Tender Taming

by Heather Graham

  With a last little salute he spun around and vaulted back into the jeep. Whitney, still searching for her tongue, stared after him, amazed. She had listened with virtual speechlessness to all he had had to say, and after his first angry questions, he hadn’t expected a single answer. He had told her to come to him, and then he had walked away.

  “Whitney!” Gerry stumbled from the trees, dusting his cuffs, as Eagle’s jeep graveled away in a cloud of dust.

  “You didn’t have to leave me alone!” Gerry grumbled gruffly. Whitney finally peeled her eyes from the disappearing vehicle to turn distractedly to her ex-husband.

  “What?”

  “Oh, never mind.” Oddly enough, Gerry seemed amused. He set an arm lightly around her shoulders. “Get me out of here, will you? Then you can get back to your Indian.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Listen, Whitney,” Gerry said with a smile, still brushing at his clothing uneasily, “on that score I don’t need a road map.” He flicked a tendril of her hair softly from her face with a sigh of sadness. “Whitney, I did come here for the wrong reasons. I wanted to bring you back to Richmond—and back to me. But Stewart had some things to say that made sense. And more than that, Whit, I saw the way you looked at him. You never looked at me like that.”

  “Oh, Gerry,” Whitney said miserably.

  “Don’t,” Gerry interrupted, “it’s okay.” He headed for the jeep. “Shall I drive?”

  Whitney nodded mutely and climbed in beside him. Her heart, mind and emotions were spinning crazy cartwheels.

  Eagle had come to the Glades to find her. In straight terms he had announced that he believed in her, he had defended her in front of Gerry …

  And he had claimed her as his—if that was what she wanted.

  Even his brief streak of jealousy had come quickly under control. He was a towering pinnacle of strength, one that neither suffocated nor strangled but stood sturdy, offering support.

  She had really been a fool, allowing anger and pride to come between them. She had walked out on him once without giving him a chance at explanation.

  And since then she had given him little but argument.

  Now she had a chance to walk back into his life. Many things still needed to be said on both sides, but they were all so inconsequential.

  A small smile curved her lips. He had threatened to dominate, but she was learning that love’s domination could be a wonderful thing. It did not hinder or bind but led to growth and wove those webs that were of one’s own choosing.

  All she needed now was nerve. And belief.

  Cartwheels were churning in her stomach again. It would be so hard to go to him! Already niggling doubts were worming their way into her resolution.

  Had he really said he wanted her? And, she wondered wistfully, did he love her?

  He had yet to say the words.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, Gerry was ready to take the first available shuttle out of Naples. In less than two hours since they left the Glades, Whitney was standing with him before the gate that led to his small plane.

  With his hands upon her shoulders, he smiled affectionately and kissed both her cheeks. “Good luck, Whitney.”

  Impulsively Whitney hugged him back. “The right woman is out there for you somewhere, Gerry, and when you find her you’ll know it beyond a doubt.”

  “Oh? How?” he asked skeptically.

  “Skyrockets!” she told him impishly. “You’d better get on that plane.”

  And then she watched as her “unfinished business” rumbled, circled and flew north.

  It was showdown time, and her nerves began to jitter even as she left the airport. And as she had once wondered in the waters of the hammock lake, her question was, Where is that damned man?

  Come to me. Where? And then she was suddenly sure. He had gone to the place where they had sealed the vows of their love before any commitment had been spoken.

  Nervous but determined to follow her course, Whitney stopped at her room and called her office to announce that she would be gone for a few days. Susie cheerfully accepted her message and then had one to give her.

  “Mr. Stewart called for you this morning. I told him I believed you had gone to the land site. Did he ever get hold of you?”

  “Yes,” Whitney said and smiled. “He certainly did.”

  Saying good-bye, she slowly replaced the receiver, elation adding to her jitters.

  Eagle had not just stumbled upon her. He had come out purposely to find her.

  Slow, she told her pounding heart. Before she allowed herself to take flight in dreams, she still had much to do, and she had to be sure …

  Picking up the phone again, she dialed his office. She could now picture the soft-spoken blonde who informed her that Eagle Stewart had left the office early that morning and would be out indefinitely on personal business.

  This time her hand was shaking so badly she had to fumble with the receiver twice before she reset it correctly. She was holding a very special happiness in the palm of her hand.

  Don’t let me lose it, God! she prayed silently.

  There was one more call she had to make—the hardest. But the day was fading fast, and there was only one way she knew of to reach the Eagle settlement deep in the Glades …

  Flipping through her address book, she found the number for the Big Cypress Reservation. As she was passed from person to person and put on hold, desperation began to grow within her, a stifled sob catching in her throat as she waited.

  She had to reach Eagle today. She couldn’t bear another night of uncertainty … and if she waited, the doubts and fears would come back full force and she might lose her chance.

  “Randy!” She breathed a sigh of relief as he finally came to the phone. “I really hate to do this to you again,” she began after he had happily greeted her. “But I need another favor. This time I have to get back into the reservation. I have to find Eagle, and I’m sure he must be out with Morning Dew. Randy, I know you must be busy, but is there any way you could get me out there today?”

  Randy chuckled, and Whitney could well imagine him grinning on the other end of the wire. He would be wearing that lopsided smile that stated he found women irrational yet wonderful little creatures that needed to be humored. Maybe he was feeling like a smug-as-pie matchmaker.

  Whitney didn’t care. As long as he felt like humoring her at the moment.

  “I’m sure I can work something out, Whitney. Go on out to Eagle’s cabin in the woods, and I’ll round up Katie and meet you as soon as possible. You do know the way to the cabin?”

  “By heart,” Whitney replied wryly.

  “Good. Then see you soon.”

  Whitney was standing and grabbing her shoulder bag before they could say good-bye. She raced out of her room and to the BMW and out once more to Alligator Alley.

  A rueful smile curved her lips as she pulled into the long dirt drive that led to the cabin. Had it only been a month since she had first followed this trail—a different Whitney, so sure of her convictions?

  It had all started here, a slow process of learning, taught by a man of quiet strength whom she had given herself to before she had begun to understand. It was almost as if fate had sent her, frightened and blind, down this trail and directly into the arms of the man who would open her eyes to love.

  Randy arrived with Katie in just moments, and they set out together in the jeep. Neither of the Harrises had any questions or comments to make about her mad desire to see Eagle as soon as possible; indeed, they acted as if her calling them to rush from work to take the long ride into the heart of the swamp was the most natural thing in the world.

  Their conversation was casual yet strangely close and intimate in the jeep. Once they had begun the trek through the sawgrass in the airboat, they all had little to say.

  Whitney scanned the acres of marshland with growing trepidation. Was this what Eagle had meant? Was her coming to him in the deep Glades the sign of tru
st he needed?

  “Pa hay okee,” Katie said softly.

  “Pardon?” Whitney was jolted from her fearful reflections to turn to her.

  “Pa hay okee,” Katie repeated, spreading her arms to encompass the land they streaked through. “River of grass. It is our homeland; it succors and supports us, because we love and cherish it for all that it is. I think it is your homeland, too, Whitney.”

  “Pa hay okee,” Whitney whispered, smiling at Katie. She didn’t need to say any more; a slender bond existed between the two women, one of the ties Eagle had spoken of, born of friendship, understanding and mutual respect.

  When Randy finally pulled off to the high hammock of the Eagle clan, Whitney felt her nervous jitters escalate into full-scale, trembling fear. The closer she came to that which she most desired, the more terrified she became of rejection. Reason warred against her fears. All those things Eagle had said! The way he had held her … the way he had kissed her. He had to really want her! Still, she was grateful for the company of Katie and Randy.

  Except, she discovered, she was about to lose that company.

  Katie kissed her cheek. “See you later, Whitney. I’m going to like having a sister!”

  Were these people all mind readers, Whitney wondered as she quickly demanded, “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stop and see your grandmother? Randy? I’m sure Morning Dew will be very upset if you don’t—”

  “I think,” Randy interrupted gently, “that Morning Dew is probably expecting you. My brother-in-law may be sweating it out a bit, but Morning Dew isn’t. You go on, Whitney. This is your family, too. This is your special time. Find Eagle.”

  Whitney’s eyes darted from Harris to Harris. It was a little late for doubt, but she was riddled with it. Was Eagle really here, waiting?

  “Katie—”

  “Whitney, go on!” Katie laughed as the airboat propeller began to spin. The craft moved off into the marsh and Katie waved and called, “You will find him!”

  Alone, Whitney fought the butterflies in her stomach and searched out the little trail in the cypress. A moment later she came upon the village. The women and children acknowledged her with smiles and words of greeting.

  They were not surprised to see her.

  Following the second trail, Whitney came to Morning Dew. The old woman with the keen, bright eyes and weathered face was sitting before the cooking fire, complacently sewing. She didn’t look up until Whitney stood before her; then she smiled as if welcoming a child who had made it home promptly on time for dinner. Whitney knelt beside her and took a gnarled and work-worn hand into her own.

  How much did Morning Dew know, Whitney wondered. What did she think of her disappearance from the Corn Dance? Would she understand how long the road had been?

  The Indian woman stared at her with gentle eyes that seemed omniscient and all understanding. Whitney realized she needed no explanations; there would be nothing new that she could tell her.

  “Eagle,” she whispered simply, controlling the tone of desperation that was edging her voice. “Eagle,” she practically sobbed. “Oh, Morning Dew! Do you know where he is?”

  “Hush, little one,” Morning Dew soothed in her perfect, unaccented English. “He is here. Where your heart has led you. He is by the lake. He waits.” Her wizened features formed a grimace. “Eagle is not all Indian, you know, and right now he is living with a white man’s fears. You must go to him and calm his soul and your own. He has not put his faith in the laws of the spirits.”

  Whitney bit her lip lightly, afraid to leave the absolute conviction of the older woman.

  “Go now,” Morning Dew prodded. “We will have time, you and I, later. Years to learn better of one another. But now you must go. My grandson—your husband—awaits you.”

  Whitney needed no further urging. With a last smile for Morning Dew, she raced down the trail to the lake with her heart plummeting crazily. She sped through the cypress as if chased by the devil, then halted, mesmerized by shivering apprehension.

  Here she was, in the swamp, by the lake, where her journey had taken her. But what now? Oh God, what now? What did she say?

  And Eagle was there. She saw his back first, rippled with tight muscles and bared to glow bronze beneath the dying sun. She itched to run her fingers over the sleek skin of his broad shoulders and press her lips against his flesh, to reach up and touch the thick raven hair …

  But she held back. He hadn’t seen her yet. She couldn’t see his eyes, couldn’t read into his heart.

  He turned suddenly, knowing that she was there, framed by the ridge of the cypress. Whitney’s breath caught in her throat. He was just staring at her, his hands in the pockets of his form-hugging jeans. A gentle lash of waves from the quiet lake washed over his feet, soaking his pants legs, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was frozen like a statue, watching her, his blue gaze startling and compelling but fathomless.

  The man who stood as solidly as an oak was trembling inside like a young boy. She had come! Guided by the chemistry of hearts and minds that beat together, she had sought him out. As he watched her, her quivering immobility between the flanking cypress trees, he thought lovingly of all that she was. So delicate beside him! Yet like the beautiful orchids of the Everglades, she was strong and tenacious. From that very first night he had loved her, although he had fought against it. And now he wanted to speak; he wanted to reach out and touch the petal softness of her face. He needed to take her into his arms and promise that they would never be apart again.

  Whitney was growing desperate. Damn him! She had come all this way, and he wasn’t saying a thing! If his relentless stare of steel persisted much longer, she would run screaming back into the woods.

  No, she had come this far. If it was another step that she must take first, then she must take that step.

  What could she say? How could she begin?

  Maybe it was one of those times when action would say more than words. And time to turn the tables a little.

  She was shaking, but a show of bravado could be perpetuated. Leaving the haven of the trees, Whitney stalked slowly toward the lake, keeping her eyes locked with Eagle’s. He followed her every movement but still stood silent.

  Three feet from the water Whitney began to undo the buttons of her blouse. Removing the garment with a sultry lack of haste, she tossed it to him, smiling mischievously when his reflexes forced him to catch it. With slow deliberation she stooped, unzipped her boots and kicked them nonchalantly aside.

  It was the first strip-tease she had ever performed, and it was hard to calculate its effect on her audience, but feminine instinct told her it was going well. Eagle hadn’t spoken, but the pulses in his neck were becoming fast and erratic. A feeling of happy power was coming over her. The desire she was hoping to elicit made sultry emeralds of her eyes, and she shimmied from her jeans with a tantalizing rhythm.

  Eagle could have moved then. He could have reached out, crushed her to him and allowed his hard, burning body to demand all that she was offering. But he waited, now with tender, aching amusement. What she was doing was sheer torture, yet it was the sweetest bliss! His body was as taut as a thinly stretched tightrope; his nerves clamored in a cry of thrill and agony for him simply to force her curvaceous, taunting form into his arms and take her with blunt command to appease the rising passion that strained to be released.

  But somehow he knew it would be worth it to wait, as he had already waited all these weeks. The smile that was slowly curving his lips was an assured one; he would soon reap his just rewards for superhuman patience.

  Whitney saw the smile and her heart skipped a beat. What she had begun, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would finish. Her fingers suddenly became leaden, and as she slipped the stubborn hooks of her French-cut bra and hastily discarded her panties, her cool was somewhat lost. Not all that practiced at being a seductress, her nerve was ebbing, especially as she realized that the eyes watching her had gone a murky midnight blue that p
romised of things to come …

  Whitney ran her fingers through her dark hair and tossed her head back. Feigning complete innocence, she plunged into the deliciously cool water, swam a bit for distance and rose like a mermaid from the depths. Water streamed from her hair and over her breasts in tiny rivulets of crystal. Watching from the shore, Eagle shuddered as a jolt of flaming, uncontrollable desire burst inside him and ripped its way through his entire length.

  “Join me?” she teased breathlessly. “I assure you, I will not attack you.” Her voice lowered a shade and the husky tone held a note of beseechment. “It is your move, White Eagle.”

  It was his move all right, Eagle groaned to himself, but could he make it to the water? He’d never had more trouble unbuckling a belt in his life.

  “Hey, there!” Whitney laughed. “What’s the problem, Flapping Feather? Get in here!”

  Eagle grinned. He finally managed to undo the brass buckle and release the fly on his pants. “What’s the hurry?” he drawled. “I mean, after all, honey, if you don’t attack…”

  His voice trailed away as his clothes fell to the dust and he entered the water in all his natural, ultravirile, male splendor.

  “Even the best of us can be provoked,” Whitney murmured.

  His raven head suddenly disappeared beneath the water, and Whitney caught her breath. She plunged below the surface herself and began to swim blindly in an elusive manner. It was a foolish gesture. She would never outmatch his prowess in the water.

  A powerful hand clamped around her ankle and she sputtered awkwardly to the top, flailing for balance as he continued to hold her foot high.

  “Let go of my foot!” Whitney demanded in between a fit of giggles. “You uncouth rogue!”