by E. B. Brown
Frustrated beyond measure, she swung around back to the creek bed and her laundry.
“I answered your questions, now you can leave,” she hissed.
“As you wish!” he grinned. She had no sooner bent back to her task when he swept her up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, slapping his palm against her buttocks when she kicked out.
“You liar!” she screeched, furious at being treated yet again like a piece of property.
“I said I would go back to the village. I did not say you could stay here.”
She reached out to strike him, but when her fist hit his back he slapped her bottom again, this time with more authority. She realized they had reached the village, and that people stared open mouthed at the warrior carrying the crazed flame haired woman. She remembered his warning about defiance in front of the villagers and clamped her mouth shut. When he finally entered the wigwam and dropped her to her feet, she stalked off to the corner and sat with her back to him.
“I won’t stay here! I have things to do!”
“You will stay here until I say you may leave. If you leave again I will tie you. Do you understand?”
“Don’t threaten me.”
“Then behave!” he bellowed. He kicked a fur closer to the fire and thrust out his hand toward it. “Sit,” he demanded. She hesitated long enough to see the spike of rage cross his face, then decided it would be wise to heed his request. Slowly lowering herself down to sit on the fur, she met his furious gaze without yield.
“Opechancanough sends his advisor to see how our people fare,” he began. Maggie let him speak without interruption, her curiosity sparked when he spoke of his family. She knew little about him other than what little she gleaned from his sister and mother, which was next to nothing. They would not hear of her desire to leave, and placated her with assurances that Winn would keep her safe- as if that was a consolation!
“My Uncle has much hate for the white settlers, and he wishes to make them go back across the great sea to their own land. He grows tired of their demands and would see every white man dead.” His jaw hardened as he continued, and a shadow of disgust fell over his face. “I serve him as council to the whites. I speak their English, and I eat at their tables. I learn their ways, so I can see their lies to my people.”
“So that’s why you speak English so well,” she murmured. He nodded.
“My Uncle sent word of his plans to rid us of the English. It will happen soon. He wants my help, as I have always given him.” He paused and looked away for a moment, then shifted his eyes back to her. “Nemattanew has heard whispers in the village…he knows you are a Time Walker.”
“Nemattanew?” she stammered. “I don’t understand-“
“Listen, woman! Nemattanew will tell my Uncle a Time Walker is here. Opechancanough will demand your death…and it must be done.”
Her teeth slid over her bottom lip and squeezed as she felt a wave of nausea surge up her throat. She leaned forward to fight the urge and slowly felt it wane.
“You can just let me go.”
“He will hunt you.” She grimaced at the words unsaid. If Winn did not kill her, his Uncle would.
“You won’t kill me,” she whispered.
He stared at her across the flames of the fire. “I should end your life. I should kill you and feel no regret,” he said softly in return. Her spine stiffened at his quiet admission.
“Then do it,” she taunted, regretting the foolish words the moment they left her lips.
“Perhaps I will. If I smother your breath while you sleep, will I still see you in my dreams?” He rose from his spot and bent down in a crouch in front of her. She began to tremble at the luminous darkness in his eyes, his body tensed and ready to strike. “Perhaps I will cut your throat, as you tried to cut mine. Will I still want to touch you when your blood is on my hands? Or will it chase your ghost from my thoughts?”
He held his palms out and considered them for a moment, shaking his head.
“I think not, my Tentay teh. I think still you would haunt me.” She closed her eyes as he reached for her and felt his fingers take a strand of her hair. She felt his breath close and dared not open her eyes for fear of losing the last shreds of willpower she had left. Her heart hammered so loud she was sure he could hear it thump in her chest.
He slowly rose to his feet and put distance between them. He parted the hide covering the doorway and paused, his back turned and his face shrouded from her questioning gaze.
“You will join the women for the feast tonight. You worked hard to prepare it.”
She found no power to answer him before he left.
Part Two
A Future in the Past
Chapter 10
Although the remnants of their conversation left her reeling, Maggie went along with Teyas to take the evening meal. Teyas graciously provided another garment for Maggie to wear, since all that she had was still wet from washing. The women sat apart from the men, seated in a group by the large fire burning in the village center outside the long house, the steady hollow beat of drums echoing through the air and the smoke of their pipes wafting into swirls above their heads. She was glad to be among them, but still frustrated by her slow grasp of their language. Teyas did not seem to notice, giving her a smile now and then as she chatted with the other women.
Dusk settled over the treetops, casting a magical hue on the festivities as near naked children raced through the crowd, shrieking and laughing in their games. They took turns performing cartwheels, competing to see who could do the most without stopping. Their antics shadowed the behavior of youngsters in a schoolyard, and the bitter reminder of her home brought on the sting of sadness. She would not break down in front of the women. Most of them viewed her with suspicion, and she would not have them see her as a weak simpering fool.
She wished they would hurry on with the meal so she could escape to the yehakin and work on plotting how she would return to her own time. If she could only find out where Winn hid the Bloodstone, she knew she would be one step closer to going home. Of course, she had no idea how to make the time travel magic work, but there was no chance of ever figuring it out without it.
Winn was seated across the fire with the other warriors, looking more relaxed than he had earlier. She watched as he took a puff from a long handled pipe and then passed it to the man beside him who did the same. His eyes looked sleepy as he laughed, with pink tinges of bloodshot around the edges, and Maggie wondered just what exactly was in the wild tobacco blend they smoked. Apparently, it was a luxury only the men enjoyed, not that she wished to partake, but it still intrigued her that women were not allowed the same pleasures. As she watched the men enjoy the smoke, he lifted his head and their eyes met across the fire. Her stomach lurched and somersaulted when he smiled despite the anger she still harbored for him, and it was all she could do to look away when a crimson blush crept across her cheeks.
Nemattanew did not share the smoke with the others. He wore a multitude of feathers, his back decorated with the full wings from an unlucky swan. He looked like a treacherous angel, the wings spread from his shoulders, fluttering in the brisk night breeze. She quickly averted her eyes when he noticed her gaze. His eyes held nothing but bleak hatred, dark brown orbs full of restrained malice as he stared back at her across the fire.
She needed to get away from them all, even for a few moments.
Maggie made an excuse to check on Blaze, escaping from the happy gathering if only for a short time. If she continued to enjoy their company and take part in their lives, it would only be that much harder when she left. She had doubts about saving her own heart from breaking, but she pushed that indecision aside and concentrated on the colt instead.
She expected to be joined by the children as she tended to Blaze, but she was surprised to see they did not follow her as she made her way to the lean-to. She entered the structure, built in a sturdy manner with flat plank siding on three sides and a high peaked roof that Ch
etan had copied from the English. Horses stomped and their hooves made impatient thuds in the straw at the sight of her, and she imagined they thought it was feeding time by her presence. Blaze usually ran to her on sight, and she was puzzled to find him missing.
She twirled around with a huff to make her way back to the feast, intent on finding Winn to see what had happened to her colt. Suddenly a hand closed over her mouth and she was jerked into the shadows against a broad chest slick with sweat. She let out a muffled screech against the hand and stomped on his moccasined foot, eliciting a deep chuckle from her captor.
“You fight like a wildcat,” he laughed. “Do not fear, it is only me, eholkon.”
“You ass! You scared me! You-”
“You left the meal,” he murmured as his mouth came down softly on hers. She could not recall what curses she meant to call him, her senses scattered by his touch. The tangy scent of the smoke clung to him, sending a tingle through her lips that slowly changed to a pleasant numb twinge. She clutched his face in her hands as his mouth moved lower, tracing a path down her neck, knowing she should push him away but hungry for him to continue.
“I didn’t think anyone would notice,” she answered.
“I noticed.” His lips caressed her shoulder and she could feel the warmth of his heavy breaths upon her skin. “I missed you,” he said softly, his face still hidden against her.
She closed her eyes at his admission, for once in her life at loss for words.
“What magic is this that I cannot leave you? Why do I stay here with you, when I should go join my men? Do you cast a spell, Tentay teh?”
Maggie shook her head without a response, afraid to interrupt the flow of his words as the dam of his emotions began to crumble. Even if the smoke had clouded his judgment and loosened his tongue, she still longed to hear the words from his heart.
“My Uncle calls for your death. If I make you my wife in truth, I know not what he will do. Even he cannot make a man kill his wife. Should I just take you and be damned?”
“You think I would agree to be your wife?” she asked, breathless as his lips dipped down her neck, tracing a path of delicious torture across her skin.
“You would agree,” he murmured, intent on his work as he continue to nuzzle her.
“No I would not,” she insisted as a moan escaped her lips.
“What if I take you to my yehakin now, would you still argue?”
“Wait a second,” she said, tearing away from his seeking lips. “Things are different in my time. I don’t have to marry you if we- if we just sleep together. No one would force me to be married.”
“This is my time. I can see your fire for me, I feel it in here,” he insisted, placing his hand on her heart. “And I promise you, when I take you as mine, it is forever. That is my way.” His hand fell to her waist and he pulled her tight against his chest, his face hardening. “Have you given your body to others then before me?”
“I have not given you anything. You never ask, you just give orders!” she stammered.
“Answer me,” he groaned, his hand sliding beneath her dress to cup her buttocks. She writhed at the contact and felt him shudder in response.
“No. Never. I have never loved a man enough…to do that,” she admitted.
A flush crept over her neck and cheeks when she saw his eyes widen, the sudden understanding of her words apparent in his face.
“Then if you only pledge your heart with your body, do I have your love when I do this?” His mouth closed over her aching breast, bringing her nipple to a straining point as she moaned. “Or this?” His hand reached beneath her other breast, lifting it gently as his thumb brushed across it, teasing one side with his fingers as he sucked gently on the other.
“So I have your love you say?” he murmured, his gaze heated once more.
She knew no other answer to give him.
“You do,” she whispered, meeting his soft blue eyes with her own.
His mouth covered hers, stemming the tremble of her lips. The possession in his kiss left no question, the words once spoken, never to be rescinded. The shadow of consequence fell away, smothered beneath the urgent need to be a part of him, with him, swallowed whole by the unknown, tempered by his strength.
With one swift movement, he lifted her into his arms. He carried her across the clay packed path to his yehakin, where he dropped the bearskin hide across the door to shield them inside. He let her legs fall so that the tips of her toes brushed the ground, holding her so tightly she could not attempt to flee if she had wanted to.
His fingers tugged at the rawhide tie that bound her dress down the middle, unraveling it slowly as his lips probed lower. She needed his heat, the contact of his skin like a ripple of electric through her body, the only motion she could command was that which brought him closer. One round breast fell free, aching for his touch, and he complied by covering it with his wet mouth. His hand slid under her dress and he clutched her bare bottom, refusing to release when she strained against him with a cry of pleasure. He knelt down in the soft furs, his lips tasting her navel, gently biting and licking a torturous path. Right and wrong held no meaning, nothing left inside except an empty ache that longed to be sated. He was a storm, and she was fire, and each touch of his hand inflamed her soul with frantic need. She trembled when he tugged away the remnant of her dress, the thrill of his caresses chasing away the fear of her nakedness.
When he pulled her gently down beside him it was none too soon, for her legs lost purchase and she gladly let him guide her. His breath whispered shivers across her bared skin and the pounding of the drums echoed between them, but the sounds were muted to her ears from the roaring of her heart. She wanted to take all of him, to hold his gentleness inside her secret place yet harness the smoldering violence that clouded his soul. There was a surge of panic down in the base of her belly when he parted her thighs with his knee, but she embraced the beast of her fear and meant to meld it to her own doing.
“Ntehem. Let me love you,” he murmured.
She felt him shudder as she wrapped her hands around his neck to draw him down, the muscles of his abdomen taut at her touch, his head dipping to her shoulder as he moved to join their bodies.
***
Maggie felt the warmth of golden sunshine across her face from the smoke hole as the sun rose overhead, gently dousing their skin as they lay together on the furs. Limbs entwined with his, her head resting against his bronzed chest, she could hear the thud of his heart beneath her ear. It was slow and steady, humming a peaceful rhythm that soothed her senses back into memory of the decadence they shared. Her lips curled into a smile, and he must have felt the motion, for he sat up a bit and arched one brow at her, his thick dark lashes opened slightly over sleepy eyes.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
Although fresh off the intimacy between them, shyness overtook her at the thought of discussing the act.
“Nothing,” she lied. It was his turn to smile. He pulled her upward against his chest so that she had to look at him.
“If you want me again, you only need ask, my wanton woman,” he grinned. She blushed harder at his taunt and giggled, and he covered her lips with his own. Teasing at first, he nipped at her lip, but his kiss became more wanting when she lowered her head for more. He held her head with both hands and tilted her face, the taste of sweet tangy smoke on his lips. His eyes twinkled with mischief, soft and wide as he gazed at her with a boyish grin.
“No- I mean, yes, but that’s not it-”
“No or yes?” he smirked.
She buried her face into his chest, feeling the blood rise to her cheeks at the turn of the conversation, at utter loss to explain the questions she wanted to ask.
“You’ve done this before,” she blurted out, her cheek still lying hidden against him. “I, well, I haven’t. I was just wondering what … wondering if … oh, Christ! I would like to know if this was good for you! I mean, if I was good,” she stammered, the last of her
words trailing off as a mumble. She regretted the question immediately, sure she would be unable to answer him coherently if he chose to entertain her ridiculous conversation.
She squeezed her eyes shut when he slipped his fingers under her chin and raised it up.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his tone teasing yet insistent. She complied, grudgingly, and met his steady gaze with her own.
“I just…I just want to know. Was this…special to you?” she said softly.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out, then he clamped it shut. She saw him swallow and he shook his head a bit as if clearing it from a fog, then pushed himself up to sit. She moved with him and settled in his lap, her belly flipping in cartwheels when he settled his arms around her waist.
“Look up, ntehem,” he said finally, glancing upward with her at the rising sun through the smoke hole, its shimmer too powerful on their eyes to view for more than a moment.
They bowed their heads together and he paused, taking her hand in his and turning it gently over. He considered the scar in her palm, gently tracing his thumb over the silver knot that seared her skin like a brand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it, then laid it against his chest over the steady beat of his heart. She felt the heat, the pounding, the joining of the connection as warmth spread through her body to the deepest recess of her soul.
“A man is only a mountain in the darkness, waiting for the day when the sun will smile on him,” he whispered. “But no man can look on the sun without burning. You burn me, but I will not let you go. I have waited too long to feel you smile on me.”
He kissed her tears gently away as they slid down her cheeks, kissing her mouth with the tangy taste of salt between them.
“Special? If you need a word, then take this,” he whispered. “You are mine, and I am yours. I know no other word for that.”
She settled back down deep into his embrace, her questions answered.
Chapter 11