True, some of the women she worked with had shown her kindness, especially Precious Copper. Fighting Wolf’s sister also took great pains to keep the men away from Sarita. Several men, assuming they could treat Sarita like any other female slave and force themselves upon her, had approached her. They had been chased off by the small whirlwind of fury that had descended on their unsuspecting heads. Precious Copper defended Sarita like an enraged mother bear defended her threatened cub. Word quickly spread that Sarita was protected by the diminutive girl, but no one wanted to challenge Fighting Wolf’s sister because they knew they would have to answer to the formidable war chief himself.
But who would protect her from Fighting Wolf? mused Sarita. Precious Copper had already said she would not go against her brother.
As Sarita watched the men disembark from their canoes, she pondered what to do. She watched the tiny figures walking up to the longhouses, but she was unable to discern Fighting Wolf’s tall form from this distance. She saw wives and sweethearts greet their returning men enthusiastically. Little children ran to their fathers and hugged them tightly, laughing excitedly.
Up on the hill, the warm afternoon sun felt good on her face, and she felt herself relax. The quiet hum of insects drifted lazily through the air. The fresh scent of pine was fragrant in her nostrils. It felt so good to just sit here quietly in the sun. She closed her eyes for just a moment.
Sarita woke up to a sudden stillness all around her. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, but some time had passed. Realizing she had fallen asleep, she quickly got to her feet. They would be looking for her down in the village if she did not get back there soon.
She raced down the narrow path, her long hair streaming behind her. The air felt good rushing against her skin and the short run revived her senses. As she neared the village she slowed to a sedate walk on the tree-covered trail. She was sauntering around the last bend when she suddenly froze in her tracks.
Through the green shadows of the forest Fighting Wolf strode toward her. The dappled sunlight glinted off his shoulder-length black hair. His striking face was partially hidden in the shadows. A pale yellow kutsack covered his strong body and left his powerful bronzed arms exposed. Several vicious-looking knives and daggers dangled from the belt at his waist.
Sarita stared, almost overwhelmed by the aura of sheer power and masculinity he emanated.
Her first coherent thought was to flee but it was already too late. He paused slightly and she realized he had sighted her. She forced herself to keep to an even pace.
Don’t let him see you’re afraid,
she repeated to herself. Meeting his piercing gaze with a calm that belied her inner turmoil, she slowly closed the distance between them.
Fighting Wolf, spying Sarita coming towards him, quickened his step in anticipation. At sea, while chasing the Ucluelets, he’d had plenty of time to think about his lovely slave girl. He remembered her proud carriage, her long dark hair, her lovely face. He had wondered then if she was really as beautiful, if her lips were really as soft, as fickle memory had portrayed.
Seeing her again, he was struck anew by her startling loveliness. Even in a roughly woven cedar robe, she outshone any woman he had ever seen. He found himself anxious to touch and fondle this woman. He advanced towards her like a beast of prey, watching her every move.
Women always came easily to Fighting Wolf. His rugged good looks and strong physique alone were enough to satisfy the most discriminating female taste, and he knew it. He had no doubts that this woman, too, would soon be his—especially as she had no say in the matter. What Fighting Wolf wanted, he took.
His sharp eyes took in every detail of her appearance. Yes, she was beautiful. Memory had not lied. He felt a hunger for her rise in him.
This was the enjoyable part of his revenge: having the beautiful daughter of his enemy as his own personal slave. His lips curled contemptuously as he gazed hungrily at her lithe form. It had been many days since he’d had a woman. Strong desire coursed through his veins as he halted in front of her.
Though tall for a woman, she stood only as high as his shoulder. Her nearness was intoxicating and he could smell a soft floral scent emanating from her body. As he looked deep into her golden eyes, all thoughts but of her fled from his mind. He stood gazing down at her for a moment, unaware of the uncomfortable silence on her part. She attempted to scoot past him.
He shook himself slightly. He was acting like a lovesick boy! Best he show this woman who was her master and right now.
“Where have you been?” he asked harshly. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Too late he realized she now knew he had been anticipating seeing her. On second thought, what did it matter? She was but a slave!
“I—I needed some time alone with my thoughts. Surely no harm could come from that,” Sarita answered, mustering her dignity about her like a cloak. She would not let this Ahousat dog see her fear.
He relaxed his stance. “Never mind. I’ve found you now,” he responded in an almost pleasant manner. He continued to stare down at her, smiling slightly. At last, he reached out with one strong tanned hand and toyed with a strand of auburn-tinged brown hair. He wound the lock around his finger.
Sarita shifted her feet nervously. Painfully aware of their solitude, she felt a rush of fear. He was so strong, what could she do if he were to decide to take her right here on an isolated forest trail?
She gazed up at him and he read the fear in her beautiful golden eyes. For some reason it wrenched him to see such a beautiful creature afraid of him. He was awed by her and found himself wanting her to return that feeling. Gone for the moment were all thoughts of revenge or enemies. No one else existed but this woman and him.
Those piercing ebony eyes held Sarita spellbound. She stood for a timeless moment, feeling lost to all else but the commanding eyes with the gentle light in them.
Never had she felt so consumed by a man’s gaze, so helpless. With great difficulty, she dragged her eyes away from his, passing hastily over his sensuously sculptured lips. She was shaking inside.
Almost as though he could read her thoughts, he ran a long brown finger gently down her cheek and slowly pulled her into his arms.
Spellbound, she gazed up at him, placing her hands shakily on his chest as if to protect herself from him, or was it from the feelings he aroused in her? She knew he could feel her erratically pounding heart.
A small knowing smile quirked the corner of his mouth for a moment as he realized she was as overcome as he was. Then that vanished as he bent his head to taste gently of her sweet lips. The soft yielding of her lips was heady.
Sarita felt his lips touch hers. Her whole being was concentrated in the touch. Lost in his kiss, she spiraled into a whirlpool of sensation and delight.
His breath was warm against her skin and she inhaled deeply of his musky male fragrance.
Feeling him draw her closer, she pressed her palms harder against him, trying to hold him off. She must recover her senses. She couldn’t let him have this overpowering effect on her!
Fighting Wolf felt her push against him and his mouth became avid in its search for hers. She tasted so good, so female.
Trying to pull away from his firm embrace, Sarita’s head was suddenly jerked back as Fighting Wolf wound her loose hair around one fist. Her neck was bared to his teeth that grazed threateningly up and down the tender skin of her throat. Now his mouth was back to hers and she felt the hard frame of his strong body as he pressed her against him.
His tongue played lightly with her mouth, sending shivers through her. He outlined her lips slowly, then tasted the corners. She trembled slightly, almost afraid of his power over her. Letting herself go limp, she felt little fluttery movements of his tongue push against her lips and teeth, gently prying her mouth open. Her head still held firmly, her mouth fell open and his invading tongue pushed against hers, plundering the soft inside. The sensation was overpowering and she sagged weakly against him, her knees almost buckling.
Fighting Wolf was breathing heavily against her, desire for her blotting out where they were and everything else. All he knew was he wanted this woman in a way he had never wanted a woman before. And her response showed she wanted him!
Feeling her arms creep tentatively around his neck, he kissed her deeply, releasing his tight hold on her hair. Only he and the woman in his arms existed. Strong desire swept over him. He had to have her!
Breathing heavily, he pulled her body closer. His large hands pressed against her full bottom, molding her to him. They clasped together as if they were one.
Sarita was moaning deep in her throat, aroused as she had never been before. Feeling all soft and light, she felt she was melting into the trail, at one with the shadowy green forest. She felt cherished and loved and wanted, all at the same time.
Clutching him to her, she returned his kisses with an ardor she did not understand, but only felt.
Suddenly she caught herself. This man was her enemy! Jerking back to an awareness of where she was and what she was doing, she was horrified. Wrenching herself free from Fighting Wolf’s embrace, she stepped to one side and darted past him, racing for the longhouse. Her face was aflame with humiliation and arousal. What had she been thinking of? The man was her captor! Had even killed her people!
Mortified at her wanton behavior, she ran past the longhouse and down to the beach, ignoring the curious stares of passersby.
Back on the forest trail, a bemused Fighting Wolf stood staring after her, though her flying figure had long since disappeared. His heart pounded fiercely, and the blood roared in his ears. His breathing gradually returned to normal, and with it his imperial pride. He was not about to chase a slave woman across the beach in front of gawking villagers! His position as war chief demanded at least that much.
Suddenly he threw back his head and laughed. What made Sarita think she could escape him so easily? His mocking guffaws echoed through the still forest, but his quarry was too far away to hear.
* * * *
Sarita went out of her way to avoid Fighting Wolf for the next few days. Every time she saw him, she quickly fled. Feelings she could not understand churned within her whenever he was near. She tried to remind herself that he was her enemy, to think of her family and how they were now. She avoided him because she was beginning to find Fighting Wolf extremely fascinating.
Previously, she could have admitted to herself that he was very handsome, and physically attractive, of course. But now she was becoming aware of just how intensely she was attracted to him. He was obviously brave and well respected by his people, but she didn’t think this was what drew her. She could not define what it was about him that intrigued her. A more experienced woman would have known.
Sarita thought about him often through the days. She dreamed of him at night. She remembered, over and over, his passionate kisses, and longed for his ardent embraces.
At other times, however, he was her enemy, the man who had stolen her away and humiliated her family. She berated herself for felling so attracted to such a vicious enemy, but she could not help herself. Try as she might to feel nothing for him, he wayward thoughts returned time and again to Fighting Wolf and those brief, sweet moments when he’d held her in his arms.
She did not know how long she could continue in such a state of confusion, but she hoped she could sort out her feelings soon. In the meantime, she’d avoid him.
Fighting Wolf had no such compunction about avoiding Sarita. He sensed, however, her confused feelings about him. The few times he had casually approached her since kissing her on the trail, she hastily retreated.
At first he’d been amused. Confident it was only a matter of time before he possessed her, he waited, like a patiently stalking predator. And he watched—to see what his prey would do next.
He found it diverting to let her think she could maneuver around him. Perhaps it was that she had been promised to him as a wife, he reflected. With any other slave woman he wanted, a mere word would have brought her to his bed, willing or no. But he was willing to let Sarita run from him, curious to see how far she’d go to avoid him before he demanded her presence. The thrill of the chase, he mused.
After four days of watching her hide from him, however, he was growing impatient. He decided to confront her. She was not going to get away from him. Besides, there were other interested males around. The woman obviously needed to learn who her master was—and soon. He took to prowling restlessly about the village, alert to the impending kill.
Although Sarita was living in Fighting Wolf’s house, she took great pains to do errands that would take her far from where he’d be.
The first day, she went off with several of the women to help gather cedar bark. The next day, she took her pointed digging stick and industriously dug fern roots to be roasted for the evening meal. The third day, she willingly looked after several small children when they were far down the beach. Her chaperonage was greatly appreciated by the busy mothers. It was on the fourth day, in her desperation to distance herself from Fighting Wolf, that she ran into trouble.
It was a bright sunny day, the sky was cloudless. Sarita decided to take her digging stick and go off to a somewhat remote clamming beach she had heard about from some of the other slave women. She knew she could avoid Fighting Wolf there.
She followed the winding trail through the forest as it shadowed the coastline. Walking through the quiet forest was a rare treat. The soft carpet of pine needles deadened the sound of her footsteps and only the occasional shrill cry of a bird disturbed the silence.
The trail wound on for a long way, and as she walked, Sarita hummed happily to herself, glad of the solitude on such a fine day. She could see glimpses of the sparkling sea now and then where the trail curved near the shoreline. Soon she could hear the pounding waves on the gray sandy beach ahead. Quickening her pace, she hurried down the twisting path, through the tall, wheat-colored grass of the sand dunes that bordered the beach. She gasped as she caught sight of the long, hard-packed sandy beach that stretched off into the distance.