by Donna Fasano
Maybe he was right, a tiny voice intoned. Maybe she did need a warrior. For her baby. For herself.
For the first time since fleeing California, Lyssa felt her dread lighten a bit.
“Okay.” That one little word came out sounding like the croak of a frog even though the tension in her shoulders relaxed. “Let’s do it, Dr. Dakota,” she told him. “Let’s get married.”
Gratitude darkened his green gaze and he squeezed her hands in his. “So now can you drop the ‘doctor’?”
Chapter Three
“For every man there is a woman.”
The rich timbre of the elderly shaman’s voice sent a shiver coursing down the full length of Lyssa’s spine. Although she stood close enough to her husband-to-be to sense the mass of him, feel his warmth, smell his intoxicating cologne, her wide-eyed gaze was trained on Dakota’s grandfather. The man’s face was lined with deep crevices, evidence that Shaman Grayson Makwa had lived a life filled with profound emotion.
“And he will know her,” Grayson continued, “for she will touch his heart like no other. Every man must patiently wait for his Woman of the Heart.”
Beside her, Dakota shifted his weight. But when she darted a quick look at him, he settled, his profile set with a firm resolve that made Lyssa nervous. What was going through his mind? Had he decided that maybe they were making a mistake? If so, she wished beyond reason that he’d speak up before it was too late. However, the thought was whisked right out of her head when the old shaman began to recite what he’d called the Wedding Prayer.
The Algonquian words had a lyrical rhythm that stirred her heart. She felt her anxiety begin to dissolve, and for the first time since the simple ceremony had begun, she smiled. Although she couldn’t understand a single word he said, Lyssa knew Dakota’s grandfather was petitioning The Great Spirit on her and Dakota’s behalf.
Grayson wore an elaborate ceremonial headdress decorated in what looked to be a thousand pristine white feathers. Tassels heavy with polished stone beads hung from his temple regions and intricate stitching adorned the leather strip that swathed his forehead. There was no telling how many hours of painstaking labor had gone into the making of the beautiful headdress. His tunic and trousers were made of animal hide, ornamented with more bead-work, and plain, unadorned moccasins covered his feet.
Flames danced and licked greedily at the large chunks of wood stacked on the bonfire. A hazy smoke wafted into the twilit sky, lending a true ethereal quality to the night.
Lyssa remembered when she’d wed Rodney, a day filled with stiff lace and sharp-edged diamonds, stretch limousines and white roses, pomp and circumstance… and strangers galore. Nearly five hundred people had packed the pews of the mega-church, many of whom she’d never met before—or after—that infamous day.
This simple yet oh-so-intimate ceremony was a direct contrast to that experience. Besides herself, Dakota and Grayson, there were only five other people in attendance. Tori Landing had happily agreed to act as Lyssa’s maid of honor. Dakota’s brother, Mat, Sheriff of Misty Glen Reservation was standing in as best man. Mat’s fiancé, Julie, was seated with her brother Brian on her left and Mat’s daughter Grace on her right. Julie and Mat had recently become an item, and it seemed as if the four of them had already settled into a happy family unit. The adoration in Julie’s eyes as she looked at Mat really made Lyssa think.
People were supposed to marry for love. And she and Dakota were completely ignoring convention. They were laughing in the face of fate… marrying out of convenience. Would this disrespect of the sanctity of marriage get them into trouble? Lyssa hoped not. She had made enough mistakes in her life. And she had more than her share of responsibility to deal with already. Unwittingly, her hand slipped down over her tummy.
“Bless this union—” Grayson’s arms lifted heavenward as he boldly made his plea toward the heavens “—and be with Dakota and Lyssa during every step of their new journey together.”
He then took what looked to be a goblet cut of crude stone and set it in front of him. Into it he poured powder from a small drawstring pouch that he’d carried on a tether around his waist. He looked at Lyssa.
“This,” he told her, “represents your past.”
He poured in another small measure of powder and lifted his dark and somber gaze to Dakota’s face.
“This represents your past.”
Grayson then set aside the pouch and took up the goblet into both his hands. For a long moment, he held it up toward the sky, and then with a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed the powder into the fire in a manner that clearly demonstrated he’d done this many times before. Thick smoke billowed heavenward, and once the air cleared, Grayson’s craggy face eased into a smile. “For the two of you, there is no yesterday. Only today. And many tomorrows.”
The simplicity contained in that small act of symbolism brought tears to Lyssa’s eyes. Oh, if only it were that easy to incinerate past failures. She’d experienced so many. So very many.
With one palm now firmly pressed against the swell of her pregnant belly, she felt emotion wallop her. She was determined that her child would not suffer for the blunders she had made. Surreptitiously, she snuck a quick glance at Dakota. He’d told her about his previous marriage. He saw it as a terrible mistake. He, too, must be wishing the same thing as she—that the errors of life could be burnt to meaningless ash with one mere toss of powder into flame.
Like some black cloud sliding down from the universe above, guilt descended upon her, glutinous and smothering. Dakota had confessed to her about his past. He’d been honest and forthright about his first marriage. And she? Well, she had chosen to keep most of her secrets to herself.
She felt badly about that. But it really couldn’t be helped. Dakota would have wanted nothing to do with her if he knew the entire truth about her life. About her past.
The old man had begun to softly chant, his shoulders lifting and falling gently with the beat of his ancient ceremonial song. It was lovely, and Lyssa let go of all the dire emotions in her and allowed herself to be enveloped in the poignancy of the moment. Finally, Grayson lowered his arms, looked at each of them in turn. Softly, he pronounced, “You are husband and wife.”
For several heartbeats, a distinctive and awkward silence pulsed in the air. Neither Lyssa nor Dakota moved a muscle. The few wedding guests seemed to be breathless, waiting. Finally, the shaman chuckled.
“It is customary,” Grayson said to the newlywed couple, “for the groom to kiss his bride.”
Dakota’s tone was hushed as he replied, “Of course.”
The hue of his gaze was dark when he turned and leveled it on her, the emotion shadowed there unreadable, and Lyssa felt panic well in her chest. He leaned toward her, and tightening her grip on her small wildflower bouquet, she instinctively closed her eyes, her heart pounding against her ribs.
She had fantasized about his kiss. From the first day she’d gone to work in Dakota’s office, she’d wondered what his mouth would feel like on her own. Wondered what his lips would taste like. Had even found herself daydreaming about it. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d fought against the sensual speculations that had churned her thoughts, but they’d returned, again and again.
Well, now she was about to discover—
The warmth of his wide, velvet mouth pressed oh-too-fleetingly against hers.
And Lyssa found herself still standing there with her eyelids closed after he’d pulled away. She blinked. Inhaled. Recognized the emotion jolting through her as disappointment. She tamped down the sudden embarrassment of realizing that Dakota had already turned from her. A strange awkwardness smacked her like an open palm against tender skin.
Grayson’s coffee-colored eyes softened as her gaze found his.
“My daughter,” he crooned, reaching out and taking her cheeks between his gnarled fingers, “welcome to the Makwa family. If you need me, I am here for you. Anytime of the day or night.”
The warmth and total embrac
e emanating in his greeting made Lyssa’s eyes well with unexpected tears. Never in her life had she been made to feel so accepted.
“Thank you.” But her voice was barely audible, so tangled was it with chaotic emotion.
Grayson reached out for his grandson. “You know that I love you, my son. And want for you only happiness.”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Dakota said. “And I love you. With all my heart.”
The exchange between the men should have been moving, but Lyssa couldn’t help but notice an odd strain in her new husband’s words, nor could she miss the tension manifested on his handsome face.
Again, she wondered if he’d changed his mind. If he’d decided that marrying her wasn’t a good idea after all, yet hadn’t spoken up in time to put a stop to the ceremony. Dread knotted Lyssa’s insides. She disliked the idea that Dakota might come to see her as just one more mistake he’d made in his life.
Tori hugged Lyssa to her, emotion shining in her blue eyes. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered. The woman fairly shivered with joy as she pressed her cheek to Lyssa’s.
Swiveling her head, Lyssa lifted her gaze just in time to see Dakota take his brother’s proffered hand.
“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Mat murmured.
The man’s words were grave with gentle warning and his hawkishly handsome features were drawn. Lyssa couldn’t miss the implication that, in his opinion, this union didn’t have the slightest chance of succeeding.
“Mat!” Julie’s light laugh didn’t hide the censure she obviously intended. “Is that any way to congratulate your brother?” Without waiting for an answer, she threw her arms around Dakota’s neck. “No matter what your brother has to say, I wish you all the best, Dakota.”
“Thanks, Julie,” he said. “Mat’s just a little grumpy because he couldn’t talk me out of this. He’s been quite candid about his opinion that Lyssa and I are making a mistake. I respect that.” Dakota lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “And he might be right—could be I’m going to need all the good wishes I can get.”
The leaden feeling in Lyssa’s stomach magnified. Oh, he was sorry. That realization was becoming clearer by the moment.
Evidently feeling that his position needed some backing, Mat said, “Well, you’ve got to admit that you two hardly know each other. You should have followed after my example—” he hugged Julie to him “—and waited a while. Get to know each other first, like me and Julie. Our wedding is set for Christmas—”
“And I say,” Julie cut him off with a bright smile, her green gaze glittering, “that now isn’t the time for this discussion. In fact, waiting is no longer an option for Dakota and Lyssa, dear heart. In case you missed it, they have just been pronounced husband and wife. Right now, you should be hugging your new sister-in-law.”
Good manners were enough to have Mat looking contrite. “I’m sorry, Lyssa,” he said before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “I didn’t mean to put a damper on things.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lyssa saw young Grace surreptitiously tug at the hem of Brian’s dark suit jacket.
“Lyssa’s going to have a baby,” the six-year-old astutely observed.
“She is,” Brian remarked, nodding.
Grace’s pert nose wrinkled as she pondered the implications. Then she said, “I thought only married people could have babies.”
Sudden anxiety tightened in Lyssa’s stomach. How could the teen ever explain this complicated situation in a manner the child could comprehend? How on earth could Brian even understand it all?
But the boy only shrugged and said, “Well, they are married… now.”
Grace seemed to take the answer in stride. “Oh,” she said, nodding in agreement. “I guess you’re right.”
Mat leaned close to Lyssa’s ear. “I’m sorry about that, too.” He indicated his daughter with a tip of his head.
Lyssa attempted a smile, but her muscles felt wooden. “It’s okay. She’s so young. And I know that you’re only looking out for your brother’s best interests.”
He paused a moment, just studying her face. His hands were warm as they squeezed hers gently. “Welcome to the family. I mean that.”
It was impossible not to know that this man had been against Dakota’s marrying her, but his welcome seemed genuine. At that moment, Lyssa realized that Mat would never leave her in doubt as to where she stood with him. She could trust that he’d always make his thoughts and opinions perfectly clear.
She only wished she could say the same about Dakota.
He’d seemed so adamant about their getting married. Had said that this marriage would be the answer to all their problems, hers and his. Yet here he was, seemingly torn and tense about the situation—now that it was too late to do anything to avert it.
Julie’s palms slid over Lyssa’s shoulders. Her eyes twinkled. “Never mind Mat,” Julie told her. “He’s just too serious for his own good sometimes.” She smiled then, wide and welcoming. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Lyssa breathed as the woman hugged her tightly.
Julie whispered, “Before you know it, we’ll be sisters-in-law, you and I. We’ll be great friends. I can just feel it.”
Yes, Mat and Julie would marry at Christmas, but would Dakota and Lyssa still be together then, Lyssa wondered. Would she still be living on Misty Glen Reservation? Or would her past have caught up with her? Forced her to flee to a new and different place?
“We’ve got a lot to do,” Dakota said to the group at large.
Lyssa realized that he was ready to make his exit.
“Oh, no,” Julie said. “You’re not taking Lyssa anywhere until she has a chance to toss that bouquet to the single ladies.”
Remembering the huge spray of white roses she’d carried when she’d wed Rodney, Lyssa now looked down at the small bunch of wildflowers that Grayson had so thoughtfully provided for her today when she’d arrived. The flowers were so lovely that she hated to part with them; however, it was clear that Julie was hankering after the chance to catch the bouquet and thereby seal her fate as the next unattached female who would catch herself a husband.
“Okay,” Lyssa said to Julie and Tori. “Get ready.”
She positioned herself about ten feet in front of them, turned her back, counted to three and tossed the bouquet up and over her head toward the women.
Laughter echoed in the air, and the squeals of surprise had Lyssa twisting on her heel.
There, with her eyes wide with utter astonishment, stood Tori Landing holding the colorful wildflowers.
~oOo~
Dakota hadn’t said a word since they left the ceremony, and Lyssa felt her nerves were coiled as tight as an overwound clock spring. A frown marred Dakota’s handsome face, and with every second that ticked by, it seemed that his mood grew darker. Finally, Lyssa could take it no longer.
“Okay,” she blurted, her voice echoing against the windows of the car, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’re sorry. I’m sure we can get this marriage annulled. All we have to do is—”
“What?”
The surprise contained in that tiny query, in Dakota’s green gaze when he shot a glance her way, startled her into silence.
“What are you talking about?” he asked when she didn’t answer him immediately. “We’re not going to have our marriage annulled.” Then a thought seemed to dawn on him. “Is that what you want?”
He looked at her, then looked at the roadway ahead. However, obvious agitation had him casting his gaze on her again as he awaited her answer and Lyssa realized that there were probably safer places to have this conversation than in a moving vehicle.
Confusion made her thoughts go haywire. “Well… no,” she told him. “B-but I thought… you’ve been so quiet. Sullen, even. And after hearing what Mat had to say… well, I thought you may have changed your mind.”
“You can’t listen to Mat.” Dakota shook his head. “Like Julie said, the man’s too serious for his
own good. Our marriage was no mistake. This is the answer to my prayers.” He pitched her a soft look. “I hope it’s the answer to yours, too.”
His words should have set her mind at ease, but she was too perplexed for that.
“Then would you please tell me what’s wrong?” she said. “You’ve been acting like a dark horse ever since your grandfather pronounced us man and wife.” He sighed heavily. “It’s my grandfather. Or rather, the ceremony he chose.”
Lyssa thought about the shaman, his beautiful regalia, the lovely prayers sung in his native language.
“I thought it was wonderful.” She tried to keep the wistfulness out of her tone. “It was warm. And intimate. So different from my first wedding, let me tell you. That fiasco was huge. And so cold that the ice sculpture could have lasted a week.”
Dakota smiled over at her then. “Today was different from my first wedding, too,” he murmured. “I got married in a courthouse. No family. No friends. That ceremony was small. But just like yours, it was pretty frosty.” He chuckled. “And just like yours, it was a fiasco.”
The scowl was gone from his face, and she felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her. At least now she knew he didn’t regret marrying her.
“Looks like we have something in common,” she said. “First weddings that were—” she searched a proper description “—less than pleasant.”
“Looks like it,” he agreed.
She sat quietly for a moment, and then she asked, “What was it about the ceremony that bothered you? I thought your grandfather did a wonderful job.” Before she even had time to think, she pointed out, “He called me the woman of your heart.”
