But she had reckoned too soon. Within moments, he had moved to kneel beside her. Sarah shivered. Up close, he looked formidable, dangerous, alien and alas, handsome.
It seemed, however, that he had nothing more in mind than feeding her. In his hands, he held a large shell. Its contents were steaming … and smelled like heaven.
He said, “I will require you to sit up if you can. Since it is soup, it is best eaten in an upright position.”
Sarah gazed up at him, noting several things that she had missed when he’d been sitting next to the fire: the proud tilt of his head; the healthy look of his skin tone, even though its color was a few shades darker than her own; the long fingers that looked capable enough to snap her in half, if he desired. As she gazed up into his eyes, she beheld a gentle look about him as well, and it was toward that spark of kindness that she responded. “I think that I can sit up. Shall I try? ”
He nodded and waited.
She struggled to do it. But to her chagrin, she was too weak to accomplish more than coming up onto her elbows. Moreover, even that small movement sent her heart to beating heavily in her chest. Her breathing quickened as a result, which caused her some anxiety. Not knowing him, fearing he might be untruthful about his intentions toward her, she was afraid the movement of her chest might attract his attention toward her bosom, a thing she wished to avoid.
But it didn’t. His eyes seemed focused on her facial features alone. However, he made no move to help her sit into a better position, either.
At last, casting him what was probably an irritated glance, she said, “I fear ’tis as far as I can come.”
Again, he nodded, and setting the shell carefully to the side, he placed an arm around her back, bringing her up into a full sitting position. Only then did he say, “It is good that you tried to rise up on your own. There is no other way to regain your strength.”
His voice was low and pleasant, a deep baritone, and his face was so close to hers, the intake and exhale of his mint-scented breath was soft upon her.
However, it caused her to wonder at the odor of her own mouth, and she closed her lips, as if that might keep any offending smell at length.
Keeping one arm wrapped firmly around her, he picked up the shell that contained the delicious smelling liquid, and brought the concoction, to her lips.
“It is hot,” he warned. “Beware. Do not drink too much at first.”
Eyes wide, taking in his image, she obeyed, for there was no reason not to. She took a tentative sip of the brew and decided at once that it was good. Indeed, in her state of mind, it tasted as if it might be the nectar of the gods.
“Hmm …” Briefly she closed her eyes. “’Tis an excellent cook, you are, sir.”
A simple nod of his head acknowledged her compliment.
“I’d like some more, if you please,” she said.
He accommodated her, bringing the shell once more to her lips. But he said very little to her, making her wonder if there were a reason why he was niggardly with his words. She brought her hands up to his, helping him to guide the shell toward her, and every now and again she gazed up at him. His features remained handsome even so close up, she noted, though she was amazed to discover there was not even a hint of a beard on his countenance. Did he shave it, or did he honestly not have one?
She tried to recall what she might know of the Indians, but unless her mind volunteered the information, there was little for her to gain from her memory.
As she stared directly at him, she noticed that his eyes were dark, almost black in hue, and as he stared back at her and their gazes met, she recognized a strength of spirit that was at odds with her impression of what the Indians were about.
But what impression was this? Was it a memory?
Sarah tried to bring the recollection back to mind, though it was impossible to keep it from fleeing. Her brow knitted in a frown.
“Do not worry,” he said as he reached out to smooth the lines between her brows. “You will regain your strength. Here, eat more. If you are to recover, you will need to nourish your body.”
“Aye, yes, of course you are right,” she said. “Thank you for helping me, and for this meal. It must be vexing for you to have to prepare it.”
“It is nothing,” he said. “A man learns enough about cooking to do it a little, since he is often away from his home.” He offered her more of the soup, which she was quick to accept, and it wasn’t long before the entire amount of the liquid in the shell was gone.
He asked, “Would you like some more?”
She nodded.
“Good.” He set the shell to the side, then laying her back on her bed, he rose up gracefully and stepped back to the fire.
Sarah continued to study him. His was a tall figure, slim and well built. He was young, good-looking and probably had a dozen young maidens awaiting a proposal from him.
As he gathered up more of the food into the shell, he asked matter-of-factly, “Do you remember who you are?” He returned to her at once, though he didn’t look at her directly, and taking her again into the warmth of his arms, he brought her back into a sitting position.
Although he had probably already guessed what her answer might be, Sarah didn’t reply all at once. In fact, she was afraid to. Even though his mild manner was allaying her fears, she was wary—perhaps she had been taught to be so. After all, she didn’t know him. If he thought she had no one looking out for her, would it change his intentions toward her?
He continued, “If you will tell me where you are from and who is your family, I will return you to them.” Then, as though he were aware of her thoughts, he added, “It is the only reason I ask.”
Something about the look in his eyes caused her to believe him, and she said, “I … I recall nothing.”
“Nothing? ”
“Aye, sir.” Nervously she waited. What was going to be his response? When he didn’t answer at once, she went on to say, “What I do know, or what I can recall, seems to come to me in odd ways, for I remember much, but the details I recall are all of them unimportant.” She cast him an anxious glance, and fearful, pulled back away from him.
But if he was affected by her fear, he didn’t show it. He simply nodded. “Perhaps it is to be expected, since you have witnessed much trauma. Do not fear, however. Your memory will return in time. More rest and nourishment will aid in your recovery.”
“I hope you are right. But I have another question I must ask you, sir. Do you know how I came to be here? ”
“I brought you to this cave to provide a place where you could recover, although why you were in the forest alone and unconscious remains a mystery to me.”
“Oh.” Again she frowned. “I was unconscious? How did you find me, then? ”
“You were lying atop a large, flat rock. I assume that you had been washed ashore by the waves of the Lake-That-Turns-to-Rapids. You were alive, but barely.”
“Oh, I see.” She bit her lip. “The Lake-That-Turns-to-Rapids. I don’t recall it. But if what you say is true, then you have most probably saved my life.” She had meant it to be a question, but it came out matter-of-factly. Suddenly, Sarah was struck more forcefully by fear. Did this man want something in return for his kindness? Something she might be unwilling to give?
All at once, the enormity of her vulnerability and dependence on this man became too real for her. He could do almost anything to her, for she would be unable to rebuff any slight whim that might take hold of him.
Sarah swallowed noisily, and as panic coiled like a serpent within her, she was more than aware of the state of her nudity. Under the possibility of threat, her femininity reacted in an age-old, womanly fashion, perhaps in preparation for the worst. It was not a pleasant feeling, however. Far from it.
So it was that with wide eyes, she stared up into the dark, dark gaze of her “protector.” Nervously, she swallowed.
Four
They stared at one another, as though both were taking in the measure of the other. At length, Sarah roused up her courage, and clearing her throat, she asked, “May I ask, sir, if it is you who has been nursing me back to health? ”
“It is,” he replied. “It was not my desire to see you die if I could do something about it.”
She paused. “Again,” she said, “I admit that I must give you my solemn thanks.”
He nodded.
“But, sir, I fear I have another concern that I would voice, if I may.”
“I am listening.”
The muscles in her throat convulsed as Sarah tried to gather her courage. She was already much too aware of this man’s touch upon her. The fact that he was very close—so close that she could breathe in his scent—was not helping to ease her mind. Oddly, though her anxiety was almost palpable, she found his fragrance pleasant. Manly and musky … but pleasant.
She didn’t know how to ask the next question. But because her alarm would not abate, there was nothing else for it but to blurt it out. “Have we … have I … in my stupor … did we … engage in … I mean to say …”
“On this day,” he interrupted her, “you are as intact and whole as you were before I found you. You have asked for nothing from me and we are still strangers to each other in all ways except one … I have been feeding you each day and caring for you in your fever, hoping it would soon reduce and that you would awaken. I believe there is a fairy tale in your world about a princess who was awakened by a kiss.” There was the hint of a smile within his words and upon his lips.
“Did we kiss, then? ”
“
Neh
, we did not, though I was tempted to test the fairy tale to see if it be true.”
Sarah settled back with a sigh as her apprehension began to ebb. But it was another thing altogether that calmed her: her recognition that he was trying to soothe her disquiet, not heighten it. Innately she realized that this was the action of a good man, and it drew her to him, if only minutely.
However, she was curious and she asked, “How is it, sir, that you are familiar with European fairy tales? ”
“I spent more than three years with missionaries.”
“Yes, of course. That accounts for your command of the English language, also, does it not? ”
“I believe that it does.” He smiled, but it was brief, a half-smile at best.
Shyly, she returned the gesture, then blushed and turned away. After a while, she said, “I can see that I have been a burden to you, and for that I apologize.”
“You are no burden,” he assured her.
“Am I not? I thank you for trying to ease my mind, yet if it be true that you saved me, I am certain you are not pleased with my many questions.”
He shrugged. “Your questions are natural, since you have awakened to find yourself in the hands of a man you do not know. It is not a bad trait to be leery of a stranger. Trust is a thing earned, not given without cause.”
“But perhaps there is cause.”
“Maybe. You will have to determine that yourself. But if I can put your mind at ease, I will try.”
“Do you know how far away we are from a white man’s town? ”
“Many days’ ride by the white man’s horse, or longer by foot and canoe.”
“Much too far for us to go.”
“I fear it is true.”
“Then if I recover, or when, I will owe it to you.”
He shrugged.
“And what is it that you would like from me in return?”
“Perhaps the return of your memory.”
“Is that all? ” Even she could hear the doubt in her voice. “There are some men who would ask for much more from a woman.”
“Not a Seneca man,” he said, squaring back his shoulders.
“Oh? ”
“Only a beast,” he continued, “who is more decayed flesh than human being, would ask for more from a woman than she is willing to give. Furthermore, only a fool, tied to nothing but the physical, would take what
Hawenio
has brought to him and destroy it.” He paused. “I hope that I am neither kind of those men.”
1;
“Yes, I hope so, too,” she agreed. “Tell me, what does
Hawenio
mean? ”
“The Creator,” he said. “He who made this world and who placed us here in it.”
“Ah. That is a beautiful word.”
He nodded. “So it is. Now, when you are able to sit up,” he went on, changing the subject, “and can do the deed for yourself, your clothes are dry, and you will be able to dress yourself. I have placed them in a stack by the fire.”
She glanced toward the place where he indicated. “I … yes, I see them.”
She started to return her gaze to him, but then as though her skin were highly sensitized, she became more than unusually aware of this man’s arms wrapped tightly around her. Suddenly, her skin felt heated by his touch, and she averted her gaze. To her shame, she realized that she liked the feel of his hands upon her.