Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Other Books By
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Copyright
PASSION’S FURY
Travis grasped the hands that were caressing his cheeks and pressed them to his lips. As his gaze remained fused to hers and he absorbed her presence, his lips and tongue played sensuously in her palms. When Rana moved closer to him, his arms slipped around her body and his lips seared her right ear. As they drifted down her throat, she trembled and swayed against him, enslaving his senses. His mouth brushed over her bare shoulder and traveled back to the hollow of her neck. When Rana’s arms encircled his waist and she arched her body against his, Travis’s hands slipped into her cascading tresses; he cupped her head and lifted her lips to his. Their shared kiss ignited smoldering passions that roared into a blaze of urgency and formed an all-consuming force too powerful to contain…
ZEBRA’S REGENCY ROMANCES DAZZLE AND DELIGHT
A BEGUILING INTRIGUE (4441, $3.99)
by Olivia Sumner
Pretty as a picture Justine Riggs cared nothing for propriety. She dressed as a boy, sat on her horse like a jockey, and pondered the stars like a scientist. But when she tried to best the handsome Quenton Fletcher, Marquess of Devon, by proving that she was the better equestrian, he would try to prove Justine’s antics were pure folly. The game he had in mind was seduction—never imagining that he might lose his heart in the process!
AN INCONVENIENT ENGAGEMENT (4442, $3.99)
by Joy Reed
Rebecca Wentworth was furious when she saw her betrothed waltzing with another. So she decides to make him jealous by flirting with the handsomest man at the ball, John Collinwood, Earl of Stanford. The “wicked” nobleman knew exactly what the enticing miss was up to— and he was only too happy to play along. But as Rebecca gazed into his magnificent eyes, her errant fiancé was soon utterly forgotten!
SCANDAL’S LADY (4472, $3.99)
by Mary Kingsley
Cassandra was shocked to learn that the new Earl of Lynton was her childhood friend, Nicholas St. John. After years at sea and mixed feelings Nicholas had come home to take the family title. And although Cassandra knew her place as a governess, she could not help the thrill that went through her each time he was near. Nicholas was pleased to find that his old friend Cassandra was his new next door neighbor, but after being near her, he wondered if mere friendship would be enough…
HIS LORDSHIP’S REWARD (4473, $3.99)
by Carola Dunn
As the daughter of a seasoned soldier, Fanny Ingram was accustomed to the vagaries of military life and cared not a whit about matters of rank and social standing. So she certainly never foresaw her tendre for handsome Viscount Roworth of Kent with whom she was forced to share lodgings, while he carried out his clandestine activities on behalf of the British Army. And though good sense told Roworth to keep his distance, he couldn’t stop from taking Fanny in his arms for a kiss that made all hearts equal!
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Sweet Savage Heart
Janelle Taylor
For:
Kay Garteiser, a dear friend who has such à special and supportive “romantic spirit;”
Virginia Brown, my very good friend and a superb writer;
Virginia Driving Hawk Sneeve, from whom I’ve learned so much about the Sioux chiefs and the inspiring Dakota Nation.
Raised on the Plains with a spirit just as wild,
Lives an Indian princess half woman, half child.
On her wits and courage she was taught to depend,
Now, to the whiteman’s way, she is forced to bend.
Will it be justice or only a selfish game?
Who will step forth her wild heart to tame?
Indian is her heart, but white is her skin;
Is there a way for her two facets to blend?
Once free as the air, is this deed right or wrong?
Blithe child of nature, now where does she belong?
When fate opens a new path, where will it end?
For who has the power to tame a wild wind?
Chapter One
Dakota Territory
May 3, 1867
It was a busy time of year with the spring buffalo hunt and the constant flood of whites onto the ancestral lands of the Sioux. It was a time of great peril and many changes—for the Oglala tribes in the Lakota branch of the Dakota Nation and for a white girl who had lived for ten years as the daughter of Chief Soaring Hawk of the Red Arrow Band. Sadly, tragically, Soaring Hawk had been slain; the band was now ruled by his son, Lone Wolf. Indeed, times were rapidly and painfully altering for the flaming-haired, blue-eyed girl who was trapped between two warring cultures and who seemingly belonged to neither world. But she desperately wanted to find inner peace and the answers to the mysteries and influences that controlled her life and continuously plagued her mind and daily existence during these troubled times. The North/South war had ended and the whites had turned eyes of conquest toward the west; now an ominous conflict was brewing in these lands and another one was brewing within the heart and life of Wild Wind.
The warrior Buffalo Slayer urged his horse toward the mottled stallion that carried their new chief, Lone Wolf. The younger brave informed the stalwart warrior of the inquisitive “wild wind” who was rapidly blowing down their backs. The seasoned warrior glanced over his bare shoulder, frowned in vexation, and told his braves to continue toward their meeting point with other Oglala and Hunkpapa hunting parties while he halted to order his adopted sister back to camp. The warriors and braves were amused by the willful but beautiful Indian princess who would have gladly performed the Sun Dance to become a warrior. Many in this group had been rejected by her, but in such a way as to inspire more hunger rather than resentment or discouragement.
Lone Wolf dismounted and tied his reins to a bush. He fretted over Watogla Tate’s ceaseless streak of defiance, her impulsive ways, her annoying independence, her refusal to obey his commands. She wanted to race the wind on her white stallion, which only she could mount and master. She wanted to perform the duties and practices of warriors—to hunt, track, raid with his band, and sit in the ceremonial lodge and be a part of the talks and votes. She still wanted to shadow him as she had since becoming his sister ten winters ago. It was time she realized they were no longer children, he mused in annoyance. It was too late to change past years, when he and his recently deceased father, Soaring Hawk, had allowed her to do as she pleased and had actually enjoyed and boasted of her immense skills. How foolish that had been.
He asked himself if it mattered that she could ride and fight better than many braves. Did it matter that her lance or arrow never missed its mark? Did it matter that she could swim as skillfully as the otter? Did it matter that she could track a disguised or aged trail? She was a female! H
e had been chief one full moon. His band and others were observing his leadership and prowess. If he could not properly control his own tepee, they would look upon him unfavorably.
He knew he must convince her that a woman cannot change her sex, or her role in life; such things are controlled and decided by the Great Spirit.
Lone Wolf reluctantly admitted that he and his father had been too lenient with Watogla Tate. During the past year, his father had been too weak from a soldier’s bullet—it was this viciously consuming wound that had finally claimed Soaring Hawk’s life—to battle this headstrong creature who had been thrust into their lives long ago and had been accepted by them at the direct command of the Great Spirit, Wakantanka; and he, Lone Wolf, had been too ensnared by his responsibilities, his love for her, and his many adventures to realize what was happening to his cherished white sister. But now, with Soaring Hawk gone, it was up to him to discipline and train her.
Yet the constant verbal fights they waged were wearing thin on the warrior, for he had more vital matters to consider and handle. Feeding and protecting his people and guarding his sacred lands against white conquest weighed heavily in his mind and heart. These days she provoked his anger faster and caused it to run deeper. Others were teasing both him and her. During these perilous times, he needed the full respect and support of his band and their Lakota brothers. He could allow no mark of weakness or ridicule to stain his face or threaten his leadership and the Lakotas’ survival. His sister had left him no choice; she would have to be forced to obey his orders!
Lone Wolf wondered how he could reach her, how he could stop these foolish dreams of hers. He hated to force her into a marriage to settle their war of words and wills, but he must, or all that he knew and was could be in peril. The hostilities with the white man were increasing; he needed the total confidence and loyalty of his people. Her misbehavior was casting bad shadows over both of them. She was closing off all paths to escape, except one. Countless braves and warriors from their tribe and other tribes desired her. She had spurned each one. Soon she would have to marry and begin her own family. Perhaps a mate and children would tame her wild spirit.
Lone Wolf stood tall and alert as he awaited his audacious sister. She had become aware that her presence had been discovered and she had ceased her stealthy approach. He was glad he had told Buffalo Slayer to guard their backs, for now he could force her home before their Lakota brothers discovered her embarrassing defiance.
Her hair was unbraided, and the wavy mane swirled and tangled in the breeze she created with her fast pace. As the locks whipped wildly in the wind, they seized the sun’s rays and reflected its fiery glow. If she had not been his sister, he might have been stimulated by the shapely legs, revealed by her raised skirt, as they deftly gripped the horse’s sleek body. His sister was slender, but firm and nimble. She could move as rapidly and agilely as a bee but appear as lovely and delicate as the flower upon which it landed. Although her flesh was nearly as tanned as most Indians, it was a different shade, a color that favored newborn colts in early spring. He envisioned her compelling winter-sky eyes, no doubt filled with determination and eagerness. Truly she was a beautiful and body-stirring creature, though one who had refused to use such magic to lure a mate.
The girl’s shapely body grew larger against the horizon as she closed the remaining distance between them. Lone Wolf worried over her conduct and his necessary response to it. He wondered if it was her white blood that was causing the unrest and rebellion within her. After all, Watogla Tate was his adopted sister; she was all white. She had once been a captive of the fierce Kiowas, until his brave father had attacked their camp after they had encroached on Oglala lands. He had won many coups by stealing weapons and horses and by taking many captives. This white girl had been nearly eight winters old then, and a sacred vision had commanded Soaring Hawk to adopt her.
Lone Wolf could close his dark eyes and recall the pathetic creature whom his father had brought into their tepee after that raid. She had been so dirty and afraid, too scared to talk or move or cry. There had been bruises and scratches on her skinny body and tangled knots in her filthy hair. Her grimy dress had been torn in several places, but thankfully she had not shown any feminine traits at that early age. Those gray-blue eyes had appeared so large and so full of terror and sadness. She had been a slave to the Kiowa chief’s second wife, and she had been intimidated and abused by the hateful woman in this demeaning position. To reflect upon such cruel treatment of an innocent and helpless child evoked new anger in him against his enemies, the Kiowas. Silently he raged. A small child should never be treated as an enemy!
The day Soaring Hawk had returned from that raid, the Great Spirit had spoken to him through a vision, telling him to take that captive child into his tepee as his daughter and to name her Watogla Tate, Wild Wind, for Soaring Hawk had won his victory and her capture during a violent wind storm: it was a name well suited to the girl, who could behave just as unpredictably as a wild wind. From that moon to this one, the white girl with flaming hair had lived with them. How she had changed during the past years! he reflected now.
Wild Wind had learned to protect herself, physically and emotionally. She had worked on defensive skills and had sharpened her senses as if her very life had depended on them. She had once confessed to him that she would never allow anyone or anything to hurt her again. Perhaps that persistence and determination and the motives behind them were the reasons why he had assisted her in her training, training that had done as much damage as good for her as well as him. Many times he had dreamed that her destiny did not lie with his people. Many times he had dreamed of her leaving their camp to travel a long and dangerous path, a path that led to the destiny she had been born to live. For years he had been preparing her to face and conquer that perilous challenge. But with her practiced skills and honed instincts had come the belief that she was as effective and as proficient as any male warrior. And, he vexingly confessed to himself, perhaps she was. Yet she had become an Indian maiden and would have to exist as one. For many years they had not spoken of the deaths of her white family or her abuse at the Kiowas’ hands. Perhaps with a wounded mind, the injuries to body and spirit were suppressed, as her white childhood had been. Perhaps secret resentment against her Kiowa captors was inspiring her to refuse marriage to any Indian. Maybe deep inside she did not feel as if she belonged here. Perhaps she was training and waiting for the Great Spirit to return her feet to her destined path. If outsiders had not continued to mention her white skin and blood, it would have been forgotten by her, his people, and their Lakota brothers. But the more they endured this vicious war with the whites, the more her white skin, blue-gray eyes, fiery hair, defiant ways, and high rank were noticed and scorned by his and other bands. Too many saw a white enemy in a place of honor in the Oglala camp, not Soaring Hawk’s daughter or Lone Wolf’s sister. It was a tormenting situation, which needed a swift and acceptable resolution.
No matter what his sister did or said, he knew she had a tender and caring spirit. She was as lively as a muskrat. She was as gentle as a doe. Her smile could be as warming as the sun and her laughter as musical as a watery cascade. Sadly, Wild Wind rarely let such special traits show, as if exposing them would endanger her hard covering and bring about more anguish.
The Indian princess now pulled on the reins to halt her stallion. She tossed her leg over his back and gracefully dismounted. It did not require keen eyes or a sharp mind to detect the change in her brother’s attitude today. Quivers of uneasiness teased over her body and a knife of cold reality stabbed into her racing heart. The fact that Lone Wolf had reached his limits in patience and tolerance was exposed boldly in his ominous gaze and rigid stance. He did not smile or relax as she joined him. She was alarmed by the resolve and barely leashed anger that she read in his expression, though fear was something she detested in herself and in others. It was as if she were trapped upon a landslide, and she sensed there was no way she could halt her movement
s or prevent her injuries.
She wondered why she felt an outsider with the people who had rescued her, adopted her, and raised her as one of their own. She could not comprehend why she seemed so restless. Even if she did not think and behave like the other women, this was the only life she knew; yet she could not accept her designated role in it. There was an unknown hunger that ate at her heart and mind daily and denied her peace and forced her to disobey. It was as if an uncontrollable force was pushing her toward a vital challenge that continued to elude her. Help me, Great Spirit, she prayed. Help me understand who I am and what I am seeking. Help me find my rightful place. Help my brother and our people understand and accept why I cannot be as they desire me to be.
Exasperated, Lone Wolf decided to take a rash but stern path with his sister. “Tokiya la hwo? Takca yacin hwo?” he queried, tersely asking her where she was going and what she wanted. Before Wild Wind could respond, Lone Wolf scolded to embarrass her, “Why does my sister race after warriors as a fool without honor and wits? Anger fills my heart and head, Watogla Tate. Have you no pride, no shame, no sense of duty and loyalty? Do you not see how you are destroying my love and respect for you? Do you not see you are stealing the peace in our tepee? Does it mean nothing that you are staining my honor and rank? Do you think only of Wild Wind and her desires? You—”
“I want to observe your first talk with the Hunkpapas as our chief. Pride fills my heart and excitement clouds my head. I will stay hidden, my brother. It is a great day for us. Please, let me—”
“Inila!” Lone Wolf harshly ordered her to silence, rebuking, “Do not cut into the words of a warrior, your chief! Have you learned nothing of our customs and laws since living with us for so many winters? You defy our ways and bring dishonor to your family. I can allow no more disobedience,” he warned coldly. “You bring shame to the tepee of Chief Lone Wolf and to our band of Oglalas. You shame Wild Wind. We made you the daughter of our chief and the sister of Lone Wolf. We loved you and protected you. Why have you dishonored and pained us? You cause my warriors and others to laugh at me. How can warriors ride behind a fool? How can they follow the commands of one who cannot control his own tepee? Your disobedience and dark pride prove that there is no Indian heart within a body without Indian blood. Each moon you become more white than Oglala. It brings sadness and anger to my heart to view such evil within my chosen sister.”
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