Savage Autumn (14 page)

She looked across the room and found Windhawk watching her. What were his plans for her? If he didn’t want her for his wife, why had he brought her to his lodge?

The night was cold, and Tag huddled against the outside of the tipi, trying to stay warm. His clothing was tattered and torn and gave him very little protection from the cold. Tears of self-pity made a trail down his dirty face. When he tried to move, pain caused him to cry out.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the cold ground beneath him. Running Elk’s face flashed through his mind, and it gave him the strength to bear his pain. He began to plan how he would get even with the chief.

Today, when Tag had gone to the stream for water, he had seen Amanda with two of Running Elk’s wives. He had dropped the waterskin and run over to her. Amanda had grabbed him and hugged him tightly before one of the women had torn her away from him.

Amanda had cried out for Tag to help her when the other woman dragged her away. Later Running Elk had sent for Tag and had beaten him severely with a leather strap, and ordered him tied outside the tipi without food or water.

Tag was cold and hungry and his body ached from the beating he had received, but his proud spirit was not broken. If anything he was more determined than ever to get away from Running Elk.

Tag groaned in pain. His shirt had stuck to his back from the blood of his open wounds. The cold hard ground offered him no comfort.

“I remember the promise I made you, Joanna. I will make Running Elk pay for what he did to you.” Fresh tears spilled down his face. “I’m scared, Joanna,” he cried, as a frightened child might call out to his mother.

Joanna lay on the soft robe, staring into the darkness. She was both puzzled and relieved that Windhawk had not approached her since she had been brought to the village. She lay on a soft buffalo robe beside Morning Song and Sun Woman, while Windhawk slept on the other side of the lodge.

She was so tired, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, wondering how she would ever gain her freedom.

The next morning when Joanna awoke, she was surprised to find she had slept soundly all night. There was no sign of Windhawk.

The older Indian woman was bent over the cook-fire, and when Sun Woman heard Joanna stirring, she gave her a noncommittal glance. Morning Song was hoisting a waterskin on her shoulder and motioned for Joanna to follow her outside.

The sun shone down warmly as she and Morning Song passed through the village. Joanna was met with many curious stares, but no one approached her.

Joanna observed the camp with interest. Windhawk’s lodge was the largest, and it stood in the center of the camp. On the outside of Windhawk’s lodge there were several brightly painted birds with their wings spread as if in flight. There were many different and colorful animals painted on other lodges.

Joanna noticed the healthy, active children who were running around playing games. It was a scene of tranquility. The Indians seemed to live such a serene and peaceful life. They were a part of the land, and still existed as they had for hundreds of years.

Joanna saw a baby strapped to a cradleboard, and couldn’t resist pausing to speak to the infant. The child was securely strapped to the board, which was propped against a tipi. The
mother was nearby, grinding dried berries into a fine powder. Joanna bent down and took the child’s hand.

“This is Gray Fox’s son, by his first wife,” Morning Song told Joanna. “He has another son, and a daughter, by his second wife.”

“The child is beautiful. Will you tell his mother that for me?”

Morning Song nodded and began talking to Gray Fox’s wife. The Indian woman smiled, and then said something in return.

“White Dove wishes me to tell you that she is honored that Windhawk’s woman should find her child pleasing. She hopes that you and Windhawk have many healthy sons.”

Joanna stood up abruptly, knowing her face was flushed. “I am not Windhawk’s woman! You are his wife; not me.”

Morning Song giggled and took Joanna’s arm, leading her toward the river. “I am not Windhawk’s woman—I am his sister. Did he not tell you that?”

Joanna was thoughtful and silent until they reached the river. “If you are not Windhawk’s wife, then who is?”

Morning Song dipped the skin in the water and then stood up, smiling widely. “You are Windhawk’s woman. He has not before taken a wife.”

“No! I do not belong to him. He raided the wagon train I was traveling in and killed my brother and my friends. I will never forgive him for that.”

Morning Song looked very distressed. “You are mistaken, Joanna. My brother did not raid the wagon train. He found you injured and helped you. You would have died had he not cared for you.”

Joanna stared across the river, feeling angry. “If you believe that, then you believe a lie. Your brother is a murderer of innocent families who never harmed him in any way.”

“I want to like you, Joanna, but if you say these things about my brother, I will turn away from you. I do not see any scars on you where you have been beaten or mistreated. I see
no rope to hold you captive. You do not appear to be starving. Windhawk has not harmed you.”

Joanna looked into the soft brown eyes that were sparkling with anger. “Some scars do not show, Morning Song. I have lost my brother and others that I loved. Those scars cannot be seen with the naked eye.”

Morning Song’s eyes softened. “I am sad in my heart at your loss, but you place the blame falsely.”

“It is to your credit that you defend your brother, but let me assure you that I know of the harm he has done. If he is blameless, as you say, why does he keep me as a captive? Why will he not allow me to return to my people?”

“I do not know the answer to this. I only know that you are my brother’s woman. You will learn to cook and keep his lodge clean. It would be better for you if you would accept this.”

“Never! He can force me to stay, but I will never accept him.”

“I do not understand. Do you not think Windhawk handsome?”

“Yes, I cannot deny he is handsome, but there is more to a man than just a fair appearance.”

Morning Song’s eyes showed her hurt and confusion. “There are many maidens who look upon my brother, wishing he would notice them, but he does not. Many times my mother has said to him that he must take a wife, but he would not. I saw the way Windhawk looked at you with love in his eyes. I think you are most fortunate to have a man of honor and kindness look at you with love.”

Joanna shook her head. “I do not belong here, Morning Song. I can no more fit into your brother’s world than he would fit into mine. I can never love the man who has caused the death of my people.”

“I could tell you of many times your people have caused the death of my people, Jo-anna,” Windhawk spoke up from behind her.

Joanna whirled around to face him, but before she could speak, he continued.

“I do not hold your people’s faults against you.”

“You are responsible for the death of my brother,” she accused bravely.

Windhawk’s eyes became dark storm centers. He had no wish to defend himself to Joanna. If she did not believe in him, then she could not love him as he loved her. He had been very patient with her up until now—but now she had gone too far. He was angered by her accusations. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back in the direction of the village, while Morning Song stared after them in surprise.

“Stop, you are hurting me,” Joanna protested, trying to pry his strong grasp from her wrist.

He picked her up in his arms and held her tightly as he continued through the village. Joanna could hear jeers and laughter from some of the men and women, and was grateful that she couldn’t understand what was being said.

When they reached Windhawk’s lodge, he carried her inside.

Sun Woman looked startled for a moment, until Windhawk spoke to her. She nodded her head and left the lodge hurriedly.

“W…What are you…going to do to me?” Joanna asked fearfully.

“I am going to do what I should have done from the start,” he answered, placing her on her feet, but retaining his hold on her.

“I don’t want you to touch me!” she cried.

His hand slid up to her face. “Do you not, Joanna? I think you do.”

“No, please don’t. I’ll never give in to you without a fight.”

His lips brushed against her cheek. “You can fight me, Joanna, but I will win in the end.”

She swallowed a lump of fear, making a quick decision. She wouldn’t fight him; she would remain passive. Surely a man would not enjoy a woman who showed no emotions.

He picked her up and laid her on the buffalo robe. Joanna lay stiffly, as he removed his fringed shirt and tossed it aside.
When he lay down beside her, she willed herself not to think or feel. He reached for her hand, and when he caressed her long sensitive fingers, she felt a flicker of something. No, don’t think or feel, she cautioned herself, in a panic.

Her eyes flew open as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed each of her fingertips. She looked into his face, and his dark eyes burned so brightly they seemed to scorch her with their intensity.

“If you go through with this, I will hate you,” Joanna told Windhawk, horrified that her voice came out in a throaty whisper.

“You already hate me. What will I lose?” he said, unfastening her gown.

She closed her eyes again as his lips settled on her neck. He pushed her gown aside to expose her breasts, and she gasped when his lips moved over the silken peaks.

“You are mine, Jo-anna. The time will come when you will know this.”

She opened her eyes, not knowing that they were laced with passion. Windhawk knew he had the ability to arouse her body, but that wasn’t all he wanted from Joanna—he wanted everything. He wanted to share all the things in life with her that a husband and wife shared. He wanted her violet-colored eyes to light up with happiness when he came to her.

“I will never submit to you again, Windhawk,” she challenged.

His dark eyes blazed—he accepted the challenge. Windhawk pulled her into his arms, and his lips settled softly on hers.

At first Joanna struggled, trying to free herself, but she knew she was losing the battle as her love-starved body trembled when his hand moved caressingly across her breasts. She was no longer capable of objecting when he ran his hand over her back, pushing her gown downward. She ceased to struggle when she felt her naked flesh come in contact with his hard body. Joanna’s body quaked with excitement when he dipped his head and covered her aching breast with his mouth. She
groaned when his tongue circled the rosebud tip. Her hand slid up his back, and she gathered up a handful of ebony hair. Each move he made was designed to tease and torment her into submission. His hand moved to her parted thigh and he gently massaged her throbbing, aching, inner core.

Joanna buried her face against his neck, clamping her lips tightly together to keep from crying out as his expert hands brought her to the brink of surrender.

She tried to remind herself that she had sworn to be passive but his lips nibbled at her earlobes, then slid across her face to settle on her arched neck. His silky black hair brushed against her face, sending shivers down her spine. Miraculously, Joanna found herself completely undressed. She had no thought beyond the warm, hard body that pressed against her. Windhawk had only his breechcloth on and she wished he would remove that. Her arms went around his shoulders, and her parted lips invited his kiss.

Windhawk was poised above her and his head dipped to taste her soft mouth. In the back of Joanna’s mind she knew she should be fighting him, but instead, her hands wandered across his shoulders, feeling the corded muscles underneath.

I love him, she thought with no surprise at all. He is my enemy, but I love him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to have his lips pressed to hers. Again she had the feeling that she had known him in another time and place. It was an unsettling feeling, as if she had been loved by him many times before.

Windhawk raised his head and stared into her eyes. He could read total surrender in her violet-blue gaze. She was now his to do with as he wished. Her sweet body was issuing him an invitation, and he wanted her, but he must first show her that he was the master. Joanna must learn that she belonged to him, and he could arouse her desire any time he wanted.

Joanna was startled when he smiled and pulled away from her. She was crushed when he stood up and put his shirt on. Did he not want her? She felt totally humiliated when he handed her her gown.

“No one, not even you, Jo-anna, can say you are not the woman of Windhawk,” he said. “Do not think I cannot take you any time I want.”

Joanna was too filled with shame to answer, and she leaned forward so her long curtain of hair would hide her flaming face.

“Do you not think it would be wise for you to put your clothing on, Jo-anna? My mother and sister could return at any moment.”

Raising her head, she saw Windhawk was standing in an arrogant stance, with his legs spread apart and his hands resting on his hips. Shame and anger brought a blush to Joanna’s cheeks. She held her gown in front of her to hide her nakedness. Tears of frustration fell down her face as she watched him leave the lodge. She knew he had proved his point. How easily he had made her submissive to his touch.

When Windhawk was outside, he took a deep breath of air, knowing the last thing in the world he wanted to do was leave Joanna at that moment. Her creamy flesh had been so soft and inviting, and her eyes had registered total surrender. He had wanted to prove to her that he could awaken her body with very little effort, and he had done that—but what about the fire that still burned within his own body? No one could tame that fire but Joanna. He was a man experiencing love for the first time, and that love was wild and uncontrollable. Windhawk knew he had been pushed to the limit, and tonight he would take Joanna, even if she fought him.

He thought of the long knife he had once seen her dancing with and wondered if she had loved that man. Windhawk felt jealousy burn within his heart. He could not bear to think of any man holding her in his arms.

He had the satisfaction of knowing he had been the first man to have her beautiful body, but did the other man hold her heart? Even if the long knife were now dead, he still troubled Windhawk’s mind.