Forbidden Caress

by Colleen French

Katelyn threw a short rabbit wrap over her shoulders and went to search for the tiny brown packet of sugar. "Why didn't you tell me we were going to have Christmas? I don't have a gift for you." She sat down, laying the package of sugar on the table.

  Tipaakke slid the steaming cups across the table and opened the sugar slowly, taking care not to spill a pinch. "I don't need a gift. This is for you. Now, close your eyes."

  She squeezed her eyes shut, squirming in her chair.

  He crossed the room and stepped out the door. "Keep your eyes shut," he called, carrying in a huge log.

  "Now? Can I open them now?" Katelyn got to her feet, listening as he grew closer.

  "All right. Now you can open them."

  Katelyn's eyes flew open, and her mouth dropped. "A Yule log! Oh, Fox, it's beautiful." She reached out to touch the decorated log.

  "It's heavy, too." He walked to the fireplace and rolled it onto the smouldering embers.

  Katelyn clasped her hands, watching as the flames licked at the holly and standing pine wrapped so carefully around the log. "It's far more beautiful than the one Aunt Pitty had . . . " She looped her arm in Tipaakke's. "It's perfect. Thank you." She leaned to kiss his smooth cheek.

  "I'm glad you like it, Katie-girl. Now for your other present."

  "Fox, this is perfect." She squeezed his arm gently. "I don't want anything else."

  "What have I told you about gifts? They must be accepted. It's a dishonor not to accept. I'll be right back." He patted her on the backside and picked up his cloak on the way outside the door.

  Katelyn slid to the floor and sat cross-legged staring into the fire. The Yule log snapped and cracked as the greenery and bark caught fire.

  It's so beautiful, she thought. He's so good to me. He's right. I should marry him. I should go back to the village in the spring and become his wife. There's no life for me with my own people . . . with Henry. They'll never take me back. Besides, Henry would make a lousy husband. She drew her legs up and rested her arms on her knees. Maybe, in time, Fox will come to love me. He likes me. He wants to marry me. She watched as a bit of holly caught fire, the flames licking, consuming, until the leaf was gone. People can learn to love, she told herself.

  Tipaakke rounded the cabin wall and started for the pony's stall, knowing the way step by step. Suddenly he stopped. It was happening again. He raised his face to the sky, turning to the heat of the morning sun. I see it, he thought. I'm not imagining it. The sun! That ball of bright light in the darkness is the sun!

  He whispered a prayer of thanks and started towards the lean-to again. First he had seen only streaks of light flashing in the dark. But now shadows were coming and going. He would go days seeing nothing but the inky blackness he had grown used to. But then, only for a moment, there was light. I'll wait a little longer before I tell her, he thought as he gathered his gift from beneath a pile of dead grass. I don't want to give her hope only to find that this means nothing. We will be returning to the village before the moon has passed three times. I'll wait and see what the Shaman says. If my sight is meant to be returned, it will. I have heard of men injured far more seriously who have regained sight, even movement. The Shaman says no mortal man can understand the mind and injuries to it. Yes, it's in The Creator's hands, he told himself as he walked back through the snow, back to the cabin. He looked up again before going in. There it was, the sun . . . forcing its way through his darkness. He smiled. This was a good omen. Things would be better now.

  Katelyn jumped up when Tipaakke came in the door, running to meet him. "What have you got behind your back, my cunning Fox? Let me see!" She swayed to and fro, trying to catch a peek.

  "Close your eyes," he commanded, keeping his hands behind his back.

  "Fox . . . " She gave an impatient stamp of her foot.

  "Close your eyes or you'll get nothing."

  "All right." She let out an exasperated sigh but did as he said, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Tipaakke grinned, pleased with himself. "Now put out your hands." She complied, and he pushed a soft bundle into her waiting arms.

  Katelyn opened her eyes to find a pile of beaver hide items. "What have you made? A hat! Oh, and mittens! They're beautiful. Mittens!" She pulled the beaver hat over her head and slipped the mittens on. "I can't believe you made these for me." She looked up at him.

  "You're always complaining that your hands are cold when you gather wood. Now they won't be."

  "But when did you get time to make them?" She brushed a mitten across her cheek, then blew the fur, watching it ripple.

  "In the lean-to." He reached out with both hands to feel the hat on her head. "What did you think I was doing out there for so long?"

  "It must have taken you hours to sew all of these seams." She buried her face in the huge, fluffy mittens.

  "Now that you've seen how pretty they are, turn them inside out. They will be warmer." He brushed the hat lightly with his knuckles.

  "No! I've been cold this long. I won't know what I'm missing." She took a step closer, allowing him to draw her into his arms. "They're too beautiful to wear inside out."

  He planted a kiss on the end of her nose. "I thought you'd say that."

  "Take off your cloak, it's warm in here," she told him in her silkiest voice.

  He smiled as she lowered the cloak and let it fall to the floor. "It is warm in here," he murmured against her smooth neck.

  "And getting warmer," Katelyn teased as she pressed her hips to his.

  "Let's sit in front of the fire and drink our tea." He dropped light, feathery kisses here and there on her upturned face.

  "Tea? I thought you might be interested in something else," she purred.

  "That, too." He pressed his lips to hers, sampling what was yet to come. "You taste of honey . . . wild honey. Not honey of the clover, but honey of the fire weed," he murmured huskily. "Come, lay with me near the fire." He scooped his cloak off the floor and led her to the hearth, still wearing her beaver hat and mittens.

  "This is the best Christmas I've ever had, Fox." Katelyn watched as he spread out his cloak and sat down.

  Tipaakke reached out to take her mittened hands and bring her to sit on his lap. "I like to hear your voice when you're happy." He rested his cheek on her head, breathing deeply. Her hair always smelled so fresh, so bright. It smelled like sunlight on a hot summer day.

  "You are very special, Fox of mine. You've shown me kindness when I didn't deserve it." She pulled her mittens off and laid them on the floor.

  "Everyone deserves some kindness." He brushed the hair back from her shoulder, running his hands through the magical tresses.

  "You know what I mean. I've not always been very nice to you." She traced his long straight nose with a finger.

  "No." He shook his head. "You haven't. But fear makes us do strange things."

  "I've really been thinking about what you said . . . about you and I . . . getting married, I mean," she finished softly.

  "And . . . "

  She looked him squarely in the face. "I don't know. I can't tell you, yet. This is so hard for me. But I have been thinking." She stared, mesmerized by his haunting ebony eyes.

  "That's all I ask. We have plenty of time." He ran his searching fingers over her jaw, catching her chin with his hand and drew her mouth to his. "Let me taste you. I can't wait another moment." He kissed her deeply, molding his chest to her soft inviting breasts.

  Katelyn withdrew her mouth from his, giving him another light kiss before pushing herself off his lap, onto her knees.

  "Where are you going?" he asked huskily.

  "Your jerkin," she breathed, tugging at the leather shirt.

  Tipaakke rose to his knees, allowing her to pull the soft jerkin over his head.

  " . . . and the moccasins' . . . and now mine . . . " She slipped her moccasins off and tossed them carelessly, reaching behind her neck to loosen the ties on her dress.

  He listened as she pulled the doeskin over her head, imagining what
it would be like to watch as she slowly revealed the soft, shimmering flesh beneath the simple dress. "You're so lovely," he told her, his tongue darting out to moisten his dry lips.

  "How do you know? I might be an ugly witch!" She tossed the dress aside, straightening the beaver hat, still perched on her head.

  "No. You don't think Fox would take an ugly witch for his woman do you? Don't you remember the first day I brought you to the village? There in my wigwam I saw you, only for a brief moment, but I saw beauty I could never forget. These eyes missed nothing." He tapped his temple lightly.

  "Well, my Fox," she took his hand, "you will have to see this with your hands . . . " She pressed his hand to her bare breast, catching her breath as his thumb found her budding nipple.

  Easing her onto her back, his hand brushed against the hat still on her head. He laughed deep in his throat. "Why are you still wearing this?"

  Katelyn stretched out like a lazy kitten, her hands high above her head. "Don't you like it?"

  Without a word he snatched the beaver hat off her head and sent it sailing through the air.

  She laughed with him, pulling his head down until his lips met hers. Stretching out beside her, Tipaakke began to run his fingers lightly over her silky flesh. "So soft . . . so fresh . . . " He told her in his own tongue, leaning to nip at a peaked breast.

  Katelyn arched her back, running her hands through his long silky hair. No one would ever be able to make her feel like he did. She would always be his slave. A slave to his touch. She moaned, alternately relaxing and tensing her muscles as he explored her yearning body until she was breathless. Her mind and body whirled with desire until nothing existed but the two of them.

  "Where are your mittens?" she heard Tipaakke ask through a fog of intense pleasure.

  "My mittens?" She struggled to think clearly.

  "Yes. I want a mitten." He kissed her damp cheek.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she fumbled with one hand until it touched soft fur. "Here. What do you want with it?"

  "Shhhh . . . lie back," he breathed in her ear as he slipped his hand into the mitten and began to stroke again.

  "Mmmmmm . . . that feels so nice . . . " Katelyn told him, her words coming in short gasps. Her body began to tingle . . . then grow warmer as he brushed the soft tantalizing fur over her willing flesh. Her loins quickened, aching with heat as he brushed her thighs teasingly, careful not to touch the soft fiery bed of curls.

  "Fox . . . please . . . I can't stand this anymore . . . "

  He laughed as he swung his leg over her, and pressed his naked body to hers.

  She pulled the mitten from his hand and tossed it. "You're a tease." She twisted her fingers in his satiny hair, and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him deeply, fiercely.

  Tipaakke's eyes drifted shut as he felt her hands stroking down his back to his buttocks, kneading them, pressing his swollen manhood against her thrusting hips.

  "Now Tipaakke, please," she called in Algonquian. "Love me now. I need you."

  He smiled, pleased with himself as he kissed one eyelid and then the other. This was the first time she had ever called him by his true name. "I will love you now, Katie," he whispered in the same tongue. "But I have already loved you a long time."

  Lost in the heat of sweet, aching passion, Katelyn did not hear his words. She heard only the pounding of his heart and her own, as they strove to become one.

  "Get up, Katie-girl." Tipaakke pushed her over onto her back, and leaned to tie his moccasin.

  Katelyn opened one eye and then squeezed it shut, settling deeper in the fur bed covers. "It's still dark out," she mumbled sleepily. "Why are we getting up so early? Why are we getting up at all?"

  Prodding her again, Tipaakke moved to the fire to pour hot herbal tea. "Your tea is made, now get up. We've many miles to cover if we're to get there by nightfall."

  She sat up, scratching her head. "Get where? Where're we going?" She ran a palm over her face. "You didn't say anything about going anywhere."

  "No." He shook his head. "Didn't decide until I got up."

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Didn't decide what?" she asked with exasperation. "You're doing it to me again. Don't your people ever come right out and say anything?"

  Tipaakke laughed. "We're going visiting; now get dressed while I pack our bags."

  "Visiting?" Katelyn's voice perked. "Visiting where? You mean we're going to see someone?" She crossed the room hastily, a skin wrapped around her naked body. "Who are we going to visit?" She reached for the steaming mug on the mantel.

  "An old friend, Cooking Joe. He's a trapper. He lives a day's walk from here." He pulled a bag off a peg and began to fill it with necessary items.

  She took a sip of the scalding brew. "You never told me anyone lived anywhere near here. I thought we were the only ones for days in any direction."

  He shrugged. "If I had told you there was anyone nearby, you would have tried to leave me." He looked up. "I wanted you here with me. This has been our time together. I didn't want to share you."

  "But what if you'd been killed? I could have sat here until I died of starvation when there was help a day away." She slammed down the pewter tankard. If he cared so much for her welfare, why didn't tell her where she could get help if she needed it?

  "I see Joe often. I told him in the fall that if he ever went half a moon without seeing sign of me, he was to come here and take you back to your people." Tipaakke continued to stuff the bags, dividing food and water between the two equally.

  For a moment, Katelyn was stunned, then she was touched. Once again he'd had the foresight to make plans to keep her safe. And he was right not to tell her, as much as she hated to admit it. She would have tried to escape earlier, and probably would have died trying.

  Tipaakke stood waiting in silence, then spoke quietly. "Do you want to go? Joe has a wife. I thought you would enjoy her friendship. She's a good woman, his Lena." He stood with one hand balanced on his hip.

  Katelyn nodded, breaking into a grin. "Of course I want to go! I'd do anything to speak to another human being." She ran to the side of the bed where her dress lay and dropped her wrap to the floor.

  Tipaakke stared with a bemused twinkle in his eye. "And what am I? You said you like to hear me talk. You said you liked my stories."

  "Of course I do," she exclaimed excitedly, pulling the dress over her head, "but it's been months since I've talked to anyone but you and Wooden Head." She leaned over to get her moccasins. "Besides, half the time I don't understand what you're saying."

  Tipaakke reached for his white man's breeches. "I thought we should go now, before the river thaws. We'll stay a night or two and then return."

  "We can stay!" She leaped in the air like a young child. "Thank you! I can't believe it!" She ran to throw her arms around him.

  Tipaakke welcomed her embrace with amusement. "I didn't know such a thing would make you so happy. You don't even know my friends." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  "I don't care; I'm so lonely I'd even go visit that rotten brother of yours." She released him, dancing away. "I can't wait to get out of here. Can we take Wooden Head?"

  He ignored her comment concerning his brother. In time they would learn to respect each other. "No. We leave her here. We will travel down the frozen river that leads west. She's too heavy to walk on the ice; she would break through. Get your mittens and hat, the sun is breaking."

  Katelyn pulled her hat over her head and began to shrug on the layers of furs she'd devised to keep warm. Reaching for a bag, she threw it over her shoulder. "Why's this so heavy? Why can't you carry it?" She pulled the gift mittens over her hands.

  Tightening the ties of his cloak, Tipaakke glanced back at the extinguished fire and held open the door. "You must carry your own supplies. I carry mine. If we are separated, you must have your own food, your own water, your own dry leaves and sticks to make a fire."

  She stooped in the doorway. "If we get separated?
I hope you're not planning on leaving me somewhere." She arched one eyebrow.

  "You are being silly again, now go. We have many miles to cover if we're to arrive by nightfall."

  Katelyn stepped into the brilliant white of the dawning day, shading her eyes until they adjusted to the glaring sun. She waited until Tipaakke closed the door and swung his bag on his back, and then they started forward.

  "What about Wooden Head? Did you feed her?" She walked just in front of Fox, treading backwards. The icy cold nipped at her nose and cheeks, bringing a healthy tingle to them.

  "She is fed and warm. My grandfather built the lean-to in a good place. The pony is as warm as we are inside with the fire."

  Together, the two made their way down the mountain and then turned west. Shortly, they came upon the river and climbed down its slippery bank. Katelyn and Tipaakke laughed, dancing across the ice as they made their way toward the friend's cabin. For once, there was no unrest between them. She was ecstatic about the adventure and he was well pleased that such a simple thing made her so happy. When the sun rose high in the sky, they stopped to eat and rest briefly and then continued on. Tipaakke surmised that at the rate they were walking, they would be in Cooking Joe's cabin by mealtime.

  As the day passed and the shadows began to lengthen, Katelyn finally began to tire and slowed her pace. "It's so beautiful out here, Fox." She kicked at the snow. "How much further?"

  Tipaakke pointed ahead. "See the bend to the left and then the sharp right?"

  She squinted, nodding. "Yes, I see it, where the log's fallen."

  "Yes. There after the right, we cross the bank and Joe lives not more than half a mile from the grandfather oak off the bank." He reached to drape an arm over her shoulder. "You've moved swiftly and with care today." He smiled. "Soon you will track and hunt with the best of our braves."

  "Oh, no, not me." She pushed at him playfully. "I want no part of that. It's wonderful to get out and get some air, but I like the cabin. I want to be near the fire with a cup of your tea in one hand a corn cake in the other." She stepped ahead, picking up a broken twig to toss.

  "That's fine. Not all of us were meant to be chiefs. I think I've grown used to the fire, too." He winked. "Especially when you're near."