by Beth Trissel
Chapter Eight
His ears attuned to every rustle, eyes scouting the thickly wooded ridges, Shoka sprinted ahead of the pursuing Catawba warriors. Now and then, he’d allowed his irate followers a glimpse of himself. He always stayed just far enough ahead to evade them. Here, he was in his element, gliding through the trees like an elusive spirit.
With Rebecca, he was far less assured, like trying to balance on a log bobbing in swift current. The mere thought of her sent a heady rush of desire surging through him and he forced his mind back to the potentially deadly task at hand.
He’d led his enemy miles from the Shawnee camp and Rebecca, especially her, when he spotted a great uprooted chestnut tree lying to the side of the rocky path. Ferns had sprung up in the earth around the massive root ball and lichens like enormous ears jutted from the rotting wood. Other trees had snapped in its tremendous fall and lay scattered on every side, but he spotted the deep groove scratched in the base of the enormous trunk by a bear’s claws.
A tiny chipmunk scurried from this refuge as Shoka ducked down behind the moss-encrusted giant and slid into the space scrabbled in the crumbling wood. If he were fortunate, his pursuers would pass him by unawares. If not, his musket lay at his side. He drew his newly acquired pistol, noting again the fine craftsmanship. The curly maple stock was polished and the trigger guard, lock, and side plates were of gleaming brass embellished with engravings. It was no wonder Rebecca badly wanted it back.
Catching himself thinking of her again, he cursed under his breath and cocked the trigger. If he had to fire at close range, there would be no time to reload; then he’d reach for his tomahawk and knife honed to a deadly sharpness. But he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He was one against ten cunning warriors.
Shoka waited, his breathing shallow, the musky scent of humus in his nose. He picked up the nearly silent tread of moccasins stepping over the trail not far from where he lay. From his hiding place, he saw sinewy legs in wool and buckskin leggings steal past. He followed the men with his eyes. When they were slightly ahead of him, their backs turned, he scooted to the side of the trunk and peered around.
One man glanced over his shoulder, sparking a blaze of anger in Shoka. The hard proud face belonged to Tonkawa.
Shoka bore the purplish mark at his side from the gouging wound Tonkawa had given him in fighting so close that muskets were no longer of any use. Nor had Shoka forgotten the friend who’d fallen under Tonkawa’s blade before that warrior somehow escaped him in the confusion of battle. Shoka had slashed the jagged stripe, across Tonkawa’s cheek, that he now wore. But they weren’t even yet and Tonkawa stood only paces away.
Temptation welled in Shoka to fell his enemy here and now and risk the others flying at him like hornets. A sudden uneasiness stayed his hand. Rebecca.
Tonkawa must wait. Rolling out from under his hiding place, Shoka made for camp and her.
****
Men’s voices and the stirrings around Rebecca grew less distinct as she tumbled down the black well of sleep and into a strange dream state.
She watched a rugged frontiersman approach through the mist. He came nearer and she saw that his saddle-brown hair was pulled back under a dark felt hat with rust-gold pheasant feathers and a red fox tail attached to the brim. Creases borne of wind and sun furrowed his face. It was an attractive face and kind, with vivid blue eyes like her mother’s.
He stooped by the fire where she lay and spoke to her. “We’re waiting on you. Make haste, little lass.”
Little lass? Who used to call her that? The endearment rang in her mind like a bell tolling across the years…
****
Shoka bent over Rebecca with the fiery need that had seared him all day. So innocent she looked lying there curled on her side, yet she’d been far from blameless in his absence. He’d heard of little else other than her shocking behavior since his return. Though he’d defended her actions, he knew he should scold and even punish her.
As usual, her beauty distracted him and he took in the hair cascading about her in hues of pale gold to amber like honey from a thousand blossoms. She rolled onto her back, tucking one arm behind her head. A tendril curled at her cheek beneath sweeping lashes and set the drum inside him pounding. Maybe if he had her just once, it would ease his insatiable hunger and he could draw a normal breath.
Hadn’t he been schooled to discipline? Chiding himself to have some restraint, Shoka knelt and gently shook her. “Rebecca, wake.”
She stirred under his hand, murmuring, “Uncle Henry?”
Wishing she would speak his name in her sleep, he shook her again. “Wake, fair one.”
She opened dazed eyes. “Where did he go?”
The sun cast long shadows through the trees and over the warriors seated near the campfire with Capitaine Renault and the other Frenchman, Lieutenant Remy. No one else.
“Your uncle is not here. You dream,” Shoka said.
Lips pursed, eyebrows drawn, she considered, then said, “He seemed so real and I’ve not seen him since I was a child.”
“That is the way with dreams.”
She woke more fully and gazed up at Shoka as if she really saw him bent over her. Relief flowed into her sky-blue eyes and she sat up, closing her arms around his neck. “Thank God you’ve come.”
Her artless gesture, so unexpected, was meltingly sweet. How could he possibly do anything other than enfold her in return and savor her softness? “You do not wish to remain with my brother?” he teased, his lips in her hair.
“God forbid. Where on earth have you been?”
Shoka was loathe to release her, but every man in camp looked on. Envy hinted in Meshewa and Capitaine Renault’s bruised faces. Wabete glowered. How Shoka wished he could have Rebecca all to himself.
With a muffled groan, he lowered his arms from her supple curves. “I led the Catawba far from camp and hid as they passed by.”
Her smooth brow creased. “What a risk you took.”
The blanket around her gaped open in front, offering him a tempting glimpse of rounded breasts pushing up out of her corset. He tore his stare away from the creamy mounds to flow up the molded lines of her softly blushed cheeks and sink into her eyes. “I stayed before them. They knew I was there but could not find me.”
She parted rosy lips in alarm. “How they must hate you.”
“Yes. One called Tonkawa hates me much.”
The trepidation in her bewitching face deepened. “You know him?”
Shoka was so distracted he could hardly answer coherently. “We have battled before. Tonkawa would be war chief. First, he must prove himself worthy.”
“Do you want to be a war chief?
“No. I only want to lead myself.”
Reaching her hand to his upper arm, she curled her fingers over his bare shoulder. “What of me?”
A tingle shimmered through him at her touch and coursed straight down to his groin. “And you.”
“But you could have been killed today, leaving me alone.”
No longer caring who saw what he did, Shoka buried his lips in her neck. Goosebumps tightened her skin at his touch. She gasped, tucking her head against his. The endearing gesture only spurred his wanting.
“I would fight like the makwa, the bear, to return to you.”
“Would you really? No matter what?”
He drew back, silently protesting the loss of her soft skin beneath his lips and searched her uncertain gaze. “Why doubt?”
“Much happened while you were away.”
Vexation flickered in him but could not smother his burning desire. “I heard from many lips. All I want now are yours.” Closing his arms around her, he crushed her mouth to his. Even as he did so, he knew he must be mad.
His brother promptly rebuked him. “Shoka. Naga.”
They both looked around at Wabete. Shoka met the condemnation in his scowl and replied grudgingly, “Nigiwa peh, NiSawsawh. I see you, I hear you, brother.”
Rebecc
a slid her hands from his shoulders. “How long have you been back?”
Again, Shoka reluctantly dropped his arms, the flaming coals in his gut sparking frustration. “Long enough to hear of my fair captive attacking Capitaine Renault. Must you be peshewa while I am gone?”
Indignation flared in her uplifted gaze. “Will you make love to me or scold?”
“Both. Yet not before my brother.”
“Why scold? Have you not seen what the capitaine did to Meshewa?”
“I saw. But Capitaine Renault fights with much skill. This is a good test for my young cousin.”
Her mouth flew open. “Renault was like an animal.”
“Battle is harsh, fair one. Meshewa must learn. There was no need for you to aid him wearing only petticoats.”
“Was I to stand idly by while the capitaine pounded the life from him?”
Shoka ran an impatient hand through his hair. “He would not do this. He has a hot temper, yet his heart is good.”
“Hardly. Did Meshewa tell you what Renault did to me?”
Annoyance flashed in Shoka. “He said.”
“Why do you not challenge him? John would have.”
“Captain Elliot would shoot him. They are enemies.”
Her chin jutted at an irritatingly stubborn angle. “That’s beside the point. You profess to care for me. You should defend my honor.”
“You defend your honor very well. You would stick a knife into the capitaine’s back.”
“Was I to make a gift of myself?”
Shoka tugged the blanket more securely around her chest. She fairly burst from the bodice, igniting a nearly unbearable charge in him. “If you stayed where Meshewa said, the capitaine would not find you alone in underdress. I must protect your honor much if you go about like this.”
“All you do is chide me. Have you spoken a word to him?”
“Yes. The capitaine has given me an apology.”
Her eyes were blue ice sparked with fire. “A very pretty one, no doubt, which you accepted?”
Shoka nodded. “He will trouble you no more.”
A lesser man might have faltered under the force of her displeasure, but Shoka didn’t flinch. “All the warriors laugh at Renault, even Black Knife. He feels foolish.”
“And you consider this sufficient punishment?” she inquired in a frosty retort.
“Shame cuts deeply into a man.”
She drew herself up, her furious whisper fanning his chin. “Captain Elliot would not be satisfied so easily. Nor would he scold me.”
“Captain Elliot would prefer to challenge the capitaine than face your temper, Peshewa,” Shoka countered.
Her jaw dropped and she swung her hand to slap him. Clamping his fingers around her wrist, he stayed her hand in midair. “Strike me and you will regret it.”
He witnessed the struggle in her face as reason battled fury. He wanted nothing more than to pin her down, then and there, and channel their ire into vigorous physical communion. Forcing himself to stay as he was, he let her reply.
“I won’t,” she said with evident effort. “Let go of me. You’re bruising my wrist.”
He released her and she scrambled to her feet. “Where are you going?” he asked, catching hold of her petticoat.
“To the stream.”
“I did not say you could go.”
“I didn’t ask!” Yanking her skirt away from him, she whirled around in a swirl of lacy linen.
Shoka was beyond mere anger. Before she took another step, he sprang up and seized her arm. “Oh no,” he growled, and rushed her past their rapt onlookers. Renault seemed amused. Wabete was quite the opposite.
Her feet barely touched the earth as Shoka sped her through the rest of camp and down the stream bank. A flock of ducks startled from the water, calling and beating their wings. He propelled her further along the stream, scooping her over the trunk splintered across their path. Once they were out of earshot, he stopped and pulled her to a halt.
“You defied me before all,” he bit out. “No man does this, let alone a woman.”
She stared up at him, the spirit of mutiny fast waning in her eyes. “You wouldn’t hear me.”
“I heard. All heard. Never speak to me this way again.”
She closed her eyes to his accusation.
He gripped her shoulders. “Look at me, Rebecca.”
She gazed up at him unwillingly.
“I will have your respect.”
“I can’t keep my emotions hidden,” she faltered.
“Hidden? Soon all the frontier will learn. If you desire a fight, we will fight. Not where others see, hear.”
She tried to break free from him, but couldn’t escape, nor had she anywhere to run even if he let her go. She sagged in his hold. “Shoka—don’t,” she pleaded in a whisper.
“What?” he asked, unprepared for her to crumble like this.
“Beat me.”
It was very nearly a whimper and the reproach raging in him softened slightly. “I would never strike you.”
“You look about to, or worse.”
He shook his head. “Do not fear this.”
“Will you toss me back into that icy stream?”
He softened a little more. “No.”
“What will you do?”
Bind her, make her heed him. If only he didn’t yearn to just tumble her to the ground. “Do you really want to know?”
Her eyes widened and she altered her plea. “Can you not understand my reasons?”
“I understand much. Your temper rules your tongue.”
Unshed tears wet her lashes. “I feared for you all day,” she said with a tremor in her voice. “Then you came back—and now—everything’s wretched.”
Her quavering appeal was more than mere flesh and blood could resist. “Not all. I thought of you when I led the Catawba away, while I hid.”
“What did you think?”
He smoothed back the hair blowing across her face. “How ahmo odon, sweet, your lips are on mine. How soft your skin feels, your hair. How I want only you.”
“Then why will you not take my part?”
“I did, earlier, with the others. But, you must learn. Now Wabete will ask what punishment I have given you.”
“Must you punish me?” she asked in a small voice.
“Must you rage at me?” he asked in turn.
She fixed those glorious eyes on him, the enchantress.
“I’m sorry, Shoka.”
“You speak this now.”
“No. Truly.” Standing on her tiptoes, she cupped her hands to his jaw and brought his lips to hers in a soft kiss.
He strove for control as his lips answered, lightly at first. Then molten waves washed over him and the four elements within him wrestled in tremendous upheaval; the Earth shuddered and groaned, rushing Wind whipped desire through him, Fire enflamed him, and passionate Rain drummed him with rising want like flood waters. Catching her to him, he pressed his mouth over hers far harder than he’d intended.
She broke away, clearly shaken. “How do you do that?”
He made no answer but let his lips speak, surging back over hers as he drew her down beside him on the ferny ground. Turning onto his side, he held her trembling against him. He sensed her resistance dwindling and she slowly yielded her mouth…a dizzying triumph and a place to begin. He poured his fervor into his kiss, parting her mouth and sliding his tongue over her bottom lip.
She seemed to weaken even more, growing limp in his arms, and he thrust more deeply into her sweet mouth as if in sensuous battle. She gasped, and then lightly touched her tongue to his.
Thrilled by her response, he gentled his movement to match hers, feeling as though all parts of him would erupt in a mammoth explosion like thunder shaking the very ground.
Again, she retreated from him and twisted free, panting, “I don’t want to love you.”
“I don’t want to love you, either.”
She absorbed his impassioned quer
y wordlessly. Only the sound of their breathing and the gurgling water broke the silence between them. Finally, she spoke, tremulous pleading in her face and her voice. “Return me to my uncle. He waits for me. I saw him in my dream.”
The fanged wolf within Shoka snarled protest. The hawk within him beat its wings and shrilled a predator’s cry. Battling for calm, he curled his fingers around her flushed cheek. “Never will I release you. Do not ask this of me.”
“Then you are binding our fate together.”
“You are already bound to me. Without my protection, you will not long survive.”
“Shoka!” an outraged voice summoned.
“Wabete,” he muttered.
****
Rebecca’s raw nerves twinged at Wabete’s intrusion. Shoka’s overpowering kiss had been like a sky full of shooting stars blazing across the heavens. Her traitorous heart was in grave danger, and now, this new threat.
Shoka sat up as his brother bore down on them with at least two dozen warriors strung out along the stream, craning their necks for a better view. Many smiled. Not Wabete.
“Umbe, Shoka!” he called.
She tried to wriggle into the thick undergrowth and hide, but Shoka held her back, partially concealed behind him.
“What did he say?” she whispered.
“Come.”
“No. Everyone will stare at me.”
“You gave them much reason. But I have no wish to go either. Ni’tamsah au machehi!” Shoka called.
“What did you tell him?” she prodded.
“You are injured.”
“Melona tonee?” Wabete tossed back.
Low laughter broke out through the gathering. Shoka smiled. “My brother asks if your mouth is hurt.”
“Tell him yes and only yours can bring me healing.”
He chuckled under his breath before offering some unintelligible reply.
“I’ll wager that’s not what you said,” she whispered.
“True. I told them to go. We will come.”
Wabete fired off one last threat and stormed away.
His entertained companions trailed after him, casting backward glances and snickering.
Rebecca sat up, her senses as cagey as a rabbit’s. “Your brother doesn’t want you alone with me for a moment, does he?”