questioned.

  When a woman bit the knife or a man the arrow, it was a sacred vow. No liar ever did it without severe consequences. No liar survived the test. It was a bold statement of fact; it said for the woman “I have never known a man intimately.”

  It must be true.

  Was she available?

  There had been no misfortune to her, no harm to tell that she lied. To the contrary, He Topa had befriended her, himself biting the arrow.

  She was married!

  Or so he thought.

  But if what she said were true, then…

  He watched her as she participated in the dancing and as he did so, his heart raced so fast, he might himself have been dancing, he—

  “‘Tis a waltz.”

  Black Bear darted a look around him.

  Prince Frederick stood beside him, the light from inside clearly illuminating his tall frame, and Black Bear sighed.

  He had been so deep in his thoughts, so intent upon contemplating Waste Ho, he hadn’t even noticed his friend’s approach until the man was right upon him.

  “I tried to teach you that one,” Prince Frederick said. “Do you remember it?”

  Black Bear nodded. “Why does he hold her like that?”

  “Ah…yes, I see it,” the Prince said. “Look at them, Black Bear. Everyone is dancing the same way. I daresay, I suppose I forgot to teach you how to hold the woman when you waltz. You could do it. You hold the woman like this.” The Prince held up his arms. “Do you see?” He moved around the balcony. “It’s a three-step. One-two-three, one-two-three, around and around as though you are…”

  Prince Frederick glanced around him.

  He stood alone on the balcony.

  “Black Bear?”

  But there was no response.

  And as Prince Frederick gazed back into the ballroom, he saw that Black Bear was already striding purposefully toward the dance floor.

  The Prince shook his head. But not one to contemplate a situation for long, he shook the handkerchief from his pocket and opened the ballroom doors wide.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Estrela watched his progress from the corner of her eye. He crossed the room, women gathering around him, but he ignored them as though they were mere distractions. He looked at her. He watched her.

  She nearly swooned. And though it was what she’d hoped would happen, she still felt unprepared for it.

  Did he believe her or was he coming to accuse her?

  Would he publicly disavow her? Or…

  “Black Bear,” she muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, so sorry,” she said to her partner.

  She had forgotten where she was. She glanced up now, her gaze searching through the crowd for Black Bear.

  She found him.

  He stood against the wall, directly in her line of vision. As she looked at him, she thought she had never seen anyone more handsome, nor anyone so—what? Angry?

  She gulped.

  His glance held her own as though she were imprisoned, and Estrela felt as though she could not look away from him without consequence.

  He looked that determined.

  He was dressed in black suit and tails. His shirt was of a thin white-linen; his pants, black. And as was fashionably correct, his pants were skin tight, leaving nothing to the imagination. His coat was double-breasted, cut to his waist in front and falling into a long tail in back. On his hands he wore gloves, on his feet, boots; but around his neck was the symbol of his heritage. He wore a beaded, bone choker that boasted a pink shell sewed carefully in front of the beads and the bone. The shell seemed to glow, presenting the only color upon him and creating quite a contrast to the constant blacks and whites that society demanded he wear.

  He had pulled his hair together on one side and secured it with buckskin, while he had left the other side free. Two eagle’s feathers dangled there.

  His look was determined, proud and fierce, and his grace as she watched him walk, was as beautiful as the steps of any dance, as the notes of the music itself. Estrela beheld him, sh
e stared at him; she could do no more than admire him.

  He reached her at last, his gaze so powerful, Estrela lost her step.

  Estrela muttered an apology to her partner, but it was unnecessary. The procession of dancers moved on in the continual, swirling motion of the waltz, her lost step forgotten.

  Excitement raced through her at Black Bear’s continued stare. He wanted her. She knew it by his simple glance.

  Would he wait for her to finish the dance? Would he dance with her? Her heart tripped over at the thought as her partner whirled her around and around in the ever constant procession of dancers.

  A swing, another one and she glanced to where Black Bear should have stood, but he was no longer there. She had but a moment before she would be swung around again, and she took that moment to search the room for Black Bear.

  He was nowhere to be found.

  Another swirl.

  She looked up. Her heart must have stopped, then picked up double-time. There he was—right there, on the sidelines, watching her, watching their movements, his gaze following them.

  Another whirl.

  Her partner stumbled, recovering quickly and swinging Estrela back around to the intoxication of the constant motion.

  And with each swirl, Estrela sought out Black Bear’s gaze, until—

  Where had he gone?

  Her partner mumbled something, missing his step in his flurry to turn Estrela.

  And with the next rotation Estrela saw it. Several steps ahead of them, Black Bear waited…waited for her.

  Such was unorthodox behavior for the prim, English society and had an Englishman done the same, he would have been “cut” from the more dignified social circles. But not so Black Bear. Perhaps it was because he didn’t care what was thought of him; perhaps it was because he was too foreign, too charismatic for anyone to find fault. Whatever the cause, no one seemed to care that he suffered a momentary lapse from correct, English manners.

  And as Estrela danced closer to him, emotion surged through her. She stared, she gaped.

  He waited for her. He would have her.

  With each gyration of the constant movement, she swirled ever closer and closer to him until at last Black Bear loomed before them, blocking their path.

  To his credit, her partner tried to stop, but he couldn’t; the waltz, as though endowed with a life of its own, kept the man going on, dancing. He had no choice, her partner, but to maneuver around Black Bear, not realizing that it was useless to do so.

  And then it happened.

  Black Bear shrieked, his voice raised in a high-pitched cry.

  Perhaps it wasn’t meant to startle. Perhaps. In truth it was how Black Bear would have responded to her contest tonight, to the dance he would have done in his own country, his voice raised in song, in pleasure. But no one in England was to know this.

  For a moment the dance might have stopped. The sound of Black Bear’s cry certainly had that effect upon everyone, if only for the moment.

  The orchestra, however, apparently unaware of the disruption on the floor, played on, encouraging the dancers to continue the waltz.

  And the procession continued, the couples swirling around the hall, their passion for the dance more powerful than their momentary fright.

  But not so Estrela’s partner. He now stood slightly away from the dancers and stared directly at Black Bear; the Indian blocked the path forward.

  It didn’t take the Englishman long, however, to make his decision. Without a word being spoken, the young man bowed to Estrela, nodded to Black Bear, and left the floor.

  Black Bear was quick to act, and with one fluid movement, stepped forward. He encompassed Estrela in his arms and swung her back into the procession of dancers, continuing the waltz without falter as though he had invented the dance, himself.

  As Black Bear swung Estrela around the floor, he stared down at her. She gazed up at him.

  His hand captured hers. His arm encircled her waist. He held her closely to him, his movements against her erotic. And Estrela luxuriated in the feel.

  He did not smile at her. He didn’t need to.

  He gazed into her eyes, instead, his look potent, inquisitive.

  It was all that he did. He didn’t try to woo her. He didn’t say a word; he merely looked at her. But in his gaze was an emotion, something he even now tried to hide, but he couldn’t. Desire, it said, passion, devotion as strong as the willow, as sacred as the cottonwood. For her.

  And as Estrela gazed up at him, at his foreign, yet handsome features, she knew him, she knew his thoughts. His dark eyes held her own, his stare at her intoxicating in the constant, whirling motion of the dance they performed, his hair rushing back with their movements.

  “It is true, then.” It was no question he asked. And his whispered voice, so close to her ear, sent tingling sensations running over her skin, her neck, down her spine. And Estrela basked in what could only be seduction.

  “Yes.” It was all she could say. “Black Bear, I—”

  “We will talk later.”

  She gazed up at him.

  “For now,” he continued, “I want only to feel you in my arms and to know it is true.”

  “Yes.” She said, closing her eyes. She felt it, then, his being, the very essence of all that he was. The allure of it, of him encompassing her, cradling her. It was good, it was beautiful, he was beautiful and Estrela, caught up in the knowledge of all that he was, could only stare at him.

  “I want you.” It was Black Bear who spoke.

  Estrela moaned in response. It was a soft sound, barely over a whisper, yet Black Bear seemed to lose himself to it for he groaned in return, the sound a deep growl low in his throat.

  “I want you,” he said again.

  Estrela’s stomach plummeted and her body responded to him as though they were alone.

  She whispered back to him, “And I want you. Ciksuya Canna Sna Cantemawaste, when I think of you, my heart is happy.”

  She felt him sigh against her, although his arms stiffened around her and his step became more wooden. But she didn’t say a thing.

  In truth, she was struggling to keep her composure, for she felt swamped with her love for him. Her feet kept time to the music, but Estrela felt lost, lost in his gaze, lost in the magic that was Black Bear.

  And as she looked up at him, she was bathed in sweet realization. She loved him, she would love him, she would let him make love to her. It was a daring thing for her to do, and yet it was right. She knew it. Nothing that felt this good, that brought her such happiness, could be anything but right.

  And perhaps the Earl, wherever he was, could forgive her. Just this once.

  Her life here, her marriage, her search for her family, the Duke, the Duchess, all of it was fading away as though all these things were nothing more than mere shadows against the overpowering love she felt for Black Bear. And she knew in that moment with full certainty that her life from this moment forward was irreversibly intertwined with Black Bear’s.

  Forever.

  She would never tell him. She would never even pretend it was so. She would even let him go afterward. But it didn’t change the facts.

  She would always love him.

  Black Bear looked down at her, and she saw him breathe in deeply before he closed his eyes, if only for a moment. Perhaps he felt it, too. His dark eyes had fastened onto hers and he had smiled at her before he swirled her around the floor in perfect rhythm, holding her ever closer and closer.

  Yes, perhaps he felt it, too.

  And then, not even missing a step, her thoughts all jumbled, he kissed her, once, twice.

  Magic. The moment was alight with sweet magic. Estrela clung to him as though he represented life itself, unaware that the dance had stopped, although the music kept playing.

  The dancers, too, had stopped, every gaze within the ballroom turned their way. But the couple in the middle didn’t notice, and as Black Bear kissed her once again, sweetly, ever so reverently,
many a sigh was heard from their audience, certainly no censure.

  The orchestra began another song, the dancers moving again to the intoxicating rhythm of yet another waltz, swirling around the couple in the center who appeared to be unaware of anything in the room, save themselves.

  And though Estrela did not see it, there were many people in the room who were not scandalized by what they saw, who smiled at them. Caught up in the whirling movements, the dancers moved on, the young couple in the middle protected from view by the ever rhythmic swirl of the waltz.

  Black Bear touched her cheek, her neck, her hair. He brought her hand to his chest, over his heart and there, beneath the light of over a hundred candles, he kissed her. It was a powerful moment, a time of renewal, of reawakening; Estrela knew that despite all, no matter the future, her devotion to him would never die.

  She might send him from her as she was bound to do, but it mattered little.

  The fact remained. She loved him.

  She always would.

  It was a vow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The heavy drapes billowed in and out with the midnight breeze. Fresh, dewy fragrances from the courtyard below filtered in through the curtains, and Estrela took an appreciative sniff of the succulent air.

  A particularly strong gust of wind blew in at that moment, causing her to look toward the window, there watching the shadows sweep across the curtains.

  She sat in her bed with the sheer drapes pulled back toward the high bedposts. She waited for him; she knew he would come.

  She hadn’t felt the need to say anything to him as they had parted from one another at the ball only a few hours earlier. She knew he would seek her out, in her room, tonight.

  And so she waited, barely able to breathe, daring not to think.

  The winds were high this night, and another frisky breeze blew open the heavy curtains that hung over the doors, bringing with it the cool temperature from the outside and the fresh scent of aromatic grasses and bushes.

  Estrela rose, her body naked beneath the sheer silk of her nightgown. And as she paced to the doors which opened up onto a balcony, the fragile lawn of her nightgown blew back, outlining the curves of her figure, the material flowing over and around her, moving with her body, the feel of the soft, flimsy cloth a heady sensation against her own body heat. She placed her hand over the sturdy linen material of the drapes, but before she pulled them closed, she gazed out into a sky littered with stars and boasting a full, golden moon.