by Karen Kay
“To do what she asks, I seek the assistance of the Black Robes. This is my mission, and I was bound upon it when your man, Thompson, approached me. When I learned that it was you and your friend who were traveling into a dangerous country, I made a small change in my plans.”
This last surprised Marisa. “You changed your plans because of me?”
“Delayed them only, for the way to Kahnawake is not dissimilar to the path to New Hampshire.”
“But you risked your life for me so many times. What if…?”
“It is a true man’s duty to risk his life for another.”
“That’s all I am to you, then? A duty?”
“A duty, yes. But all? Never. I love you. I would risk all that I am for you.”
She swallowed hard. “Does that mean that we…I mean that our commitment to each other…? But it can’t be. I could not—”
“It is as we agreed before we began our marriage. Nothing there has changed. I am still who I am. You are still who you are, and I do not wish to force you to be my unwilling bride.”
She breathed out deeply. “What will we do after you have accomplished what you must here?”
“My brother and I will take you to New Hampshire as originally agreed. I do this rather than take you to your home, because I do not believe you are safe in Albany. Then my brother and I will return to my people.”
“First Sarah and now you.” She bit her lip. “I seem destined to lose the people I am closest to.”
“You wish to remain married to me, then?”
“No,” she was quick to say. “It’s only that… I don’t know what I was hoping for. But certainly, marriage aside, the idea of never seeing you again is not pleasant. And yet, we couldn’t live together unmarried…”
“No, we couldn’t,” he agreed. “Always, I would want to touch you. Always, I would want your love. And I would do all I could to convince you to accept my embrace, even though we didn’t make a marriage.”
She nodded. “What do we do now?”
“I will make a temporary shelter for us, much as we did at the lake. I will go to Kahnawake. You will stay here, busying yourself with different chores that are needed to prepare us for the trek to New Hampshire. Until I discover if your welcome would be pleasant or unpleasant, it will remain this way.”
Again, she sighed. This was wonderful news, for she had worried about her reception at this village.
“I like it,” was all she said.
Marisa was finishing preparing for their upcoming journey when she heard Black Eagle’s signal, the song of the meadowlark, which announced his approach. Sitting upright within their shelter, she smiled. It had been a busy day for her, packing and getting ready to leave.
Still, it was early evening, and she hadn’t expected Black Eagle to return from the village of Kahnawake so soon. She knew he had planned to visit the Black Robes, as well as the chiefs of the tribe. Lastly, he would approach his brother. Had it gone so well that he hadn’t been required to linger?
Following his instructions to stay within their shelter, she waited for him to pull back the logs and sticks that were the door of their temporary abode. She wasn’t disappointed. When he tugged on the door and bent over in a crawl to enter, she greeted him with a hearty, “Hello.” As soon as he came up to his knees, she threw herself into his arms.
He caught her and held her against him so long and with such strength that even when she made to draw back from him, she couldn’t. She didn’t move.
It was at that moment that she noticed it. He was shaking. Worse, she felt moisture against her cheek.
Those tears were his.
“What is it?” she whispered. “What has happened?”
He didn’t answer.
“Did you speak to the chiefs?”
“I did.”
“And? The Black Robes…did you see them?”
“Nyoh, I saw them. I spoke to them.”
“Then…?”
Carefully, he set her away from him, his gaze looking deeply into hers. He uttered, “I have been wrong. Very wrong. I have been blind.”
She frowned.
“My brother saw cause to join league with the French.”
“I am so sorry. Does this mean that you will have to fight him?”
“No. I would never take up arms against him. He went to battle with the French and was captured by the Abenaki. It happened two days ago.”
She didn’t answer. Instinctively, she feared his next words.
“They will kill him, if they haven’t already.” He drew in a breath and frowned. “I have to go into their village to try to save him. Whether my brother is dead or alive, I have to go there.”
“And if you are discovered?”
“They will kill me.”
“No! Don’t go.”
“I must.”
“But if caught, I have heard that they torture their prisoners. Would they torture you?”
“Yes.”
“Do not go. Please do not go.”
“You know that I must. It is my brother of which we speak. But it isn’t this which fills my heart with regret.”
“It is not?”
“No, it is that I have been foolish. Stupidity is an ugly thing.”
“Please.” She drew in an unsteady breath. “We are speaking in circles. I do not understand…”
“Do you not? Do you realize how much I love you?”
“I…” She gulped.
“And yet,” he continued, “I have felt it is right to refuse a permanent place for you within my heart. My people, my grandmother—whom I respect and love deeply—have cautioned me about marrying someone whose ways are vastly different from my own. That always a man is hindered because of this, making him worthless to his people. I have believed this. She cautioned me more about the English than any other tribe of people. Make friends, she said, but do not choose a wife from among them. So I have never intended to keep you in my life, because of my respect for her, and for my people. You know this.”
“Yes. And this has changed?”
“It has not. But I have.”
Marisa hesitated as a significant fact fell into place. “You do not expect to live through this, do you?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he closed his eyes.
“No! Do not go.”
“I must. Now, hear me out. Only now do I realize that to say a person is a certain way and will act in a prearranged way because others have done so in the past is not wise. One person is never the same as another. Simply because you have been raised with different beliefs than mine is no reason to think you would stand between me and my people. All marriages have difficulties now and again. I would rather work to settle our differences than to take your favor and throw it away, as though you mean nothing to me. Because the truth is, you are everything to me. I have been more than foolish. I have been blind.”
She swallowed hard. “No you haven’t. To do the things you have been taught are right, to believe what you do, out of respect and love for your grandmother and others, is not wrong.”
“But,” he countered, “it is a mistake to take what another thinks is so and believe that it is so yourself without thinking it through on your own and coming to your own conclusions about it. I never questioned the sense of believing all English women would be bad for the Mohawk man, and because of this oversight, I was ready to throw away the love of a woman who I want to be with me all the days of my life.”
She bowed her head, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Perhaps it has taken such a threat as this to realize what I have, what I wish I didn’t have to lose. I promise you this—if I live through this, I will return, and we will marry, before the Black Robes if necessary.”
Head down, she stared at the floor. She couldn’t look at him. What
would her world be like without him?
Was she being stupid, also? No, her objections were real, weren’t they? Didn’t men, because of their nature, attempt to control their women? And not always was that control for the good of the woman. In fact it was the opposite. Her decision from her past wasn’t wrong, was it?
“I realize you have your own reasons for not wishing to marry,” he was continuing, “but if I live, I will be persistent. This I promise you.”
If he lived through this…
This was the third time he’d spoken similar words. Realization of this hit her as though she’d been struck. She’d asked him about it earlier, but he hadn’t answered. Now it was clear to her. He honestly did not believe he was going to live.
Suddenly, as though awakening from a bad dream, she raised her head and took a good look at him. She loved this man beyond life itself. Perhaps she had done so from the very beginning. She simply hadn’t known it.
Yet here before her was a man she couldn’t live without. In being unwilling to make him hers, was she too acting childish? Was she being stupid? Willful?
Of course she was.
As her eyes met his, she begged softly, “Take me with you. If you die doing this, I will want to die with you. Take me too.”
He shook his head. “No. I have spoken to the Black Robes. I will bring you to their mission in Kahnawake before I leave, for they have promised me that they will see to it that you arrive safely in New Hampshire.”
“No. Please do not do that. You don’t understand. If you expect these to be your last days, make them mine too.”
“Never.” He took her in his arms, pressing her up close to him, and she was aware of the wetness on his face. “But wait for me. If I don’t return within a few months, expect the worst and carry on with your life.” He kissed the lobe of her ear, then caressed a path down her neck. “Promise me that you will marry another, if I fail to return.”
“I can’t. I’ll love only you all the days of my life.”
“Yet you must marry again if I die here. Don’t let your bloodline die, also. Promise me.”
“I can’t.” Her voice quivered as she tried to speak. “But I will promise you that I will love you always.”
“And yet ‘always’ must sometime end. Once you have loved, you could love another…but wait a while. Do not look elsewhere too soon, in case I still live.” He kissed her lips, nuzzling them open, and against them, he whispered, “If I live, I promise you, we will marry, I will take you to my home, and my grandmother will love you because I do. Say it. Say you’ll marry me.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I will marry you. And don’t you dare get yourself killed.”
“I will do all I can to remain alive,” he muttered as he nudged her back against his blanket, the rug of their shelter.
She, however, persisted and begged, “Promise me that you will stay alive.”
“I cannot.”
“I will stand for nothing less.”
“I can promise that I will take no unnecessary chances.” He was already working at the buttons on her dress. “I need to hold you in my arms tonight and make love to you through the night.” His voice quivered as the tears fell over his cheeks. “I will take you to the Black Robes in the morning.” He could barely speak the words.
“No. Please, take me with you to find your brother.” She was crying too.
“We have already discussed this, and I have not changed my mind. I cannot and will not do it.” He had managed to unhook her corset and blouse as he mouthed the words, “If they catch you, you would die also. I cannot put you in such danger or pain.”
“But I hardly understand. I would be with you. Whatever your fate, it would be mine.”
“No. I have been raised knowing what torture is and what it can do to a man. You have not.” He was working over her skirt and petticoats, pulling them down her legs.
“But—”
“No. I have spoken.”
With those words, she understood there was to be no further discussion on the subject. She bit her lip.
Meanwhile, he was ranging his kisses lower and lower over her body, down her neck to her chest, to one breast, to the other. At the same time, his hands worked their magic on her as he positioned himself over her, his fingers rubbing her body everywhere, his touch creating havoc inside her.
She squirmed beneath his embrace, whispering, “Do you know what you do to me?”
“If it is anything like what you do to me,” he muttered, “I think I might. You make my heartbeat quicken and my blood run warm and fast within me.”
“Hmmmm… That feels heavenly.”
He had coaxed her legs apart, his caress finding her most vulnerable spot at the apex of her thighs. “Please,” she pleaded, “please don’t leave me. Please say you won’t.”
He sighed, then whispered, “How I wish that were possible. But it is not within me to do. Not now. The best we can do is hope for a happy ending. Meanwhile we have this moment to share and keep within us forever.”
“I will. I promise I will keep this time between us precious in my memory.”
“I too.” His body inched down over hers, his lips trailing a path upon her stomach, farther and farther down, until at last his lips found her there where his fingers lingered. “I would know your taste. I would memorize it too, so that even though my body might be ripped apart with pain, I will remember.”
She cried, even as pleasure exploded within her.
And then rising up above her, he joined himself with her, their union as sensual as an eager, sexual dance. In and out, over and over, they strained against each other. He rose onto his forearms, looking down at her. As his hands fondled her, his eyes adored her, and she knew her gaze back at him was filled with the love that penetrated her very soul.
With his gaze still fixed upon her, she reached her desire, the moment exotic, for it was as though they shared the same location in this continuum of time. And as she plunged head deep into pleasure, he released his seed within her. It was a luxury like none other. He fell over her, and she was glad of the pressure. Forever, he would remain with her in her heart. Forever…
Her arms massaged his back, his neck, his head, her fingers running through his hair, as she whispered, “I love you now. I will always love you, no matter where you are, no matter where I am, in heaven or hell, I will always love you.”
“I too,” he muttered against her ear. “But it is not over. I still need you. Tonight we make memories that will last me through this quest, wherever it might lead me.”
And so it continued. On and on they loved throughout the night, resting only briefly, until at last, the first vestiges of light filtered in through their special heaven. Only then did he give in to exhaustion and doze. Marisa, on the other hand, who was holding him close to her breast, cried.
Chapter Twenty
True to his word, Black Eagle escorted Marisa, along with their meager possessions, to the Jesuit mission in Kahnawake.
“Wait for me,” he told her, taking her in his arms and kissing her lips, her cheeks, her eyes and holding her so closely to him that she could feel his imprint upon her, bringing back to her mind the past evening. “But don’t wait too long.”
“And you,” she whispered against his lips, “come back to me.”
One last kiss, and with tears in her eyes, in his eyes, he turned away. Watching him go, Marisa knew that although physically she remained behind, in her heart, she went with him, now, always.
Life in Kahnawake was not the ordeal she had thought it might be. Indeed, she had taken to walking through the byways of the town for pleasure. Children played, women at their work watched her cautiously, the men ignored her. Every time she saw a child at play, every instant that she witnessed some act of kindness, she wondered if this could be what Black Eagle had been like as a child.
His presence filled this place, even though this was not specifically his town. But there were Mohawk people here. Most looked and dressed as he did, and in this way, she felt close to him.
There was another place where she felt close to him, also, and almost every day she returned to the spot where they had made love. Something was there…something she felt close to… Perhaps they had left bits of themselves here. Whatever it was, she would often sit in the place where they had made camp, where they had made love, and remember.
The Jesuit monks treated her kindly and were more than happy to give her quarter while she waited for Black Eagle. She’d been furnished a room with a bed, and had taken to working in the hospital for her keep, ministering general first aid to the children, as well as to the men and the women alike.
And so the days had gone by, until…
“The runner says he carries a message for you.” The priest lowered his black hood and bowed his head as he spoke.
“For me?” Marisa had been applying a bandage to a young girl’s arm, and she looked up briefly at the priest. “Excuse me, Father, but could you tell this beautiful young lady that we are done, and that she needs to come and see me tomorrow, so I can reapply the dressing?”
“Yes,” the monk replied, and translated the words into the girl’s language. Marisa patted the young girl’s head as she lifted her down from the table that was her makeshift medical station.
Having been distracted by her task with the girl, it took a few moments before the priest’s words took meaning within her. Suddenly she understood, and her heart gladdened. She smiled. The message had to be from Black Eagle. No one else knew she was here, which meant that he was alive, didn’t it?
“Would you please be so kind as to show the runner in?” she asked the priest.