Katelyn snuggled closer, aware only of Fox's closeness. She was still dreaming. She could smell his masculine scent that clung to him. She could feel his hairless cheek on hers.
Slowly, Tipaakke made his way back to the door, stepping up into the cabin. Once he was inside, he knew exactly where everything was. He turned and took six steps, his moccasinned toe hitting the rope bed. "Here we are, love." He laid her down gently, wrapping the fox cloak closer. "I will start a fire and then you'll be warm."
Mekollaan stood in the darkened door watching as Tipaakke tried again and again to light the bundle of dry sticks on the hearth. "Want help?"
"No." Fox shook his head. "I must learn. I want to care for her just as she cares for me."
Mekollaan nodded and started to bring in the bags and bundles he'd left outside the door.
Finally, as if Manito had smiled upon it, the pile of leaves and twigs ignited. Tipaakke sat back, proud of himself. Next time it would be easier.
Bringing a rolled mat to the hearth, Mekollaan made himself a place to sleep. "Climb in beside your woman, Tipaakke. It is late. I must leave in the morning. I want to be back in time for the hunt."
Tipaakke made his way across the floor, having no trouble finding where he had left Katelyn. Memories of the days he had spent with his Grandfather in the cabin would be forever etched in his mind. He knew every inch of the small room. He could almost see the table and benches, the shelves that lined the wall. He slid in beside Katelyn, drawing her close. "Goodnight, my Katie girl," he whispered, his eyes drifting shut.
Katelyn woke slowly, the sound of the crackling fire bringing her back to reality. She opened her eyes to see Tipaakke sitting on benches at a table. She sat up, dropping the fox cloak. They were in cabin! It had a fire place, even a small window.
"You are awake." Tipaakke turned toward her.
"Yes. I'll make something to eat." She slid out of the bed. A bed too!
"You have laid in bed so late that we have made our own." Mekollaan raised a bowl of hot mush.
"You should have awakened me." Katelyn dropped onto the bench beside Tipaakke.
"We have made mush many mornings on our own." He patted her leg under the table.
Mekollaan spooned the last bite of hot meal into his mouth and got up. "I must go. I will see you in the spring, brother. Take care." He wrapped his arms around Tipaakke, giving him a quick hug. "I hope you find what you are looking for here," he added in Algonquian.
Katelyn walked with Tipaakke and Mekollaan to the door.
"Goodbye." Mekollaan stepped out of the cabin and started around the back.
"Goodbye." Katelyn caught Tipaakke's hand in hers.
Mekollaan raised his hand to her in reply and disappeared behind the cabin.
Tipaakke swung the door shut, still holding Katelyn's hand. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he whispered in Algonquian in her ear.
"Fox!"
"You do not even know what I said." He nipped at her neck playfully.
"I don't have to. It's the same in any language."
"Come. I have been like a stag, rubbing my antlers for two days." He pressed his lips to hers, sliding one hand beneath her dress to massage her bare buttocks.
"It's barely sun up!" Katelyn protested, welcoming his searching lips on hers.
"Mmmmmm, but it is what we do best in the early morning."
"What if Hawk comes back?" She ran her fingers lightly over a patch of bare chest.
"He knows better. He will not be back until spring." Lifting her up in his arms, he walked to the bed. "Pick up the cloak."
She did so, and he carried her to the hearth.
"I'm getting good at this." He laughed, setting her on her feet.
"I wondered how I got in last night." She watched as he laid the cloak down, fur side up.
He stretched out a hand. "You're lucky I didn't leave you on the pony last night."
She came to him. "You wouldn't have done that to me, would you?"
Tipaakke knelt, pulling her down in front of him. "You'll never know, will you?" he teased, stroking the nape of her neck as he leaned forward to plant a kiss on the end of her nose.
"Never know," she whispered leaning to press her lips to his.
Chapter Six
"Tell me my dah-quel-e-mah . . . " Tipaakke paused in midsentence. Coward, he told himself. You call yourself a man, yet you don't have the courage to call her your love in her own language.
Katelyn looked up, her eyes resting on his broad, bronze face. "Tell you what?"
He reached out with one hand to caress her flushed cheek. "Tell me why you come to the Fox now when two moons ago you would have slit my throat if I had touched you." He pulled her onto his lap, cradling her like a child.
"Don't ask me these things . . . please?" Her doe eyes pleaded.
"We must talk. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want you to hurt yourself. You must admit to yourself what you feel." He rested his cheek on the top of her head, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. He could almost smell its fire.
"I come to you because I have no choice. I am still your prisoner." Her body stiffened with each word. "You said I must do what you say or you'll kill me."
"But I never said you must make love with me," he answered evenly.
"What do you want me to say, Fox? Do you want me to say that I find you attractive, that I want you? Well, I do. There, I've said it. Now are you happy?"
"I know those things. I just want you to admit them to yourself." He planted soft fleeting kisses on her neck. "There is no wrong in wanting a man, any man, red or white. That is why man and woman were put here by Manito. To love and be loved." He drew her closer, wrapping his arms around her until her breasts pressed tightly against his bare chest.
To make love is not to be loved, she thought. But she couldn't bring herself to speak. What she had right now with Fox was more than she had ever had with anyone. She wasn't ready to jeopardize that . . . not yet at least. "No more talk, Fox," she whispered, "not now." She reached to pull his head down until his lips met hers. He was right. She had to accept what was given to them. If this was all she was ever meant to have then she must accept it gratefully. She mustn't be greedy. What she shared with Fox was more than her father and stepmother had ever shared.
"You're a vixen, Kate," Tipaakke murmured, welcoming her advances. "And for shame . . . in the light of the morning!"
She laughed deep in her throat as his tongue slipped out to trace the corners of her upturned mouth.
"You are as sweet as the honey of clover," he told her in Algonquian. Tenderly he kissed her mouth, parting her trembling lips. His tongue darted out to explore the inner sweetness of her mouth, tongue meeting tongue in a dance of love.
Katelyn's breath caught low in her throat, a soft moan escaping from her moist lips. His hot breath in her ear ignited a fire deep within her, and she felt the heat rising with each fiery kiss. She reached up to run her hands through his thick, black, silky hair, one hand coming to rest on the nape of his neck. Her tongue darted out to meet his in midair as he lay her gently on the soft mat of rabbit.
Slipping the doeskin dress from her shoulders, he pressed his mouth to her soft, fragrant skin. He planted kisses along the line of the dress, dropping it further and further until her bare breasts sprung forth.
"Uitiissa, so beautiful," he breathed as his black lashes lowered, heady with her magic. "I could never be without you, not now, not when I have tasted such loveliness."
Tipaakke's voice caressed Katelyn's mind as she whirled faster beneath his touch. It didn't matter to her that she didn't understand what he said, the sound of his voice was enough.
His hand stroked one full, silken breast, his thumb teasing, tantalizing, until the tiny bud stood rigid, ripe for the picking. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned to taste what he knew so well, yet never tired of. Ripples of pleasure coursed through Katelyn's veins as she pressed her body to his male hardness, eager for more.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, staring through heavy, veiled lashes. "How do you know, you can't see me?" Her voice was soft, with an edge of vulnerability.
"I feel beauty" he sighed, running his hands along her slim, bare legs as he crawled along her body. "I smell it." His head lowered, guided by some unknown force, to press against a downy triangle of fiery curls.
Katelyn called out with unexpected pleasure, pushing back a long lock of hair feverishly.
"And I taste . . . " His tongue darted out to sample her nectar. " . . . beauty."
She arched her back, entangling her long fingers in his silken tresses. "Fox . . . don't . . . " She smiled. "Not yet . . ."
Tipaakke laid his head down for a moment, giving her time to slow her pounding heart. Breathing in her heady, arousing scent, a smile crossed his lips. She had never said anything before when they made love. He liked this new found brazeness. She was learning the art of love well.
Still smiling, he climbed astride her, pressing her hands to her sides and kissing her eyelids gently.
Her eyes fluttered open. "Why are you smiling?" She reached up to caress a broad cheek. His skin was moist and velvety beneath her touch. She still found it amazing that, though he was thirty years old, he had the beard growth of a spindly boy.
"I like to hear your voice when we love." Dropping a kiss on the end of her nose, he stood up. "Roll over."
"What?" Her eyes crinkled questioningly.
"Roll over. Where is the bag with the strap of marsh reeds?"
"I'll get it."
"No. Lie there. I'll get it."
"Beside the bed. The foot board."
Retrieving the bag, Tipaakke came to kneel beside her digging into it. "Roll over, Kate."
"What are you doing?"
"Trust me . . . " As she rolled over, he pulled a small glass bottle of scented oil from the bag. Uncorking it, he poured a little into his palm and rubbed briskly with the other.
"What is that for?" Katelyn pushed up on one elbow.
"You have never had your back rubbed with oils? It is a wonderful thing." He sat astride her again, sitting at her waist.
"Who would I ever have had to rub my back?" She laughed at his foolishness, resting her head on the soft rabbit hide, savoring the warmth of the burning fire in the fireplace. Only moments ago it had been far too hot in the small cabin, but now they welcomed the heat.
"That is true." He nodded, laughing with her. Laying his hands on her back he began to massage the muscles, his oily hands sliding easily over her flesh.
"Mmmmmm, nice."
"There is an art to this I am told. Some medicine men use body rubbing to heal. He continued to knead her muscles leaving nothing untouched, her neck, her back, her buttocks, her legs. Always applying equal pressure, he rubbed until she cried out with pleasure.
"This is wonderful, Fox. You must teach me how to do the same."
"I would like that," he whispered, kissing a soft spot behind her ear.
Unable to stand the delightful torture any longer, Katelyn rolled over beneath his body and reached up to draw his head to hers. This time it was she who explored his mouth, savoring his taste as she ran her fingers over his rounded shoulders. Pushing with one foot, she started to roll him over.
"Where are we going?" He smiled lazily, pleased by her initiative.
"Over . . . " She giggled, seating herself on his flat muscle taut stomach.
Tipaakke leaned back, relaxing as her mouth lowered to catch one male nipple.
Murmuring words of pleasure in his own tongue, he wrapped his fingers in the cascading mass of burnt-red tresses.
The low rumble of his voice spurred her on as she mimicked his actions, swirl for swirl, nibble for nibble. She was amazed to find that his reactions were much like her own. And each sigh that escaped from his lips sent her body spiraling higher and higher, hot waves of pleasure washing over her.
"Come, I can take this no longer," Tipaakke murmured huskily.
Katelyn laughed, starting to roll off him but he caught her around the waist with his broad hands.
"No. Stay there."
She swallowed thickly. "I can't . . . "
"You can. You'll like it." Pulling her forward, he slid her slowly onto his manhood, both shuddering at the first intimate contact. "That's right, love."
Trembling, Katelyn took the hand he offered her.
"Slowly," he murmured, as she began to move instinctively.
She moaned, biting her lip as her eyes drifted shut of their own accord. She had never known a man and woman could make such pleasure together!
"Good. That's right, dove." His voice was almost inaudible, slipping between English and Algonquian as his breath came quicker.
Caught up in the rhythm of his breathing, Katelyn began to move faster, striving for a mountain peak far in the distance. Closer they moved as one, higher . . . faster. Her breath came in short gasps as she saw the peak just ahead.
"It's all right," she heard him whisper through the fog of pleasure. "We go together."
Reaching to pull her down, he aided in the last thrusts, and together they stood on that mountain peak for one glorious moment before they drifted slowly to earth.
"I love you," he whispered in his own tongue as he pressed a kiss on her damp forehead. "I will love you always."
Katelyn lifted her heavy eyelids to gaze at the dark eyes. "Why do you always speak your language when we make love? I don't know what you're saying." She rested her head on his broad shoulder.
"I think Lenni Lenape. I make love like a Lenni Lenape."
"Are you going to get up, lazy?" Katelyn pulled her doeskin dress over her head.
Tipaakke tucked his hands behind his head, imagining what it would be like to watch the soft hide slide over her lithe body. "Come back. Where are you going?"
She turned to see him sprawled naked in all of his splendor across the rabbit-hide pelt. Just a glance of his sinewy body sent chills of desire through her body. How could she still want him? Her skin was still moist from making love. Had she no shame? No . . . she was not ashamed.
"Come back and lie with me a little longer." He put out one hand invitingly.
"If I do, we won't be up until noonday. We have things to do, Fox. Now get up." She retreated safely to the bed, retrieving her moccasins.
"Listen to you. You sound like a calling crow. Only a wife has a right to talk to a man like that." He sat up, feeling for his leggings and shirt.
"Well, I'm not your wife, but you've still got to get up. We've got a lot to do, Fox, and I don't think the snow is going to let up any time soon." Tying her moccasins, she went to hand him his.
Accepting them, he set himself to the task of putting them on and lacing them up. After three tries the first one was tied. The second moccasin only had to be retied once. Coming to his feet, he reached out. "Come, my beautiful slave. We go to the stream. We will get water and set a snare for our meal. Get your short knife with the jagged edge."
"My knife?"
"Yes. You must always carry it with you. It may save your life someday."
Katelyn kneeled to search for the knife among the bags. She felt like someone had just thrown a bucket of cold water in her face. Save my life? The thought was sobering. This was no jaunt in a carriage. She was somewhere in the mountains of the Maryland or Virginia Colonies with a blind man. They would have no human contact until spring. If someone grew sick or was injured, there would be no way to get help. They must care for each other and find their own food. If they didn't, they would die.
Sensing Katelyn's thoughts, Tipaakke rested his hand on her shoulder. "We'll be fine. Do not fear. We can trap, even do a little hunting. There will be plenty to eat. No harm will come to us."
Unconvinced, she took his arm and toget
her they stepped out of the cabin and into the frosty morning.
"Which way, Fox?"
"Listen and then tell me."
Katelyn stood quietly for a moment. "I don't hear anything."
"Shhh. Listen," he commanded in Algonquian.
She let out an exasperated sigh but did as she was told. At first she heard nothing, then slowly the forest became alive with sound. First she heard breathing, Fox's then hers. Then the sound of branches swaying and brushing one another in the wind. They turned to catch a glance of two squirrels chattering as they scurried up an oak. She smiled. A distant gurgling caught her attention. "This way!" She tugged at Fox's arm and took off through the woods, forging a path through the snow.
"Do you know what you just did?"
"What? I think it's this way." She went around a tall pine, bearing to the left.
"I spoke to you in Algonquian. You understood me."
Katelyn turned to him. "I did? I didn't realize . . . "
"And this is not the first time. You are learning." He stroked her arm through the rabbit cloak.
"Well, keep doing it. I want to learn. Come on, it's not far, is it?"
He shrugged. "How would I know? I can't see where we're going."
"You know." She punched his arm playfully.
Tipaakke just laughed.
Only a short distance through the trees, Katelyn found the bubbling creek. "Told you I could find it." So beautiful, she thought, looking around her. If only Fox could see it, too.
Standing on the rocky bank, she could see that the stream was shallow but the flow was strong. Though ice clung to the rocks along the edges of the shore, the center of the stream ran clear and swift. The giant pines and occasional oaks formed a roof over their heads, their branches laden heavy with snow. It was a winter paradise, with no one but them and the wild animals of the forest to share it with.
Tipaakke knelt to fill the water bags he carried on his shoulder, steadying himself so that his moccasins wouldn't touch the icy water. Katelyn watched him as he filled each bag meticulously, his fingers guiding him when his eyes could not. He was as at home with the stream and snowy brilliance as any of God's wild creatures. Somehow, Katelyn suddenly felt like an intruder.
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