by Karen Kay
At last, however, he halted the kiss, raising his head ever so slightly away from her.
She tried to pull back then, out of his embrace, but she couldn’t go far away. To her relief, she felt her thoughts begin to clear.
Of all the audacity! It was the first thought she had. Why, the man had certainly overstepped himself.
Gathering together all the fury that she felt certain was hers, she threw back her head. “How dare you, Indian!” she said.
“How would you know whether I…desire…whether I love a man or not? And what business is it of yours? You…you, who are no more than an ignorant, filthy savage.”
He leaned away from her, a dark grin his only reaction.
She knew, even as she spoke, that the words she’d said were lies. This man was no savage. And ignorant? From this meeting alone, she’d come to realize that this Indian was more intelligent than many of the civilized men of her acquaintance. And as for filthy…she couldn’t have been more wrong. Why, there was not a mark of dirt or grease anywhere upon his clothing, or upon his person, something that could not be said for any of the white men here at the fort…aristocrat or not.
No, this man did not exactly fit the image of the wild, dirty Indian that was so commonly remarked upon in the East.
“Shines Like Moonlight has tongue that stings like bee,” the Indian went on to say. “It is lucky for you that you are a woman and that I do not make war upon women. I will overlook what you say for now since you are like the baby, unfamiliar with Pikuni courtesy and manners. But I would advise you learn good manners soon.”
“Good manners? How dare you… Why, I will do nothing of the sort, Indian. I am here to see my uncle, that is all. And when that is done, I will leave here, never to see this land, nor you, again.”
He shrugged. “Then it is to be hoped that this man you are to marry is good fighter. He will need to be in order to protect you.”
“How dare—”
“Perhaps I should tell him how he will have to watch over you, as a mother bear will watch over her cubs, because without simple courtesy, no Pikuni will understand that you are nothing more than a child.
Some of my people might even begin to treat you as they would a wolf gone crazy, since it is well-known that a man who will act as you have is either very stupid or very mad.”
She backed away. “Why, you…you…you have no right to speak to me that way!”
“Without manners,” he repeated, undaunted, “I know no other way to talk to you.”
“Yes, well, I will tell you now that your own manners would be a sin to Moses. And I can assure you that I am no child, nor am I stupid or mad.”
He grinned. “I do not know who this Moses is, but you had better get your man to protect you. You will need it all the more if you are not mad or stupid. Where is he now? Where is this man you are to marry? Where is he when you need him?”
“I do not need him to protect me and he is…he is…” She knew very well that her fiancé was out with his hounds, hunting. But she wasn’t going to tell this Indian that. She said instead, “Protect me? Why should he need to defend me? As I told you, I am neither stupid, nor crazy. I am self-sufficient. I need no one. My fiancé is to marry me. That is all. He need have no other responsibilities.”
The Indian just grinned and stared at her for one long moment after another. At length, he said, softly, almost in a whisper, “Maybe you are right, and I am the savage one, but there is one thing I would do for you that I do not see any other man in your white man’s world doing for you.”
“Oh,” she said, “and what is that?”
“I would take care of you.”
“Take care of…? I haven’t asked you to do so, and I don’t—” She wasn’t able to voice more.
He had closed the short distance between them and, bending down swiftly toward her, he kissed her, yet again, a gentle, delicate graze.
It sent her mind to whirling. How could such a simple caress wreak such havoc within her?
She didn’t struggle. How could she? It was all she could do to stand up straight.
But he, at last, drew away from her, and it was then that she was able to utter, “How dare you,” but she noted her words lacked conviction.
He, however, didn’t take notice, he simply grinned down at her, and even that modest action sent her stomach plummeting. He said, “I would dare much, it would seem, but you are right. It is impolite of me to kiss you, to speak to you as I am, when we have only just met, after so many years.”
That stopped her. “After so many years? What do you mean? Have I known you before now?”
He didn’t reply; his only response to her, a slight grin.
She demanded, “Answer me.”
“The next time we meet,” he spoke slowly. “I will tell you all you want to know.”
“No, you will—”
His lips touched hers all over again—a short, gentle caress. Then, raising his head, he said, “Does Shines Like Moonlight believe a man and woman can find love after very short acquaintance?”
She hesitated. “Why, no, I don’t believe that I do.”
He grinned, a little more widely. “Little Moonlight is probably right. More reason for me to stay around her longer.”
“Oh.” Her lips parted.
And again he bent down toward her, only this time, he did no more than put his cheek against her own, as he whispered, “You come see your uncle too. I will take you.”
“I…” It wasn’t until that moment that she realized she was up against the entrance flap.
She pulled away from him, then, as quickly as she could, and stepped over toward the entry. She said, “You dare much, Indian, to talk to me, to treat me as you have today. I do not know if there will be a next time for us to meet and to talk. I have already suffered too much of your insolence and I…”
He grazed a finger over her cheek.
And she closed her eyes against the emotion that swept through her with so tender a touch, but only for a moment. Gathering herself together, she brushed the caress away, and said, “Please, do stop that.”
He just stared at her. “I will, if that is what you truly want, Little Moonlight. But I must tell you that you had better leave my lodge quickly if your tongue speaks true about your feelings. Because if you stay any longer, I might again take the niece of my good friend into my arms and prove to her that…”
She turned away from him completely, not waiting to hear more; and, bending down, she stumbled out of the lodge without bothering to look behind her. And as she hurried away, she felt as if the hounds of hell had been let loose and were close upon her trail. It made her rush all the more.
And the Indian? He held open the tepee flap, staring after her until he could see her no more.
He turned his gaze back toward the interior of his lodge, his glance coming to rest on a pink-and-white frilly contraption, lying close to where Shines Like Moonlight had so recently sat.
It was a pretty little thing; just as she was, he thought. Had she meant to leave it?
Not with full cognizance, he was certain. And yet…it is said of a woman that when she wishes to see more of a man, she will leave something behind her.
Had she…?
Picking up the article, he studied it closely, before at length, he smiled.
Chapter Seven
There wasn’t a single person in the room who was sober.
Wine, whiskey and homemade spirits had been passed around from one person to another as if there were limitless quantities. Katrina couldn’t spot a single man who had not partaken in the festivities given in the prince’s honor, except for perhaps one, whose presence here was as foreign as…
What was the Indian doing here? She was certain he hadn’t been invited. And yet, there he was…his glance never straying far from her…
She turned her own gaze away from him.
Supper had been an early affair for the European guests; the meal, following the American c
ustom rather than that of the continent, was served no later than six o’clock. And now at eight o’clock in the evening, the party of clerks, the engages who had enlisted with “the company,” the hunters and guests, had the rest of the night before them—if any of them would remember the events of the night in any detail later.
As the only white women in the fort, Katrina and Rebecca had not been starved for attention.
Yet Katrina’s fiancé, more interested in chatting with the prince and the artist, Karl Bodmer, had paid her little attention.
Why, in truth, since arriving at the fort, she had seen very little of her fiancé. He was always engaged in some activity with his friends, the prince, or Mr. McKenzie.
It was a state of affairs, she decided all at once, that she must change.
She smiled up at the clerk, who had been trying to engross her in conversation these past few minutes, though she had paid him little attention. “Would you excuse me?” she asked.
“Why, certainly, Miss Wellington,” the man uttered as steadily as he was able, though he slurred his speech.
She sighed, nodding toward the man, and, picking up the front of her dress, she walked across the room toward her fiancé, more than aware that an alien gaze followed her every movement.
“I say, m’dear.” The marquess hiccupped as she drew near. “How good it is for you to join us.” As she stopped directly in front of her fiancé, he drew her hand to him and bent down to press a kiss upon it. However, he almost lost his balance in doing so and made a stab into the air, staying on his feet only as a result of the quick reflexes of his two friends.
“Miss Wellington.” The prince seemed to ignore the antics of her fiancé and nodded toward her, while Karl Bodmer bowed.
All three men held half-empty glasses in their hands, and the marquess’s two friends, having restored the man to his feet, stood behind him with wine bottles poised. The two men were ever ready, it would seem, to fulfill a request for more wine.
“Drink, m’dear?”
“No, thank you.”
“Damn good brew, I must say,” the marquess commented, then gasped, hiccupping. “Pardon my language, m’dear.”
Katrina smiled and nodded. “I have come to speak with you, my lord.”
“Have you now? Jolly good, I should say, what? Do you want to see me alone, or do you approve a crowd?” The marquess smirked, as though he laughed at some private joke.
“Alone, I should think.”
“Very well, m’dear.” He held out his arm to her. “Let us adjourn then, outside, to the night; but pray, I might ask you, do not choose to fight. Ah, do you see?” He smiled at her. “It rhymes…night and fight? I must say,” he tittered, and sent a satisfied look over his shoulder to his two friends.
Katrina sent a glance heavenward.
Not that she censured the man’s behavior. Normally she found no complaint with the marquess, but she was in no mood for it this night. Not when she was worried about her future; not when she was more than aware of a foreign presence in the room, watching her.
She hadn’t seen the Indian since that day, a week ago, when he had kissed her. She had debated all through the week as to whether she should tell anyone what the Indian had done, finally settling upon keeping the knowledge to herself.
Lord knows what would happen to the man if it were to be found out that he…that she had allowed…
The marquess’s two friends chose that moment to make ridiculous, agreeable noises, all in awe of the marquess’s undoubtedly brilliant oratory, and it was almost more than she could do to smile and pretend enchantment.
It seemed to her that these two friends of the marquess were, in character, more mousey than manly, and she wondered why the marquess continued to entertain them.
But when even the prince snickered, seemingly taken with the marquess’s unsurpassingly clever wit, she decided to do nothing more than turn her back on them all, agitated though she was. To the marquess, she said over her shoulder, “M’lord, now, if you please? I would like to speak with you alone.”
“M’dear? Ah, yes, certainly, pardon.” And with the flare of his arm and the swish of his suit coat and tails, the marquess caught her hand, almost stumbling upon her in his stupor. Yet still, he managed to stand up straight, thanks to his cane, and at last he was able to accompany her out into the beautiful brilliance of a northwestern summer night.
And if the stars shone more brightly than on other, previous evenings, she was certain the marquess hadn’t noticed.
Not at all.
“Then you are not intending to travel with Prince Maximilian?” Katrina asked the marquess, her face averted from him.
“Of course not, m’dear. But I have a note here that I have written and will send to your uncle.”
Katrina hid her shock well, an easy thing to do. The marquess, clearly more interested in his snuff box, wasn’t even looking at her, though his state of intoxication thwarted his efforts. In sooth, he kept bringing the box up toward him, only to miss his nose, thereby sniffing no more than fresh, night air.
She sighed. At any other time she would have found the entire affair humorous, but not tonight. Tonight she was too upset, too overwrought.
The prince was due to sail tomorrow, and she hadn’t yet told anyone that she planned to be on that boat. After a moment, she said, “A note? You intend to do nothing more than send my uncle a note? But, m’lord, my uncle has requested that you travel to see him.”
“Nonsense, I say.” The marquess pinched one of his nostrils and tried again to take a whiff from his box. He missed. “Do not fret, m’dear, I am sure once your uncle receives word from me, he will make haste to come here. After all,” the marquess proclaimed, “it is almost the same as a royal summons. Besides, if I were to go, I might likely be eaten alive by the savages, don’t you know? My word, but that rhymed.”
Katrina groaned. “I see,” she said. She drew away from her fiancé and strolled to a far corner of the veranda. “But, my lord,” she said, turning around to face him, “do you have the finances to stay here throughout the summer?”
“What? What was that, you say? Did I mention only myself, m’dear? How positively pedantic of me. Oh, do forgive me, won’t you? You shall stay, too, of course, and that will take care of that. After all, it was not one of my conditions of our betrothal that I come to this place. Wasn’t it you who said we would find your dowry here? Now, if I had asked you, it would only be right that I pay for the services…”
Katrina scowled. “I think you should go to Fort McKenzie, my lord.”
“Me? Whatever for? Not when I can stay here in comfort and simply send a note to your uncle.
Rather rude, I say, isn’t it, him asking me to go there and all?”
Katrina hesitated a moment. “I should probably tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“I am intending to go there, my lord.”
“Yes, m’dear, and I… What?”
“It is something I have been considering for some time. I wish to get this business behind us so that we can start our…our married life. It is evident to me that my uncle is delaying. It is my intent, therefore, to go to him and get this settled immediately. It is, after all, my inheritance and dowry. It is my right to go there.”
“Nonsense, m’dear. I really must insist that you reconsider this.”
Katrina shook her head. “I am quite decided.”
“Are you, now?” The marquess brought his feet together and tried to raise himself up to his full height. The effect, however, was lost by his stagger. “Excuse me, m’dear, but I must tell you that I simply forbid you to go. Isn’t proper, now, is it? Not at all. And I can’t think of any reason why you would want to—”
“I intend to go, nevertheless, proper or not, and I think that you should consider traveling there with me.”
“Me?”
“Yes, my lord. You have come all this way to procure my dowry. My uncle has it. Doesn’t it make sense, then
, to make the journey there to receive it?”
“Not at all, m’dear. Not at all. It would be a monstrous mistake, quite. Monstrous, indeed.”
“I disagree.”
“Yes,” said the marquess, “I can see that. Are you always this disagreeable, my dear?”
“I fear that I can be, my lord.”
“I was afraid of that.” The marquess tried to square his shoulders. “Pity that. I’m quite afraid I will have to do something about this stubborn streak of yours after we are married, my dear. Can’t have you thinking for yourself, now, can we? Imagine that, a woman who believes she can make independent decisions. It’s simply not done, my dear, not done at all. Why, I would be laughed right out of the country, I would. Laughed at, I say.”
“But, my lord—”
“Here, here, now, girl, enough of that. I forbid you to go. And that’s the end of that. Now, I must insist that we return to the party. Take my arm, there’s a good girl.”
“But, my lord, I have more to say, to tell you, and I—”
“No more,” the marquess pointed to his arm. “Take it, I say.”
Katrina hesitated, but when the marquess continued to point toward his arm, she raised her hand to place it upon his arm, and then held back.
“Excuse me, my lord, but I would like to stay outside for a while. It is most stifling hot inside, and the air out here is fresh and cool. Mayhap I would like to take a stroll in the garden. Would you care to accompany me?”
The marquess stumbled. “What was that, m’dear? A garden? You can’t possibly mean that mosquito-infested plot Mr. McKenzie keeps out back of his home?”
“That was the one, my lord.”
“I say, do you enjoy being bitten?”
“Not at all, my lord, it is only that—”
“Not tonight, m’dear, not tonight. Now come along,” he extended his arm yet again.
“No,” Katrina said, dropping her hand to her side, “you go on. There is a glass of wine awaiting you just inside, while I…I wish to stay here, if only for a moment more.”
The marquess bowed as grandly as possible. “As you wish, m’dear. As you wish. But remember this, we stay here on the morrow.” And with this said, the marquess turned, and Katrina watched as he made his way back inside the home of the bourgeois, albeit unsteadily.