Forbidden Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  In her delirium, Alisha could hear him speaking huskily and tenderly, revealing his love and need for her. Countless days and nights of shared passion returned to comfort and to haunt her. One particular day flashed vividly before her hazy senses. It was the day after their marriage in the Blackfoot camp when Gray Eagle had come after her to confess the secrets of his heart. Her confused mind floated back to that monumental moment in time.

  She smiled as she watched the virile warrior repeat his joining vows in English for her to hear and know how much he loved and wanted her. Laughing gayly, she softly and lovingly repeated her vows to him. They had finally surmounted all of the problems between them; for a time, they shared only love and passion.

  She heard his tender words, “I will love you always. I will never forsake you in life or in death. I will always protect you, even with my own life. Waste cedake means I love you, Little One,” he had translated the beautiful words which she had longed to hear for many months.

  As she murmured in her illness, that day became real to her. Gray Eagle’s mouth closed over hers in a tender kiss as they slowly sank to the ground, oblivious to all but each other and their need for shared love. Love was so rich, deep, and full when it was shared and returned, Alisha sighed to herself. They lay in the warm sunlight, kissing deeply and hungrily.

  They were entwined in the arms of love. His kisses along her throat burned like the desert sun. He whispered words of love and endearment to her, sparking her response to him. Her blood raced wildly through her veins. It pounded instinctively in demand for fulfillment.

  Alisha’s hands caressed his hard back with light, tender touches and then hard, passionate caresses. She pulled him even closer and tighter to her, inspiring him to bolder moves. He nibbled at her lips and ears with light bites and sweet kisses. He explored every inch and recess of her mouth and body, as she did his. He teased and tantalized her again and again with lips and hands. She moaned in desire and pleasure, begging for more.

  Her head rolled from side to side as he nibbled and caressed her breasts swollen with hunger and passion. She discovered the intoxicating thrill and joy of touching him and bringing him the same joys he gave to her, all without shame or modesty.

  With each stroke, Alisha’s body craved more and more of him. He was around her and within her; he was her life and breath. Higher and higher they climbed on the spiral of love and passion. She clung to him taking and giving all of the love she had felt and suppressed for him. They touched, kissed, and caressed, conquering the many months of heartache, denial, and suffering with love and happiness.

  The beautiful delusion swirled as Alisha listened to Gray Eagle’s last words, “Life is meant to be shared with the one you love. I should not have waited so long to see and feel this love between us. My pride and honor dulls in the face of such love and beauty.”

  “I love you, Wanmdi Hota,” she cried out to her phantom lover. “I need you, my love…”

  As she slipped in and out of consciousness, she pleaded, “No more…please, Wanmdi Hota, no more…” She cried desperately, “Kill me now…just let me die…” But the most perplexing and repetitious question was, “Why, my love, if only I knew why?”

  And as he listened, Joe wondered what unknown despair plagued her feverish mind so deeply.

  Joe decided it was best to give the suffering girl a small dose of laudanum for her pain. Afterwards, she was in a deep state of unconsciousness. Her restlessness ceased. She did not speak again in her sleep. For three more days, they cared for her and watched over her. It was more than a week after the attack by the trappers when Alisha gradually regained her senses.

  Finally, Alisha’s darkened eyelids fluttered open. With great difficulty, she blinked several times. Her mind in a cloudy whirlpool, she could not comprehend where she was or why she was in pain. A deep-toned masculine voice spoke to her from a distance; his fuzzy features leaned over her face. She tried to focus on them, finally succeeding. Her confused thoughts gave way to doubts as to whom she was seeing before her hazy vision.

  “Joe?” she forced the inquiry from her dried lips.

  He smiled in open relief and nodded. “One and the same, Miss Alisha. How are you feeling today? You gave us quite a scare, young lady,” he chided her gently.

  Alisha could not recall what had happened. She murmured, “Have I been ill? Is my uncle very worried about me? Go and tell him I am much better. Have I delayed our journey for very long?”

  Before Joe could correct her, Powchutu stepped into her line of vision. Her eyes met his, calling on her hazy memory to place his handsome and familiar face. Her thoughts began to immediately clear. The rapid changes in her expressions told both men that her brief confusion was dissipating.

  Tears came into her eyes. She touched her lower abdomen. “The baby? Did I…” was all she could manage to get out. The pain in her emerald eyes tore at Joe’s heart and ravaged Powchutu’s gut. There was no protection from the truth.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Alisha. We did all we could to save it. The bleeding’s stopped. We had a problem with some infection in your shoulder. You’ve been out cold for over a week.” Joe’s tone was gentle and sympathetic; his blue eyes were filled with concern and affection.

  More tears eased down her flushed cheeks, cheeks like two red roses against a snow-white cloud. Her attention had ceased after his first two sentences. Joe had never seen such anguish as was now revealed in her green eyes. He wished that he could somehow destroy it. He could not; no one could.

  Her gaze suddenly grew hard and cold; her eyes glowed like frosty chips of ice. A tight, harsh voice stated, “I killed him, didn’t I? The one who… kicked me, the one who murdered my child? He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  Joe nodded, but did not speak aloud. There was a strange, unnatural dullness in her eyes and voice. She looked down at her outstretched, opened palms. She stared at them in a curious way. In an emotionless voice she asked, “Why did you wash his blood off my hands? He deserved to die. I wish I could kill him again.”

  Slowly her eyelids closed and she sank back into her world of merciful blackness. Later, she would not even recall these statements. Within moments, she was breathing evenly. The two men glanced at each other. Without a word, they walked outside. Not wanting her to accidentally overhear their conversation, they stepped away from the cabin to a nearby tree.

  Powchutu spoke up first. “How long before I can take her on to St. Louis? The best thing for her now is to get her out of this bloody wilderness and back to her own kind. All of this will be even harder on her than anything else she’s endured so far. To kill a man and to lose her child…. She loved Gray Eagle,” he unwittingly admitted. “God knows why, but she really loved him. She wanted this child because it was his, a last reminder of her love for him. Now, she’s lost everything, Joe.”

  “It’ll take time for her to heal completely,” Joe said, “in mind and in body. Can’t rush these things, Powchutu. She needs to rest for at least four or five weeks, maybe more. You’re both welcome to stay here for as long as necessary, for the whole winter if need be. I could use the company and the help. How about it?” he entreated with hidden selfish motives.

  “Thanks, Joe, but no way. We’re still too close to the Sioux territory to my liking. I intend to get her away from here just as soon as she can safely travel. It wouldn’t do for him to find her again, especially not after losing his child. He doesn’t give up anything that belongs to him. If only he had loved her half as much as I do…”

  “You planning to marry her in St. Louis?” Joe curiously inquired.

  “If I can convince her that she isn’t truly married to him. She believes those Indian vows she took with him are binding. I’ve tried to tell her they aren’t legal under the white man’s laws. In time she’ll have to forget him and the hell he’s put her through. I can only hope and pray it will be with my help and love.”

  Joe was completely befuddled by this incredible news. For the life of him,
he could not decide what he thought or how he felt. All he was certain of was that the girl who lay seriously ill inside his cabin was very special to him, very special indeed.

  He tried to force the thoughts of what she must have endured in these past months from his mind. He could too easily recall the bright, gentle, charming girl who had been the source of his pleasure and happiness along their journey out here last year. Not only was she very beautiful, but she was also the kind of woman every man wanted. She was the ideal wife, sister, lover, and daughter.

  “Tell me something, Powchutu; how do you know she loves Gray Eagle? I mean, after all he did to her, it seems impossible.”

  Powchutu visibly winced at the question. He sighed heavily, then ventured, “Alisha never understood the hatred between the Indians and the white man. When those men at Alisha’s camp captured Gray Eagle and beat him simply because he was an Indian, she seemed helplessly drawn to him. She made the fatal mistake of seeing Gray Eagle as a man. Call it pity, guilt, or kindness. For all I know, it could have been a fascination with his courage and strength or his good looks. She was young, naive, and vulnerable. She was susceptible to a man such as he. You’re probably aware of how women feel about such men. They can’t resist them. And Gray Eagle took advantage of Alisha’s innocence. He turned her own emotions against her.” Powchutu sighed. “If I had been there, this would never have happened. I have no doubts she would have loved me if she had met me first.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows imperceptibly. “But that still doesn’t account for her love for him after she learned the truth about him. When she saw what he was like, how could she not hate him in return?” Joe argued with the scout’s illogical reasoning.

  Powchutu sighed in exasperation, shaking his head in disbelief. “Surely you’ve seen this kind of deceit before, Joe. It happens a lot of the time with female captives. After the warrior first captured Alisha, he was gentle and kind to her, but only in private. He held her very life within his grasp. He gave her everything she needed to survive. She was with him day and night for months. From what I could glean from her, he was not brutal when he took her. Best I could learn, he must have been very gentle and skilled. An innocent like Alisha wouldn’t be able to resist such magic,” he reluctantly confessed to Joe. “She was frightened and confused. She didn’t know if she would even be alive the next day. Living on the edge of death and fear seems to influence the female mind in some strange way. They begin to cling to the person who controls their survival. In Alisha’s case, I think Gray Eagle intentionally tricked her into loving him. Later, when he quit his pretense, she was already in love with him. Like she told me, love doesn’t die easily or quickly. He seems to have some mysterious and powerful hold over her, and I intend to destroy it for all time.”

  He turned and looked Joe square in the face and stated, “He convinced her he came to the fort to get her back and he married her because he loved her. He said he had always loved her since that first day. Wouldn’t you say her treatment says differently?”

  Joe rubbed the scratchy, two days’ stubble on his unshaven face. He seriously pondered Powchutu’s words for a long time, then declared honestly, “Sounds strange to me. So much of it doesn’t make any sense at all, not from what I’ve heard about him. If all he wanted to do was punish the soldiers at the fort for the attack on his camp, it seems like any female captive would have served his purpose for shaming them. Fact, why not demand several women for peace? Why Alisha? I don’t understand why he spared her life in the first place, not since she was one of the people who humiliated him. From what I know, he prizes that honor and pride of his above everything else. Why keep her in his tepee for so long if he hates whites? You said he personally tended her wounds after that lashing for trying to escape from him?”

  Powchutu gritted his teeth in open irritation. His eyes narrowed and hardened at Joe’s persistence in this matter. “Only to make her well enough to suffer more punishment! He couldn’t stand the idea that a mere white girl had saved his life at her fortress. He was determined to show her what a powerful man he was! Knowing her like you do, wouldn’t you agree his idea of forcing Fort Pierre to turn her over to him was a good trick on them? He didn’t know how they treated her while she was there. All he wanted was revenge on all of them, including her. What better revenge than demanding the return of the white girl they had just rescued from his camp, and send her back to more cruelty? Imagine being forced to sacrifice a beauty like her.”

  “But why keep her alive for so long, especially since she seemed to be so much trouble for him? He must have known she loved him. Her obedience must have counted for something. She seems brave, intelligent, and generous; qualities Gray Eagle is known to respect and to reward.” Joe stunned Powchutu with his following question, “Are you positive he didn’t love her, didn’t at least want her badly?”

  In suppressed fear and in livid rage, Powchutu nearly shouted at him, “You tell me, Kenny! Would he ride off and leave her to die if he wanted her? Would he return to his tribe and tell them she was already dead and buried?”

  “There could be some misunderstanding here, Powchutu. You said he fought a challenge to the death for her with Brave Bear. If he knew the truth about her, then why battle another great warrior just to marry her? Why not let him have her, or why not expose her deceit?” he pressed, seeking clarity of this disturbing mystery.

  “I’ve told you before, Joe. At the time of the fight, he didn’t know she wasn’t Shalee. At least he couldn’t prove she was or she wasn’t. Still, he wasn’t about to let her get away from him. He discovered the truth the day of the wedding. Knowing about that damned pride of his, he wouldn’t dare let them find out he had risked his life and his honor for a tricky white girl. He went through with the joining ceremony, then planned a way to be rid of her without any damage to his pride. If you could have seen her or heard her that day when I finally found where he had left her—left her without food or water—then you would know how much I hate him!” he stormed in rising fury.

  Powchutu’s voice abruptly became soft and sorrowful, surprising Joe. His jet eyes were misty and full of pain. His broad shoulders slightly slumped, as if he had suddenly been handed the entire collection of burdens for the world and ordered to carry them. His voice was void of nearly all emotion when he finally spoke.

  “It’s all my fault, all of this. At first I told her—no, pleaded with her—to obey him in every way. I hoped he would be merciful and kinder to her. I was a bloody fool, Kenny. He didn’t give a damn if she was good or bad, just as long as she was around to torment. I even tried to teach her everything I knew about him and his people. I thought such knowledge might help her in some way. She gave and gave, and he took and took and took. Do you have any idea how I felt when I begged her to do anything he commanded? I couldn’t think about how much I loved her; all I could do was try to make her captivity easier to bear. It tore my heart to send her back to him again. But I had no other choice, Joe. You can see that, can’t you? I was only one man against thousands of Indians and all those soldiers. I could kill’em all for what they’ve done to her. Of all people, she never deserved any of this.”

  Another confession escaped his lips. “The only way I could help her was to free her from his hold. So, I helped her escape. That was another mistake. It nearly got her killed. For what? She still loves him even now,” he admitted as if his heart was breaking.

  Powchutu leaned against the tree and put his hand to his forehead. He spoke in grief. “Who knows, maybe the child she was carrying would have made some difference in his feelings toward her. Hell! We didn’t even know she was pregnant until just before the attack. No doubt she’ll hate me for this accident. Maybe I should place her in your care and leave tonight. You saw the way she looked at me a while ago. She didn’t even speak to me.” He laughed sadly and sarcastically exclaimed, “Funny, she didn’t even know I loved her until after we began this bloody trip to freedom. I never told her before. I thought Gray Eagle
was finally out of her life, then along came his child. Now, they’re both gone, and she’ll blame me.”

  “Why didn’t you take her back to him when you learned about the child she was carrying?” was Joe’s obvious question.

  Powchutu laughed cynically. “Do you think for one minute he would believe this child was his? Do you think he would simply take back his runaway wife? What could he tell his people about her miraculous rebirth? Even if he had waited until the birth of the child, what if the child had been born with green eyes and auburn hair? The doubt of his fatherhood would have inflamed him further against her. You keep forgetting one very important fact, Joe: he has already tried to kill her two times before. Why should a half-breed child of suspicious birth make any difference to him?”

  “What did Alisha say about returning to him?”

  “Just what you’re thinking. But she realized it was too late. She knew the trip back would be dangerous and futile. She was having problems before those men attacked us. Fact is, that was why we were camped there, to give her some time to rest. I suppose I pushed her too fast and too hard in her condition. But I swear I didn’t know she was pregnant. She was afraid he might even kill her before she could tell him why she had returned.”

  “After you found her that day, you said she wanted to go to his village and confront him with the truth?” Joe asked.

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t let her. If she dared to shame him by revealing his evil deed, he would have found some way to get around the truth and his guilt. They saw her as Shalee, the daughter of Black Cloud. She couldn’t speak his tongue, not much of it anyway. She wouldn’t know what he was telling them. He could claim dishonor in her running away with me. He could say he was too hurt and too ashamed to tell them the truth. Who can say what lies he would have told had she returned! When I told her I would go East with her, she decided not to return. She knows how he hated me. He would have killed us both. She was more afraid for my life than for her own.”