He opened her with his hand and touched her there in her inner most place. Electric shocks shot from her stomach to that secret place, burning any inhibitions. Her head reeled. His finger moved in pulsing circles, slowly at first then faster, finding a place within her that she never knew existed, never knew could be manipulated in such a way. Liquid fire ran through her. Her breath came out in short gasps, and she was helpless to stop the tiny mewling sighs which began to escape her.
His mouth had left hers. Pulling the bodice of her dress down to her waist, he began kissing her breasts. Her nipples firmed against his touch, as he played his song of desire within her innermost recesses. She tangled her hands in his hair. Her entire body tingled as he said something against her tender flesh. She had no idea what he said, nor did she care.
She threw her head back, lost in a world she had never in her wildest dreams known existed. He was kissing her neck now, his tongue tracing a moist trail up to her ear, all the while never stopping the delicious, forbidden, sinfully wonderfully wicked thing he was doing to her secret most being. The pleasure was explosive and pure, and instinctively her hips arched to him.
He was gently pushing her off his lap and back onto the bearskin. Slowly, he moved over her, his face framed by his dark hair.
She had to stop him. If she did not he would make love to her right here. He would think she belonged to him wholly and completely, and then she would never be able to escape him.
His hands moved down to the ties of his breechclout.
“Adahya, I--” she protested.
“Shh….” He was lying partly atop her, one naked thigh covering her own. He kissed her again, his need urgent and hungry.
“I can’t do this,” she spoke against his open mouth.
“You do not have to be afraid.” He began kissing her again.
Katherine squirmed beneath his weight. She could not do this. If she did she would regret it. Pressing her hands on both his shoulders, she pushed against him, forcing him off her. Adahya cried out in pain. He rolled onto his back, as she rose to her knees.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot about your wound.”
He threw a blanket over himself and said something which sounded like a curse.
She quickly adjusted her dress, fastened the bodice, suddenly ashamed of her wicked behavior. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
She moved to check his shoulder, but he pushed her away. He lay on his side, his back toward her. He was angry. This man was a danger to her. He made her do things, want things she had never dreamed of wanting. And the sooner she escaped him the better.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KATHERINE spent the next few mornings with Star.
Each day they had gone early to the river to bathe. Then foraged for wild mushrooms and choke-cherries near the village. Star pointed out the best places to gather wild mushrooms and choke cherries. She also showed her the huge crop of Three Sisters--corn, beans, and squash, their main staples of life. Planting was a job tended solely by women, and for a man even to plow the earth for their women was unthinkable. Katherine could not get over the sheer size of the field. Their corn crop alone was larger than any white farmers she had ever seen.
Katherine learned that Star’s husband, Zachariah, had been educated and named by white missionaries. Zachariah had taught Star the English language, but he now refused to speak it because he was angry with all whites for encroaching on Iroquois land and dragging them into their impeding war. He did not approve of Adahya bringing her here. He thought his brother would be better off choosing a woman of his own race, but he had promised to respect her as long as she did the same to Adahya.
The sun was high overhead when they started back to the village. Star was telling her about Iroquois customs, when Katherine decided to ask her about the painted tomahawk and shells she had found in the forest the day Adahya had been shot.
Star stopped walking. Noticeably uncomfortable, she looked at Katherine and then down at own her feet.
“Tell me, Star. Tell me what the monument marks?”
“That is something you must ask Adahya.”
Katherine recalled how defensive Adahya had become that day when she had tried to remove the tomahawk from the stump. He had said it was not his anymore and that it had been made it to mark something. But what?
“Please, Star.”
Star looked around, as if to make certain they were alone, and then spoke barely above a whisper. “Song’s memory lies there. But you did not hear that from me.”
Song’s grave.
“The Hodenosaunee paint their tomahawks red for war,” Star explained. Then frowned, as if the subject was difficult for her. “Adahya was very angry when he lost Song. He left shortly after, and he did not come back for many moons. I thought he had gone to the warpath to purposely find death. His mother thought he was gone forever. When he came back he was different. He changed. Adahya had always been a warrior. He never accepted defeat or loss, so it was harder on him.”
“How did she die?”
Star looked up as if surprised by her question. Finally, she sighed. “Song was difficult.”
“But how did she die?”
Star shook her head and abruptly began walking toward the village. “I will speak no more of this. It is Adahya’s place to tell you, not mine.”
Katherine followed the woman, knowing it was no use pressing her further. Katherine pictured Adahya alone with his grief and so far from home. She pictured Song’s grave again, so isolated from the village and from anyone going to pay their respects to her. It was not right for someone to be buried alone and with such a cold, angry monument. Even if Song had been difficult she deserved flowers placed upon her resting place.
“Can I ask you one more question?” She trailed Star’s heels.
“Please do not speak of Song.”
“What are the shells for?”
“Shells?”
“Adahya placed shells on her grave.”
Star smiled, as if relieved. “Condolence shells. It is customary to be given them when one suffers loss. One string is to dry the sufferer’s tears. One is to ease their pain. Another is to open their throat so that may be able to speak of their memory.”
Katherine nodded. Song’s condolence shells had been painted red for war. Perhaps Song had died after she and Adahya had fought. Perhaps that was why he seemed to have been on bad terms with her when she died. Or perhaps he had simply been angry at her for dying. She would ask him about it when the timing was right.
They entered the village to find crowds of Indians gathered at the stockade gate. Everyone was speaking at once, and it was so loud Katherine could not hear herself think.
“What’s happening?” she shouted, panic rising.
Star took her hand and pulled her toward the center of the commotion. More than a dozen warriors were whooping and shouting, their nearly naked bodies painted with red and black ocher and everyone was cheering them on. They carried baskets of supplies: blankets, kettles, traps, hoes, and shovels--even a spinning wheel. One warrior led three beagles tied to a rope. Another two goats and a sheep. Another led two jersey cows, a calf, and a white swayback horse. Every one of the warriors had a fresh, bloody scalp hanging on his belt.
It was a raiding party. The supplies and the animals were their bounty.
She watched them brag of their victory. She watched wives greet their husbands, children hug their fathers. Katherine pictured the innocent victims lying in their homesteads void of their scalps and bleeding to death. Dying as these warriors celebrated. Bile rose in her throat. She had to get out of here.
She ran toward the stockade gate, but she was stopped by Adahya’s mother. The old woman gripped her arm with a force hard enough to bruise. She shouted something to her, and then spat in her face.
Enraged and unwilling to take anymore from this woman, Katherine slapped her hard
enough to knock her off her feet.
The old woman got up quickly and lunged for her, but Star was suddenly there standing between them. The old woman shouted something Katherine could not understand.
“She says she does not trust you,” Star translated, holding the old woman at bay. “She does not understand why you have to be here.”
“Then that makes two of us.”
“She says you come between her and her son.”
“Tell her if she ever touches me again, I’ll kill her!”
The old woman raised her voice. She lunged for Katherine again. Before Katherine could strike back, Adahya charged between them, blocking his mother from her with his body.
Katherine listened to Adahya and his mother shout at each other. She had no idea what they were saying, but their tones were heated with venom, and his mother ended it by storming off.
Adahya took her hand and pulled her back into the village. “Come.”
Katherine dug in her heels. She was not going back there where they celebrated the murder of innocent families.
His eyes were sympathetic, as if he understood her revulsion to what was happening within the stockade walls. “Would you rather go someplace else?”
She nodded. “Any place else.”
Silently, he led her down to the river’s edge. He was quickly regaining his strength, she noticed as she watched him move over rocks and shrub with smooth, confident strides. For a moment, she was glad he had not been able to join the raiding party. She did not want to think of him with a scalp at his belt, even though he had admitted taking many of them.
Further down the river, she heard children shouting and laughing. Adahya held a hemlock branch aside for her, and she saw his grandfather, Many Stories, perched atop a huge rock by the river’s edge. His great-grandchildren, Little Jay and Swift Runner, played in the water.
Many Stories beamed at her.
The children ran away screaming.
Adahya helped her onto the rock and they each sat on one side of the old man.
“Kat-rin.” Many Stories grinned. Adahya said he had taught him to speak her name.
“Ti-sot.” She took his outstretched fist in her grip, as was his greeting. When he said something she could not understand, she looked at Adahya for translation.
“He said it is good you do not have children of your own to scare away.”
“I’m sorry.” She tried to read the old man’s expression but found that she could not. “I didn’t mean--they tried to stone me.” She looked back in the direction the children had run. “Should someone go look for them?”
Adahya shouted something in Mohawk, and two little heads poked out from behind a birch tree, their black eyes wide and cautious. He said something else to them, and they slowly approached Adahya. Cautiously, they cast wide-eyed glances at Katherine as he spoke. One sudden move on her part and they would be back in hiding.
Katherine was not used to children being afraid of her. She had taught all her younger cousins to read and write. And her students looked up to her. None ever ran from her or looked at her the way these two did.
She needed a peace offering. But what? She touched the cameo around her neck. It had come from her grandmother and had belonged to her grandmother all the way from the mother country. Mama had given it to her on her deathbed. But what about the boy?
Many Stories seemed to sense her dilemma and secretly passed her a small knife which he took from his belt.
Removing the cameo from her neck, Katherine slid off the rock and slowly approached the children as if she were sneaking up on a cornered deer.
She held the gold necklace out to Little Jay. The child’s black eyes grew wide with fascination. “This is very old. Go on, you can take it.”
The girl cautiously took the gift. Swift Running took the knife from her outstretched hand and immediately stepped away. Little Jay held up the necklace, her gaze going to the cameo lady to Katherine and back again. When Katherine resumed her place upon the rock, the girl crawled up beside her and sat on her lap. She held the necklace up for Katherine to put it on.
* * *
ADAHYA watched the scene in stunned amazement. Little Jay was afraid of everyone, and here she was nestled in Katherine’s arms and chattering away as if she had known Katherine her whole life. Katherine was holding the girl, telling her about her mother, and Little Jay was looking up at her in awed silence, even though she could not understand a word of English.
A strange surge of affection washed over him. He had never thought of having children before. Song had point blank told him that she hated them, that she would rid the pregnancy if one should occur. Katherine, however, was different. She would make a good mother, and for the first time he saw himself with a future including children. Something strange coiled in the pit of his stomach. It also terrified him.
Katherine had been scared with him last night, but he had gotten further with her than he ever had before. She would come to his bed soon. It was only a matter of time.
A war whoop split the air. In an instant, Swift Runner drenched him with water. Splashing him with all his might, the boy called him a yellow coward and ran down the riverbed, sending water everywhere. Adahya took off after him. He caught the boy mid-stride, and they both fell into the stream.
“Don’t hurt yourself!” Katherine called.
Adahya stood and looked back at her.
Her scowl conveyed concern for him. Genuine concern.
She also was not wet yet.
* * *
KATHERINE saw Adahya and Swift Runner charging up the riverbank toward them. She pushed Little Jay from her lap and slid off the rock. She had just reached the shore when a surge of water soaked her from head to toe. Little Jay squealed with delight and Swift Runner laughed hysterically.
Adahya stood over her, hands on his hips as if he were the mighty conqueror of the universe. “What will you do now, Chogan?”
He was challenging her.
She darted between the wide span between his legs and ran into the river up to her knees. Adahya followed her, and she splashed him for all she was worth.
Soaked, and laughing hysterically, the children charged her, crashing into her with such force that she lost her footing on the slippery rocks and landed hard on her bottom. She started laughing all over again, and Little Jay began tickling her. Adahya held her down as they attacked, Little Jay tickling her stomach and Swift Runner her bare feet.
“Stop!” Laughter stole her breath. She held her sides to keep them from aching, but Adahya was tickling her there now, too.
“I’m going to wet myself!” she shrieked between fits of laughter.
“You look as if you already did.” Adahya stopped tickling her. Then he laughed hysterically, as if he found his joke incredibly funny.
Katherine listened to his laughter, long and rich and sounding as if it had been pent up for a long, long time. It was bold and exuberant, and she wondered that for him to do so in front of anyone, if at all, was something rare and seldom seen.
Seeing an opportunity, she wriggled out of his grasp and stood over him. With his army of children was on her side now, they all splashed him unmercifully.
“Wait! My shoulder!”
Katherine stopped. “Are you okay?” She knelt beside him in the river. She leaned over him and began unbuttoning his linsey-woolsey shirt. “Is it bleeding again?”
Adahya grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down full length up on him. He kissed her open mouthed, fully and completely, not caring if Grandfather and his niece and nephew were watching.
Katherine pulled away. “You lied!” She splashed him again.
“I did not. I simply tricked you.”
“Same thing.”
He pulled her down to kiss her again, but out of the corner of her eye she saw his grandfather watching them. “He’s looking at us.”
“Perhaps he is jealous,” Adahya whispered with a wicked grin.
Embarrassed, Kat
herine hit him and got up.
Adahya’s laughter echoed behind her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AS they sat on the rock and dried in the sun, Many Stories, with Adahya translating, told Katherine of his wife long since passed now and their courtship. He had taken a Huron woman captive. He had not planned on taking the girl as a wife. It had just happened. He saw her. He wanted her. So he took her. Apparently, it ran in the family.
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