Snatching up the water container, she fled towards the longhouse. No one stopped her.
The men continued to sit or stand around and laugh about the incident. Finally Birdwhistle, shivering theatrically, invited all who had witnessed the ignominious fall of his good name to a feast to be given two days hence. Bidding good-bye to his friends, he slowly sloshed off in the direction of his longhouse.
After his departure, several sarcastic comments flew back and forth about Birdwhistle’s smooth charm with women. Women were constantly throwing themselves at him, it seemed. And all those present could attest to how effortlessly he seduced them. One well-fed wag suggested his friends would do well to emulate the skillful maneuvers of Birdwhistle. Then there’d be feasts every night in Ahousat village!
Fighting Wolf, joining in the general laughter, gave no indication of the true direction of his thoughts. But he wondered to himself about his championing of a woman who had such loose ways. She seemed to bewitch him! He smiled ruefully to himself. He only knew he could not stand by and let such an intriguing woman die as a sop to the oft-besmirched name of Birdwhistle.
Chapter Eleven
Sarita awoke. As she munched her breakfast of roasted fern root left over from the night before, she thought over the events of the past few days.
Things had been going much better lately—due to the incident with Birdwhistle, she suspected. She had shown the villagers that she would protect herself. Men seldom made bold approaches to her, and she enjoyed the respite from unwanted advances. She had hated being constantly on guard against lechers. It was a relief to be able to relax her vigil.
She remained concerned about Fighting Wolf, however. True, he had made no overt move towards her—had barely acknowledged her existence—but she could not dispel the fear that flickered over her whenever she felt his cold eyes upon her. And his eyes were cold. She could not dispute that. Whenever his glance happened to fall on her as she worked about the longhouse, or as she did chores in the village, always the cold contempt in those piercing ebony eyes unnerved her. She knew he thought her a loose woman, but what could she do? To tell him she had not been party to a romantic rendezvous would be to seal her own death. Or Rottenwood’s. No, better to let him think what he would, and continue to avoid him as much as possible.
Her thoughts returned rapidly to the present as she became aware of Precious Copper speaking to her.
“Please take my little cousins down to the beach,” Precious Copper was saying. “I promised to take Duck Feather and her cousin for a swim.” Sarita nodded, glad of the chore. She found the two active children a delight to be with. And since her lecture to the cousins, she’d found they minded her very well.
Sarita went to her alcove to fetch her cedar cape. It was a sunny morning, but there was a slight chill in the air. She was surprised the children would swim so early in the day, but then children always wanted to swim and play in the salt water, no matter how cold it was. She remembered how, as a child, she loved to splash with her brother in the cool waters of the summer village bay. The nostalgic thought brought a soft sigh to her lips.
Sarita was unaware of how beautiful she looked this morning. The golden tan of her skin contrasted favorably with the darker brown color of her kutsack. She had tied her hair back with a strip of rawhide. The plain hairstyle suited her patrician features, emphasizing strong cheekbones and large, innocent golden eyes. Clutching the cape in one hand, she returned to the main area.
“Little sister,” she heard a deep voice drawl as she reentered, “you’ll have to find someone else to take our cousins swimming. This woman is coming with me.”
Sarita swallowed nervously and looked suspiciously into Fighting Wolf’s watchful ebony eyes. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her.
Precious Copper’s gaze shifted from her brother to Sarita. The girl’s body trembled and a flash of fear crossed her face. Precious Copper sighed heavily, but there was nothing she could do to protect Sarita. “As you wish, my brother," she responded calmly, turning away to begin separating stacks of dried berries.
Fighting Wolf picked up a nearby basket, then headed for the door. He was dressed in a fur-trimmed, pale yellow, cedar kutsack that emphasized the dark bronze of his skin. His thick blue-black mane of hair hung in gentle waves to his shoulders. Rings of polished copper encircled both his wrists and ankles. Around his waist was twisted a belt of sea otter fur from which hung the ever-present daggers. Sarita counted three of them, each with a sharp, wicked-looking blade. She noted also that he carried a small cedar mat tucked under one arm.
Fighting Wolf exited the longhouse without a backward glance, obviously expecting Sarita to follow.
She stumbled blindly after him. A shiver of fear ran through her as she puzzled over why he had decided to take her with him today. She did not trust that gleam in his eye. For too long he had looked at her with anger and contempt and she wondered what he could possibly have planned that would bring a new look to those hard eyes.
Once outside the longhouse, Sarita paused briefly, breathing deeply of the crisp morning air. Fighting Wolf jerked his head, impatient for her to follow him.
Slowly Sarita walked behind him, wondering why he was leading her to the beach. Did he want her to help him work on his canoe? Puzzled, she continued to follow at a slow pace.
She was still pondering what he had in mind when he threw the basket into a small canoe that bobbed up and down in the shallow waves. He waded into the cold water and held the canoe steady, gesturing for her to climb aboard.
The thought briefly of dashing back to the longhouse came to mind. She discarded the notion, realizing he would easily catch her. Holding her body proudly, she stepped gracefully into the canoe and knelt on the bottom near the bow. She watched the strong muscles of his arms flex as he pushed the small craft effortlessly from shore. Then he stepped in, shifting his weight to keep the bobbing craft from tipping.
Kneeling on the small cedar mat, Fighting Wolf picked up two paddles that were lying next to his bow and several arrows. Wordlessly, he handed one of the paddles to Sarita. She faced the front, squatting on her heels in a comfortable paddling position. At the stern, Fighting Wolf paddled the small canoe, steering it out of the harbor and straight out to sea.
The two paddled in silence for a long while, their rhythm even as they skimmed over the waves. The sun was beginning to feel hot on Sarita’s back, but she dared not stop paddling to remove her cloak. She would ask nothing from Fighting Wolf, nor would she let him see her discomfort.
They paddled north for what seemed an interminable length of time. She noticed he kept the canoe a safe distance from the white churning breakers pounding the long gray strip of sand that marked the coastline.
Seeing the direction of her gaze, Fighting Wolf commented easily, “That’s a continuation of the long sandy beach where you went clam-digging.”
She remembered that long sandy beach very well—and Birdwhistle’s attack. She wondered if Fighting Wolf had deliberately brought up the sore subject, so she answered coolly, “I should warn you: it’s dangerous to take me clam-digging. Ask Birdwhistle.”
Fighting Wolf laughed. “Aah, but who will protect you this time?” he asked in a low voice.
When she didn’t answer, he added casually, “Well, we’re almost at the end of our voyage. Only a short distance to go.”
“Where exactly are we going?” she inquired, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“To a small private beach,” he answered. She could hear the suggestive tone in his voice, but she kept her back stiff and unyielding. “A private beach that I discovered when I was young.” Enthusiastically, he continued, “It has soft sand, and is sheltered from the wind. There’s even a small, freshwater creek flowing at one end. It’s a beautiful spot. You’ll love it,” he drawled and she wondered what he truly meant. That she would love the beach or love what he was going to do to her, for by now she had very strong suspicions as to his intentions, o
nce they arrived at the beach.
Her heart began to beat faster and her palms, already damp from paddling, were sweating profusely. She knew the reaction wasn’t all fear, but anticipation as well. She decided to brazen it out. “Now, why,” she began, “would you care whether I like the beach or not? I hadn’t been aware that you particularly cared about my likes and dislikes!”
Her impudence delighted him. “Aah, but I do care, Sarita,” he answered in a soft voice. “Very much.” The way his voice caressed her name sent a warning thrill up her spine.
She didn’t quite know what to answer and continued to paddle stoically, ignoring him, but the whole time her mind was racing.
Many tall spruce trees lined the beach behind the sand. She wondered if, once they were ashore, she could run fast enough to get away from him and hide in the woods. The tangle of salal bushes and shrubs below the spruce trees would make it difficult for him to follow and find her.
She decided that she must make the attempt. What she would do after he gave up looking for her and paddled away from the beach, she gave no thought to.
She only knew she did not want to be alone with a man like Fighting Wolf. A man who roused so many different feelings in her. On the one hand, she was desperately afraid of him and what he might do to her physically. On the other, she was strongly attracted to him, more so than any other man she had ever known. She could feel his magnetism even when sitting with her back to him. Damn! Why did the man always have such an effect on her?
She was brought out of her reverie by Fighting Wolf’s next comment. “See the island just off that point in the distance?” he asked, his canoe paddle indicating the long promontory of land.
Shading her eyes with her cupped hand, Sarita stared off into the distance. A long spit of gray sandy beach led out to a small rocky island, topped with trees. She nodded.
“That’s our destination.”
They paddled in silence for another while, until they neared the point of land. Large breakers rolled in; almost covering the gray spit of beach they were approaching. Small waves pounded dangerously at the rocky island, crashing against the rocks, but Fighting Wolf steered away from the island. Maneuvering carefully, he guided the small craft towards the spit, until one large wave pushed them in very close to shore. Looking down through the clear, rippling, shallow water Sarita could see pretty shells lying on the sand.
Fighting Wolf stepped out of the canoe, then dragged it easily into shore. Sarita felt, then heard, the canoe grate against the hard sand. She hopped out, the cool, clear water refreshing as it swirled around her calves. Fighting Wolf lifted the small craft and carried it farther up the beach, nearer to the tree line. There the waves and incoming tide could not reach the boat and take it out to sea.
While he was occupied, Sarita surveyed the beach. It truly was a lovely place. A wide expanse of fine gray sand stretched endlessly in the direction from which they had come. The dark gray sand near the water, the lighter gray sand of the upper beach, the brilliant green trees and the bright blue sky conspired to make the most beautiful scene imaginable.
She gazed in the other direction. The island and spit of beach where she stood formed a small cove matched with another island and spit of land. Twins, she thought.
Between the two islands the long, gray curve of beach gleamed in the hot sun. She could see nothing beyond the second island, but she wondered if sandy beach extended endlessly from there, too.
Taking the basket from the bottom of the craft, Fighting Wolf turned to Sarita. After her first survey of the beach, she had been hastily judging the distance from the shore where she stood to the blue-gray spruce trees lining the upper beach. She chewed nervously on her full lower lip as she debated making her escape now. Seeing him retrieve the basket, she turned to watch him, willing her eyes to stay away from the beckoning tree line. She could not let him guess her plan.
Smiling at her, Fighting Wolf handed her the basket, obviously expecting her to carry it. Sarita hoisted it to her back, the tumpline around her forehead. She groaned inwardly as she thought of her escape and shedding this load she did not want. Ostensibly following docilely behind him, she waited in an agony of impatience for the opportunity to make her break for freedom.
Fighting Wolf walked silently towards the second small island, heading for a small stream she had not noticed earlier. The creek, some distance from the canoe, cut into the soft sand and bubbled its way along. Walking quickly, they reached the stream. He took the basket from her and placed it on the warm sand.
She stretched her cramped muscles luxuriously. The hot sun felt good on her upturned face, and the warm sand squeezing between her toes felt even better. She inhaled the tangy sea air, content for the moment.
Fighting Wolf watched her, a small smile playing about his mouth. Turning away, he surprised her by walking towards the sea once again. She watched as he waded into the cool water, not once looking back at her. He obviously did not expect any trouble from her, she thought, irritated. Seeing that he was wading farther out into the shallow water, she suddenly realized this was her chance to escape. Spying the canoe, she quickly changed her plans. She would run for the light craft, push it out to sea and paddle away, leaving Fighting Wolf stranded. Yes, that was a better plan! Besides, if it appeared he was going to come after her and catch her before she reached the canoe, she could still run for the tree line.
With the last glance at his departing figure, now thigh-high in the water, she turned and ran as fast as she could. The canoe lay a good distance away. Dry sand squeaked underfoot as she ran for her very life. Afraid to look back, she kept running. Suddenly she heard a shout. She ran even faster. Breathing hard, chest aching, yet still she ran. Her hair had come loose and the silky dark mane flapped freely behind as she sped down the beach.
She ventured a quick peek over her shoulder. Fighting Wolf was sprinting after her. Fear lent wings to her feet. Her feet flew over the solid wet sand and her breath came in quick gasps as she raced desperately for the canoe. Another peek over her shoulder revealed Fighting Wolf gaining on her. He was too close. She’d never make it!
Abandoning all thought of the canoe, she swerved for the tree line. She could hear him panting now, mere steps behind her. With one last burst of speed she lengthened her stride, alarm giving her added strength. The heavy thud of his feet pounded the sand; he was almost upon her!
Suddenly, hard arms wrapped around her knees and a vigorous tackle brought her careening to the sand. She kicked and struggled against Fighting Wolf, trying futilely to regain her feet, but his arms were clamped tightly around her knees, his face buried in her hip.
She heard a low chuckle and struggled with renewed fury. He thought it was funny! She was running and fighting for her life, and Fighting Wolf thought it was funny! Screaming her anger and lashing out with her fists, she managed to land a blow on his muscular back. Hearing him grunt, she lashed out again, but he caught her wrist in one strong hand. Inching himself up, Fighting Wolf threw one leg over her lower body, using his weight to hold her down while he freed his grip from her legs. Grabbing her other hand, he quickly pulled both arms over her head and held her wrists in a brutal grip.
The nearness of his body was intoxicating. Well, she would fight him and her own body too, if she had to! Breasts heaving, held immobile, Sarita hissed into his face, her golden eyes shooting sparks. “Let me go!”
She was beginning to realize that her struggles were getting her nowhere. He was much too strong—and she was too tired. Finally she lay still, panting, angry and watching his every move.
He leaned over her, grinning, until she stopped her fruitless struggles and was once more breathing normally. Then he bent and softly touched his lips to hers. The gentle touch sent Sarita into new paroxysms of struggle. Determined to get free, she bit at him, growling her fury. His free hand grasped her hair, a great handful, close to her head. Holding her head still, he ground his lips into hers, this time savagely. A groan escaped her.<
br />
Aroused now, he shifted his weight over her. He continued his relentless kisses, his mouth hot on hers. She kept her teeth clenched, a barrier to the sweetness within.
Pushing at her teeth with his tongue did Fighting Wolf no good. She continued to clench tight. Changing tactics, his mouth burned its way down the side of her throat, coming to rest in the hollow of her shoulder. She was starting to melt. Sensing her vulnerability, he renewed his attack on her mouth. Pulling her head back even farther, her mouth fell open and he forced his way in, a prelude to further invasion. Moving through her mouth, he took all the sweetness he could, savoring the taste of her.
Sarita felt his hard tongue probing her mouth. She tried to stop him, but he would not be denied. The sensations he was arousing in her body were so wondrous! For a moment, she went limp, caught up in his possession of her mouth and body.
Feeling her relax against him, Fighting Wolf reached for one of the daggers at his waist. Holding it close to her face, he watched as fear lit those golden eyes. Laughing harshly, he leaned back and slit her robe from neck to knee, tossing the knife to one side. She lay under him, nude, staring up at him hopelessly, her beautiful body at last exposed to his hot, relentless gaze.
He took in her body at a glance, intense desire coursing through him. The firm, full breasts intoxicated him and he set his hungry mouth over first one brown peak, then the other, sucking avidly. She tried to free her hands, intent on pushing him away. Laughing low in his throat, he loosened his grip just a little.
Sarita redoubled her struggles, only to find him tighten his grip again. He was merely playing with her!
The attack of his mouth on her breasts jolted her out of her sensuous lethargy. Warm tingling feelings shivered through her as his mouth devoured hers. Desperately afraid now of the sensations he was arousing in her, she fought on.
Lifting his head, he quickly undid his own robe and slid it off his body, all the while gazing at her through heavy-lidded eyes. His warm, nude body pressing against hers was unlike anything Sarita had ever known. She could feel the hard muscles of his torso and legs. She looked down at his swollen manhood, pressing against her stomach. Fear thrilled through her at the sight of it, erect and pointing at her. He followed her gaze and grinned upon seeing her reaction. He slanted his lips across hers again, but this time she was too late to stop his entry into her mouth. Swirling his tongue around hers, he knew she was ripe for the taking.
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