It amazed Hannah that a man could be so
handsome, so perfectly formed. His hard body
was so beautiful, it gave her a fluttery feeling
in the pit of her stomach. Smooth and blemish-
free except for a few scattered scars from pre
vious wounds, his flesh flowed over his bones
like molten gold. She had noticed immediate
ly that his skin wasn’t as dark as that of his companions, but his long, flowing hair was the
same midnight black.
His chest rippled with corded tendons; his legs were strong and muscular. His breech-clout barely covered the taut twin mounds of his buttocks and the bold thrust of his man
hood. Even at rest the outline of his male
appendage beneath the scrap of deer hide
was awesome. Her face turned beet red and
she turned away, embarrassed at the perilous
journey upon which her eyes had embarked.
Her thoughts still consumed with the handsome
Indian, she busied herself with the fire. Hunger
gnawed at her, and she sat down on a stump
and ate the remains of last night’s meal, left for them by the Sioux war party.
Wind Rider slept though the day and into the
night. When it grew dark Hannah placed the blanket over him and once again considered
escape. It would be so easy, she reflected, to
quietly disappear into the woods. She could
take Wind Rider’s horse, though she wasn’t
an experienced rider. There was a world of
difference between the plodding farm horse
she had ridden back home in Ireland and the
wild Indian pony that had carried both her
and Wind Rider. Still, it was worth a try, she decided as she moved stealthily from the firelit perimeter of their small camp.
“You would be foolish to run.” The deep resonance of his voice held a note of warning,
sending a tremor of apprehension down her
spine.
Perched on the horns of a dilemma, Hannah
paused, regarding Wind Rider speculatively. He
rested on his elbows, peering at her through the
darkness. She shivered, wondering if his silver eyes had the ability to see through the dark.
“You’re awake.”
“I haven’t been sleeping for some time.”
Hannah felt herself flush all over. Had he
been awake when she had perused him so thor
oughly? “You are in no condition to stop me.”
She took two steps to test him.
“Try me.” The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. It made her regret having helped
him. He was a savage, for heaven’s sake, capable
of all sorts of depravity.
“Come here.” The authority in his voice was
unmistakable.
Slowly, Hannah approached Wind Rider, her expression wary. “What do you want?”
“Sit down beside me.”
Hannah stopped in her tracks. Did he intend to attack her? Had she kept her virginity only
to be raped by a heathen Indian? “What are
you going to do? If you intend to rape me, 111
fight to the bitter end.”
Wind Rider looked astonished. “Rape you!
Ha!” The air exploded from his chest in a harsh
burst of laughter, “Only a blind or desperate
man would rape a woman as ugly and unde
sirable as you, and I am neither. I merely want to tie you so you can’t escape.”
His words were like a punch to the gut. She had deliberately tried to make herself as unat
tractive as possible, but for an Indian to tell her
she was ugly and undesirable was a blow to her
pride. “If I displease you so much, why not let
me go?
The answer was as much a mystery to Wind Rider as it was to Hannah. Releasing her would be a simple matter, and probably best for both of them. He had no idea why he resisted the
idea, except that he had convinced himself
that he truly needed a slave. He had carefully avoided the Sioux maidens who would have
gladly joined with him. Under Sioux law he was allowed more than one wife, but he pre
ferred none. Times were too precarious for him
to take wives and raise a family. He had no idea if he’d be alive a day, a month, or a year from
now. If he had a family, who would see to their
welfare if he was killed in a raid? And living on a reservation like the white eyes wished wasn’t an option.
“Could you survive in the wilds by yourself?” Wind Rider asked bluntly. “This is Indian coun
try. You could encounter someone who isn’t as
disposed to keep you alive as I am. You are far too scrawny and weak to be of much use as a
slave. Most Indian men have wives to see to their
needs, so your life will be of little value to them.
It might be different if you were beautiful, but
you are not,” He sent her an inscrutable look.
“But if you truly wish to leave, you are free
to go.”
Hannah gave him a startled look. “Do you
mean it?”
“I have said so.”
Hannah didn’t know what to make of Wind
Rider’s words. He sounded sincere, but how
far could one trust an Indian? “Thank you,”
she said, deciding to take him at his word.
Narrow-eyed, Wind Rider watched Hannah slip into the woods. He had thought her too intelligent to believe she could survive on her
own, but obviously she was so anxious to
escape that she gave little consideration to
his warning. After she had disappeared he
continued to stare at the place where he
had last seen her, a grim smile stretching
his lips.
Hannah wanted to run like the wind but
bowed to caution as she slipped from tree
to tree, following a moonlit path through
the woods. She had no idea what or whom
she might run into, and crashing heedless
ly through the underbrush might alert some
unknown enemy. She recalled Wind Rider’s
warning and wondered if she had, indeed, been
foolish to leave the protection he had offered,
such as it was. But she couldn’t help thinking
the handsome savage had some ulterior motive where she was concerned. She had never heard
of an Indian kindly disposed toward whites,
and Wind Rider’s companions had been all for killing her.
Cautiously, Hannah made her way through the woods, wondering if she’d ever find a trail she could follow to a town. She stopped to rest twice, the last time falling asleep for several
hours. She awoke at dawn, disgusted with
herself for sleeping when she needed to put
distance between herself and the silver-eyed
savage. When she heard the rush of water
she grew excited. Elated, she raced toward the sound and found a stream, realizing that if she followed it long enough it would eventually lead
her to a town.
Bursting from the trees, Hannah slid to an abrupt halt. She had, indeed, found water, and Wind Rider was calmly bathing in it. A small
cry of dismay escaped her lips. Wind Rider heard the sound and turned in her direction, his lips curving into a mirthless smile.
“What took you so long?”
Beyond speech, Hannah lost the ability to move. Had she traveled in circles the entire
night? Her glance took in the fire for which
she had gathered wood and the place where
Wind Rider had spent the night. The indenta
tion of his body was still imprinted upon the
soft grass.
”I-I don’t understand.”
“An Indian child knows more about the wil
derness than you do. You traveled in circles, just as I knew you would.”
Hannah plopped down on the ground, her
expression mutinous. “You never intended to
let me go.”
“I wanted to teach you how little you knew
about the wilderness and survival.”
Hannah mulled over his words then said,
“You are cruel. You torment me with freedom, then take it from me.” She stared at him sul
lenly, resentful that he appeared quite hale, all
signs of fever gone.
“Perhaps,” Wind Rider allowed. “Why don’t you join me? If we are to ride double, I’d prefer
to do so without your stench offending me.”
“I’m perfectly happy the way I am.” She
regarded him warily and scooted backward
when he walked slowly toward her through
the water.
The breath caught painfully in Hannah’s
throat as the sun chose that moment to break
through the gray dawn, revealing Wind Rider’s
nude body to her startled gaze. She tried to look
away, but the magnificence of his masculine
beauty utterly defeated her. Washed clean of
the hideous paint, his face held surprisingly
few Indian characteristics. She had thought him impressive with his breechclout firmly in place,
but without it he was truly breathtaking.
Wind Rider was surprised that the sight of his
nude body turned Hannah’s face a bright red. Even more amazing was the way he hardened beneath the plain little sparrow’s bold perusal.
One would think she’d never seen a man’s naked
body before. Wind Rider thought her a good actress for he knew she was a whore who sold
her body for white man’s coin.
Hannah was so enthralled with him that she
wasn’t aware of his intention until he picked her
up and lunged toward the water. She squawked
in protest when he flung her into the deepest
part of the stream.
Unable to swim, Hannah clawed her way to the surface, spewing forth a stream of water. ‘Ì-I can’t swim,” she sputtered before sinking beneath the weight of her clothes. She was cer
tain now that Wind Rider meant to drown her.
Unwilling to die without a fight, she bobbed
to the surface again. Wind Rider was nowhere
in sight. She went under again, swallowing a
mouthful of water in the process. Just when
she stared death in the face she felt a tug on
her hair and broke the surface, coughing and
gagging.
Wind Rider dragged Hannah to shallow
water, shaking his head in disgust. “Can you
do nothing right, woman? You can’t ride and
you can’t swim. My sister learned to swim at
an early age, like most Indian maidens.”
“I’m no Indian,” Hannah said, gasping and choking. “Were you trying to drown me?”
“If I was smart, I would let you drown.”
She started to rise, but he pushed her back down hard. “Take off your clothes.”
She glared at him mutinously. “No.”
He grasped a handful of material and was startled when her dress literally disintegrated
in his huge hands. Snorting in disgust, he pulled
her free of the dress and tossed it aside. She cried out in alarm when it floated downstream.
She wore nothing underneath it but a shift so
threadbare that it ripped apart beneath Wind
Rider’s hands as he tore it from her body and flung it after the dress.
“What are you doing?” She huddled in the
water, her arms crossed over her bare breasts
and her legs pulled close to her body. She looked
pale, thin, and frightened, and as vulnerable as a newborn babe.
“Trying to get you clean.” Scooping up a handful of sand, he attacked her skin with a
vengeance. The layers of dirt literally floated
off her back, arms, and neck. When Wind Rider
pulled her to her feet so he could scrub the rest
of her body, she cringed and pulled away.
“No, don’t touch me.”
Wind Rider stepped back, suddenly, shockingly aware of her tender white flesh, small,
firm breasts, and long, slender legs. How could
anyone be so appallingly thin and still appear
womanly? He wondered dully. Her nipples were
pink and elongated, her breasts like small,
round apples, so tempting he wanted to taste
them. The woman’s hair between her legs was
not dull brown like that on her head but a rich,
vibrant auburn. It glittered in the awakening
sun like gleaming copper. The sight brought a
painful jolt to his loins and he quickly looked away. In that instant he’d had a brief glimpse
of why men were willing to pay for the use
of her body. Even more startling was the fact
that, cleansed of dirt and grime, her face wasn’t
nearly as unattractive as he had first thought.
All he could think to say was, “Finish your
bath and wash your hair.” The filthy mass of
hair streamed down her back in a tangled, knot
ted mess. Immediately/she ducked her head
beneath the waist-deep water, embarrassed to
the point of tears. No man had ever seen her
naked before, and it angered her that an Indian
had been the first.
Wind Rider stood at the water’s edge, a nude
statue that rivaled the finest works of art.
He watched Hannah through slitted lids, his
expression devoid of all emotion, the planes
of his face stark against the brilliance of the sunlight. He could not turn his eyes away as
Hannah ducked her head beneath the water
and scrubbed it with sand. Within minutes
the vibrant hues of rich auburn interspersed
with streaks of gold emerged, and against his will he recalled the copper curls crowning her
woman’s mound. His body reacted swiftly and
unexpectedly.