With all his heart, he believed Jenna and her niece had made all the difference. "Hey," he greeted.
Jenna actually yipped, her eyes widening in surprise as she spun to face him.
"I didn't hear you come in," she said.
"That's obvious," he commented with a laugh. He glanced down at the boxes in his hands, then took a step forward, intent to offer the gifts before he lost his nerve. "I have something. Something for you. And Lily."
Unmitigated delight brightened her already flushed and joy-filled face. His entire body responded to her beauty; his chest went tight, his muscles tensed, and he was inundated with an amazing and permeating heat.
He looked away from her, sucking in a cooling breath as inconspicuously as possible. The instant he felt that he'd garnered control, he lifted his gaze and offered her both boxes.
Jenna accepted them, sliding her palm beneath them, but they proved too unwieldy for her to manage with one hand. She tipped her hip toward Gage and Lily automatically reached out her hands to him.
He took the toddler and Jenna took the boxes in one smooth exchange.
Immediately, Li
ly curled her fingers in his
hair. She seemed fascinated with it and played with his hair whenever she got the chance. She was always gentle. And he didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed feeling her tugs and twirls.
Jenna opened the smaller box, the one sitting on top, and gasped. "They're so cute," she breathed, pulling out the tiny moccasins. "Lily, look!" She lifted the doeskin booties for the baby to see. Lily clapped and then reached out for what she determined was a new toy.
"We're going to put these on your feet, sweet stuff," Jenna told her, setting the larger box on the table so she could tug off her niece's tiny sneakers and slip on the moccasins.
"I hope they fit," Gage said.
Automatically, Lily began kicking her feet joyously and peering downward to stare at her new shoes.
"They fit fine," Jenna announced. "And she loves them. Can you give Gage a kiss?"
The toddler's kiss was more like a wet nibble on the corner of his jaw, but his chest filled with emotion. "I'm glad you like them," he told Lily softly.
Jenna reached for her box. "Can I open mine now?" she asked.
He nodded.
Her reaction this time was less animated, but nonetheless sincere. "They're beautiful, Gage." She ran her fingers over the top of the moccasins. "The beadwork is so delicate. They must have been very expensive. Where did you get them?"
"I made them."
The wonder reflected in her eyes made him puff with pride.
"My grandfather taught me to make moccasins when I was a teen," he told her. "As kids, we're disciplined to avoid idleness. Encouraged to find productive hobbies."
He shrugged. "I stopped the hobby for a while, but went back to it after the accident. I needed something to fill the —" he stopped suddenly, moistening his lips and swallowing "— something to do with my hands." He pulled in a breath. "I have quite a few pair out in the storage building."
"What are you going to do with them?"
He shrugged. "I have no idea."
He could see that her mind was working.
"Could I offer them for sale on the Web site?" she asked.
"People aren't interested in —"
"Oh, but they are! I've been doing some research while putting the site together." She held the moccasins gingerly, as though
t
hey were precious jewels. "Native American items are very hot sellers. Shoes like these would bring a hefty price."
"But I don't need the money. Like I said, it's a hobby. Something to fill my idle time."
She lifted one shoulder a fraction. "Then donate the money to the Community Center."
He blinked. Then he nodded. "Okay. If you think the moccasins will sell."
Jenna grinned with confidence. "I know they will." Then she turned her sparkling honey-brown eyes on Lily. "We're going to fit right in at the Stomp Dance, aren't we, sweet stuff?"
Delicious aromas and lively music filled the air as they arrived at the dance. Gage told her that after dinner had been enjoyed, the sun had set and the bonfire blazed, the more modern instruments — guitars and fiddles and electronic keyboard — would be replaced with the more traditional drums and wind flutes.
A long row of tables had been set up, and they were laden to groaning with food of every description: succulent fried chicken, pulled pork and barbecued beef, baked beans, corn pudding and green beans simmered with bits of smoked ham, mounds of
asparagus marinated in spices, f
latbreads
and corn muffins. Jenna set down the platter of still-warm molasses cookies she'd made to share.
Gage, Jenna and Lily sat on the grass and ate their fill. Then they moseyed through the crowd, listening to the music, visiting and enjoying themselves. Gage introduced her to some of his friends. They chatted with Arlene and Hannah, who just happened to be munching on a couple of Jenna's cookies.
Eventually, the sun lowered beneath the horizon and the first stars began to twinkle. Several men rallied a group of teens who stacked wood for the bonfire. Once the blaze was ignited, Jenna felt a renewed excitement zip and snap in the air.
The sky turned a deep mauve. Wisps of plum-colored clouds floated high overhead. Stillness settled over the crowd. It was as if everyone knew something amazing was about to happen.
The drummers began to pound out a haunting rhythm, and a lone figure danced through the people, and around the fire. A carved mask covered his face. He wore an elaborate outfit — a long headdress enveloped with pristine white feathers, a tanned vest and trousers, beaded moccasins.
G
age leaned close to J
enna, whispering,
"That's Grandfather."
His breath was like velvet against her cheek.
"As our shaman, it is his duty to start the festivities."
The elderly man made a bending and wide scooping motion with one arm, then the other, then lifted his hands toward the sky, never missing a single intricate dance step. For a few moments, she lost sight of him as he moved to the far side of the blaze. But before too long, he came back into view.
"He is honoring our ancestors," Gage said. "He is letting them know we remember."
She watched Chee'pai dance, then glanced around at the enthralled expressions of the crowd. Young and old, men and women — all those assembled seemed to be recalling a far distant time.
A chill coursed through Jenna as she was struck by an amazing revelation. The shaman worked diligently, not just tonight but every day of his life, doing all that was in his power to preserve the treasure with which he'd been entrusted. The treasure that was the Lenape legacy.
She remembered the story Gage had told her about how the land had been stolen, about
how the
very
honor of the
Lenape
tribe had been used against them, about how they had been offered one promise after another only to see each one broken, about how they had been pushed westward, again and again.
Yet, they had survived.
Even though the shaman hadn't spoken a single word, it was clear to Jenna now that Chee'pai — and every single person attending tonight's gathering — felt it a great privilege to be called Lenape.
No wonder the shaman had ranted so during the Council meeting about the young people leaving the reservation. No wonder he'd been so adamant that Lily remain on Broken Bow. No wonder he'd gone to the trouble of teaching his grandson how to make moccasins.
He was only doing his job. He was trying to protect that which he held sacred. The tribe.
Gage had tried to tell her all those weeks ago. But it seemed she'd had to figure it out for herself.
By the time the first dance of the evening ended, Jenna had tears in her eyes. She also had a new respect for Chee'pai.
"You seem lost in thought."
Concern softened Gage
's
onyx eyes.
She
smiled and nodded. "Yes.
It
's
just
overwhelming ... all of this."
Her statement seemed to bewilder him, and she suspected he was going to ask her to elaborate, but the drummers began pounding out a new beat. And the crowd stirred.
Arlene approached them. "It's the Women's Dance," she said, touching Jenna's arm. "Would you like to join us?"
"Oh, no." Jenna would have backed away if she could. "I'm just here to watch tonight, if that's okay."
Hannah joined Arlene, excitement lighting her gaze.
"Is she coming?" Hannah asked her mother.
"Not this time." Arlene looked at Jenna. "Can we take the little one?"
Hannah laughed. "Yes. Miss Lily wants to dance."
"Of course." Jenna handed Lily over to Arlene who danced to the beat toward the other women in the clearing. Even Hoo'ma joined in the festivities, lifting her skirt an inch above her bony knees, tossing back her head and stepping to each thundering punch of the drum.
Emotion welled in Jenna's chest, knotted in her throat. "This is wonderful," she said to Gage. "All of them know the steps. All
those women out there seem so . . . connected. I want Lily to be a part of this. For always. It's like . . . well, look at them . . . it's —" She stopped, so overwhelmed that words failed her.
"We're one big family," Gage provided.
She nodded, not trusting herself to say another word.
He took her hand. "Come on. Let's go find something cold to drink. I think you need a break."
They walked in silence away from the crowd, and Jenna was grateful that Gage was giving her a few moments to pull herself together. Finally, she gazed out toward the horizon and took several deep breaths. His fingers curled tighter around hers as she garnered control of her emotions.
"Better?" he asked.
She nodded, sensing that it wasn't necessary for her to speak.
Remembering how prickly Gage was when they'd first met, she marveled at how comfortable she'd become around him. She liked him. She more than liked him. And not because he was probably the best-looking guy she knew. Or because, with his broad, strong shoulders, his lean torso and powerful thighs, he had a body that
wouldn't quit.
No, it was more than that. She'd discovered that he was interesting. And kind and caring. And intelligent.
Whoa, girl!
a silent voice warned.
Keep this up and you're going to talk yourself right into love.
No way. That wasn't going to happen. Gage wasn't interested. Not in anything permanent. And judging from the way he worked so hard at disregarding the attraction flitting around them like fireflies on a summer evening, Jenna knew he wasn't even interested in anything fleeting.
Gage halted his steps before they reached the area where the coolers were stored. He spun her around to face him.
"You're a special woman, Jenna Butler," he murmured.
Shocked speechless, she gazed up into his face.
He'd released her hand and was now smoothing his palms up her arms, over the curve of her shoulders, caressing the arch where her throat met collarbone. He stared down into her eyes, emanating a magnetism so strong, it was nothing short of magical.
She blinked once, twice, three times, finally grasping that Gage most definitely felt the urge to kiss her.
And this time, he fully intended to act.
Chapter Eight
His mouth slanted down over hers, ardent and demanding. He slid his arms around her, pulled her to him, his strong hands splaying against her back. Enveloped by the heated scent of him, Jenna closed her eyes and relaxed against his chest, parting her lips in an invitation he readily accepted.
He explored with his tongue, nibbled with his teeth, suckled with his lips. Jenna felt light-headed as passion consumed her. Blood whooshed through her ears, her pulse pounded, her heart hammered, nearly drowning out the sound of the drums as her body thudded with a primordial beat all its own.
The roughness of the kiss was just what she wanted, just what she needed, to release the craving she'd confined for far too long. A craving he'd obviously confined, as well. Beyond containment, it now seemed.
He trailed hungry kisses along her jaw. Jenna heard her own shallow and panting breaths.
A flash of fear splintered through her
brain.
What if they had become a spectacle? The wild question
for
c
e
d her eyes to
open. The first thing she realized was that they were in the shadow of a towering hemlock. She glanced toward the crowd, and relief weakened her knees when she saw that everyone had their backs to them, intently watching the Women's Dance.
She let her eyelids flutter closed and relished the feel of Gage's mouth on her skin. His tongue traced a fiery trail to her earlobe. He kissed it, then pressed his lips to her temple. He ravaged her with his kiss, and it was all she could do not to whimper with need. She wanted to unbutton her blouse. She wanted to tug off his shirt. She wanted to feel all of his bare skin against her own.
She whispered his name against his lips, understanding that every desperate emotion rushing through her was conveyed in her husky tone.
He pulled back just enough to gaze down into her face, and Jenna resisted the urge to reach up and touch her fingertips to her moist, tender, deliciously bruised lips. Desire blazed in his black eyes. The yearning raging through him honed the planes and angles of his face.
He wanted her. She felt it in the heat that radiated of
f him in waves. Heard it in his
ragged breath. Felt it as the apex of each quick inhalation brought his
chest
tight
against her breasts. Her nipples budded in response, hardening to sensitive nubs beneath the thin cotton of her top.
"Sweet heaven, Jenna."
He wanted to look away from her, she sensed. But for some reason, he couldn't.
"I don't know what came over me. I —"
He stopped, ran his tongue over his already moist and luscious bottom lip.
"I'm sorry."
Sharp disillusionment doused the flame of her passion, and she took a deep breath. Although he hadn't thought to release her yet, she knew the heated moment was over.
"I know exactly what came over you," she said, her words shaky. "It was the same thing that came over me." Her chest heaved with another deep breath as she slowly shook off the amazing emotions that had captivated her . . . that had captivated them both.
She tipped up her chin boldly. "I'm only sorry that you're sorry."
As if on some strange cosmic cue, the drums ceased and the air went still for the span of several heartbeats while Jenna held Gage's gaze. She stepped away from him then, realizing that what she was feeling was
regret.
But how could that be? she wondered.
She didn't want an intimate relationship with Gage. She'd already decided that in her mind.
He'd already decided that with his words.
Confusion knitted her brow.
"I don't need a drink right now," she told him. "What I need — what we both need, I think — is some space."
She walked back toward the crowd to find Arlene, Hannah and Lily.
Gage chugged the springwater straight from the bottle he'd plucked from the cooler. The icy liquid cooled his throat, but did little to douse the embers of lust still burning low in his belly. That was what he was feeling for Jenna, he was certain. Plain old lust. Closing his eyes, he pressed the cold, wet plastic against his forehead.
Annoyance tensed his jaw until his back molars ached.
He wasn't a randy teenager. He should be able to control himself. His body. These damned inappropriate inclinations.
But they were becoming stronger and stronger. And Jenna had looked so sweet watching her niece participate in the dance with the other women of the tribe. The idea that the Lenape people saw themselves as one h
uge family was a revelation that
had
genuinely hit home with Jenna tonight. She'd nearly become overwhelmed with the realization. He hadn't meant to take advantage of that. Not by any means. But he'd gotten swept up in the moment. He'd have to be more careful not to let that happen in the —
"Grandson."
Gage jerked his head up and saw his grandfather standing beside him. The elderly man had taken off his ceremonial headdress. Chee'pai bent over, reached into the cooler and picked up a bottle of water.
"It is good to see you here," his grandfather said. "It's been a long time since you've attended a gathering."
Thinking about how this man had hurt his parents' feelings, Gage stewed in silence for a moment. But then he remembered what Jenna had said about family. Life could change in the blink of an eye. It was time to set resentment aside and do what he could to heal old wounds.
"I'm enjoying myself tonight," Gage said. "I had forgotten how fun —" he checked himself the instant he realized his word
choice
didn't quite capture his full intent- how important it
is to get together. It's good t
o see old friends again." Pointedly, he
added, "And family."
"It is good." His grandfather nodded. "I've missed you."
"And I've missed you."
The two men clasped each other in an immense bear hug, and Gage's heart warmed.
"Did you see that Jenna is here with her niece?" he asked.
Disapproval flattened his grandfather's mouth. "I saw. But she does not fool anyone. Just as a feather cape wouldn't make a fox an eagle, a pair of fancy moccasins doesn't make her Lenape."
Gage squared his shoulders. "She's not trying to become Lenape. The shoes weren't even her idea. I gave them to her this evening."
Chee'pai looked skeptical but remained silent. "She really does want to learn about our culture," Gage said. "So she can teach Lily about her heritage."
"That child should be raised by her paternal grandparents. They're Indian. They would give —"
"David Collins's parents are old," Gage-pointed out, knowing full well that interrupting his grandfather was terribly rude. "And they're sickly. They're not able to take Lily in. They're not able to keep up with a toddler. Jenna is. Besides that, she loves that child. Why are you so against her?"
He knew full well the answer to his question. He even understood his grandfather's thinking. He just didn't agree with the logic that the People had to remain in a close-knit pack like a family of wolves. If Jenna took Lily away from Broken Bow, that would not make the child less Lenape.
If. . . ?
Gage looked off into the darkness, suddenly astonished. His use of
if
rather than
when
meant that he thought there was some uncertainty about Jenna's leaving the reservation. How and when had he come to that conclusion?
"My grandson," Chee'pai said, breaking into Gage's deep and startling thoughts, "there comes a time when everyone must learn that love isn't always enough. That child needs more than Jenna Butler's love. And I'm going to see that Lily Collins gets everything she needs to become Lenape."
In Gage's mind, Lily didn't need anything from his grandfather to become Lenape. She already was Lenape. But voicing that would only further irritate his grandfather, and Gage had come to the gathering tonight with the thought of smoothing their relationship.
However, he couldn't help but correct
one misstatement.
"She's not Jenna Butler.
She's Jenna Dalton."
His grandfather swiped at his mouth with the back of a weathered hand. "That is something that has been troubling me. Why would you marry that woman? If you decided so suddenly that you needed a wife, there are plenty of single women here on the rez. For instance, Hannah Johnson has never been married —"
"Grandfather, stop." Gage lifted his hand. "The choice of who or who not to marry was mine to make. And it's a choice you must learn to live with."
"And I could do that if I believed for one second that your reason for marrying that woman was honorable."
Ire flared in Gage. "My reason
was
honorable."
The elderly man's brows rose skeptically. "You've been holed up on your ranch ever since the accident. You left for business and for supplies. Period. There was no time for you to meet a woman. And I know your heart has not healed enough to develop a relationship, loving or otherwise. I came out there to visit you, remember. I know how you were feeling. No one could break through that wall of grief. Granted, I am an old man, but I am not easily fooled."
Gage clamped his lips tight. His grandfather might be stubborn, and narrow-thinking, but the man was also astute. Telling his grandfather that he and Jenna were in love would have been an outright lie that would bring shame on his name and on his people. And the truth — that he was paying back a Life Gift, even though it was completely respectable, in Gage's mind — would only offer his hard-hearted grandfather more fodder for his bad feelings against Jenna.
Bending down, Gage snatched up another bottle of water, and then leveled his gaze onto his grandfather's. "Nothing I have done would bring my family shame. The arrangement Jenna and I have is our business. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to bring my wife something cold to drink."
"Can't sleep?"
Gage's question had Jenna turning from where she'd been staring out the kitchen window at the moonlit meadow.
She shrugged. "I was tossing and turning. I finally just got up. You okay?"
When he opened the fridge, light spilled across the floor. "Just thirsty," he said, pulling out a jar of apple juice.
This sparse, artificially bright repartee set Kama's teeth on edge. It was how they'd addressed each other ever since the night of the dance over a week ago — ever since that instant of surrendered passion in the shadow of the towering hemlock.
That kiss had changed everything. Before that moment, they had slowly developed a real relationship, had become friends of a sort. Yes, that hum of attraction never failed to present itself when they were together, but they'd done a fairly good job of ignoring it. Gage had stopped hiding out in the stable and outbuildings, filling his time with work, and had actually seemed to enjoy spending his evenings with Jenna and Lily.
But since they'd spent those fiery moments in each other's arms, he'd once again retreated from her.
Who was she kidding? She'd done her share of retreating, as well. But she'd had plenty to occupy her time — spending her days with Lily, keeping up with her business clients and creating the new Lenape artist Web site by night.
She had to admit she was quite content to keep busy. Her schedule left little time for sleep. And that was okay. Sleep was something else she'd started to avoid. Well, not sleep, exactly. What she was desperate to escape were the dreams. Hauntingly seductive visions of Gage running
his
bronze
hands over her milky body, kissing her with explosive passion, pleasuring her all through the night. She'd awaken each morning with a desolate feeling, a needy ache that refused to go away.
One of those night fantasies had jolted her from sleep over an hour ago. She hadn't been able to find a comfortable position after that. Thoughts of Gage had refused to be banished and had finally chased her out of bed. She'd been keeping vigil at the kitchen window ever since.
She watched him pour juice into a glass and lift it to his lips . . . the same lips she fantasized about in her dreams.
Moonlight glowed against his white T-shirt. When he leaned to set the empty glass on the counter, a thatch of his dark hair fell across his well-defined biceps.
The alluring current between them buzzed around her so loudly, it sounded like an agitated bumblebee. She wished it
were
an insect, something she could swat at and shoo away. But this was a temptation that refused to be expelled.
"Your meeting go okay today?" he asked.
Jenna nodded. She'd met with the Council and with a small group of artists who lived on Br
oken Bow. With Lily propped sec
urely on her hip, Jenna had
stood in front of the room and explained her ideas for the Web site, listed her requirements regarding images she could upload and announced the date she hoped to launch the site. They batted around ideas, talked about how to split the proceeds and what to do with the tribe's share. Jenna quickly learned that it was the Lenape way to always give a little something back to the People, so she offered to donate a portion of any money she made on her sister's and brother-in-law's artwork.