Somewhere in her sub-conscious, an alarm went off. Fire Dancer had gone to the French fort. How could he be here? The thought startled her and she jolted wide awake.
Mackenzie stiffened in horror. The man held her in his arms, his hand possessively on her breast. He was not Fire Dancer.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mackenzie froze in horror.
The stranger nuzzled her neck, and panted in her ear.
She didn't know what to do.
The hand slipped between her breasts and moved lower.
Mackenzie reacted instantly. "Get off me," she shouted as she gave him a shove.
She pushed him so hard that he fell off the edge of her sleeping platform.
"It is all right, love. I will not harm you." The man's arms came through the darkness and she jerked out of his way.
She thought she recognized the voice. It couldn't be . . . "Okonsa?"
"Ah." He climbed back onto the bed.
Mackenzie pressed herself against the wall and slapped his hands away. "What are you doing here? Get out of my bed!"
"Shhh," he crooned. "It is all right, love. My brother said I should take care of you. I should give you what you need."
"I'll give you what you need, if you don't get the hell out of my bed," she threatened.
"Ah, my kitten, she has fangs. Is this what you like in love play?"
Mackenzie knew she mustn't panic. Okonsa's mind wasn't stable. She had to be careful how she handled him or she would truly be in danger. She drew a bearskin across her bare breasts to cover herself. There was scarcely enough light from the firepit to see the outline of his face.
"Okonsa, I don't know what gave you the idea I wanted you here, but you're wrong. Get out now, and I'll never mention this incident to anyone. "
He slipped his hand beneath the fur and brushed her bare thigh with his fingertips. "It is all right, Mack-en-zie. Fire Dancer gave me permission—us permission. You no longer have to hide your desire for me."
She shoved his hand off again, wishing desperately her knife wasn't out of reach. His touch made her skin crawl. "I said get away from me," She gave him a kick, realizing that she protected not only herself, but her unborn child. Fire Dancer's child. "Get off my bed and get the bloody hell out of here."
"You know you are hot for me." He moved and she knew he caressed his groin. "Give me your hand and I will show how hot I am for you," he murmured.
Without thinking, Mackenzie slapped him across the face. The second she did it, she realized she'd made a mistake.
He slapped her back, hard across the mouth. So hard that her lower lip went numb and she felt a trickle of warm blood run down her cheek.
"You son of a bitch," she shouted. "You won't ruin my life like this!"
"Silence, or they will hear you."
She struck at him again, crazy with anger. "Get out, get out!"
"I said shut up, white bitch!"
He hit Mackenzie again and she tumbled off the end of the bed. On the way over the edge, she was vaguely aware that she struck her temple in the same place she'd been shot. She felt no pain, only a numbness that swallowed her up.
"Mack-en-zie? You are all right?"
She heard his voice as it were from a distance. She felt his touch as he gathered her into his arms and then everything dissolved into blackness.
"Mack-en-zie? Mack-en-zie?" Okonsa held his brother's wife in his arms and shook her gently. Her body was so soft; she smelled so good.
Tears ran down his cheeks and he buried his face in her hair. "This man is sorry. This man is sorry. I did not mean to hurt you. Only to love you." He shook her a little harder, anger bubbling up.
Her head bobbed lifelessly.
"Wake up, bitch, white woman. You did not fall that hard!"
Okonsa felt a suffocating sense of panic. It was the same panic he had felt in Mary's wigwam that day she fell The same panic that had engulfed him when Tall Moccasin had accosted him on the trail.
Okonsa didn't know what to do. Fire Dancer would be angry with him if he knew Okonsa had hurt her, even accidentally. Okonsa did not want his cousin to be angry with him.
He stared at her pale-skinned face by the dim light of the glowing fire. He brushed a lock of red hair off her smooth cheek, trying to think.
I could kill her . Make it look like the Hurons had sneaked into the village and done the horrible deed. It had worked with the Frenchman.
He inhaled again and her honey-clover scent enveloped him.
But Okonsa didn't want to kill the white bitch. He loved her. He loved her because Fire Dancer did. He loved her because he loved Fire Dancer.
Pity she was white manake . He hated her for that.
A dog barked outside the wigwam and startled Okonsa. He had to do something quickly. She wasn't waking up.
Blood trickled from her temple. He licked his thumb and dabbed at the wound.
He could take her away . . . That was an idea!
Okonsa was tired of this village and of his cousin's cowardice, anyway. And he was tired of Fire Dancer always getting what he wanted. First it was the position of War Chief. Then his mother named him her successor as chief. Then he had gone to the fort and found himself a white woman whore to warm his bed.
Okonsa would take the white woman north. They could join one of the Iroquois tribes and truly be a part of the fighting. Up north he could have the white woman. He could control her as he had not been able to control those white men the day his mother had been murdered.
Okonsa stared at her bare breasts, her flat belly, the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs. He could smell her woman's scent. He knew she wanted him. It had been that way since the day they had met at the fort. He only needed to give her the opportunity and she would come to him. She would spread her white thighs and she would give herself to him.
Just thinking about it made Okonsa throb.
Gently, he lowered her to the floor. He didn't dare risk returning to his own wigwam so he would have to pack for their journey from what he could find here.
Okonsa tossed a piece of wood onto the firepit and the flames rose, casting brighter light. He found two leather bags and stuffed them full of supplies. He included a dress, leggings, and a pair of moccasins for Mack-en-zie.
The bags packed, he smoothed out a bearskin on the floor and added a doeskin blanket on top. He picked up the unconscious white woman and placed her on one side. He rolled her up so that her feet and head were covered. He checked to be certain she could breathe and then heaved her onto his shoulder.
Without anyone seeing him, Okonsa slipped out of the wigwam and into the darkness with Fire Dancer's wife.
Mackenzie felt the sensation of drifting downward and as her awareness sharpened, she realized she was being lowered to the ground. She jolted awake as panic seized her. Where was she? What was happening? Something was wrapped around her, encasing her from head to foot. Her face was covered, her arms pinned to her sides.
Her head was pounding. She felt like she couldn't breathe.
She remembered Okonsa. He'd hit her . . . knocked her off the sleeping platform.
Oh, God, he's kidnapped me. He's taken me from Fire Dancer.
Mackenzie's first impulse was to scream. But if Okonsa still had her . . . if he'd done this to her, she knew she had to remain calm. She had to protect herself and the child she carried.
Mackenzie wiggled. Perhaps he had left her for dead and she could escape the confines of the sleeping furs and run. But perhaps he was still here.
"Okonsa?" she said softly. Then again, "Okonsa?"
Mackenzie heard a sound and then felt hands on her body through the blankets.
"Mack-en-zie. Mack-en-zie, you are well?"
He unrolled the bearskin she was wrapped in and Mackenzie emerged from the cocoon, clutching the inner doeskin blanket. She was stark naked beneath it and it was cold.
They were somewhere in the forest, on a mountain ridge. The sky was gray as it was at first
light in the winter.
"What have you done?" Mackenzie asked softly.
Okonsa tried to touch her forehead, but she pulled away. "Don't touch me," she threatened.
He drew back his hands and grinned like a school boy. "You are good. You are well, Mack-en-zie. This man knew you were not hurt."
"Okonsa, where are we? Where have you taken me?" She tried not to sound as if she were afraid. "Why have you taken me from our village?"
"Shhh, it is all right, my love." He pulled through a leather bag—one of Fire Dancer's bags—and extracted her dress, leggings, and moccasins. "Put these on and you will be warm. This man would make you tea but a fire would not be safe."
Mackenzie snatched the clothing from his hand and fumbled to dress under the cover of the blanket. It was cold outside and her skin puckered with goosebumps.
"You didn't answer my question," she snapped. "Why have you brought me here?"
"We will be together, you and I, Mack-en-zie. You do not love my cousin. You did not want to marry him. I tried to save you from the marriage that night at the communal fire. Do you remember?"
Dressed, Mackenzie felt less vulnerable. She slipped her feet into her moccasins and laced them one at a time. She tried to stay calm and follow his line of thinking, no matter which way it wandered. "I remember. You defended me."
"This man should have offered to take you then. It was what you wanted. You wanted me."
She shook her head. She could play along some, but this was too far. "No, she answered firmly. "I never wanted you, Okonsa. Only Fire Dancer, only my husband, who will soon realize I'm gone."
He shook his head in agitated way. "No. Mahtah. Mahtah . He is gone. My brother cousin is gone with the French. He will not know for many days that the lovers have escaped."
Dressed, Mackenzie pulled the doeskin over her shoulders to protect herself against the wind, "We are not lovers, Okonsa. We never have been," she said rigidly. "And we never will be." She started to walk away. "Now take me home before anyone knows we're gone."
"Can't." He grabbed her arm roughly. "Can't go home to the village. Never. You are my woman now." He cupped his groin. "Okonsa's woman. You go with me, north." He pointed toward a steep mountain ridge.
She struggled to escape his iron grip. "Aren't you listening to me? I said I'm not yours. I'll never be yours. I want to go home. You have to take me home before you get yourself into greater trouble."
He held tightly to her arm, sinking his fingers into her flesh. "Listen to this man." He gave her a shake. "This man says you are mine."
"No. I'm Fire Dancer's wife. I love him. He loves me."
Okonsa cackled. "Loves you. My brother cousin, he does not love you. What man loves a woman and then kills her father?"
An eerie tingle of fear crept up Mackenzie's spine. What was this mad man's babble now? "What do you mean?" she demanded. "Fire Dancer didn't kill my father. He was killed in the fighting the night the Hurons attacked the fort. You remember the night. You conveniently showed up just in time to be in the thick of things."
Okonsa laughed like a child. "He did it. Fire Dancer killed the whis-key selling manake and then he took his daughter."
Of course Mackenzie didn't believe him. Fire Dancer wouldn't have harmed her father. Fire Dancer loved her—even then he had loved her. "I don't want to hear any more of your nonsense," she told Okonsa as she jerked her arm from his grip. "Now take me home. I'm not going anywhere with you."
His face hardened. "You will go with me," he threatened, "or—"
She thrust her face into his. She'd been through too much to find her happiness, and Fire Dancer and the Shawnee were her happiness. She'd not give them up. "Or what?" she demanded fiercely. "You'll what?"
His black eyes grew narrow and beady. "Or this man will kill you and throw you into the same mountain crevice where Tall Moccasin sleeps."
Mackenzie froze in fear. His words rang in her ears. She felt so light-headed that she feared she might pass out again. But she refused to give in to her terror . . . or to him. "You?" she whispered. "You kidnapped him? You murdered him?"
He gave her a shove northward. "Silence, woman." He grabbed the two bags and left the bearskin behind. "March and do not speak. I have heard enough of your white manake bitching."
"Gone? Gone where?" Fire Dancer stormed into his wigwam. Everything was in place. Mackenzie's paints were on the stool. Their portrait rested on the easel. Everything was neat and orderly. Nothing was out of place. Nothing missing . . . except his wife.
Laughing Woman followed him inside. She spoke softly in Shawnee. "This woman does not know. She was not here the morning after you left."
He spun around, numb. Had she found out about her father? Had Joshua told her the truth? He was overwhelmed with guilt. Even if she knew, surely she would have waited for him. He knew her too well to believe she would have left without a farewell, without a fight. "The morning after I left?" he repeated, Laughing Woman's words sinking in. "But that was more than seven days ago."
Laughing Woman folded her hands. "Ah. "
He refused to believe she left him. "Someone has taken her. English manake . Hurons. Frenchmen. I do not know who."
"There are things missing," Laughing Woman said. "This woman has looked through your belongings. I know what was here. Two bags are missing besides the one you took with you. Water skins are missing. Food probably. Two sleeping furs."
Fire Dancer shook his head in disbelief. His world was crumbling like an old clay pot. The French had changed their terms. Now they demanded the Shawnee fight with them. His wife was gone . . . His Mack-en-zie. She who possessed more of his soul than he did.
"There is more, my friend," Laughing Woman said gently.
Fire Dancer hesitated. Her tone made him not want to look at her or hear her words. "More?"
"Okonsa is missing."
His headed snapped up to glare at her. He felt as if he was falling . . . falling from the highest peak of the highest mountain. "You do not suggest she would—"
"Mahtah ," she answered firmly. She grabbed his arm, forcing him to listen. "This woman does not suggest she went with him. Mack-en-sie would not even go to the stream with your cousin. She did not like him. She feared him."
What Laughing Woman said was true. Guilt washed over him. His wife had been afraid of his cousin. Again and again, she had tried to express her fear to Fire Dancer. He hadn't listened. He had been so sure that Okonsa was changing that he had been unwilling to hear her words.
"Okonsa has taken my wife." It was a statement, not a question. Fire Dancer knew in his heart of hearts that it was true. His cousin, who he had called brother, had betrayed him and for that he would kill him.
"Ah , this woman believes it is true. We heard nothing that night He must have carried her out of the village as we slept."
Fire Dancer balled his fists in fury. "How could I have done this to her? I left her in his care."
"It will do her no good for you to chastise yourself," Laughing Woman said. "You must take action."
"I must speak with Joshua to be sure he knows nothing of her departure, and then I leave." Fire Dancer burst through the door, out into the morning sunshine. Snow sparkled off the mountains in the distance. "It will be hard to track Okonsa in the snow that has fallen." He stared northward. "But this man knows his cousin as well as he knows his own palm. I know which way the thief goes."
Laughing Woman handed him his pack and his musket. "You will find him. You will find her."
"Ah ." Fire Dancer threw the pack over his back and strode away. "I am coming, Mack-en-zie," he murmured. "I come, kitehi ."
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mackenzie sat on the floor and rested her cheek against the rough headboard of the bed she was tied to. It was late afternoon and the dark shadows cast across the un-planed floorboards were lengthening. Okonsa snored on the bed above her.
Mackenzie was cold, but she couldn't get up to throw a log on the fire in the crumbling ston
e fireplace. She wouldn't be able to rise until Okonsa woke and she wouldn't wake him if she was in danger of freezing solid. As long as he slept, he kept his filthy hands off her.
It had been nine days since Okonsa carried Mackenzie from the village. Nine days she had endured imprisonment. He had walked her over a mountain ridge and north through steep terrain. For two days, he dragged her through the mountains, and then a snowstorm had hit, and they'd taken shelter in this abandoned trapper's cabin.
Mackenzie stared at the log walls. It could barely be called a cabin; it was more of a shed. Wind and snow blew through the cracks and rodents fought Okonsa and Mackenzie for what little food they had left.
Mackenzie glanced up at Okonsa's sleeping form. He lay on his back, his mouth wide open. He breathed deeply, snorted, and rolled over.
So far she'd been able to keep him at arm's length. He wanted to have sex with her, but somehow in his crazy head, he had the idea that she would come around to his way of thinking and give herself to him. He pawed at her breasts some. He had tried to kiss her several times, but so far she'd been lucky; his advances hadn't gotten out of hand. Tied up as she was, Mackenzie didn't know how she could defend herself if he made up his mind to rape her . . .
Mackenzie exhaled softly and closed her eyes. She was so tired that her eyeballs ached, but it was hard for her to sleep. She was so afraid of what Okonsa might do to her that she rarely closed her eyes for more than a few minutes. She was hungry, too. She slid her hand across her still-flat belly. She was worried about not getting enough food to eat. If she wasn't eating, she knew her baby wasn't, either.
"Oh, where are you, Fire Dancer?" she whispered to the cold, empty room.
She opened her eyes. She knew Fire Dancer would come for her. She knew he searched for her at this very moment. She could feel him near. All she had to do was to remain alive until he could reach her. Something poor Tall Moccasin had apparently been unable to do.
Mackenzie pushed thoughts of Tall Moccasin out of her head. If she thought about Tall Moccasin or about what Okonsa had said about Fire Dancer killing her father, she'd go as mad as Okonsa. Right now, she had to concentrate on staying alive.
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