Fire Dancer

by Colleen French

  Fire Dancer tugged her dress over her head and let it fall to the floor. She laid back and allowed him to remove her kneehigh moccasins one at a time, and then her leggings. Completely naked, she pushed back on the bed until she leaned against the wall. "Now yours," she whispered and pointed with a finger. "Take your clothes off for me."

  Fire Dancer stepped back from the bed, his gaze locked with hers. His fingers found the ties at the neck of his tunic and unlaced it. She sighed with admiration as he slipped the quilled leather over his head. Fire Dancer's chest was broad and planed with taut muscles. A small scar ran beneath his left nipple.

  "The rest," she encouraged. She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. Watching him like this made her skin tingle with anticipation.

  He pulled off his moccasins.

  Mackenzie's gaze shifted to the tight, leather fringed leggings that were all that separated her from his naked flesh.

  His gaze did not stray from her face.

  He unlaced the rawhide ties and slid the leather over his narrow hips, down his long, suntanned legs. He wore a loin cloth.

  Mackenzie had not expected that.

  The soft leather pouch between cupped his bulging rod.

  "Let me," she whispered as his leggings fell to the floor.

  He took a step forward and she slid to the edge of the bed. She reached behind him and stroked his bare, muscular buttocks.

  He groaned with pleasure.

  She ran her nails down the backs of his legs.

  He groaned again.

  With an experienced hand, she untied the leather loinskin and his burgeoning rod fell into her hands. She cupped the sacs in her palm with a gentle, experienced hand. His hands fell to her shoulders with another moan.

  She stroked him, marveling at the softness of his flesh and the urgency of his need. Between her thighs she could feel a wetness . . . the same need.

  Mackenzie stood up and pressed her hips to his. Because she was nearly his height, they fit together perfectly.

  He slipped his hand around to the nape of her neck and pulled her to him in a hard, insistent kiss.

  She parted her lips, and reveled in the feel and taste of his tongue thrusting into her mouth.

  He pushed her gently onto the bed and she parted her thighs. He caressed the dampness with one hand, the other supporting him over her.

  She closed her eyes and moaned. His hair fell over her face in an ebony curtain. "Love me," Mackenzie whispered.

  He used his hand as guidance, and slipped into her. "Always."

  She lifted her hips to meet his first thrust with a cry of relief. He lowered over her, supporting himself with his elbows. "I will love you always and forever, kitehi . No matter what. "

  She raised her hips to meet another thrust. "No matter what," she panted.

  Fire Dancer pressed hot, wet kisses to her breasts and she savored the feel of his mouth and the pleasure it produced. Her entire body pulsed as the tension mounted. She could feel herself drawing closer to climax. She could feel his body tensing over hers.

  He called her name again and again. She stroked the muscles that corded his back and shoulders, his forearms, and chest. She was bathed in perspiration, lost in the ecstasy of each stroke.

  His body was so hard and hers was soft. They melted in the heat of their passion and molded as one.

  Again and again, he lifted her to a peak of pleasure, only to carry her down before she reached the summit. He teased and taunted her with each stroke of his manhood. He used it as a tool of delicious, torturous pleasure.

  Unable to stand the glorious suffering no longer, she moved faster under him. He lost control and she gained it. She dug her blunt fingernails into the flesh of his buttocks, lifted her hips, and pulled him deeper into her.

  "Mack-en-zie."

  "Kitehi ," she breathed in his ear.

  They came together in a surge of ultimate pleasure and flashes of light and darkness. He groaned and thrust one last time. Her muscles contracted. She cried out in pleasure and he moaned.

  Fire Dancer sagged on top of her. She laughed, panting, and pushed on his shoulder. "Get off, you big oaf," she teased as he slid over against the wall.

  She wondered impulsively if she should tell him about the baby right now. She decided not to. Another month hadn't passed. He had so much to worry about. And his cousin's body lay at the bottom of the ravine. Tonight wasn't the time. She would wait until they returned to the village. She'd keep her secret a little longer.

  Mackenzie heard an eerie sound and she tensed.

  It was a howl . . . echoed by a second.

  Fire Dancer didn't say anything, but she knew he heard it too. He pulled the doeskin blanket over them both and tucked it under her chin.

  "Wolves," Mackenzie whispered.

  Another howl echoed off the mountain, splitting the night air with its haunting cry.

  Then came yipping. Mackenzie was familiar enough with wolves to know what that meant. They'd found meat. They were zeroing in on their kill.

  Another wolf howled and Mackenzie jumped in her skin. "Should we—"

  Fire Dancer wrapped his warm arms around her. "There is nothing that can be done for him now," he whispered.

  She snuggled closer to him. "Fire Dancer, Okonsa killed Tall Moccasin," she said softly.

  She felt him tense. "He what?"

  "He told me he killed Tall Moccasin and threw him down a ravine." She rolled over so that she could look into his eyes. "I don't know if it's true, but . . . but I think it is. The way he said it, he wasn't boasting. Just stating a fact. He said he would do the same thing to me, too."

  Fire Dancer's gaze was hard and distant.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "Did he say why he would kill an innocent boy?"

  "No."

  Fire Dancer sighed. "This man guesses we may never know now." He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. "Sleep, wife, and dream of happier times." His voice was sad . . . distant But also hopeful.

  "Gone," Mackenzie said staring over the edge of the ravine at the place where Okonsa's body had lay last night. There was nothing but a little blood mostly covered by new-fallen snow. "His body's gone."

  Fire Dancer stared over the cliff. "A fitting burial for my cousin who I called brother, do you not think?" His tone was cruel and mocking. "In the belly of a wolf?"

  Mackenzie rested her hand on her husband's arm. "You need to let go of your anger. He's gone. If you hold onto it, it will eat you up, and Okonsa will win after all."

  Fire Dancer made a fist. "This man does not understand why Okonsa would do these horrible things."

  "Maybe you didn't know as much about Okonsa as you thought you did," she said gently. "Sometimes the mind is unable to recover."

  "He was a traitor, a thief, a liar!"

  Mackenzie sighed. "Ah , but he said things to me that made me understand why he was the way he was."

  Fire Dancer threw up his hand and walked away, back toward the cabin where they'd left their packs, ready to start for home. "This man does not want to hear it. There is no excuse."

  She followed him, realizing it would be better to tell Fire Dancer about Okonsa's rape as a child in a few days when some of his bitter anger had passed. "Let's just go home," she called after him.

  At the cabin, Fire Dancer lifted his heavy pack and placed the lighter one on Mackenzie's back. "Let us not speak of He- Who-Was-Eaten-By-Wolves again, shall we, wife?"

  Mackenzie thought she could comply with her husband's wish, but she had one question. Somewhere in the back of her mind Okonsa's words still haunted her. Okonsa said Fire Dancer killed her father. She knew it wasn't true. She debated even asking Fire Dancer about the ridiculous accusation. It would make him angry that she would even think for a moment that he could have done such a horrible deed and then lied about it. Just the same, she felt like she had to ask, just to chase away the demons.

  Fire Dancer set off through the snow
, south toward home. Mackenzie fell in behind, walking in his steps. "Fire Dancer," she called softly.

  He ducked under a snow-laden pine branch and lifted it for her. "Ah? "

  "Fire Dancer, Okonsa said something."

  "We will not speak of him."

  "I have to ask you. I don't know why he would say such a thing." The snow crunched beneath her feet. "But . . . he said" She exhaled and then just blurted it out. "Fire Dancer, Okonsa said you killed my father."

  Fire Dancer halted on the path, but said nothing.

  Mackenzie stopped directly behind him in confusion. Why had he stopped? Why hadn't he said anything? Why wasn't he denying the horrible accusation?

  His back was still to her.

  She touched the sleeve of his cloak. A lump rose in her throat. Suddenly she wished she hadn't asked. She should have just let it go. But he couldn't possibly have . . . "Fire Dancer?"

  He turned to her slowly, as if he was an old man.

  The breath caught in her throat at the look on his face. "No," she whispered.

  "Mack-en-zie—"

  "No," she said louder, her voice echoing off the snow-laden trees. "No."

  "This man meant to tell you."

  She took a step back shaking her head. It couldn't be true. It was a lie. She loved Fire Dancer. He loved her. He wouldn't have . . . he couldn't have!

  "You meant to tell me?" she managed to croak.

  "Ah . From the first day you woke only . . . only you were weak and then Snake Man ordered the wedding, and then—" "You meant to tell me," she shrieked. Mackenzie's first impulse was to turn and run. Instead, she ripped the pack off her back and hurled it at him. "Bastard! Bastard!" she screamed. "You killed my father and you never told me!"

  He put up his hands to deflect the pack.

  "This was all a lie, then," she shouted, fighting the tears and feeling of betrayal. "You don't love me. You never loved me." Despite her efforts, the tears streamed down her face. She kicked snow at him. "You married me out of guilt, you bastard. Out of that Shawnee sense of honor."

  "Mahtah . No. It is not true, and you know in your heart it is not," he defended. "That is why I did not tell you. Because I—I—"

  "Don't say it! Don't say it!" She grabbed up her pack from the snow and pushed passed him. "Don't say another word. Take me back." She plowed through the heavy snow, her tears blurring her vision. "I'm going home. Home to the Chesapeake."

  "Mack-en-zie, listen to this man. This makes no sense." Fire Dancer followed her to Josh's horse that was burdened with supplies. Robert Red Shirt's mount stood there too, laden with Mackenzie's paintings.

  "Makes no sense?" she said softly. "No. What makes no sense is why I ever thought this could work between you and me." Mackenzie tied her bag to Josh's horse. She didn't cry because she had no tears left.

  Fire Dancer had killed her father. He'd admitted it. Even Josh admitted it, when she forced him to. She was almost as angry with Josh as she was with Fire Dancer. He'd known and he hadn't told her. He was going to take Mary and return to the tavern on Chesapeake, without ever telling Mackenzie that her husband had murdered her father.

  Bastard.

  The both of them. They had conspired together against her. It was just like men.

  Mackenzie yanked on the leather strap that tied her bag to the horse. "Pardon." She slid between Fire Dancer and the horse and walked to the other side to adjust the balance of the pack.

  The weather had broken and she, Josh, his new wife, Mary, and Robert were all leaving this morning. The sky was clear and it hadn't snowed in days. Robert Red Shirt was confident they could made good time as they headed south and get out of Penn's Colony to warmer climate before the next snowstorm hit.

  "Mack-en-zie." Fire Dancer followed her.

  She didn't look at him. She hadn't been able to since he'd told her the truth. At first, her heart had ached until she thought it would physically break. She had loved her father dearly and now he was gone, dead at the hands of the only other man she had ever loved. Now she just felt numb. Numb and determined to get the hell out of here.

  Laughing Woman had tried to convince her that she was being irrational, that self-defense wasn't the same as murder. She even suggested that her pregnancy was clouding her logic, controlling her emotions. When Laughing Woman suggested they tell Fire Dancer about the baby, Mackenzie refused and made her swear that she wouldn't tell.

  One by one all of the Shawnee whom she had become so close to had come to say good-bye and to ask her not to leave. Each one declared Fire Dancer's undying love for her, until finally she didn't want to see any of them. Even Mary, Mary who had always wanted to live among the white men and would now finally get her chance, tried to persuade Mackenzie that she belonged with the Shawnee. Mackenzie would not be swayed.

  "Mackenzie, this man does not understand your actions," Fire Dancer pleaded. "This man has said he is sorry. I explained that it was self-defense, just like you defended yourself. Joshua told you—"

  "I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk to you at all. You killed my father."

  He grabbed her by both arms and forced her to meet his gaze. "Ah . This man killed your father in self-defense, but I still love you."

  Tears sprang in her eyes. She wanted to tell him, Well, I don't love you . But she couldn't. Not even in the midst of her pain. Not even for revenge.

  She jerked away from him.

  Josh and Mary approached, their arms linked. They had been married yesterday by Snake Man and Red Fox. When they reached the Chesapeake, a traveling clergyman would marry them again, in a Christian ceremony.

  The Shawnee ceremony had been so beautiful, that halfway through, Mackenzie had escaped. She couldn't bear to watch because it brought back memories of her own wedding such a short time ago.

  "I'm ready," Mackenzie called to Joshua, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. "Let's go."

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" Josh asked her quietly.

  Fire Dancer stood off to the side and watched them make their final preparations to depart. Standing alone as he was, he seemed detached, not just from Mackenzie, but from the Shawnee . . . from the world.

  "Ah . I mean yes. I want to go home with you and Mary. I won't be a burden in the tavern. I swear I won't."

  "That isn't what I meant, and you know it." His nut-brown gaze met hers. "It's your place. You have a right to be there. I just think you're making a mistake."

  "Why does everyone think they know what's best for me?" she flared.

  Josh sighed and dropped one arm over Mary's shoulder. "Have it your way."

  Mackenzie turned her back on them as they walked to Fire Dancer, but she could hear what they were saying.

  "This man wishes you would not go. There has been fighting very near to here. The French and British have taken the opportunity of good weather to kill each other."

  Josh sighed and ran one hand through his thinning brown hair. "Mackenzie's set on going and I'm afraid if Robert and I don't take her, she's liable to set off on her own. You know how stubborn she can be."

  Fire Dancer grunted. "Take care then . . . brother."

  The men must have embraced.

  Fire Dancer appeared at Mackenzie's side. "Stay until spring when the forest is safer. The French call us to fight beside them. I may have to, because we are already committed."

  "I have to go now," she said flatly. Mackenzie could feel her heart breaking again, the wound opening anew.

  "You have to go." For the first time since Mackenzie had learned the truth of her father's death, Fire Dancer spoke harshly to her. "You do what you must, and I will do what I must."

  He strode away, and for an instant Mackenzie wanted to turn around and run after him. But she didn't. She couldn't.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Fire Dancer sat on the edge of his sleeping platform and stared at his portrait, overwhelmed by suffocating sadness. Mack-en-zie . His wife, his heart was gone. Now he had nothing lef
t of her but the picture. He wished desperately that she'd painted her own face despite the Shawnee taboo against it. Now he would have to rely on his memory and he feared his memory would fade over the years.

  "This man said he was sorry," Fire Dancer said to her picture. He touched the streak of red ochre paint that was her hair. "If this man had been given choice, he would not have killed your father. This man had no choice."

  She didn't answer.

  Fire Dancer got up off the bed and kicked a wooden bucket out of his way. He hopped when he stubbed his toe. He hated being here inside his wigwam now . . . now that she was gone.

  In the first hours after Mackenzie left yesterday morning, Fire Dancer had considered going after her. He had taken her captive once. He thought of doing it again. But after having her come to his arms willingly, he couldn't bring himself to force her into coming home. She no longer wanted him, no longer loved him. He had to accept fate as fate was.

  "Fire Dancer?" Gentle Bear called in Shawnee. "Are you home, brother? I come with important news."

  Fire Dancer wiped at the moisture that gathered in the corners of his eyes. He reached for his bow hanging from a rafter and dropped his leg through it. "Come in, friend. This man but tightens his bowstring."

  Gentle Bear walked in and glanced at the bow, unconvinced.

  Fire Dancer set aside the bow. "What news do you bring?"

  "A messenger comes from the French fort."

  "Ah?"

  "The commander asks that we send men immediately."

  Gentle Bear's tone tapped Fire Dancer's attention. "Men?"

  "Our orders are to attack a fort tomorrow at dawn, along with others from the north."

  Fire Dancer felt an eerie flash of premonition. Something told him he already knew where the Shawnee warriors were bound. "Which fort? There are many forts within a day's running distance."

  "We attack Fort Bel-va-dere, friend."

  Fire Dancer studied the toes of his quilled moccasins for a moment, then glanced up with resolve. "Let us go, then."

  "You're willing to fight?" Gentle Bear took a step forward toward his friend. "Fire Dancer, Okonsa is dead. Many of his men were killed in that skirmish. If you approached council again, you could easily persuade them that we must break our ties with the French. We never agreed to fight their war for them."