Maverick Heart (34 page)

“I never agreed to them,” Hawk said.

Rand was furious at Hawk’s treachery. “You said she could stay with me.”

“I have not broken my word.”

“You can’t have her,” Rand said, his gray eyes turning cold. “I’ll kill you first.”

Hawk’s black eyes stared back at him, unfeeling, undaunted. “You may kill me, but you will never live to reach the edge of the village. And the woman’s fate will be sealed. You are in no position to make threats.”

“She’s mine. You can’t take her from me.”

Willow, who was standing at a cooking fire nearby, said in a quiet voice to Hawk, “If the woman is this man’s wife, she cannot be yours.”

“But the woman is not his wife,” Hawk retorted.

Rand immediately realized the weapon Willow had given him—and why she had done it. She wanted Hawk to herself. Obviously, if he married Freddy, it would solve both their problems.

He got a sick feeling in his gut when he thought of how Freddy was going to react to the idea of getting married. His teeth clenched. She would go through with it when she understood the alternative. “Is there some ceremony we need to perform to get married?” he asked.

Hawk remained mute.

Rand turned to Willow. “What do I have to do to make Freddy my wife?”

Willow explained the simple ceremony while Hawk stared at her grim-lipped.

“That’s all?” Rand said. It didn’t seem like enough.

“That is all,” Willow confirmed.

Hawk was plainly disgusted at being outmaneuvered, but since he hadn’t repudiated Rand’s status as guest, there was little he could do to stop Rand from proceeding.

“We will come when the sun sets to witness your claim on the white woman,” Hawk said through tight jaws.

Rand realized Hawk was planning to see with his own eyes that the door was well and truly closed on any claim he might have to Freddy. There would be no pretending. They were going to have to go through with the Indian ceremony.

Not that Rand thought it would have much validity
outside the confines of the Indian village, but he realized, as he walked slowly back toward the tipi he and Freddy shared, that it might be the lever he needed to force Freddy out of the shell into which she had retreated. He wanted her to feel alive again. Even if it was only to fight him over an Indian marriage ceremony. When all was said and done, the ceremony would be performed. Neither of them had any choice about that.

He wasn’t sure when he made the decision that he was going to make love to her. But the thought was firmly fixed in his mind. He felt certain that if he didn’t claim Freddy here and now, when they returned to civilization she would slip away from him. Here she could not escape him. Here, he could help her heal her wounds and become whole again.

It nearly broke his heart to see her scramble away from the doorway when he entered the tipi. “It’s me,” he said to calm her agitation.

“You were gone a long time.”

“Hawk wanted to talk to me. There’s going to be a Indian ceremony this evening, and we’ve been invited.”

“What kind of ceremony?”

“It’s a wedding, actually.”

“What do we have to do?”

“Nothing, really. Just show up.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who’s getting married?”

“We are.”

She stared at him open-mouthed. “But you said it’s an Indian ceremony.”

He settled himself in front of the fire cross-legged, because he knew he was less intimidating to Freddy sitting down. “If I don’t make you my wife, Hawk plans to make you his,” he said. “Take your choice.”

She sank down onto the buffalo robe across the fire from him. “But I don’t want to marry anybody. Not that an Indian ceremony is real … I mean … it wouldn’t be valid.”

He caught her frantic glance and held it. “It’s real, Freddy, as long as we’re here in this village. And there’s no telling how long we’ll be here. It could be months.”

She was fidgeting with her hair, pulling it forward over her shoulders to play with the ends, then throwing it out of her way again. “All right, I’ll go through with the ceremony. But that’s all, Rand.”

She darted a glance at him to see if he had gotten the message. He had. She wasn’t just scared of the sexual act, she was terrified of it. He resisted the urge to try to comfort her. She didn’t want him near her.

He was convinced there was no easy way for her to overcome her repugnance for the sexual act. But it was something she had to do if she was ever going to achieve any sort of normalcy in her life. He would be as gentle and understanding as it was possible to be, but he was going to consummate their marriage.

* * *

“Willow has offered to loan you a ceremonial Indian dress.”

“I don’t need a dress.”

That sounded more like his Freddy. Argumentative. Opinionated. “No, you don’t need one. But you’ll look very pretty in one. Would you wear it for me? I’m only going to get married once, and I’d like my bride to be beautiful so I’ll be the envy of all the other fellows.”

He could see she was tempted to smile, and her lips actually curled up on the sides.

“You’re impossible, Rand.”

“I don’t try to be.”

Then the smile was gone and her heart was in her eyes and she was looking at him. “This isn’t how I imagined it, Rand. Whenever I thought of getting married I imagined St. George’s Cathedral with all my friends there admiring me in a lovely satin gown. My hair would be in ringlets and I would wear just a touch of rouge that would make me feel decadent and put roses in my cheeks.

“It isn’t going to be like that, is it?” she said wistfully.

“No, Freddy. We won’t be among friends. But the sky can be our cathedral. And you’ll be wearing a dress the likes of which London society has never seen, something so unique our grandchildren will be telling stories about it for generations to come. And you won’t need a touch of rouge, because the icy cold will put roses in your cheeks.”

It would turn her nose into a berry, too, but he
wasn’t going to tell her that and spoil the lovely picture he had painted. Because she was smiling now with her mouth, if not her eyes, and he could tell she saw the whimsy of the wedding he had described.

They were interrupted when Willow entered the hide doorway and stood waiting to be noticed. She was holding a beautiful white buckskin dress, decorated with colorful beads and porcupine quills, over her arm.

“I’ll leave so you can get dressed,” he said to Freddy. “I’ll be back in a little while to get you.”

Her eyes pleaded with him,
Isn’t there a way out of this?

But there was nothing he could do. Her safety depended on this marriage. He wouldn’t risk losing her to Hawk when he could end the danger by marrying her.

As he left the tipi, he realized he needed some time alone to think. The tipis were spaced about twenty feet apart in a long line on both sides of a small creek to give them easy access to water and privacy. He turned his back on the creek and headed out onto the open prairie.

Freddy wasn’t the only one terrified of the night to come. Rand was not inexperienced in bedding a woman. He had mounted his first mistress when he was eighteen, and in the three years since, he had learned a great deal about pleasuring a woman’s body and taking pleasure from it.

But he had never before broached a frightened woman, certainly not one who had previously been
brutalized by a man. He had no idea whether Freddy had been injured in the attack by Tom, but he had to assume that whatever damage had been done had healed, because she had made no complaint and was physically able to do the chores Willow had given her.

Rand felt the sweat break out on his forehead. When the time came, it was going to take every ounce of courage he had to consummate his marriage.

“You are a fortunate woman,” Willow said, “to have such a good hunter for your husband. You will always have meat in your pot and skins for clothing.”

“I don’t know how to cook. And I’m not much of a seamstress,” Freddy snapped.

“If you stay among us, I will teach you what you need to know,” Willow said.

“I’m not staying, so there’s no need to waste your time,” Freddy retorted.

The Indian woman had behaved so placidly in the past that Freddy hadn’t realized Willow had a temper—until she felt the brunt of it.

“I will leave you, since you do not wish my company.”

Willow was halfway to the entrance of the tipi before Freddy’s conscience smote her.

“Wait!” she cried. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m so very frightened. I don’t want to be married. I don’t want to have a husband.”

Willow turned and came hurrying back to her.
She caught Freddy’s hands in hers, and Freddy found herself looking into eyes that were surprisingly comforting.

“No woman is ready the first time,” she told Freddy. “But I can see your man cares for you. He will not hurt you.”

“But—” Freddy found herself unable to confess what had happened with Tom.

“Come,” Willow said, leading her out of the tipi. “I can hear from the shouts of the others that your husband is waiting outside for you. Everything will come right. Tomorrow you will chide yourself for being so foolish.”

Anything was possible, Freddy supposed. If she survived the night.

The ceremony itself was simple.

She and Rand stood before their tipi, with the entire village ranged around them. Rand took her hand in his and turned to the crowd of strange faces.

“I take this woman for my wife,” he said.

Willow had explained the Indian ceremony to her, and those were the only words that had to be spoken to bind them.

But Rand lifted her chin so their eyes met and added, “I love you, Freddy. I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. And I promise to honor and cherish you all the days of my life.”

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring his beloved face. She knew Rand was waiting for her to make a similar pledge. But she couldn’t. Not after what
had happened. She swallowed over the painful knot in her throat. “I … I’m sorry, Rand.”

She saw the disappointment in his eyes, but was helpless to ease it.

Her heart began to beat frantically when Rand picked her up in his arms and headed into the tipi. Behind them she heard the raucous shouts of the Sioux.

The ceremony was complete.

“Put me down, Rand,” she insisted as soon as the hide covering had closed behind them.

He set her on her feet but didn’t release her. She could feel the heat of his hands at her waist. His face was pale almost to whiteness and his expression somber. She had never seen him look so serious. She realized his hands were trembling when he reached for hers. She would have pulled away, but the momentary panic in his eyes made her hold still for him. His flesh was warm. His touch was gentle.

“I have something I want to say, Freddy.”

“What is it, Rand?” she said in a whisper.

“I want to love you, Freddy. I want us to have a wedding night.”

“No, Rand—please don’t do this. I can’t! Don’t you understand?” Then she was crying in earnest.

His arms slid around her.

At first she struggled against him, but his embrace, though loose, was inexorable, and at last she stood quiet in his arms, her body quivering. His arms closed tighter around her, and she felt the warmth of him, the safety of his embrace.

She reached for him with a cry of anguish and sorrow. “This isn’t the way it was supposed to be,” she said, sobbing. “Not like this, Rand. Not like this!”

“Shh. Shh, my darling, my love.”

She didn’t realize what he was doing until it was done. He had released the ties at the shoulders of the exquisite Indian dress, and the creamy soft buckskin was sliding away, leaving her skin bare.

“Rand, no!”

“Shh. Shh,” he soothed again. “I’m your husband. I love you. I would never hurt you.”

He was undressing himself one-handed, keeping the other around her to keep her from fleeing. Although, now that she was naked, where could she possibly have run?

Then he was naked, too.

She turned her head away, refusing to look.

He put his hand under her chin and forced her eyes upward. “Look at me, Freddy. Look into my eyes. What do you see?”

Love. Tenderness. But nothing that suggested he intended to stop what he was about to do.

“I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

His smile was crooked, self-deprecating. “So am I, dearest. So am I.”

“You, Rand?”

“Of course. The fellow is the one who has to do everything right, you know. And I want to do everything exactly right,” he said in a fierce voice. “I want you to think only of me, Freddy. Only of me.”

His hands surrounded her, and he pulled her
close. She gasped as their bodies met, and she felt the heat and the hardness of him. This was not at all like what had happened with Tom. He had torn her clothes half off and then thrust himself inside her. It had been nothing like this. Nothing at all.

Rand’s lips sought hers, and before she could think to refuse him their mouths were joined. This was also different. There was no hurt, no grinding of teeth, no pain.

His lips were utterly soft. His tongue probed her mouth seeking admittance, and she granted it to him. She was surprised into a moan by the pleasure he brought.

One of his hands slid down to her buttocks to keep her in the cradle of his thighs, while the other cupped her breast and held it for his mouth.

Ah!
She ached. Desire spiraled downward and curled in her belly, and she arched toward him.

He groaned, an animal sound that frightened her. She drew away, and he crooned to her, calling her back. He wanted her. He needed her.

A knot inside her began to loosen. The tender bud of femininity that had been crushed began to flower once more. She could feel desire for Rand. She could be a woman for him.

His mouth caressed her. His hands adored her. His body worshiped her. Until her knees buckled, and she could no longer stand upright on her own.

He laid her down and lowered himself onto her.

And it all came back to her. It wasn’t Rand, it was Tom, and he was forcing himself on her and
she was trying to resist. But he was too big, and she couldn’t push him away.