Joanna turned away and walked toward Navaron. She held her head high and didn’t look back at Windhawk. When she had almost reached her goal, she felt Windhawk’s hand on her shoulder, and he whirled her around to face him.
“I will speak to you, Joanna—now!” he said in a raspy voice, while his eyes blazed his displeasure.
She looked down at his hand, which was still on her shoulder, refusing to look into his face. “I believe we have said everything that needs to be said. Take your hand off me, if you do not mind,” she whispered.
Instead of removing his hand, his grip tightened, and she looked into his face. Oh Lord, she thought as her eyes locked with his. He still has the power to make me fall apart inside. I cannot allow him to see how much I still love him, she thought in a panic. His eyes seemed to draw her to him, and she felt his hand glide down to her back in an almost caress. Not again, she thought to herself, please, not again!
“I do not believe we ever settled anything. We will talk, Joanna. You can come with me now, or I will carry you. It is up to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you, and you could say nothing that I would want to hear,” she said, knowing she was telling only a half-truth. Joanna didn’t want to talk to him; she wanted him to take her in his arms and say the things to her that she so wanted to hear. She wanted to hear him tell her that Red Bird meant nothing to him, and that he loved her.
Fool, she called herself. All he has to do is touch you, and you are willing to overlook everything.
“You will have to force me, Windhawk, because I can imagine nothing that we have not already said to one another.”
His dark brows came together in a frown, and before she could react he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his horse. She struggled as he mounted, and his arms tightened about her like iron bands.
“We will have our talk, Joanna. Had you acted like an adult instead of a child, I would not have to force you to come with me. Do not put the blame on me if you are making it hard on yourself.”
Joanna was seething on the inside. What could they possibly have to talk about? She didn’t answer him but set her jaw stubbornly. Let Windhawk talk, she thought, she wouldn’t have to listen to him, and she had no intention of carrying on a conversation with him. She resented his high-handed treatment of her. She had no notion where he was taking her, but she hoped it would be back to the village.
Joanna looked down at his strong hands and remembered how gentle they could be when they had caressed her body. She felt a tremor shake her as his warm breath fanned the red-gold hair near her ear. His lean, hard legs brushed against hers, and she felt a weakness wash over her. She had the urge to lean back and rest her head on his shoulder, but she didn’t dare. She was raging on the inside because he caused this weakness deep inside her.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked in a whisper.
He leaned his head forward and his ebony hair brushed against her cheek. “I am taking you where we can talk undisturbed by anyone.”
“I need to get back to the baby, he will be waking soon,” she said, reaching for an excuse—any excuse.
“I looked in on my son before I left, and he was sleeping soundly. If he awakens, my sister will know how to care for him.”
“So,” she said, jerking forward and turning her head to look at him. “Do you often go to see Little Hawk when I am not around?” She was unaware that she had spoken in English. “When will you learn, Windhawk, my son and I don’t need you. Take me back to the village this instant!”
She began to struggle, and he held her loosely, knowing he was of superior strength and she would soon tire of her childish antics.
Joanna saw his jaw tighten and knew that he was angry, but she was, too. He was nothing more than a brute imposing his will on her, she thought. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
Finally, she stopped struggling and held herself rigid so she wouldn’t touch him. She decided she would act with dignity and make the best of a bad situation.
Joanna held her temper as he entered the river, and she didn’t protest when he rode up the bank and into the forest. She tried to act indifferent when he rode on deep into the woods, nor did she react when he pulled up his horse, placed her on the ground, and then dismounted himself.
He took her arm and led her over to a fallen log and set her down. She looked up at him, expecting to see a startled expression on his face because he had gotten his way, but she saw only sadness in his eyes.
“Why have you brought me here?” she asked.
His eyes moved down her face to rest on her swollen breast, and she thought she detected pain on his face. “I told you…I wanted to talk to you without being interrupted.”
She raised her head defiantly. “I am listening.”
His eyes traveled over her red-gold hair, and he watched as the soft snowflakes drifted down to settle on the flaming mass of curls. He felt uncertainty now that they were alone. What would he say to her? He remembered a time when he could have told her anything. He thought of the nights she had lain in his arms, and he had talked to her for hours while she had listened to him. This was the woman he had loved above all else…she had shared his deepest secrets. They had laughed and loved together. When had things begun to go wrong between them?
He looked past her and watched the snow drift down to land on the limb of the pine tree, which seemed to bow down with the added weight of the snow. “I do not like this bad feeling that is between us, Joanna. I want to be able to see my son anytime I want.”
“Have I ever said you couldn’t see him? I did not think you cared about him.”
He glanced back to her. “I care.”
“We do not need you, Windhawk. Go back to Red Bird—perhaps she will give you a son. She told me she would.”
He reached forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her to her feet. His face was a mask of fury as she squirmed to get free. She wedged her hands against his chest as he brought her closer to him.
“Red Bird no longer lives in my lodge. You must know she has moved into Gray Fox’s tipi.”
“I have heard that, but it does not concern me. I suppose you grew tired of her, as you did me. Poor Red Bird…she has my sympathy.”
He was silent so long that Joanna began to think he wouldn’t answer. Raising her head, she saw the anger sparkling in his dark eyes.
“I am tired of you, Joanna! I am tired of your temper—I am tired of hearing Red Bird thrown in my face—I am tired of this anger that exists between us!”
The angry words she would have spoken stuck in her throat. His eyes were so soft, and she recognized the passion that flamed in their dark depths. She whimpered as he lay his cheek against hers. No, she thought, don’t let this be happening. Don’t let me forget to hate him.
Windhawk’s hands moved down her back, pulling her tighter against him. Knowing she should protest, all she could think of was how right it felt to be in his arms again. She realized how much she had wanted to be with him. He lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes.
“Joanna, I have never tired of loving you.” He swallowed convulsively. “I have not been able to get you out of my mind. I want you.” His voice came out in a husky groan.
Her lips parted, inviting his kiss. He dipped his dark head and brushed her mouth. He had been tormented for so long and had resented the fact that he craved the feel of her body next to his. His nights had been spent in dreams where he took her silken body, and in the daytime she was never far from his thoughts. There were so many things wrong between them, but still he wanted her.
Windhawk’s body trembled, and he buried his face in Joanna’s soft hair. He half expected her to pull away from him, but instead her body became soft and molded to his.
“Joanna…Joanna,” he murmured, seeking and finding her eager lips. His mouth settled on hers in a kiss so sweet it stirred old memories. Joanna’s hands laced in his hair, and his mouth moved over her face to her eyelids, then moved
to nuzzle her ear. His lips moved hungrily over hers with a bruising force. Windhawk couldn’t seem to get enough of her. He wanted so much more than just a kiss.
Joanna groaned as his mouth moved down her neck to the pulse drumming there. Soon they both knew that they wouldn’t be satisfied with just touching.
When Windhawk released her, Joanna leaned against a tree for support. Her eyes were laced with desire and anticipation as she watched him walk to his horse and remove the blanket. When he returned to her, his dark eyes held a promise of things to come. Joanna knew she should demand that he take her back to the village, but she didn’t want him to.
When Windhawk held out his arms, Joanna went readily into them.
“I have missed this,” he whispered raggedly in her ear. “It has been as if my life stopped when you left me. Give my life back to me, Joanna.”
She wanted to protest as he moved away from her until she realized he was spreading the blanket on the snow. He reached out his hand, and she placed hers in it.
He laid her down and noticed that her eyes were soft and luminous. Dropping to his knees, he pulled her up and pressed her against his body.
Joanna couldn’t stop the joy that shot through her body. She wanted to be closer to him, and Windhawk seemed to sense that fact because he crushed her body against him. She felt his swollen manhood pressed against her and felt a weakness wash over her.
Joanna didn’t feel the cold when Windhawk lifted her dress over her head because she knew he would keep her warm. She lowered her eyes as he laid her gently back against the blanket and watched as he removed his clothing. She ached for his touch as his eyes moved over her body. He stared at her so long that she wondered if this was some new form of torture. Her eyes moved from his wide shoulders down to his taut stomach. When she saw his swollen manhood, she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Joanna held her hand out to Windhawk and he took it, raising it to his lips. She closed her eyes as his hand then moved down over her breast, to be followed shortly by his mouth. His mouth encircled the rosy tip until it became hard, then he moved to the other one to work the same magic.
Everywhere his hand touched, Joanna’s skin seemed to burn with a wild awareness. When he raised his head, she looked into his darkly handsome face, feeling a prickle of shame because he had awakened her desire so easily.
“Because I want you does not mean that things are right between us, Joanna,” he said, knowing they would have to talk about their problems.
Joanna thought he was telling her that nothing would change if he took her body. Would he go from her to Red Bird? Her face reddened, thinking what a fool she had been. She pushed against him and tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down against the blanket.
“I do not want this, Windhawk. Please, let me go.”
“You want me, Joanna. Do you not think I know that—I am not a fool.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts, trying to cover her nakedness. Never had she felt so ashamed of her body, but somehow Windhawk’s words had made her feel like a harlot.
“You are wrong, Windhawk—I do not want you,” she sobbed, turning her head away.
He was silent, and suddenly Joanna felt the coldness creep into every pore of her body. Opening her eyes, she saw Windhawk standing over her. He bent down and picked up her dress, then tossed it to her.
Joanna scampered to her feet and quickly pulled her dress over her head. Windhawk quickly dressed, picked Joanna up in his arms, and walked to his horse. Without a word, he lifted her onto his horse and climbed on behind her.
As they rode back to the village, Joanna felt as if her heart had been trampled on. She willed herself not to cry in front of Windhawk.
It seemed the ride would never end. By now she was feeling so ashamed she wanted nothing more than to hide from the world. She never wanted to see Windhawk again!
When they reached the village, he stopped his horse in front of his mother’s tipi, and Joanna hurriedly slid to the ground. She ran into the tipi and buried her face in her hands, wishing she could die.
“Joanna, what has happened? Is something wrong?” Morning Song inquired.
“No, I…am…nothing is the matter,” she replied, trying to pull herself together.
“You look so pale, are you sure you are not ill?”
“I feel fine. How is Little Hawk?” she asked, quickly changing the subject while trying to push her jumbled feelings aside.
“He is still sleeping.” Morning Song was still looking at her, puzzled.
Joanna tried to laugh, but she didn’t quite succeed. “He seems to sleep most of the time; he is such a good baby.” Joanna scooped her sleeping son into her arms and held him tightly against her. She had come so close to allowing Windhawk to take her body. She was glad that she had come to her senses in time to save herself.
She thought Windhawk had probably gone to Red Bird, who would give him what she had denied him. She couldn’t bear to think of his making love to the Piegan woman. But why should she care? She wasn’t Windhawk’s wife any longer—why should she care what he did with Red Bird? She smiled bitterly. She cared…oh, how she cared!
Chapter Twenty-four
Farley had told Joanna that it was now January. Although it hadn’t snowed in over a week, the previous snows were still piled into high mounds throughout the countryside. The children of the village enjoyed the winter games, and the sound of their laughter warmed Joanna’s heart.
Walking outside into the bright sunlight, Joanna smiled as she watched Gray Fox’s young son, Small Pony, who was trying to climb onto a sled so he could slide down the small slope. He kept slipping on the snow, and she watched tears gather in his dark eyes. Going over to him, she lifted him in her arms, remembering the time when she had saved his life. She kissed his cheek, and then placed him on the sled, giving him a shove that took him down the slope.
She laughed as he yelled out in delight, thinking her own son would one day be old enough to play in the snow with the other children.
Windhawk’s mother came up beside Joanna. “This reminds me of when Windhawk was a small boy. He always loved to play in the snow. I have always found joy in the laughter of children,” Sun Woman said.
“Yes, there is something magical about children’s laughter. I am reminded of when I was a child, and how much I enjoyed the winter, my mother.”
“Your home was very far from here, Joanna. This is now your home.”
Joanna looked into Windhawk’s mother’s eyes. “Sometimes I do not know where I belong. Lately, I have begun to miss England a great deal.”
“That is the place where you lived as a child. It is across the big water?”
“Yes, it is a very long way from here.”
“If you and my son could put your differences aside, you would not have time to miss anything,” Sun Woman observed, eyeing Joanna closely. She took something out of her pouch and held it out to Joanna. “I found this—it belongs to you.”
Joanna looked at the bear-claw necklace that Windhawk had given her and shook her head. “It no longer belongs to me. Give it back to your son.”
Sun Woman sighed visibly. “It has been my observation that sometimes the ones who are supposed to be grown up act more like children than the young ones do.”
Joanna couldn’t keep from smiling. “I have noticed the same thing.”
“Why do you not do something about it, then? Why do you not go to Windhawk and settle this thing that is wrong between you?”
Joanna took Sun Woman’s hand. “I do not know, my mother. Sometimes I no longer know wrong from right.”
“Humph, you know, Joanna—you are just too stubborn to admit it. I am sure you have noticed that Red Bird no longer lives in my son’s lodge.”
“It has not escaped my notice, but where she chooses to live has nothing to do with me.”
Sun Woman’s eyes moved to Gray Fox’s lodge where the Piegan woman was now living. “I am told by Gray Fox that the
Piegan woman causes trouble and discontent in his tipi. He has asked Windhawk to send her back to her people.”
“It would seem that Windhawk has not done so.”
Sun Woman shook her head. “As you know, he is not in the village. I am sure when he returns he will send her back to her father.”
Joanna shrugged her shoulders as if she were indifferent to the outcome of the situation. Small Pony pulled his sled over to her, and she placed him on it again, giving him a shove that sent him speeding down the slope once more. She then returned to stand beside Sun Woman.
“It is such a wonderful day that I had thought I would take Little Hawk for a walk. Would you like to come with us, my mother?”
“No, I am on my way to visit Many Robes—she is not feeling well today. You go ahead, it will be good for you and my grandson to get fresh air. Be sure you bundle Little Hawk up warmly,” Sun Woman cautioned.
Joanna smiled to herself, thinking how dear Sun Woman was to her. She had been so kind and patient with her. Even though she disapproved of her and Windhawk living apart, Joanna knew she was making an effort not to interfere.
Tag rode into the village with a group of young warriors. He felt a close bond of kinship with his friends, and at times it was hard for him to realize that he wasn’t really one of them. He had been away for several weeks on a hunting expedition and was proud of the five deer he had killed, using only a bow and arrow. Although he had enjoyed himself on the hunt, he was glad to be back in the village. He had missed Joanna and was anxious to see his nephew, Little Hawk.
Dismounting, he hobbled his horse and walked toward Windhawk’s lodge. Seeing Morning Song talking to some of her friends, his eyes lit up as he stopped beside her.
Tag was not aware that the other young maidens’ eyes widened in admiration; nor did he realize that Morning Song’s eyes softened with the light of love.
Morning Song could not help staring at Tag’s golden hair, which seemed to shimmer in the morning sunlight. It was now shoulder-length, and he wore a wide leather headband just like the other young braves.
Savage Winter Page 28