His Wild Heart

by Colleen French

  She laughed, swept up by Jon's enthusiasm. "I'm not a drinker, Jon. I can hardly keep my wits about me now. I've no need of hard drink."

  "It's not what you think. Now come along. I'll not take no for an answer."

  "I can't." Alexandra's hand went to her unbound hair, remembering that Judith had obviously taken great care with her appearance this evening. "I look a sight. My hair's not even combed."

  He squeezed her hand. "You look beautiful to me."

  She looked up at him, offering a quick smile. "Thanks." .

  He looped her arm through his and led her toward the center of the village. "Just stick with me, sweet. I can show a woman a good time at a party, even a heathen party."

  Alexandra chuckled. Why not go and eat and drink with the others? She didn't care what Judith did, or what she did with Hunter for that matter. She had a right as a guest of the Shawnee to join in the festivities. She fit in as well with these people as she'd fit in anywhere. The strange truth was that if she would allow herself to admit it, she fit in better here.

  Jon led her through the camp, weaving in and out among the wigwams until they reached the center clearing. The sound of the beating drums and the chants of the men dancing round and round in two interlocking circles was deafening. At another point in her life, she might have been frightened by the frenzied activity, but tonight she took it all in and was fascinated.

  "Drink this," Jon shouted above the din.

  Alexandra looked down into the gourd cup he'd pressed into her hand. "What is it?"

  He shrugged sipping from his own. "Some heathen concoction. Better than rye whiskey. Doesn't leave you with a splitting bean the next morning."

  She sipped the drink cautiously. To her surprise the taste was not bitter, as she'd expected, but sweet and fruity. She took another sip. The warm liquid left a tingling sensation on the tip of her tongue as it went down.

  Jon accepted a wooden trencher of roasted venison and squash an older woman offered, and then led Alexandra around the circle to take a seat beside a teenaged boy and his mother. Polite nods were exchanged. The boy grinned at Alexandra and she laughed instead of turning away. She didn't know what was in the drink, but it was definitely having an uplifting effect on her.

  Sitting down cross-legged on a deerhide mat beside Jon, Alexandra reached for a slice of venison. The meat was hot and savory. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until she took the first bite. Then she was ravenous.

  "Look at that," Jon said loudly in her ear.

  She followed his line of vision.

  There was Hunter in the circle of dancing men, pounding his moccasins into the dust with the same motions as the other braves. Alexandra chewed her venison slowly, mesmerized by Hunter's movements.

  Every muscle in his nearly nude body flexed as he swung his arms and danced to the beat of the drums, his feet following invisible intricate patterns in the dirt. He moved with the others around in a tight circle, while still remaining part of the larger moving circle. The men threw back their heads in unison and howled and Hunter howled with them.

  Alexandra couldn't tear her eyes from him as the music picked up rhythm and he danced faster, whirling in circles, stamping his feet and clapping to the sound of the drums that now seemed to rise up out of the earth. Light beads of perspiration rose on his forehead, and then his entire body began to glow with a thin sheen as he exerted more and more energy.

  "Where did he learn to do that?" Alexandra breathed.

  Jon shrugged his shoulders. "Beats the hell out of me." He stood. "More drink?"

  She nodded, still hypnotized by Hunter's exotic, almost erotic dance. "Yes."

  "Be right back."

  She barely noticed when Jon returned again, except to know that her cup was again filled.

  Finally the men's dance ended with an earsplitting whoop of the dancers and Hunter disappeared into the crowd of men.

  Jon offered to get her a third cup of refreshment, she accepted.

  "What the hell," she told him. Why not?" Her head felt light, her lips tingly. She wasn't drunk, not like that time she and her brother Jeremy had drunk too much of her father's brandy wine. This feeling was different. She still had command of her senses. Her speech wasn't slurred. She wasn't sick to her stomach. She just felt good from the tips of her toes to the shell earrings that bobbed in her ears. She kept thinking of Hunter and the way he had moved his hard muscular body, the way the muscles of his buttocks had flexed, the way he had swayed his broad hands to and fro.

  As she waited for Jon's return she watched new dancers gather. First the men had danced and now it seemed to be the women's turn. Women young and old began to whirl to the sound of the beating drums as the men clapped and sang and called to their lovers.

  As Alexandra watched she thought about the differences between the Shawnee culture and her own. These people seemed genuinely to care for each other. Married couples were free with their physical displays of affection, even in public. And just as Hunter had told her, the men saw the women as their equals. Alexandra saw it everywhere. Men carried water for their wives' cooking pots. Women hunted and fished with their men. Judith, a white woman, had been invited to partake in a village meeting the night before and had actually been permitted to vote on the decision!

  Yes, life was very different here among the Shawnee for the women. And as much as Alexandra hated to admit it, she could understand why Judith would choose to remain here instead of returning to so-called civilization.

  The rhythm of the drums picked up and the men clapped louder as the women danced faster, whirling round and round, their moccasined feet beating the ground.

  Across the campfire Alexandra spotted Judith. Her long, shapely, lithe body moved to the ancient rhythm of the drums and bone flutes, her movements one with the sounds. Slowly she made her way around the circle of firelight until she stopped in front of Hunter who had just appeared out of the darkness. The other women all stopped before their mates and began a slower, tantalizing dance as one of the older women began to chant.

  Alexandra tried to watch the others dance, but she couldn't take her eyes off Judith and Hunter. She danced. He smiled and sipped from the gourd cup in his hand.

  Alexandra glanced about for Jon. She spotted him beyond the light of the adjacent fire. He was whispering in the ear of a young Shawnee woman. The woman was laughing and brushing her fingertips across Jon's chest. Alexandra turned her attention back to the dance before her.

  An old woman's voice rose above the sounds of the drums. She was obviously telling a story. The Shawnee women swayed to the sound of her voice, their hands signing the words.

  Judith turned slowly in a circle, smiling up at Hunter, her body beckoning him with each sway of her hips.

  Is he yours? Judith's words echoed in her head.

  No! Alexandra had answered.

  What was it Hunter had said the other day at the stream about being attracted to her but not being willing to love again?

  Of course the thought was absurd. She, the Lady Alexandra, and this wild man, Hunter. But he was a lord, wasn't he? Wasn't that what Jon had said. Hunter was simply playing Indian? He had land, money, and a title across the ocean in England.

  If Jon was going to return to England, why not Hunter? Once his wife's death was avenged what would keep him here in the colonies? Nothing.

  Slowly Alexandra rose. The drums were still beating. The old woman's tale had come to an end but the younger women still danced. Alexandra felt herself swaying her hips to the sound of the hollow instruments. The music was hypnotic.

  She knew the drink Jon had given her was influencing her thoughts, her behavior, but she didn't care. The old Alexandra would certainly not have danced a seductive heathen dance, but the old Alexandra had died that sunny morning on the boat the day the Iroquois had attacked. Life could never be the same after that carnage. Why did she keep thinking it could be?

  Slowly she made her way around the circle of the campfire, copy
ing the other women's movements. The sweet drink and the rhythm of the drums swept her up and carried her around the circle toward Hunter. He was the first person who had made her feel truly alive in a long time. He made her heart beat faster, her stomach tie in knots, her mouth go dry.

  Alexandra spun around and suddenly found herself beside Judith, in front of Hunter. He lifted an eyebrow, surprised but seemingly not shocked.

  "Glad to see you join in the festivities," he said, his voice warm with the drink of the Shawnee. The light from the campfire reflected off his handsomely chiseled face. As Alexandra moved to the beat of the gourd rattles, she took note of the peacefulness she saw on Hunter's face. Tonight he seemed to carry none of the burden of his wife's death. He seemed to be open to the magic of the night.

  The tempo of the song changed, and suddenly Indian braves were joining the women in their dance. Judith put her hand out toward Hunter.

  He hesitated.

  "No, let me, Judith," Alexandra murmured.

  Judith looked at her face, then Hunter's. She smiled and laughed as she danced away. A moment later she was swept up in the arms of a tall Shawnee brave. Alexandra heard her laughter as she looked up at Hunter.

  Around them the Shawnee danced, clapping and singing in rising frenzy. For a moment there seemed to be no one on the earth to Alexandra but Hunter.

  "You're asking me to dance?" Hunter asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  Throwing caution to wind, she smiled up at him. "If you'll have me."

  Tossing the gourd cup carelessly to the ground, he grabbed her hands and swung her into his arms. Moments later they were in the middle of the dancing villagers, matching footstep to footstep, their bodies brushing against each other.

  Alexandra laughed and threw back her head as Hunter spun her until she was dizzy. Everything was suddenly a whirl of glorious confusion, the heat of the campfire, the pounding of the footsteps, the scent of Hunter's masculinity, the feel of his breath on her cheek.

  Finally, the dance ended and the men and women collapsed in each other's arms. Alexandra looked up at Hunter, relieved the dance was over, but not wanting to part from him. Hunter's arm rested on her shoulder, partially bared by the leather dress that had shifted to one side. His fingertips were hot against her skin.

  "So the lady is multitalented," he murmured in her ear. "Not many Londoners who can do the Shawnee Tah-mee Men-ya-lo-wai."

  She threw back her head to look up into his green eyes. She was breathless but she didn't know if it was because of the physical exertion or the nearness of this man. "The what?"

  "Roughly translated, the corn dance." He led her away from the center fire, but didn't lift his arm from her shoulder.

  "Something to drink?"

  "More?" She laughed. "I don't think so. I've already nearly taken leave of my senses, dancing like a Fleet Street strumpet."

  "Taken leave of your senses?" They reached the pot of drink and he accepted a cup from a man who was dipping several. "That, or found them?"

  When she didn't reply for lack of anything substantial to say, he brought the cup to her lips and she sipped. When she pulled away, he brought the cup to his own lips and drank heartily.

  Somehow they found themselves beyond the light of the campfire. The sound of the hollow gourds and bone flutes faded a little. Alexandra stared up at Hunter's face. His earring glimmered and she was tempted to reach out and touch it.

  She could tell by the look on his face that he was going to kiss her.

  Is this what I want? she thought wildly.

  Yes!

  When his lips touched hers, she nearly recoiled. She was not an innocent to a man's kisses, but no one had ever affected her like this. As their mouths met, a physical energy arced between them. Alexandra lifted her arms to rest on his massive shoulders and leaned into him, wanting to taste him.

  His kiss was gentle, but probing. It was gentlemanly, yet immensely sensual at the same time.

  "I shouldn't be doing this," he whispered against her lips.

  He was kissing her cheek now, the tip of her nose, the length of her neck. Shivers of pleasure reverberated through her body.

  "No, no you shouldn't. I shouldn't," she somehow managed.

  "But it's been coming to this, hasn't it, Alex?"

  "Yes, yes," she answered, returning his kisses. "It doesn't make any sense, but—"

  "Of course it makes sense." He brushed his fingertips across her breasts and she felt her nipples pucker beneath the soft leather. "It makes sense because we're two people in need. In need of each other."

  Alexandra covered his hand with hers. This was all going too quickly. Her breasts were tingling. Her woman's place ached. She looked up at him and touched her finger to the copper earring in his ear. "You'll take me home, won't you, Hunter? You won't make me go with Creeping Turtle's cousin?"

  "I'll take you back to Annapolis, but I warn you it'll be the long way home. He-Who-Wishes had some information for me. I head for a fort in Penn's colony."

  She shook her head. "I don't care. I don't care how long it takes. There's nothing for me in Annapolis. Nothing that can't wait."

  He smiled a roguish smile to beat Jon's best. "Are you certain you won't regret your words in the morning after the wine has worn off and the sunlight hits my ugly face."

  She bit down on her lower lip. How could a savage man in such a savage country be so gentle? "No," she whispered. "There'll be no regrets."

  "For a handful of coppers I might take you here and now," he said, nuzzling her neck. "For the first time in a very long time, I want to make love. I want to make love with you, Alex."

  She smiled. Tonight was a night to hold back nothing. She might not get the chance tomorrow. "For a handful of coppers I might do the same."

  "But we won't," he whispered.

  She shook her head. "Not tonight. Not like this."

  He dropped his hand on her shoulder and began to lead her away from the commotion of the dancing. "Jon said he asked you to go back to London with him . . . to be his mistress."

  "Did Jon tell you I said no?"

  They walked between the shadowy wigwams. Somewhere a baby fussed and then was quieted by his mother's breast. The light of the full moon beat down on them with its golden rays. "He said he tried to warn you against me. He said he told you I'm not a man to count on, not for—"

  "If you're trying to tell me that you're not willing to marry me, just as he isn't, it's not necessary." She stopped in front of the wigwam she and Judith shared. "I'm no fool. It's just that . . ." her voice trailed off for a moment and then she spoke again. "It's just that I've enjoyed these last few days as I've never enjoyed life. I've seen things in myself and in others I never knew existed. I somehow get the feeling that it's you that's changed me."

  "No, it's not me, Alex. It's this land." He took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. "It's the land that changed me, and you as well I'd wager."

  She laid her cheek against the soft leather of his tunic. The rise and fall of his breathing was strangely comforting.

  "Hunter's moon," he mused.

  She lifted her head to look up at his face. "What?"

  He pointed to the sky. "A hunter's moon. A full moon. It always seems to be there in the sky at turning points in my life." He brushed his lips against her forehead. "Is this a turning point in my-life?"

  She sighed. "I don't know. I don't know anything, not anymore I don't." She brushed back a lock of his magical hair with her fingers. "Good night, Hunter."

  He kissed her one last time, his lips lingering on hers. "Sleep and I'll see you in the morning. Things always seem to make more sense by the light of the day."

  The morning, she thought and she forced herself to step out of Hunter's arms and go into the wigwam. Would morning change what she and Hunter had shared tonight? More importantly, did she want it to?

  Chapter Ten

  "What do you mean she's going with us?" Jon took a pinch from his silver snuffbox and
inhaled deeply. "I thought Creeping Turtle's cousin was taking her back to Annapolis in the morning!"

  Hunter leaned against the rough bark of a tree, crossing his arms over his chest. In the distance he could hear the pulsing of the Shawnee drums. He knew they would play until dawn's first light before they finally grew silent. "She was going with the boy, but she asked me to take her back. After all she's been through, she just doesn't feel safe heading back through the forest with an Indian."

  Jon lifted a feathery black eyebrow. "And she feels safe going with you?" He grimaced. "Surely you jest?"

  Hunter shrugged. "The woman's scared, Jon. She could easily have died at the hands of Two Crows. I'm a white man. She thinks she can trust me."

  Jon swore softly. "You'd best back off, friend. You're going to hurt her."

  "Hurt her?" Hunter scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm just going to take her back to Annapolis. I told her we would be heading for the fort He-Who-Wishes said Blue-Green Eyes has been seen near, but then once I deal with him, I'll take her home."

  "And tumble her along the way? Is that it, Geoffry?"

  Hunter scowled. "Don't call me Geoffry. Geoffry's dead, long gone."

  "I know, I know, and now you're the great Hunter of the Shawnee, right?"

  Hunter stared up into the sky. A canopy of stars twinkled overhead, piercing the darkness of the forest with the rays of white light. "I wouldn't hurt her, Jon. Not for the world."

  Jon chuckled. "Smitten on her, are you? Imagine what your father would think if you brought her home with you. Here's my wife, Papa. Yes, she was kidnapped, raped, and tortured by Indians in the colonies, but isn't she lovely? Yes, I can see how your father would be overjoyed to meet your new wife."

  "She says she wasn't raped. And you're blowing this all out of proportion. No one said anything about marrying anyone. I just said I wouldn't hurt her. Not like you would, Jon."

  "I made as honest a proposal to her as she'll get anywhere. She'd be a fool not to take me up on it. Better to be a wealthy man's whore than a pauper's wife I say. And a pauper is all that will have her now and you know it. Once she gets back to Annapolis, it doesn't matter who she really is, no decent man will have her. No respectable man's family would approve of the marriage."