"What's going on?" She looked at the Indian who was trying to sit up. There was a gash above his left ear that was oozing blood. She looked up at Hunter. "You know him?" she asked, her voice suddenly deflated.
Hunter grinned. "Creeping Turtle, this is Alexandra." He swept a hand as if making a court introduction. "Alexandra, Creeping Turtle."
Alexandra brought her fingers to her lips. "Oh, God," she muttered. "He's your friend."
"A good friend." Hunter offered his broad palm and Creeping Turtle took it, rising to his feet.
"Greetings." Creeping Turtle nodded, running a hand over his wound, blinking to clear his head. "You are strong for a white woman. The bear clan could use you on their next hunting party."
Alexandra was mortified. He spoke English—well. She looked back at Hunter. "Well, how was I supposed to know! I . . . I thought," she stammered. "I thought he was one of Two Crows's men. I thought you were in danger. I thought he was trying to kill you. Jon . . . Jon wasn't going to help. I thought . . ." She let her words trail off into silence.
Hunter was still smiling. "You surprised me, Alex." He touched her cheek in a tender gesture that caught her completely off guard. "As foul a mood as you've been in all day, I'd have thought you'd have helped someone do me in." He was looking straight into her eyes, completely oblivious to the other two men. "Could it be you've taken a liking to me?"
It was the same soft, intimate tone he'd used the day before.
She tore her gaze from his, now completely confused, not just by Hunter's attention, but by her own physical reaction to him. Her stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies. Her mouth was dry, her palms damp.
"I'm so sorry . . . Creeping Turtle . . ." she apologized. "I thought you were trying to kill him. First the bear this morning. Then you. He's crazy, you know. He thinks he's immortal. I didn't mean—" Then a thought struck her and her tone changed to one of agitation. "Say, if you're his friend, why in heaven's name did you jump out of the trees and scare him like that? Why were you trying to hurt him?"
Jon stepped into the conversation. "Some kind of male thing, Alexandra. I've never understood it myself. The more one man likes another, the more often he tries to send him to his maker. Hunter once let a party of soldiers capture me thinking I was some renegade, Shawnee, hatchet murderer. They carried me back to their fort and locked me up. He left me in a horse stall for two days while he played cards with the soldiers before he finally sprang me."
Hunter and Creeping Turtle laughed as if it was still a good joke.
Alexandra shook her head. "You all deserve to be whacked in the head," she muttered.
Creeping Turtle nodded at Alexandra. "A brave woman, Hunter of the Shawnee. Is she yours?"
Hunter looked at Alexandra, his gaze seeming to pierce her soul for a moment's time. He looked back at the Indian. "Aye."
She sank her elbow hard into his side. "I am not! What makes you think you have the right to—"
"Want to buy her?" Hunter asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Give you a good price. A few otter pelts, a pouch of tobacco. Maybe a bear-claw necklace . . ."
Alexandra opened her mouth to speak again, but then thought better of it. Hunter was teasing her again. She didn't appreciate it, but she'd not let him bait her this time. He seemed to take too much pleasure in it.
When Hunter realized he'd not bested her this time, he laughed easily, his baritone voice echoing in her ears. He winked at her and then turned back to the men. "No takers? Guess I'm stuck with her then. No?"
Creeping Turtle and Jon laughed with him until Alexandra was chuckling too. God, it felt good to laugh. It felt good to be included like this.
"So tell me what brings you to my forest," Creeping Turtle said when their laughter had subsided. "You have promised for a long time to come, but I doubted I would ever see you so far west. You are like a blue crab, Hunter of the Shawnee. You like to stay near your great bay."
Hunter sobered. "Business, friend. I need to speak with your shaman, He-Who-Wishes."
Creeping Turtle lifted his red palm. "He-Who-Wishes is not here. He's gone across the great river to tend to a sickness, but he is expected home soon. I will escort you to my village and make you honored guests while you wait for our shaman. We will eat and dance and smoke my father and mother's pipe."
Hunter nodded in agreement and then touched Alexandra's arm lightly. "Not much farther," he assured her. "Once we reach the village I'll see that you have a bath and a comfortable place to sleep." He paused, but she knew he wanted to say something else. "I'm sorry to have had to drag you so far from home, but it's imperative that I speak with He-Who-Wishes. Winter is setting in and I vowed not to let another season pass with my wife's death yet to be avenged."
Without thinking, Alexandra found herself reaching out with her finger to touch the drop of drying blood in the corner of his mouth. His hazel eyes seemed green at this moment. His gaze held her spellbound. What was it about this man that drew her to him? Why against all reason did she like him, a man so unconventional? It made no sense.
Jon and Creeping Turtle had taken the mule and started down the path. Alexandra could hear them in the distance. Yet Hunter made no move to follow. He just stood there staring at her, a strange light in his eyes.
"Scary isn't it?" he whispered, his voice meant only for her ears.
"What?" she breathed, their gazes still locked in an embrace.
"This. Between you and me."
Her first impulse was to deny his words and the feeling that stirred in her belly, but she didn't. "I don't really like you," she said. "You're unstable. Maybe crazy."
"I don't want to like you. You talk too much. And you're too dangerous. I loved once. I vowed never to love again. Hurts too damned much."
"I loved once, in a silly girlish way."
"What happened?" he asked softly.
Alexandra was oblivious to her surroundings. It didn't seem to matter that she was in the middle of the wilderness with two Indians and a stranger. All she could hear was Hunter's soft, rich voice. All she could feel was the magnetism of his gaze that drew her in and enveloped her in a tingling warmth.
She shook her head. "I was supposed to marry him, though we never really met."
"You were in love with a man you never met?"
"I told you. It was girlish. An infatuation more than a love."
"He died?"
She thought of Geoffry Rordan, Viscount Ashton and smiled. "He left me at the altar in a manner of speaking. I never saw him again."
Hunter suddenly turned away. "That's unfortunate. We'd best hurry. The sun is setting."
Alexandra watched him walk away, trying not to be hurt by his sudden reserve. But the spell was broken and once again she felt the chasm between them.
"Wait! I'm coming," she called. And as she ran to catch up, she wondered if that tender exchange between her and Hunter had really taken place. Or had she just imagined it all?
The sun was just beginning to set over the treetops to the west as Alexandra and the men entered the Shawnee village. She was immediately surprised by the bombardment of sound and sights of the busy encampment.
There were dogs everywhere, barking and racing in circles at the sight of the new arrivals. Children ran in groups, much like the pups, laughing and all shouting at once as they approached the strangers to have a look.
The village swarmed with people as busy as bees in a beehive, all attending to evening chores. Two young women walked by just as Alexandra and the men stepped into the clearing. Both carried water in skins in each hand. They nodded to Creeping Turtle and then to his guests, then put their heads together and giggled as they went on. Several men walked out to meet Creeping Turtle and immediately fell into conversation with him. To Alexandra's amazement, Hunter spoke the Shawnee language and became an integral part of the conversation.
Jon hung back, standing beside Alexandra.
"He speaks the Indian language, but you don't?" she asked.
Jon s
hook his head. "A little, but he always had a gift for languages, even when we were children. The king's tongue is all I need." He lifted an eyebrow. "That and a few decent French oaths."
"Hunter said you were Shawnee. You didn't want to learn your own people's language?"
"Hunter speaks to them when communication is necessary. Besides, a good deal of them speak English these days anyway."
Alexandra nodded in fascination. She found herself constantly amazed by Hunter and Jon. It seemed as if their personalities were reversed. Hunter, the white man with his aristocratic nose and supposed fortune was the native American at heart. Jon, with his bronze skin and coal black hair, was the loyal Englishman.
Hunter took a step back. "We have been invited to stay. The accusations of Laughing Rain's family don't seem to matter. Creeping Turtle's uncle says the turtle clan of the Delaware were always a contrary bunch anyway." He glanced at Alexandra. "Creeping Turtle says his widowed sister would be more than happy to have you stay with her. The Shawnee are great ones for hospitality. I'm sure she'll make you comfortable."
Alexandra nodded, offering a faint smile. "I just want a place to sleep."
Creeping Turtle nodded to the two braves he had been speaking to and then turned to Alexandra, Jon and Hunter. "You must come meet my parents and then I'll see to finding you a meal. I know you must all be starved." He outstretched a hand. "This way to the wigwam of my father."
Creeping Turtle led them through a maze of dome-shaped huts, waving and speaking to friends and family as he went. Alexandra was amazed by the friendliness of the people as she made her way through the camp. Women and children stopped to speak. Someone pushed a tin cup of cool water into her hand. Another offered a wooden bowl of sweet dried berries for Alexandra to nibble on. The Shawnee seemed not to be in the least disturbed by the arrival of the white man and woman, in fact, they seemed to be excited by the thought of visitors.
On the outer edge of the camp, Creeping Turtle stopped. "Let me get my mother. Father will be home from his fishing trip soon."
He ducked inside the wigwam and a moment later came out leading an Indian woman. She was not particularly pretty in any usual sense of the word, but Alexandra thought her striking. She had the same dark eyes and black hair as everyone else in the camp, but there was something about her face that glowed with an inner beauty. She appeared to be no more than forty, which Alexandra knew was impossible, considering that Creeping Turtle had to be at least thirty.
"This is my mother, She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind," Creeping Turtle said proudly. He turned to his mother and began the introduction in Shawnee, but suddenly the woman drew her hands to her face and wailed.
Alexandra's eyes widened in surprise as the woman began to fling her arms wildly, babbling in her native tongue.
Creeping Turtle and Hunter both turned to Jon. Both appeared to be shocked by the Indian woman's words.
"What is it?" Alexandra asked Hunter. "What is she saying?"
Hunter nodded to his friend standing a few feet to his left. "She says," he murmured in disbelief, "that Jon is her long-lost son."
Chapter Seven
"Her son?" Alexandra whispered.
They all stared at Jon.
For a moment Jon didn't move. A myriad of emotions flashed across his face. Alexandra saw joy as well as sadness. But then he put on that charming smirk of his and the moment was lost.
"I'm flattered," he said, just a little too sure of himself. "But tell your mother she is mistaken. My parents are dead. Hunter's father found me wandering in the woods near Annapolis and took me home with him to England. I have no family."
Creeping Turtle took his mother's hand and spoke quietly in their native tongue. The woman listened without interruption, but then shook her head firmly. She spoke again. Hunter translated for both Jon and Alexandra.
"She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind says it is you who are mistaken, son. What mother does not know her own child, even if she has not seen him in thirty-odd years? She says a woman does not forget the blood of her blood she brought into this world in pain and joy and suckled at her breast."
Jon's dark eyes narrowed as he studied Creeping Turtle's mother. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "Ask her this—if I am her son, how is it that I was abandoned and left to die alone in the forest."
Hunter repeated Jon's words.
She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind brought her hand to her cheek to brush away her tears. She spoke softly.
Hunter turned back to Jon. "She says that you were not left, but taken."
"Taken?"
The Indian woman went on, adding hand signals to her explanation.
"She says," Hunter watched her as he spoke, "that their village was once much closer to the Great Bay than it is now. She says their village was raided by white men when her son Konah was but two winters. They were separated by fire and men on horses. She was carrying her sister's twins and her Konah disappeared in the smoke." Hunter's gaze met Jon's. "She says she never saw him again, but she knew he would be back one day."
Jon gave a little laugh, but it was obvious he saw nothing funny in the woman's words. "Could it be true?" he asked Hunter, still staring at the woman. "Could this be my mother?"
"I suppose she could be, Jon. All Father ever said was that he found you in the forest near Annapolis."
"But he said he looked for my parents," Jon murmured. "He said he tried to find them."
"Maybe he just couldn't find them," Alexandra offered gently.
Jon looked at Creeping Turtle. "If this old woman is my mother, then you and I are brothers?"
"Half," Creeping Turtle answered, resting an arm across his mother's shoulder. "My father, Listening Man, is not your father. He married my mother after you were lost."
Jon's gaze met that of the Indian woman's. "Who was my father, if you are indeed, my mother?"
Creeping Turtle asked the question in the Shawnee language. She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind answered hesitantly.
Creeping Turtle turned back to Jon. "She says your father is a white man. She loved him, but she was young and did not understand the consequences of falling in love with a man not of her own religion."
"And what became of my father?"
She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind spoke and Creeping Turtle translated. "She says he went away after you were born. She says he was ashamed of the color of his son's skin."
Jon turned away.
She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind walked to her son's side and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. She spoke softly, her words meant for no one but Jon.
Alexandra felt tears gather in the corners of her eyelids. It didn't matter that she couldn't understand what the woman was saying, and she knew that it didn't matter that Jon couldn't understand either. Her words were the words of a mother who thought her child lost forever, only to find him years later, a man.
Alexandra turned to Hunter. "She is his mother."
"What makes you say so?" Hunter questioned.
Again Alexandra felt the intimacy between her and Hunter that she had felt before. He honestly wanted to know what she thought. He honestly cared.
"A woman doesn't mistake her child." Alexandra spoke softly, from her heart. "Not even if she hasn't seen him for thirty years. A mother's intuition is very strong."
"And how would you know?" he teased. "You've never been a mother, have you?"
"No. But I'm a woman and women know these things." She smiled to herself. "I'd like to be a mother." Alexandra didn't know what it was about this man that made her feel so comfortable that she felt she could express such feelings. "I'd like to feel the way She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind must feel now."
"You, a mother?" Hunter caught her hand, surprising them both. "Somehow I didn't see you as the type of woman who would want of passel of brats at her heels."
"Just goes to show you that you might think you know me, but you don't."
Hunter wove his fingers through hers, studying the differences in skin color and textu
re. "I almost like you when you're like this."
She smiled. "Like what?"
"Thoughtful. Honest."
"I'm always honest."
He laughed, his rich voice pleasant in her ears. "I don't doubt you are, but it's hard for a man to get past that shrewish tongue of yours. You lash out and I automatically take a step back. It keeps me from hearing what you have to say."
She looked down at the ground. Creeping Turtle and his mother were now speaking quietly to Jon. Jon stood apart from them, listening, his arms crossed over his chest. Alexandra had Hunter all to herself and she liked it.
"My tongue. My father always claimed it was my greatest fault," Alexandra answered Hunter. "He said no one would ever marry me. He said no man wanted a harridan for a wife."
"I don't know. Perhaps a woman as beautiful as you could make a man see past the sharp tongue. We forget that the benefit of a sharp tongue is often a sharp wit."
"Something you may see as a well-liked quality," she quipped, "but most men see it as a fault. Men don't like women who are smarter than they are. I found that out the hard way."
"Depends on the man, and how smart he is."
When she looked at Hunter, he was smiling at her, a smile that made her stomach flutter nervously. Heavens, but he was a good-looking man when he was being nice.
"You just haven't found the right man," he went on softly.
"Maybe there isn't one for me."
He let go of her hand. "Nonsense. I found Laughing Rain in the middle of the wilderness, thousands of miles away from my home. I have a feeling God guides us in the right direction when it comes to these things."
At the mention of his wife, Alexandra felt herself stiffen. She was ashamed of herself. Jealous of a dead woman—how terrible. But jealous she was.
She looked at Hunter, who was watching her. Who was she kidding, with these silly word games and innocent flirtations? This man wasn't any more interested in her than any of the others had been. She was going to get herself into trouble if she didn't back off, she knew it.
His Wild Heart Page 7