She looked up at him. His eyes were filled with love for her. She smiled seductively. She could feel her entire body quivering with desire. "Fiery," she answered. "I'm too old and time is too short for wooing."
Harrison swooped down on her, pressing his mouth hard against hers. She felt the thrust of his tongue and she parted her lips, welcoming him. Their tongues twisted passionately as she pulled him down over her wanting to feel the hardness of his body pressed against her soft curves.
He ran his hands over her body, touching her breasts, the flat of her belly, her woman's mound. Leah writhed beneath him. Waves of pleasure surged through her veins. She could feel her heart pounding. His rough, masculine hands were everywhere, touching her, exploring her most intimate places.
She could feel his stiff rod pressing against her inner thighs. She raised her hips provocatively against him, her need growing more urgent with every moment.
Harrison chuckled. "You're too anxious, sweet." He sat up and straddled her so that his weight was on his knees and not her hips. He pressed his mouth to her mouth and nipped at her lower lip. "Entirely too anxious."
She opened her eyes. The light of the fire cast a halo around his head of long black hair. God, how good this was. God, how much she would miss him when he was gone.
Leah saw Harrison reach out and pull the bucket he'd brought in from outside a little closer. "What are you doing?" she asked, smiling up at him.
He reached into the bucket and lifted out one finger of snow. "Just trying to cool you down," he teased as he dropped the lump of wet melting snow between her breasts.
Leah squealed and tried to wiggle away, but Harrison just laughed deep in his chest. "Cold?"
"Yes!" She struggled beneath him, but he held her pinned down with his muscular thighs. "Yes, it's cold!"
He leaned over her and licked up the snow. Waves of hot, shivering pleasure washed over Leah. "Oh . . ." she sighed.
"Mmmmm," he groaned. He dug up another finger of snow and this time rubbed it into her belly.
Leah tightened her stomach muscles. The snow was cold, but already she could feel the heat of his tongue. The anticipation made her moan with pleasure. "Is this how you Shawnee torture women?" she managed.
"And now that you've found our secret I can never release you . . ."
She lifted her lashes. Waves of excitement more intense than she could ever remember washed over her. "Who said anything about wanting to get away?" she purred.
With the next scoop of snow, Leah closed her eyes. The cold, wet snow dribbled between the soft folds of her skin and she arched her back. She tangled her fingers in his hair, straining against him as he lowered his mouth.
Leah grew dizzy with ecstasy. The light of the fire and the hard reality of the floor beneath her faded in her mind. All that mattered now was this man she loved and the exquisite torture of his tongue.
"Harrison," she groaned. She tugged at his shoulders, knowing she was very nearly at the point of climax.
He lifted his head and laid his cheek on her belly. She put her arms out to him. He stretched out over her and she parted her thighs. She clung to him and arched her back as he slipped into her.
"Harrison, Harrison," she moaned. She could feel the pressure of her desire building up inside her. She lifted her hips to meet his, stroke after stroke.
"Leah . . . "
All too soon she found the release she was seeking. Leah called out in ultimate pleasure and Harrison echoed her.
"I love you," he cried fiercely. "I love you and I'll not give you up." He buried his face in the crook of her neck, hugging her tightly. "Not this time."
Leah rested her head on the bearskin rug and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. Why did life have to seem so hopeless? she wondered. Why?
Chapter Sixteen
Twice more during the night Leah and Harrison made love. It was a night Leah knew she would remember forever. But all too soon the rays of the morning sunlight beamed through the tiny cabin window. All too soon it was time to rise and make ready to move on.
They ate a light breakfast of leftover corn muffins on the floor in front of the hearth, talking little. Both seemed to be lost in thoughts of the magic of the previous night, both afraid to shatter that magic, knowing they must.
It was time to dress and start their trek up the Hudson. Harrison was certain that if they kept up a steady pace, they'd arrive at Fort DePounce before nightfall.
Leah rose off the bearskin rug, Harrison's torn coat thrown over her shoulders for warmth. She wore nothing but her shift. "You're going to take their clothes? she asked, watching him dig through a crude chest at the end of the bed.
"We need decent clothing that will keep us warm and dry. Noah won't mind. I'd do the same for him, were he in my predicament." He tossed her a leather tunic from the trunk. "Try it on."
She held up the woman's garment. It was long-sleeved with a scooped neck, falling almost to her knees with slits at both hips. A pattern of quilling detailed the neckline making the tunic beautiful in its own simple, stark way. "We should leave some sort of payment."
He tossed her a pair of leggings. "These too. I'll leave Noah a note, but your money is running short. I suppose we should have gone back to Tanner's Gift after the shipwreck, but I was afraid we would lose too much time."
Leah dropped his coat on a stool and pulled the soft leather over her head. As her hand came through the sleeve, she caught a glimmer of the gold wedding band she wore. She smoothed the tunic, amazed by how comfortable it was despite its close cut at her hips. She stepped into the leggings, feeling a little silly. "I never thought I'd see the day I wore a man's breeches."
Harrison pulled a larger tunic over his head. It had no quilling, but was fringed at the hem. "They're not breeches, they're leggings and among the Indians both men and women wear them in the winter. You'll find it much easier to walk without the burden of your skirts. I know you will."
Leah laced up the hip, tying the leggings on. "Mayhap, but I still feel odd."
He leaned over, sticking his head into the chest. He came up with a pair of white doeskin moccasins. "See if these are big enough, Miss Dainty Foot."
She caught both moccasins in mid air and fired one back at him. It struck him in the shoulder and glanced off and hit the floor.
They both laughed as she took a seat on a three-legged stool and began to roll on one wool stocking.
Harrison frowned. "Indians don't wear stockings, Leah."
"Well, I'm not an Indian." She rolled on her other stocking, pushing the excess material that bagged at her ankles up under the leggings. Then she slipped her foot into the first moccasin and began to lace it up. "I wear these outside the leggings?"
He was slipping his bare feet into a larger pair of moccasins. "Yes. Tied properly you can wade through a stream to your knees and not get wet."
The soft white leather molded to her foot and calf. She wiggled her toes. "They fit, thank the good Lord!"
He tossed her the moccasin she'd hit him with. "You'll be surprised how much warmer leather is than wool."
Leah stood shifting her shoulders, getting the feel of her new clothes. "The tunic's heavy."
"But warm. I promise you." Dressed, he stood slapping his thighs. "Now cloaks, some food, ammunition for your pistol, and we'll be set to go."
She eyed the pistol lying on the table where Harrison had put it last night. "I don't know that I want the thing." She looked at him. "I killed a man yesterday, Harrison."
"It's called survival, sweet. Another man attacks you, and you'll kill him, too." He walked by, pushing the pistol into her hand. "Promise me."
She had to admit the weight of the weapon felt good in her hand. It made her feel as though she was in control of her own life. Harrison was right. She wasn't proud of the fact that she'd killed a man. Last night she'd prayed for his soul. But she was alive and as long as she was alive, there was hope for William.
"Is it loaded?"
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"This man loaded it last night."
She smiled and he looked up at her. "What?"
She pointed. "You put on the clothing and you're a Shawnee again. You even lapse into the cadence. How do you do it?"
He tied a belt with a sheath on it around his hips and slipped his knife into it. "I can't explain it, Leah." He searched for the right words. "It's as if there are two men inside me." He lifted an eyebrow. "Does that bother you?"
She shook her head, smiling. "I like them both."
As he walked by, he pressed a kiss to her temple. "There's a rabbit fur hat hanging on a peg near the door. Tie back your hair and put it on. From a distance I'd prefer that men didn't recognize you for a woman. The fewer men I have to kill, defending you, the better I'll feel." He looked back over his shoulder at her. "Of course after yesterday, I'm beginning to think you don't need me."
"But I do," she said softly to herself. "More than I had realized."
While Harrison packed two leather bags of food, Leah braided her hair in the Indian style and then tucked the long red plait under her hat. She pulled the hat down low over her forehead. She turned to face him. "How do I look?"
He smirked. "You'll do." He tossed her a leather bag and a waterskin filled with snow. "You carry food and water; I carry food and water. That way if we get separated—"
"We're not going to be separated. Nothing's going to happen," she interrupted.
"That way if we get separated," he continued, "we'll both have food." He dumped a bucket of snow onto the fire and it hissed and went out. "I left a note with our clothing for Noah. Maybe we'll stop back headed south. We could thank him personally."
He went to the door and took two hide cloaks off pegs at the door. They were really nothing more than cured skins with slits made for armholes and leather ties at the neck. "Ready, Leah? We have to go."
She had walked over to the crude table where he'd left their clothing and the note scrawled across a tiny piece of paper he'd torn off a sugar cone. Her back to Harrison, Leah spun the wedding band she'd worn on her finger for nine years.
"Leah."
"Coming." She slipped the band off her finger and laid it on the note. Then she turned for the door. Her strides were long and determined. "I'm ready. Let's go. The sooner we get to the fort, the sooner I'll have my son back."
Leah and Harrison trudged through the snow all day long. Fearful another band of Huron renegades might pass through, they walked in the forest instead of on the path that wound along the Hudson. The walking was hard for Leah. She was tired and the snow drifts were high in places, but she was determined to keep up. She wouldn't let Harrison find reason to leave her behind. When he found William she knew she had to be there.
They talked sparingly all day long. Leah told herself it was to conserve energy, but Harrison's strange pensiveness bothered her. It was as if the closer they got to the fort, the more distant he became. She knew he was thinking about Edmund, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything.
Just as twilight was settling in, Harrison stopped unexpectedly. "This is as far as you go."
Leah looked at him, totally taken back. She'd not expected this, not for a moment. He had taken her completely off guard. "As far as I go? What are you talking about? We haven't reach Fort DePounce yet!"
He dropped his pack on the snowy ground. "You can't go in there. I don't know if it's held by English soldiers, Iroquois warriors, or Washington's men. You will stay here and you will wait for me."
Leah felt her cheeks grow hot. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "The hell I will! This is my son we're talking about. My husband!"
Harrison bristled. "Oh, your husband? That's who you're concerned for now? I thought it was the boy. I thought you said you didn't care what happened to the father as long as I found the son."
When she looked into his eyes, his piercing gaze frightened her. "Don't twist my words, Harrison!" She threw her pack to the ground. "You said we would go to the fort without Washington's soldiers. You said I could go with you."
"I never said you would go into the fort. It's too dangerous. Too dangerous for me, for you, for the boy."
Leah rubbed her eyes. Her head was pounding and her feet and hands were cold. She felt betrayed. "I have to go with you," she said softly. "Even if he's dead, I have to know."
"I go in without you, or not at all." He began to move piles of brush, forming a crude shelter for her against a huge fallen tree.
She looked past him, her gaze unfocused. Gone was the gentle man who had held her in his arms last night. The man she faced now was not the Harrison she knew, not even the Harrison she'd come to know in the last weeks. This was the same savage she'd encountered at the Indian village. She looked away, tears of frustration brimming in her eyes. She had no choice but to let him go without her. She had no idea how far away the fort was or even in what direction.
"Then go with you," she said harshly. "But I won't forgive you for this. It's not right to bring me so far and then leave me behind."
"You'll be alive," he said stiffly, "and that's what matters." He didn't give her a chance to speak. "You wait here for me. One day, two. If I'm not here in two days, follow the Hudson back."
"I won't go without William! Not without my Wills."
"Do as I say, woman!"
She turned her back to him.
"Stay here in the shelter," he went on. "Don't light a fire if you don't have to. I'll leave my food ration with you." He paused for a moment. "You follow me and I'll know, Leah. You follow me and I'll lead you in circles, you understand?"
She made no reply.
"This man will be back."
Leah didn't turn until she was certain he'd disappeared from sight. Then all she could do was stand there in the falling snow, her arms hanging at her sides. Never in her life had she felt so utterly alone.
Harrison kept his back stiff with resolution as he stalked away. He knew he'd been rough on Leah, but he didn't know how else to handle her. Her life was too precious to him to risk her being injured or killed. Fort DePounce was no place for a woman. What he'd said was true. He didn't know who held it and he wasn't taking any chances.
Harrison zigzagged through the falling snow for more than an hour. Darkness fell on the forest, but he pressed on.
All he could think about was Beale and what he would do if he found him. Would he kill him right there? Kill him in cold blood? Would he leave him behind, take the boy, and run?
How perverse his situation was. If he brought Edmund home to his wife, then Harrison lost the woman he considered his own wife. But Beale was the man he had vowed to rescue. The more he thought about the situation, the more confused he became. Finally, he decided he would know what to do when the time came.
Harrison first realized that he was drawing closer to the fort when he smelled the smoke. It wasn't just campfires burning. The odor was strong in the air. The fort had to be on fire.
Another quarter of a mile and he heard the first cries of men. Flintlocks sounded. Men screamed out in pain. The closer Harrison grew to the fort the less confidence he held. If the child had been here, what chance was there he had survived the attack? It had been weeks since he'd been captured, two months. Surely Leah's son was dead.
Harrison contemplated just turning and going back to Leah. He had vowed to his fellow villagers that he would remain neutral in the war. He wanted to play no part in the fighting. He could just tell Leah the child was dead. He knew it would cut her to the quick, but wasn't it better for her to accept the fact now than to drag out the inevitable?
Memories of the previous night flashed through his head as he crept closer to the fort. Never had he imagined he could love as deeply as he loved Leah.
So he had to do this. He had to do this for her. Even if he could do nothing but take back a shred of William's clothing, he had to find out what had happened to the boy. After the pain he'd caused Leah all these years, after all the pain they'd caused each other, this was im
portant to them both.
Ahead, in a clearing, Harrison could see the flames of the burning fort shooting up into the black sky. At his feet lay a dead man dressed in a blue uniform with a feathered Huron arrow in his back. The man, not much more than a boy, had been retreating. Captain Mitchell had kept his word. He'd sent a message to investigate DePounce on the Hudson. These were patriots that had attacked the fort in search of Captain Beale and his son. There could be no other reason why they would be so far from the other American troops.
Stepping over the dead boy, Harrison crept around the perimeter of the fort. Blue coats still battled at the gates, but they were falling fast. Iroquois arrows flew over the walls of the fort one after another.
Harrison crouched in the snow. The sounds of hooting Iroquois and dying men filled his head. Who was he kidding to think he was a Shawnee warrior? He despised the thought of murder.
A startling war cry filled the air and Harrison looked up to see a band of Hurons come around the far side of the fort walls.
Reinforcements.
A patriot army bugle sounded and the dozen blue-coated soldiers that still stood began to back into the forest. The commander of the unit, on horseback, rode between his men, shouting commands.
Harrison eyed the high walls of the fort. Indian women from inside were throwing snow over to put out the structure fires.
How was he going to get inside? This may have been an English fort, but it was obvious to Harrison who held it.
A crunch in the snow behind him made Harrison turn. He felt the presence of the Huron before he even saw him. As he spun around, Harrison's hand went to his belt. It was primal instinct. The hilt of the knife left his palm before he made a conscious effort to take aim.
Harrison saw the war club above his head. Then he heard the sickening slice of the knife as it cut through the Huron's chest cavity and struck his heart.
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