Woman of His Heart

by Donna Fasano

  “But, Dakota—”

  “I insist.”

  She sensed the warm mass of him move closer to her. He touched her chin, forced her eyes to meet his, and she thought she’d never experienced such compassion as she saw in his expression.

  “Lyssa, this will be a doctor-patient relationship,” he assured her. “Period.”

  She heard his proclamation, but she wasn’t sure she believed it. Oh, he believed the statement. Every lousy word was chiseled in the set of his jaw. However, he was refusing to acknowledge just how compelling this allure was that was tugging at them.

  “Come on.” His tone was light, urging, as he scooped up her hand in his. “The office is closed. We could—”

  Dark qualms skulked about in the recesses of her mind, forcing her to hesitate, to avert her eyes from his.

  But he was determined. “I’ve heard that nurses make terrible patients,” he chuckled softly, “but this is ridiculous.” He tugged her from the chair.

  Reluctance made her feet feel leaden, but she followed him down the hall that led to the medical offices.

  Lyssa was impressed by his professional demeanor as he noted all her pertinent information. He scolded her for not having seen a doctor before the end of her first trimester. However, he seemed to understand when she explained that she’d been too busy running away from her ex and he was appeased when she assured him that she’d been taking her vitamins religiously. He took her blood pressure, managing the cuff and gauge of the sphygmomanometer expertly. And he didn’t even laugh at her when she insisted on removing her shoes before being weighed. She thought that maybe, just maybe, the two of them could get through this patient-physician relationship without desire encroaching on them.

  “I should listen to your heart,” he said.

  The moment his fingers brushed her skin, Lyssa felt her pulse skitter. Memories of the night they had made love came flooding into her brain. Self-consciousness had her staring off into a far corner of the room as extremely carnal images refused to be banished.

  However, the fact that she wasn’t looking at him only heightened her tactile sense. She became even more aware of the heat of his fingers. The silk of his skin against hers. The warm male scent of him. The tickle of his exhalation against her jaw. And she went utterly still when she realized… he was trembling.

  Boldly, she tipped up her chin and leveled her gaze on his. But his moss-green eyes slid from hers.

  The air was thick with sensation. Hazy with it. But Lyssa would rather have died than to be the first to admit it. She’d made that mistake once. She certainly wouldn’t be facing that kind of humiliation again anytime soon.

  “Sounds good,” he murmured. “Nice strong rhythm. Now, let’s listen to the baby.”

  Alarm had Lyssa panicky, but she eased herself back onto the exam table and automatically began loosening her clothing. She pulled up her blouse to just beneath her breasts and tugged her trousers down onto her hips. Shyness oozed to the surface, and she did what she could to swallow back her nervousness. She looked up at him through half-closed lashes, and she was shocked to find Dakota staring at her abdomen.

  At four months pregnant, she certainly wasn’t huge, but her tummy did have a distinctive swell. She remembered the different times he’d touched her. Placing a protective hand on her belly once while reassuring her. Smoothing velvet fingers over her tiny bulge when they’d made love.

  She felt timid, and the allure spinning and dancing in the exam room only heightened the anxiety in her. What was he thinking? Why had he grown so utterly still? Was he, too, remembering the times he’d touched her?

  Unable to stand the silence any longer, she spoke his name.

  He blinked, and she got the impression that time slowed to a crawl. His gaze roved over her navel, up her torso, over her breasts, her throat, her chin, hovered at her lips and then latched onto her eyes. His expression was fraught with profound emotion. However, when his silence continued, Lyssa knew he was determined to keep whatever he was feeling to himself.

  The muscle in the back of his jaw clenched. He was a strong man, she’d learned that much while working with him… in being married to him. If he chose to fight the desire throbbing in the atmosphere, she was certain he’d conquer it.

  He swallowed, and his nostrils flared when he took a deep inhalation. Only after he’d evidently tamed the emotions warring in him did he touch her.

  His palms were warm against her stomach, his fingers gentle as he probed and pressed against her tummy. His gaze and his focus was on the exam now, the beguiling magnetism having retreated into the corners of the room where it lingered, waiting.

  The ultrasound stethoscope chilled her skin as he slid it from one side of her stomach to the other, searching. Finally, a fuzzy-sounding rhythm filled the room and Lyssa gasped.

  There was something about hearing her child’s heartbeat for the first time that made her own heart ache. Her eyes welled with happy tears.

  “That’s my baby,” she exclaimed.

  “It is.” Dakota’s sexy mouth pulled with a grin. “It’s a wonderful sound.”

  “Oh.” Why was she crying? “It is. It really is.” Joy curled inside her, filling her with warmth. Without thought, she pressed her hand to her tummy. “I love this baby,” she said, the words tripping from her tongue without thought. “And I’m never going to let anyone hurt him. Ever.”

  She was speaking of Rodney and his family. She knew that Dakota understood what she meant. There was no need to explain.

  Maternal instinct crowded out all other emotion, and Lyssa lay on the exam table with her eyes closed reveling in dreams of what kind of life she wanted for her child. Her sigh was contented, and when she lifted her eyelids, she saw that Dakota was watching her.

  “So,” she said, smiling, “do I pass the test? Is my baby healthy?”

  “I give you both my stamp of approval.”

  He turned his back to her then, focusing on making notes in her electronic file and giving her time to get her clothing arranged.

  She was sitting up on the table now, buttoning up her blouse. Sheer happiness had her heart feeling light. All she wanted was for everyone in the whole world to experience this kind of soul-deep elation, and it was with this motivation only that she decided to broach what she knew would be a sticky subject.

  “Dakota,” she began.

  “Yes.” He didn’t turn to face her, just continued to type.

  “I’ve been thinking about something. Something you said.”

  As soon as his green eyes were on her, caution reared its head like a frightening snake. But Lyssa refused to back down. Dakota deserved to be happy. He needed to hear this.

  “Those things you told me,” she continued, “about your mother.” Leeriness narrowed his eyes a bit, but she barreled forward. “I know that you’ve spent a lot of time feeling angry and betrayed. But I want you to know that, well, that what you are doing isn’t very healthy. You’re hurting yourself by holding on to all these negative feelings.”

  He looked dubious.

  “I know,” she told him. “I’ve had to forgive my own mother’s transgressions. And it’s because of that that I’m able to give you this advice.”

  She could see that he still wasn’t convinced.

  “You need to talk to someone.” Absently, she tugged at the hem of her blouse. “You need to find out the truth. Go to Mat. Or better yet, your grandfather. Grayson might be able to tell you exactly what happened. He just might solve the mystery you’ve been living with, to tell you how you came to have green eyes.”

  Ire simmered to the surface of his expression.

  “I want you to be happy, Dakota,” she said, sincerity in her tone. “That’s what I want for you.”

  For the longest time, he was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice grated. “I appreciate your concern. Honestly, I do. But—” he shook his head, his long silky hair swaying gently “—I don’t know, Lyssa. I just don’t know if I can d
o what you’re asking.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dakota heaved on the crowbar with all his might and felt a small sense of satisfaction at the sound of wood cracking, a rusty nail popping from its confines. He’d come out into the backyard looking for something to destroy. The old gazebo, built years before he’d bought the house, had been constructed of inferior lumber. Rot ate at the foundation in places, creeping vines hid most of the latticework. He’d never used the structure and had always intended on tearing it down but had never gotten around to doing so.

  A sledgehammer and crowbar were perfect tools to help him vent some of his pent-up agitation. The tension was getting to him. Oh, Great One in heaven, help him, but it was becoming more than he could take.

  Over the past week, the sexual frustration alone had been enough to have his skin crawling with need. He watched Lyssa at the office by day, hungered for her at night. He lay in his bed, his body throbbing. He yearned for what he couldn’t have, knowing he was separated from her by the mere thickness of a bedroom wall. He tossed for hours before sleep would overtake him. And even then his torment didn’t end. His dreams were filled with sharp and explicit images: the sight of her naked flesh, the sound of her desirous moans, the smell of her silky hair, the taste of her luscious mouth.

  With a groan of his own, Dakota tossed aside the crowbar, picked up the sledgehammer, and swung it with all his might. Wood splintered, slivers flying.

  Why couldn’t he control this desire? It was like a rain-swollen river that refused to be contained, rising up over its banks and flooding all of the surrounding countryside. That’s exactly what it felt like, because there wasn’t an area of Dakota’s life that wasn’t affected by his attraction to this woman.

  He didn’t want to want her. Yet, if he were to be completely honest, he’d have to admit that there was more to all of this than mere physical attraction.

  He’d learned so much about her. Life had dealt her some hard knocks. She’d made some wrong choices. But she was trying to get her life straightened out.

  Everyone deserved a second chance.

  He wasn’t too worried about her past giving her too much problem. He’d met her ex. Rodney Gaines might have more money than the devil himself, but wealth could only go so far. Dakota was of the opinion that Gaines was a weak-willed man, a pathetic bully who probably wouldn’t show his face at Misty Glen rez again.

  Still, Lyssa worried about what her ex-husband might do now that he knew she was pregnant. And Lyssa’s worries were Dakota’s worries. He was honor-bound to protect her. And he planned to do just that.

  She was sweet and loving. Giving and kind. She deserved his support.

  He took another frustrated swipe at the gazebo. If anyone were to be privy to his thoughts, he just might be accused of being smitten with his pretty young wife.

  “No!” He growled the word out loud.

  Love hurt. And he would not allow himself to be vulnerable to that kind of pain again. Ever.

  “Hello, my son.”

  Dakota turned, saw his grandfather and felt his scowl soften. “Hello, Grandfather.”

  Grayson Makwa’s arrival didn’t startle Dakota in the least. All his life, this is what he’d experienced. During his times of great mental turmoil, if he did not seek out his grandfather, Grayson would end up just showing up, seemingly right out of the blue. It became obvious to Dakota very early on that his grandfather had the gift of sight when it came to his grandchildren. Just how clear his “visions” were, Dakota couldn’t say. But the shaman’s gift was there, nonetheless.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” the old man said. “I feel as if it is your time to seek. And learn. And grow. But I fear you’re being stubborn.”

  A small, faint chuckle of irony erupted from Dakota’s throat. He put down the heavy hammer and sighed. “Yes. I guess you could say that. But it was only because I didn’t know how to ask you about what has been bothering me.”

  Grayson’s chocolate-brown eyes glistened with affection. “The journey begins,” he said softly, “with but a single step.”

  In that instant, Dakota realized two things: Lyssa had been right, he needed to talk about this, to finally discover the truth; and his grandfather was right, as well. The truth would never be found in his continued silence.

  Turning to face his grandfather fully, Dakota said, “I’m different.”

  “We are all different, my son. Yet, we are all the same.”

  But the sadness that filled Grayson’s eyes reflected an unmistakably profound knowledge. Clearly, the old man sensed where the conversation would eventually lead.

  “I’m different from all my Kolheek brothers and sisters,” Dakota pressed.

  Sorrow seemed to round Grayson’s shoulders. “Yes, my son. Yes, you are.”

  Dakota felt the need to brace himself. He was about to learn the full extent of his mother’s betrayal. “Your mother never wanted you to know.”

  Anger simmered inside Dakota. “I’ll bet she didn’t.”

  Grayson seemed puzzled by his grandson’s ire. Then he surmised, “Sometimes the truth can do more harm than good, Dakota. But it seems to me you need to know what happened. In fact, it could very well be that the truth has been too long in coming.”

  That’s exactly how Dakota felt. He nodded slowly, silently.

  “Let us walk.” Grayson lifted his hand and gestured toward the forest. Dakota didn’t hesitate to follow.

  On the rez, thick thatches of woodland were never far off. The Kolheek believed that trees and bushes, wildlife and running water, gave much more than merely fresh air and sustenance. Nature offered wisdom; if one was willing to truly listen.

  “Your brother was just over a year old when you were conceived,” the old man began. “Norma Makwa had been a dedicated wife and mother. Never leaving her husband or Mat once in all those months after giving birth to her first son. Some of her friends planned a weekend shopping trip to Boston and they invited your mother along. She’d led a pretty sheltered life. Had always been frightened of the city, you see, feeling much more at home here in the mountains, among her own people. But what young woman can resist the promise of a little fun and excitement?”

  Dakota’s jaw clenched. So it was as he feared. His mother had submitted to the lure of pleasure.

  The very tone of Grayson’s voice seemed to grow heavy. “The women returned early. And your mother was forever changed.”

  Dakota remained silent.

  “She was taken,” his grandfather’s voice was whisper soft, as though he couldn’t bear to speak the words, “against her will.”

  The world began a wild spin. Dakota stopped, whirled a quarter turn and clamped his hand on his grandfather’s arm. Whether or not he meant to halt Grayson’s forward movement, or support himself, Dakota couldn’t say for sure.

  “She was raped?”

  The older man’s only answer was to close his eyes and swallow with obvious difficulty, emotion vibrating from him.

  Finally, Grayson was able to continue. “She refused to go to the Boston police. Insisted, instead, that her friends bring her home. She was silent for weeks. I counseled her every day. Prayed for her. With her. I tried to get her to open up to me. To talk about what had happened to her.

  “She was so afraid that your father was going to leave her. Afraid that the entire tribe would look down on her, as if she were dirty. She felt… soiled.”

  Riotous feelings bashed and clattered inside him, but Dakota could find no words that seemed right for the moment.

  “Norma had always been a fragile creature,” the old man said, “but after her trip to Boston… after that harrowing experience, she became as delicate as bone china. Your father—” Grayson’s gaze glittered with pride “—I was so proud of my son. He said all the right things. His love for your mother was strong. He made her understand that the body is just a shell… like armor, is what he called it. Someone dented and scratched her armor, your father told her. But that didn�
��t make her a different person. She was still the same inside. Untouched. And whole.”

  Dakota felt overwhelmed. It was all too much to take in.

  “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”

  Love lit his grandfather’s dark eyes. “She didn’t want you to know, Dakota. She never wanted you to know. She was adamant that you would never face the stigma of being the product of rape. She wanted more than anything else for you to have a normal childhood.”

  In his mind’s eye, Dakota remembered how he’d responded to Lyssa’s desires for her child. Love, freedom from fear, freedom from harm, those were the things that every mother wanted for her child.

  Even his own.

  Grayson continued, “It was the pregnancy that brought her out of her depression. You saved your mother, Dakota. She looked on you as a gift from The Great Spirit. She believed that everything happens for a reason. I believe that, too. You needed to be born. You needed a womb in which to grow. A mother to love you. She was chosen. She was grateful to have been chosen.”

  In a haze, Dakota eased himself down on a fallen log. Grayson sat down beside him.

  “Your mother loved you.” The old man placed a reassuring hand on his grandson’s knee. “Your father loved you, too. My son raised you as his own, and there was never a doubt that he’d do anything other than that.”

  “I-I’ve been angry with her.” Dakota’s voice was dry and rusty. “I thought she betrayed—”

  “I realize that now,” Grayson interrupted. “I should have told you the truth long ago.”

  Dakota knew the powerful anguish he was feeling was reflected in his eyes, in the stiffness of his whole body.

  “The important thing you must remember, my son, is that you were loved. The circumstances surrounding your creation have nothing whatsoever to do with who you are. You are a good person. An intelligent man who has helped many people. And you will help many more over your lifetime. You have a good heart. Skilled hands. An intelligent mind. Those are the things you must contemplate.”