The Apache didn’t let up. “Did you hear me, white man? I had her before you. I had her before any man. I remember the feeling of tearing into her virgin flesh. That is something you’ll never have from her, because it is mine! I took her maidenhood! Me! Loco!”
“And you will die for it.” Travis feinted right, then dodged left and opened up another slit in the Apache’s hide, this one across the ribs. Loco’s blade flashed and drew a long red line down Travis’s forearm, then he lashed out with a foot and caught Travis behind the knee. Travis hit the ground with a solid thud, his breath gone, then rolled quickly, causing Loco to miss him entirely and land face down on the ground.
Before Loco could move, Travis rolled again and landed on the man’s back, with a knee placed firmly against Loco’s kidney. Loco heaved, trying to unseat the white man from his back.
Travis grabbed a handful of long, black hair and yanked, raising Loco’s head from the ground. Then he slammed the man’s face back into the dirt. The satisfying crunch told him the Apache’s nose was broken.
Loco managed to brace himself with one knee and dislodge Travis, but before he could strike, Travis rose onto his knees and swung his fist, landing it directly in what used to be Loco’s nose. The Apache fell back, striking his head on the base of a tree. He was out cold.
Travis dropped to all fours and hung his head low between his shoulders, trying to catch his breath. When he thought he could stand, he struggled to his feet and staggered toward Dani, who still crouched on the ground against the log. He dropped to his knees again before her.
Tears streamed down Daniella’s face; she didn’t care. Her wide eyes roamed over every inch of him, searching out his wounds. With each one she located, a sob shook her. Blood oozed from dozens of tiny nicks and scratches, and at least a half-dozen larger cuts. Because of her. He was bleeding because of her.
She had watched him fight for his life, for her life and her honor. While she’d watched, a realization came over her. Her hatred and fear of Loco and the others who had attacked her suddenly paled before her feelings for Travis. What would she do if anything ever happened to him? How could she go on? To live without his tender touch, his gentle, warm eyes, his soft lips, his strength, his sense of humor, seemed too horrible and barren to even contemplate. Each time Loco’s knife found its mark, she felt as if it had struck her. When Travis bled, she grew weaker.
She loved him!
It didn’t matter that he didn’t return her feelings. It was enough that he not be killed. And if he still wanted to marry her and take her home, she vowed she would find some way to make up for all the trouble and pain she had caused him.
She looked up at him and wept harder at his injuries. A movement behind him caught the corner of her eye. She went rigid with shock. Loco was up and moving, lunging for Travis’s back!
Travis saw her eyes lock on something over his shoulder. Her look of alarm was all the warning he needed, but even then, he was almost too late. He thrust her aside and came to his feet, turning and raising his knife as he rose. His other hand swung out, knocking Loco’s knife sideways. The blade grazed his shoulder, but missed his neck, where it was aimed.
Loco roared with rage and flung himself at Travis. The shock of impact knocked Travis to the ground, Loco going down on top of him.
Daniella screamed in horror, watching Loco land on top of Travis. But the duel was over. In his desperate effort to rid himself of his foe, the Apache had thrust himself directly onto Travis’s knife.
Travis rolled Loco’s body over. Daniella stared, aghast at the sight of the knife protruding from the dead man’s chest. Tears of relief poured down her cheeks, and she longed to reach for Travis, to be enveloped in his arms and rest her head on his chest. The look on his face held her still.
He stared at Loco’s body with contempt, but when he turned his eyes on her, his expression did not change. Daniella struggled to her feet as Travis got up, but he did not lend a hand to help her. A sob clogged her throat. She took a step back, putting more distance between them, her eyes wide with pain and dismay at his obvious contempt for her.
All the rumors around the territory about her, the names people called her, her pregnancy, the streak in her hair, he’d accepted all that with a calm that had amazed her. Now she understood. None of those things had really sunk in for him. Until now. Now he’d been face to face with a man he knew had raped her. She read the knowledge in his eyes. Now it was all real to him.
When he met her gaze over the dead body of her attacker, Travis saw the look of horror and dread fill her eyes. He had heard her scream, had seen the Apache threatening her with a knife, and now she acted horrified that the man was dead. Damn. Would he ever understand her? What had she expected? That he would tap the man on the shoulder and politely ask him to leave her alone? Goddamn! She was his! That bastard had treated her like she was some common slut!
When Travis bent to retrieve the knife Hal-Say had lent him, Daniella closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath to help control her tears. When she finally realized how much he meant to her, it was too late. He wouldn’t marry her now. He would leave her here with Cochise. Or maybe, if she asked him, he would take her home. But she would never be able to bring herself to ask him for anything. He’d done enough for her—more than any other man would have. She had no right to expect more.
Daniella turned to go, but as she took her first step, Travis grabbed her none too gently by the shoulder and turned her around.
“Oh no you don’t,” he said, his breath still coming in harsh gasps. With the bloody knife still gripped tightly in his other hand, he led Daniella to where Cochise and Dee-O-Det stood, keeping himself between her and the sprawling corpse that was, even now, being carried away by three men.
“We’ll be married now,” he said, his tone daring anyone to disagree.
Cochise and Dee-O-Det looked at one another for a moment, then nodded.
“Give her to the women so they may prepare her. The ceremony will take place in two hours.”
“No.” The fingers grasping her shoulder tightened. “I’m not letting her out of my sight for even a minute. You see what happens. She can’t stay out of trouble long enough to bat an eye. We’ll be married now.”
Again Cochise and Dee-O-Det looked at each other, and again they nodded.
“Follow me,” Dee-O-Det said.
The old shaman didn’t waste any time. He led them back through the forest to the center of camp, where he had them wait, Daniella in her breeches and Travis covered with blood. While Dee-O-Det walked away, saying he’d be right back, Cochise’s two wives forcibly dragged Daniella from Travis’s side and into Nali-Kay-deya’s wickiup.
“You cannot be wed dressed as you are,” Kay scolded. “You will shame Cochise.”
“As well as yourself and your husband,” Tesal-Bestinay added.
Ignoring her protests, the two women stripped her in seconds. When Kay unrolled the clothing she intended Daniella to wear, Daniella gasped. The soft yellow buckskin skirt and poncho-style blouse were covered with exquisite beadwork and hundreds of metal bugle beads that gave off a soft tinkling sound with every movement. Long fringe decorated every edge of the garments.
The matching moccasins, or kebans, bore strips of beadwork and reached nearly to her knees. When Daniella was dressed, the distinctive tabs on the toes poked out from beneath the fringe of the skirt. Then the two women draped her neck in yards and yards of tiny black beads, half of which hugged her throat, the other half hanging down to rest against her breasts.
The softness of the clothing against her bare skin sent heated yearnings to her very core, shaming her, scaring her with their intensity. When she stepped out of the wickiup, Travis’s eyes lit with appreciation.
Was that a drumbeat pounding in her ears, or the sound of her own heart?
By the time her trembling legs carried her to Travis’s side, Dee-O-Det was back. He nodded his approval at her clothing. He positioned himself on the o
pposite side of his sacred ceremonial log from them, then began a chant, keeping time with the sacred spirit rattles he pulled from a leather pouch at his waist. Suddenly he quieted, pulled out a silver ceremonial knife, and held it high.
All sound seemed to stop. The dogs stopped barking; the people stopped talking; the wind in the trees quieted; the birds fell silent, waiting; even the usual gurgling of the nearby stream sounded subdued to Daniella’s dazed mind.
From out of nowhere Dee-O-Det produced a long wand tipped with pine needles. He moved it in an arc above the couple’s heads, and tadidin, the sacred pollen of the tule, fell down on them. Travis sneezed. Dee-O-Det was startled out of his somber mood long enough to grin.
Sobering quickly, Dee-O-Det knelt before Daniella and Travis and motioned for their hands. He swiftly made a small cut in Daniella’s right wrist and Travis’s left, then wrapped their bleeding wrists together with sacred binding.
“You have two bodies,” the shaman said. “But now only one blood. You are one.” He pulled the binding from their wrists with a flourish. “Nzhú!”
It was done. They were married.
With the shaman’s shrill cry of victory, an explosion of sound hit Daniella’s ears. Dogs yapped, children shrieked, adults cheered. Birds resumed their calls, crickets their chirps. Cochise’s deep voice rumbled in his chest as he congratulated Travis. The wind in the pines resumed its gentle roar. The stream gurgled. Things seemed back to normal.
But they weren’t. She was married. Dear God, what had she done?
Before she could gather her scattered wits, she found herself stooping to enter the empty wickiup where Cochise and Dee-O-Det had found her that first night.
First night? It was last night. How could her entire life have changed so drastically in one short day?
She stared around her blankly and slowly realized the wickiup was no longer empty. Cochise’s wives had been busy. To one side was a bed of grass. Daniella recognized the blanket from her bedroll spread over it. The one folded at the foot of the bed must be Travis’s.
A small pile of firewood rested opposite the bed. Next to it was a pitch-covered water basket, a gourd cup, her saddle and Travis’s, her clothes, their weapons, saddlebags, bridles, and horse blankets.
And behind her, just inside the doorway, stood Travis Colton. Her husband.
As if her thoughts brought him to life, he stepped around her and crossed toward the bed. “I realize it’s not the usual thing for a bridegroom to fall asleep right after the wedding,” he said with a crooked little smile as he sat on her blanket. “But then the wedding itself was a bit unusual, wasn’t it?”
While he talked, his fingers worked the buttons of his shirt free and Daniella once again became aware of the blood. His blood, spilled for her. At the same time she realized he was taking his shirt off, she also realized much of the blood had dried and the cloth was stuck to a dozen different cuts.
“No!” she cried.
But she was too late. Just as she cried out, he yanked the shirt from his body and started a fresh flow of blood.
Travis winced, feeling his skin tear with the tug of his shirt. When Dani cried out, he stiffened. Did she think he was undressing for the wedding night? That he was getting ready to attack her? “No what?” he bit out. Damn, he’d promised, hadn’t he? She didn’t trust him. But then, with the hardness in his loins growing by the minute, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself.
“You idiot,” she said. “You just reopened half your wounds, pulling your shirt off like that.”
He wanted to cry with relief. Her eyes had lost that dull glaze that had come over them during the fight. They were filled with life now, and, he thought biting back a grin, irritation. Her face was animated. Her whole body, in fact, as she posed there with feet spread and hands on hips. Every movement made her dress jingle. He wanted to jump up and grab her and kiss her, or better yet, drag her down to the blanket. That would send her running for sure. Bad idea.
“How else am I supposed to get this rag off?” he asked, forcing the laughter from his voice.
Daniella rolled her eyes and shook her head. Men, she thought. “I could have soaked it off in a few minutes and you wouldn’t have stared bleeding again. Give me that.” She grabbed the shirt from his hands. The only part that wasn’t bloody was the back, but it was covered with dirt. The tail was clean, so she tore it off.
That would have to do to bandage the worst cut, the one on his forearm. She still needed something to clean him with and found a dirt-free spot along the upper back and shoulders. She tore it off and discarded the rest of the shirt. After wetting the rag in the water basket, she knelt next to him on the blanket.
“If you’re tired, lie down. This is going to take a while.”
She was a little surprised when he complied without a word. He lay there, stretched out before her, bare and bloody from the waist up. Remembering the last time she’d touched his bare chest, tending another wound that was directly her fault, as were these new ones, she was grateful this time when he closed his eyes.
She wiped gently at the smear of blood on his cheek. It must have come from his hands because his face wasn’t cut, thank God. One scar on that ruggedly handsome cheek was enough.
After wiping the smear away, she bathed the rest of his face and neck. His eyelids twitched once, but didn’t open. His lips flexed when she ran the damp rag over them. She remembered the feel of those lips on hers. Soft, yet firm. Gentle and teasing at first, then full and forceful. Demanding. Her hand shook.
It was a relief to leave his face and tackle the cuts and scrapes on his arms and chest. The bleeding had stopped everywhere but on his forearm. She saved that gash for last and cleaned the rest of him as gently as she could, being careful not to soil her borrowed clothing.
Every place her fingers met his warm skin, the muscles beneath her touch quivered. It was unnerving, making a man’s muscles quiver. His face looked relaxed, his eyes remained closed, so she tried to ignore the sensation. But something deep inside her responded to each of his muscle spasms with spasms of its own.
When she finally cleaned off his forearm, the gash didn’t look as bad as she’d feared. At least it didn’t appear to need stitching. She took the salve from her saddle bag and smeared it on every cut and scratch, laying on a liberal amount to his forearm.
She folded the severed tail of his shirt into a pad, and placed it over the wound. But she didn’t have any rags left to tie it in place. She laid his arm down gently, not wanting to disturb the slow, even rhythm of his breathing, and reached across him for the bandanna laying on top of her breeches and shirt. Just as she reached it, Travis sucked in his breath.
Daniella straightened abruptly. His eyes were open and staring at her chest.
He grinned slightly. “The beads are cold.”
She wasn’t sure why, but when she removed the necklace, her hands trembled. Without thinking, she also took off the short strands of beads encircling her throat.
“It’s almost gone.”
Daniella’s heart gave a thud and she dropped the bandanna at the unexpected sound of his deep voice. Her gaze flew to his face again to find his gaze had risen slightly. She swallowed and took a short breath. “What?”
Travis raised his injured arm and ran a single fingertip across the front of her neck, sending hot and cold shivers down her spine. “Your scar. It’s almost gone.”
She lowered her gaze from his face and removed his hand from her neck. She hadn’t meant to let him see the scar. He had reminders enough of who and what she was without that. But she’d forgotten about the damned thing.
With her lips pressed tight, she repositioned the folded pad along his cut and wrapped her bandanna around it to keep it pressed tightly in place. “There.”
As she turned away, she noticed one small nick she’d missed just above his belt and left of his buckle. When she picked up the wet rag she’d been using her hand trembled again. One more touch, she told herself. If she c
ould make it through one more touch, she’d be finished. She could leave his side and maybe breathe again.
The wet cloth and the side of her little finger touched him and brought a sharp gasp from him which sucked in his stomach and made the muscles jump beneath her hand. Both his hands twitched. Her startled gaze flew to his face. His eyes were closed again, but his jaw was tense.
“Did I hurt you?”
He cleared his throat, but his voice still croaked when he said, “No.”
“I’m almost finished.”
So am I, Travis thought. Lord, if she touched him again it was going to be all too apparent just how close to being finished he was.
She touched him again, this time with salve on her finger. He forced himself to relax and recall the first time he’d witnessed Dani having one of her nightmares. That picture alone was enough to cool the fire in his blood. This time.
Lord, what had he got himself into? How was he going to be near her day after day and keep his hands off? Impossible as the task seemed, he knew he had to somehow keep his promise to not rush her. It was the only way he’d ever gain her trust.
“I want to thank you for what you did for me today. I was in a tight spot, and you got me out of it.”
Travis smiled, his eyes still closed. “Don’t mention it.”
“I have to mention it,” she went on. “I want you to know how much I appreciate it. The balance has tipped the other way, and now I owe you. I’m not sure how I’ll ever repay the favor.”
Travis opened one eye, then the other. She had something on her mind, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever it was.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re bound to me in any way,” she said. “No one outside this camp knows what’s happened. Maybe it’s best if we keep it that way. I promise I won’t cause you any trouble or make any claims on you.”
Frowning, Travis raised up on one elbow. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about forgetting this ever happened.”
Apache-Colton Series Page 25