Forbidden Caress

by Colleen French

  "Come looking for the Hawk, did you?" He smiled wolfishly. "You should be watching over my brother. But I suppose it can't be helped. I too, sometimes get the urge in the middle of the night."

  "Take your hands off me!" Katelyn shouted, waking the Chief. "I've come to tell you about your brother, swine!"

  "What of him? Tell me!" He shook her until her teeth rattled.

  "He's awake and speaking." Coward . . . you couldn't tell him the rest, could you?

  Hawk leaped from his platform, the sleeping skin sliding from his body.

  Katelyn spun around making a quick exit. These heathens had no shame! Imagine! Sleeping without a stitch on! It was no wonder they had such vile thoughts! She grabbed the water skin and ducked into Fox's wigwam. He still sat where she left him, his head resting in his hands on his lap.

  "Who's there?" Tipaakke's head snapped in her direction.

  "Me. Katelyn. Your father and brother are coming." Hesitantly, she took a few steps. "I brought you water." She wrapped his hands around the skin.

  He took a long pull and then another before handing it back to her. "Retie the thong. I cannot."

  She did as ordered and hung the bag on an inside beam where other baskets and bags hung. "Are you hungry?"

  "There's no need to shout, woman! I'm blind, not deaf! Yes. I will eat."

  Katelyn searched through the small bark baskets on the floor and found the leftover corncakes Cedar had given her. She unwrapped them from the leaves and laid two on a small board. She was dumping some berries into a large clam shell when Hawk and the father entered the wigwam.

  "Tipaakke, you are well. You scared me." Mekollaan's voice caught in his throat as he stared into his brother's sightless, ebony eyes.

  "No. As you can see, I am not," he answered quietly in the Delaware tongue.

  Kukuus squatted in front of his son for a moment, then got up, returning shortly with a blazing stick. He passed it back and forth in front of Tipaakke's face.

  "I smell. I feel. But I do not see. Not even light, Father."

  Kukuus stroked his chin thoughtfully, gazing into his son's glassy eyes. "You shouldn't have lived, my son. Our Shaman tells me the musket ball is still lodged in your skull. It's sad that you are sightless, but you have cheated death. So you are a lucky man."

  "I should have died."

  "No. Don't say that. Manito puts you on this earth for a reason. And you must stay here until He decides it is time for you to go."

  Katelyn watched Tipaakke slide back into his platform and close his eyes. She wished she could understand what they were saying; not knowing made her uneasy. And worse yet, Hawk stood silently at the door glaring in her direction. They're going to kill me anyway, she thought, pulling herself into a tighter ball on the corn-husk mat.

  Kukuus stroked his son's bandaged head. "Go back to sleep, Fox of mine. The Shaman will return in the morning." He got himself to his feet, pushing away the hand that Hawk offered. It was funny how his body had grown brittle with the years, yet in his mind he was still a young man. "Mekollaan, we will leave your brother. Come."

  As the chief ducked out of the wigwam, Mekollaan turned to Katelyn. "Do you see what you have done to him?" His upper lip curled slightly at one corner. "He will never see again and you are to blame!"

  "Mekollaan!" Tipaakke called, his eyes still shut, one arm flung across his forehead. "You will keep silent and leave her alone." He spoke through clenched teeth in the Delaware tongue.

  They were going to kill her. Katelyn feared the worst. It was only a matter of time before they thought of an inventive way to torture her before doing it.

  Mekollaan left the wigwam without another word. He knew Tipaakke was still ill from the fever that had raged within him. Once his head cleared, his opinion of the girl would change.

  "Will you eat now?" Katelyn whispered. The moon shone a faint light through the hole in the roof, casting a shadow over her deathly pale face.

  "No! Go to sleep, girl!" Tipaakke rolled over, presenting his back to Katelyn, leaving her to spend another night dreaming of her impending death.

  "Wake up, girl!" Tipaakke shook her roughly. "I said get up!"

  Katelyn's eyes flew open; she bolted upright. "It wasn't my fault," she murmured in sleepy confusion.

  "Wake up. I haven't accused you of anything, except laziness. Take me to the edge of the woods."

  "The woods? This early? What are you going to do in the woods?"

  "The same thing you do in the woods, girl."

  Katelyn's eyes widened. Her mouth formed an 'O'. You want me to . . . I couldn't!"

  "I only need you to take me to the woods. I can do the rest myself."

  "Get someone else." She rubbed her eyes, hoping she was still dreaming.

  "No. I said you'll do it. Take me now." The Indian sat determinedly, waiting.

  Katelyn covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. She couldn't believe she was doing this! "All right. I'll take you." She stood up slowly and took the tanned hand that groped for hers. "Which way?"

  "Straight out of the village. Hurry."

  Katelyn dragged him through the village, hurrying to get back before the others began to rise for the day.

  "Slow down. You're going to make me trip and . . . Ow!" Tipaakke stopped and lifted his foot to massage his big toe. "I can see I should have worn my moccasins. Into the woods!"

  She passed the last wigwam, then stepped into a denser part of the forest. Though the village was in the woods, she realized the Indians had spent a great deal of time clearing the compound of brush and small trees. The actual woods surrounding the village was practically impassable. Katelyn pulled at Tipaakke's hand as they floundered through the undergrowth, barely warning him in time to miss a low branch. When they were well out of sight of the village, she stopped and dropped his hand.

  "There. That's as far as I'm taking you."

  "Do you always come out this far? Now I know why it takes you so long."

  Katelyn gritted her teeth and stalked off. How dare that heathen speak of such delicate matters in front of her!

  "Don't leave. I won't be long," Tipaakke called as he heard her trudge off.

  "If you think I'm going to stand there while you . . . well you can just forget it! Kill me, I don't care," she shouted over her shoulder. "But I'm not going to do it!"

  Tipaakke grinned to himself. She was no meek rabbit. When he was ready for her he called out her name.

  "Are you done?" she shouted from a distance.

  "Yes. Now come and get me!" He scratched his head irritably. It seemed rather silly that she thought it necessary to go so far. Whites had the strangest ideas about their bodies!

  "Take me to my father. I'll have my morning meal with him and my brother. Can you find your way back?"

  She didn't catch his slight smile. "Of course I can!" She reached for his hand, but Tipaakke slid hers up around his arm. "I think I'll fare better this way." His heart skipped a beat as her light fingers curled around his arm. Her touch was warm and reassuring.

  She nodded, then felt foolish. He can't see you nod! As they started off, her hand gripped the bronzed arm, and she absently fingered the muscular hardness. She had never seen a man with such muscles—and certainly never touched one! It amazed her that each muscle, each tendon, was so well defined. So pleasurable to touch. Better keep your mind off such things.

  "May I ask you a question?" Katelyn blurted out.

  "You may ask, but I don't promise I will give you an answer." The soft caress of her fingers eased his impatience with her.

  "How is it that you speak my language so well?"

  "I wondered why you have not asked anyone that before. From the Quakers north of here in Penn's Colony. My people travel often to avoid the white man and rival tribes. When I was a boy, we lived near a settlement of Quakers. My brother and I learned to speak their language. Most of my people speak some English. It's very helpful in trade. My father is the only one who hasn't learned anyth
ing of your people. Not their language, not their customs. He says he is too old."

  Katelyn was so engrossed in what Tipaakke was saying that she didn't think to warn him of a tangle of brush at his feet. His bare foot caught sharply on a vine, and he tumbled to the ground pulling her with him.

  "Oh no! You fool!"

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking. Let me help you up." Katelyn struggled to rise but Tipaakke had her pinned. She pulled desperately at the doeskin dress wrapped around her waist. Why didn't they at least let me keep my underthings? Here she was with her bare bottom stuck in the air for anyone to see and that savage had one hand on her thigh!

  "I can't believe you've done this! I can't believe I let you!"

  "It won't happen again. Now get off me so I can get up!"

  "Too late," Tipaakke growled, sitting up.

  "What are you talking about?" Katelyn slid out from under him.

  "This . . . " He held a clump of bright green leaves in his hand, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "What? They're leaves. So . . . "

  "Three leaves in a clump, right?"

  "Yes."

  "They feel oily don't they?"

  Katelyn reached out to touch a leaf. "Yes, I suppose so."

  "This is what the English call ivy. Poisoning ivy."

  "Oh . . . "

  "Do you know what's going to happen to us now that we've practically bathed in it?"

  "No. I don't," she replied tartly. "I've never seen it before. I didn't spend much time in the woods!"

  Tipaakke pulled himself slowly to his feet. "Just wait, girl. You'll see."

  Katelyn scratched furiously at her arm and then dug at her bare leg. She'd never been in such infuriating pain in her life. The burning itch was more than she could tolerate. She'd been in the stream eight times since she'd broken out yesterday. And Tipaakke had fared no better. She glanced inside the wigwam. He was lying on his sleeping platform scratching his elbow. He'd sent for someone to bring a balm to help soothe the pain and swelling.

  Katelyn reached up under her doeskin gown and scratched her thigh. She didn't care if anyone saw her or not. They were just Indians. Besides with all of these naked bodies walking around, no one was likely to notice her bare thigh. The itch was maddening. She wished someone would hurry and bring the balm. The Indians weren't going to have to kill her; she was going to scratch herself to death. She glanced back at her captor.

  He spent most of his time lying there morosely, his eyes open, seeing nothing. He left her well enough alone, speaking only when he needed something. Nothing more had been said about what was going to be done with her. She had been too fearful to ask. Time seemed to stretch out endlessly as she sat scratching, wondering if Henry would rescue her in time.

  Katelyn's eyes fell upon a pair of large feet in front of her and traveled slowly up the body. A man's feet . . . long muscular legs . . . a woman's deer-hide dress! A bare chest . . . broad and flat . . . a man's grinning face . . . a woman's braids tied with beaded leather thongs.

  Katelyn blinked, getting to her feet.

  "They're right. Your hair is very beautiful," a deep, but feminine voice stated as she . . . he reached out to touch a shiny red lock. "I'm Won. Tipaakee sent for me." The English was heavily accented and spoken slowly, but Katelyn was able to understand every word.

  "Come in." She motioned for Won to enter the wigwam and followed behind.

  Tipaakke opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps. "Katelyn?"

  "Yes. Won is here."

  "I know. I heard her." He swung his feet over the sleeping platform, planting them firmly on the ground.

  "I hope you brought the healing salve. I'm in great need." He spoke in his own language, just as he always did when another Indian was present.

  Won nodded. "I heard what happened. Don't be too angry with her, Tipaakke. She didn't know."

  "I did not ask for your opinion, Won," he snapped.

  Won knelt in front of him and placed a small clay bowl in his hands. "I have faith in you," the soft voice teased. "You'll do the right thing. You always do. That's why we all have such respect for you. But then you already know that, don't you? I'm envious of her fire hair."

  "Don't you think I have more things to concern myself with right now than that white woman? I've captured her, and she will be my servant until I decide otherwise."

  "Of course." Won shrugged her shoulders, smiling. "No one has said otherwise. She is a beautiful slave, nothing more."

  Tipaakke growled an inaudible comment as he smoothed the cream from the pot along the irritated skin of his left arm.

  "You should give her a little, too. There is plenty and it would be a shame to mar that soft skin."

  "Perhaps I should make her suffer for what she's done to me."

  "Perhaps. But you won't." Won stood up, taking the container that Tipaakke handed her after a moment of indecision. "I hope this will ease your pain," she said in English to Katelyn.

  Katelyn whispered a thank you and took the pot from her hand. Was that the faint scent of wildflowers she smelled?

  Won spoke to Tipaakke for a few moments and then bid him farewell. She ducked low as she left the wigwam, taking care not to strike her head.

  She was the tallest Indian Katelyn had seen since she'd entered the village a week ago. Why was she wearing woman's clothes but had no breasts? Katelyn was thoroughly confused.

  "Well, go ahead. Ask." Tipaakke's tone was rough. He continued to spread the balm from the palm of his hand on his legs.

  "What?"

  "Won. You think her odd, don't you?"

  So she is a girl. "Well, yes. She talks like a woman, wears the clothes of your woman, yet she's tall and has no . . . " Katelyn's face went crimson. What was wrong with her? She'd only been with these heathens a week and she was already acting uncivilized!

  "No tuulke . . . no breasts. That is your English word, isn't it?" He couldn't help smiling at her embarrassment.

  "Yes." She dropped her head, unable to believe she was discussing someone's private parts with this half-naked savage.

  "Won is a woman who was born in a man's body."

  "How can that be?"

  "I don't know! I'm not the Creator. I only know what I see . . . or should I say hear? Won is a woman in her heart, so she is a woman to her people."

  "Your name is Fox in my language. What is hers?" She scooped a bit of the balm from the pot and smoothed it over the welted rash on her arm, savoring the coolness.

  "Her name is Bud . . . something Bud. A flower, red or yellow that climbs in sunny places. I don't know your word."

  Roses! That's what she smelled! "Her name is Rosebud?"

  "Yes. I think that's it. Won . . . Rosebud. The English word is pretty, isn't it?" he finished thoughtfully.

  Katelyn was taken aback. This was the first time he had spoken to her without menace in his voice, the first time he had appeared to be anything but a devilish savage. Henry would never have thought Rosebud was a pretty word. Henry . . . What was wrong with her? Had she gone daft? Comparing a gentleman like Henry Bullman to a heathen . . . a heathen that intended to kill her.

  Tipaakke broke the silence with his calm, soothing voice. "When you finish with the balm, come put some on my back."

  She came slowly, knowing she had to do as he said for self-preservation's sake but also knowing that touching him could be very dangerous. Dangerous because she knew what her reactions had been before at even the slightest physical contact. She sat down beside him, closer than she'd been since the day they'd fallen in the ivy. She dipped her hand into the pot, then hesitated, her hand in the air.

  "Come. I'll not harm you." That same kind voice . . .

  Katelyn took a deep breath and touched his broad back. He was warm, so warm. She'd never touched a man's back before, never felt the muscles ripple beneath her touch. God had created a wonderful thing when He created a man's back!

  Tipaakke felt the spark leap between them as her hand fi
rst made contact with his skin. She was his prisoner, his slave. Her people had blinded him. What was it about her that brought this tightening in his loins? Was Manito playing games? Punishing him for something he had done? Or was he being compensated for his losses?

  Katelyn ran her hand slowly across his shoulders, rubbing the ointment into his raw flesh. She saw now that he had fared far worse than she. His entire body was covered with a welting rash, where only her arms and legs had been affected. She wondered how he had such willpower to keep from scratching. He hadn't dug at his skin like she had.

  "That eases the pain, doesn't it, Katelyn?" Tipaakee closed his eyes, deciding to take what Manito handed him. What was wrong with a little pleasure of the flesh, slave or not? The white girl's hands were gentle but thorough. Her touch was nothing like his wife's had been, yet was equally arousing.

  The muscles beneath her hands uncoiled. She continued to work in the salve, fingers and palms gliding over his abraded skin. I should be ashamed to touch a man this way, a man who is not my husband. Have I fallen so far? "There, I've finished." Her hands withdrew as if stung. She gasped when one was caught by a firm grip. "How did you do that? You said you can't see," she whispered, caught in his spell. She didn't attempt to pull away.

  "I don't know how I did it. I felt your hand near me, I wanted to take it." He was as amazed as she. "You have a very soft touch, Katelyn. You have the hands of a healer. Did you care for the sick in your land across the oceans?"

  "No. My father thought it indecent for a woman to touch others' bodies." She was mesmerized by his voice, so soft and liquidy, enchanted by the feel of his strong hand clasping hers.

  "What do you think?" His voice came in the same breathy whisper as hers.

  "I don't know." She felt her pulse quicken.

  "Did you like touching me? Be truthful."

  "Yes."

  "Yes, what. Tell me. There is no one here to hear you."

  "Yes." Her voice caught in her throat. "I liked touching you."

  "There is nothing wrong with that, Katelyn. That is why men and women were made. I like you touching me." He paused, letting her absorb his words. "I don't know what is passing between us, but time will tell. I'm a patient man." Tipaakke brushed his lips across the back of her hand, sending a shiver of delight through her already trembling body. "Now go the stream and get water. Won will be back soon. I have asked her to teach you some of the duties that will be expected of you." He released her hand reluctantly.