Candace McCarthy

by Fireheart

  “I’ll just take a peek.” She raised the deer flap just a little, using the small opening to peer outside. She saw nothing at first, and then there was movement between two wigwams.

  Joanna felt her heart begin to pound hard as she spied an Iroquois warrior entering the lodge across the way, and heard the screams of its occupant.

  “Quick, Mary! ” Joanna cried. “Find us some weapons! An Iroquois has entered the lodge of Woman with Eyes of Hawk!”

  “What!” Mary scrambled to her side after grabbing a knife and a tomahawk.

  Joanna stared at the choice of weapons with horror. “Which one can you use?”

  “The knife,” Mary said. “You take the tomahawk, but be careful!”

  Accepting the tomahawk, Joanna found the weapon to be lighter than she’d thought. She lifted it with one hand to test her strength. “Let’s go!”

  Mary caught her arm. “Where?”

  “To see if we can help!”

  “And get ourselves killed?”

  Joanna flashed her a glance. “There is only one Iroquois, and there are two of us.”

  Despite Mary’s objections, Joanna slipped from the wigwam and hurried to the next lodge. Her mouth dry with fear, she raised the door flap, and reared back in surprise at what she saw.

  Woman with Eyes of Hawk stood over the prone body of the Iroquois warrior. The matron met Joanna’s gaze and grinned. “Stupid Cayuga didn’t know that this matron is good with a war club.”

  Joanna saw then that the woman had a war club of her own, one she’d apparently held in readiness should someone enter and attack. Her fear receding slightly, Joanna grinned at the older woman. Her grin became a chuckle.

  “Is he dead?” Mary asked, coming in from behind.

  Woman with Eyes of Hawk shook her head. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “He is not dead. We will leave his death to our village men.”

  “Shouldn’t we tie him up then?” Joanna asked. The other women agreed. While they worked to bind the man with ropes made of sinew, the sounds of fighting within the village continued.

  Joanna shivered when she heard a child’s cry, followed by a woman’s scream. She stood, after securing her piece of sinew on the Indian, and regarded the two women with wide eyes.

  “We just can’t wait here!” she said, hugging herself with her arms.

  Woman with Eyes of Hawk rose and patted her shoulder. “It will be over soon.”

  “That is what scares me.” Joanna picked up the tomahawk from where she had set it down earlier.

  “Our men will win. They have prepared for this.”

  Mary and Joanna exchanged glances, each hoping that the old matron was right.

  The village became silent suddenly, and Joanna felt the eerie quiet more than the noise. “What’s happening?” she whispered, going to the door.

  “No,” Mary said. “Stay away from the doorway. We’ll know the situation soon enough.”

  Suddenly, they heard a loud, keening wail right outside the door flap. It was the sound of a pain so deep that it raised the hair on Joanna’s arms and neck. Startled, she hurried to look outside.

  “Joanna!” She heard Mary’s hushed warning cry, but Joanna refused to listen. She had to know who that was.

  She moved the door flap, ready to spring to someone’s defense, then halted. The sight before her shocked her. It was Rising Bird’s wild cry she’d heard. He stood peering into his wigwam, looking grief-stricken.

  Joanna understood the situation immediately “Rising Bird!” she cried.

  He spun at the sound, his expression frantic. Then he saw Joanna with his wife and the old matron behind her, and joy entered his features. “Mary!” he cried.

  With a low moan of understanding, Mary swept past Joanna and into her husband’s open arms.

  Woman with Eyes of Hawk moved closer to Joanna. “He thought that you both had been kidnapped.”

  Joanna nodded, moved by the emotional display of love between Mary and her husband. “They love each other.”

  “Kihiila,” the old woman said, moving to Joanna’s side. “It is a bond such as this that you wish for your own.”

  Surprised, Joanna glanced over at Woman with Eyes of Hawk. She opened her mouth to protest, but found herself nodding instead. “It must be wonderful to be loved that much.”

  The matron’s smile was gentle. “You are loved that much, Autumn Wind. You are daughter to the Lenape. You are much loved by all of us.”

  Joanna was deeply touched by the woman’s words. It wasn’t the type of love she’d meant, but Woman with Eyes of Hawk had pleased her.

  “I have been gone a long time,” she said.

  “We are your people. You were gone, but now you’ve come home.”

  The younger woman sighed. “I wish it were that simple. I must go back. I have responsibilities there, people who depend on me.”

  “There is no one else to take your place?”

  It was something to which Joanna had never really given much thought. She had been groomed, molded, and beaten into the position of Roderick Neville’s heiress. What would happen if she did choose not to return to Neville Manor? Who would manage the estate? Who would care about all who lived and worked there?

  “I don’t know,” Joanna murmured. But it was something to think about . . . to stay here in the New World among the Lenape.

  The thought made her happy until she remembered that it was possible, and probable, that Moon Dove would one day be Fireheart’s wife.

  Saddened, she shook her head. She couldn’t stay. It would hurt too much to stay. Some physical force beyond understanding drew her to Fireheart. She couldn’t remain and live each day when she might see Moon Dove and Fireheart happy together. She didn’t want the pain of a broken heart.

  My life is in England.

  Joanna smiled as Rising Bird opened his arms to invite her into his hug. She moved toward him easily, needing the comfort of those fatherly arms.

  It would have been wonderful if I could have stayed, she thought, hugging Rising Bird and Mary tightly. And she fought against tears.

  Chapter 12

  The Iroquois had been conquered. Everyone within the village had survived the attack. There were a few injuries during the fight, but nothing serious, nothing that the shaman’s magic and healing powers couldn’t cure.

  As she milled about the village yard afterward, Joanna saw mothers comforting children, wives tending husbands with minor cuts. Several Cayuga braves lay dead, waiting for burial. The brave tied up in Woman with Eyes of Hawk’s lodge would be dispensed with later in a manner Joanna didn’t want to contemplate although she supposed the man deserved it.

  It was dawn as she headed toward the lake, hoping to find Fireheart. There had been no sign of him in the village. She had checked the sachem’s wigwam and found Wild Squirrel awake and alert, and alone with his wife. After ensuring both were fine, she had wandered about the village, checking the lodge of Fireheart’s clan, the Wolf, but he wasn’t to be found there. Although she knew she should stay away from him, Joanna couldn’t rest until she saw for herself that Fireheart was safe and uninjured.

  Rising Bird had told her that their warriors were successful because of Fireheart. He had set up a plan in the event of an Iroquois attack, and the plan had been a smart one. Rising Bird had told her that Fireheart would make a good sachem.

  There was no one on the path through the woods to the lake. As Joanna negotiated the trail, it occurred to her that if she did find Fireheart she might not find him alone. Since she had avoided his company, Fireheart might have sought out Moon Dove.

  She felt a little ache inside at the thought, but it didn’t stop her from continuing to the lake. Her need to see Fireheart was too great.

  There were a few villagers at the water. Little Blossom was there, tending her husband Broken Bow’s shoulder. Joanna stopped briefly to see how the two were faring before she walked along the lakeshore.

  The sun was but a hint of light in the
sky. A soft breeze tossed the surface of the lake, creating ripples. Joanna stopped to pick up a rock and toss it into the water. Disappointed that Fireheart was nowhere to be found, she picked up another and threw it in.

  The fact that she hadn’t seen Moon Dove didn’t make her feel any better, Joanna realized. Were Fireheart and the Indian maiden together, comforting one another after such a terrible night?

  She continued along the lakeshore, well away from the village and the area used most often by the Lenape. Soon, she was enmeshed in vegetation as she moved away from the water’s edge and headed inland. It didn’t matter where she was going. She just wanted to get away.

  As she walked, she had the mental image of Fireheart with Moon Dove. The pain of her thoughts brought tears to her eyes. She walked on, uncaring of where she was going or whether or not she could find her way back. She saw a small clearing, and headed for a huge boulder on the edge. She sat down, wiped the tears from her eyes, then thought of Fireheart and cried harder.

  She had to leave! How long had it been since Rising Bird had sent for Mortimer Grace? she wondered. A week? A fortnight?

  It’s only been a few days. She stood and began to pace the clearing. It suddenly became imperative that she get away. She didn’t want to love Fireheart. She wanted to be happy without him.

  Would she ever be happy without Fireheart? Could she go back to England and find a love of her own?

  He is my love.

  Little Blossom said that Fireheart was destined to marry Moon Dove, she thought.

  “But it hasn’t been decided yet by the matrons,” she murmured.

  But the announcement could be made soon, an inner voice taunted.

  Sniffing, Joanna plunked herself down on the rock and gave in to tears.

  Later, when her tears had stopped and she felt tired from crying, Joanna stood and started back the way she’d come. She had long since left the path, and she didn’t recognize anything familiar as she started back. For the first time, she wondered if she was lost.

  She paused to study her surroundings, and debated about which direction to go. She made a decision and started forward again. When she detected no sign of the village, she began to panic. She continued on, determined to find her way back. When exhausted, she stopped for a few minutes to rest.

  You can’t be far, she told herself. The sun had risen in the sky, and the sight cheered her. Once they discovered her missing, the villagers would search for her. They knew how to read the trail. They’d find signs of her travel, rescue her quickly, and bring her home.

  Should she stay here and wait? she wondered. Her head began to throb, and she cradled it in her hands. She imagined her eyes were still red from crying, and her face was probably streaked from wiping her cheeks with her dirty hands.

  A rustle in the brush brought Joanna’s head up. Alert, she scanned the forest, her muscles tensed with fear.

  Iroquois? Was it possible that one had escaped and was still in the area?

  She tried hard to remember what she’d been told about the fight, but for the life of her she couldn’t recall whether or not all the Cayuga had been killed or captured.

  The sound came again, drawing her attention to the right. She saw the brush move, and she froze. Her mouth dry, she stared as the grass parted and an animal exited the forest, entering the clearing.

  Joanna gaped. A dog? Was that a dog? She stood and moved closer. It looked like a puppy, one of those that lived in Little River, the offspring of one of the larger dogs. Pointy-eared, long-nosed, and with tiny legs, it was a little thing that could be dangerous, but was harmless.

  She crouched low, calling to the dog softly. “Here, boy. Come here, boy.”

  A snap of a dry twig beneath someone’s foot made her stand up in a hurry. She backed away, a lump of fear in her throat, as shrubs, trees, and other brush moved then parted, and a male figure stepped out.

  Joanna gasped until her vision cleared and she recognized the man before her. “Fireheart!”

  “Autumn Wind.” He didn’t seem surprised to see her as he followed the puppy’s path and approached. He paused within several yards of her.

  To Joanna’s amazement, the puppy spied him and trotted back to stand at his feet, whimpering. Fireheart bent to pick up the puppy, which he tucked in one arm. He began to gently stroke the dog’s head with the other hand.

  The picture of man and dog made Joanna’s heart melt with warmth and tenderness.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I had something to do,” he said.

  What? she wondered, but didn’t question him. “I’m glad to see that you were not hurt in the attack.”

  He shook his head. “Mary told me you were not injured. This is good.”

  They spoke as if strangers, not like they’d embraced and kissed and swam naked together, and it saddened her.

  Fireheart glanced around the clearing and frowned. “Why have you come here?”

  “I didn’t mean to. I got lost. I’ve been looking for the village.”

  To her surprise, he smiled. “You are not lost.” He gestured in the direction she’d been traveling. “The village is there.” Then he showed her a few ways to track her trail.

  She sighed, relieved. “Who is your little friend?” she asked, enchanted.

  He glanced down at the puppy with a smile. “This is Little Nose. She is daughter to Big Ear.” He met her gaze with a regretful look. “Big Ear died in the attack. I came out into the forest to bury her.”

  “Poor dear,” Joanna said, moving toward the man and dog. She recalled the squeal of an animal’s pain and shivered.

  Little Nose was an adorable little pup, she thought. And now the dog had lost his mother. Tears pricked behind Joanna’s eyelids as she reached out to stroke the puppy’s head. She knew well what it was to love and lose one’s mother.

  Her fingers collided briefly with Fireheart’s before she pulled them away, dropping them to her sides. She glanced up to find that Fireheart was watching her with an expression that caused her to ache inside.

  “Little Nose is beautiful,” she said.

  “You are beautiful,” he murmured, surprising her.

  She wanted so badly to feel his embrace, but knew it mustn’t happen. She couldn’t allow her emotions to rule her head. “Fireheart—”

  “I speak only the truth, Joanna. I will not be silent. My eyes see beauty, and so I must say it.”

  He bent and set the puppy down. The dog barked until Fireheart withdrew something from the pouch at his breechcloth, a piece of dried meat, which he gave to Little Nose.

  He stood then and the look in his eyes made Joanna catch her breath. “During the attack, I was afraid for you. I feared that you were hurt or kidnapped. When I could leave Wild Squirrel, I hurried to find you, but you were nowhere to be found. Mary said you were fine so I had to believe it. But I wanted to see you with these eyes.”

  She nodded. “I worried about you, too.”

  Her admission made his gaze brighten. “What are we to do, Autumn Wind? You must leave, and I must stay. I want to touch you, and you want to touch me, I think.” He paused as if to wait for her answer.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “I want you.”

  Gladness swelled in her breast then dissipated with her next thought. “Yes, but what if the matrons decide that you should marry Moon Dove?”

  “If you would stay—” he began, then stopped.

  She felt a rush of hope. “Yes?”

  He shook his head and averted his glance. She saw the way his broad, powerful shoulders slumped, and felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. He looked vulnerable and defenseless. Unable to keep from offering comfort, she approached him, touched a spot beneath his right shoulder blade in his muscled back. She saw the ways his muscles tightened and relaxed beneath her touch.

  He spun then, caught her arm, and tugged her against him. Cupping her face, he stared into her eyes, at her mouth. With a harsh gro
an, he kissed her hotly, deeply, until Joanna moaned softly and put her hands on his shoulders and clung.

  He released her with a muffled curse and stepped away. “This man is sorry,” he said huskily. There was regret in his dark eyes . . . yet there was something more. It was that other emotion simmering in the dark depths that captured her attention and her heart.

  “Fireheart,” she whispered.

  He met her gaze, saw the invitation in her green eyes, and with a wild cry, he came back to her, embracing her once again.

  They kissed passionately, then softly like two lovers learning to pleasure the other. Joanna gloried in the strength of his arms, in the warmth and joy of his kiss. She wanted to finish what they’d started. She wanted to be joined with this man.

  “We should get back,” she said against his chest as he held her.

  He nodded. “Kihiila.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “Then let us stay.”

  “But Moon Dove—”

  He frowned. “She wishes to marry the sachem. ”

  “And isn’t that you?” She glanced up to read his expression.

  He closed his eyes, tightened his hold on her. “No, Wild Squirrel is our sachem. ”

  “Yes, but someday—”

  “Wild Squirrel will live many summers yet,” he insisted.

  Joanna, studying his beloved features, hoped he was right, but she’d wondered....

  When she had seen him today, she’d been surprised to see the return of an ailing old man.

  “I’m sorry for what I did—when we were children,” she said. She needed to say it before she left. She’d been horrid to Yellow Deer, and the young brave he’d been hadn’t deserved such treatment. She wanted Fireheart to know that she regretted ignoring the tender feelings of a young boy.

  He loosened his hold on her. “You were beautiful to a young boy’s heart,” he said softly, with a gentle smile. “You are more than beautiful to this grown man’s....” He tapped his chest, drawing her attention to the superb condition of his muscular flesh.

  She looked at him with her heart in her eyes, and a lump rising in her throat. “You are the one who is beautiful,” she murmured, giving in to the urge to touch his chest.