Katari’s heart pounded as Grey Wolf’s first words of song lifted up into the night air, slowly at the onset, and then gaining in momentum. Although her legs moved naturally in time to her brother’s familiar voice, her heart tripped along at a heightened beat. She had never felt this nervous before during a dance. It was all because of Nicholas Belline. Every move she made now, every thought she dwelled upon, was in some way related to his presence here.
It made her angry once again, that he could emit such an unwanted power over her. She had never cared about the approval of anyone before – she did what she wanted without inhibition, and that was that. Katari’s mounting frustration gave her a renewed desire to dance to the best of her ability.
The sound of the turtle-shell rattles and her brother’s voice overrode all other thought. The beat of drums picked up as the player found and joined Grey Wolf’s rhythm. The Mother Fire was warm and beckoning against her back. She whirled and stomped into the night, growing caught up in Grey Wolf’s thrilling story. It had been the journey of a lifetime. Both she and Grey Wolf had nearly died, and yet had still emerged victorious from such an adventure. Katari let the joy spill from her limbs.
~~~~~
White Lynx was filled with some nameless emotion. It seemed more than mere jealousy. As a warrior, he should feel pride that his woman, Katari, was beautiful, and much admired by others. He did feel this way, most of the time. But, as he watched the girl dance in the firelight with both liquid and ethereal movements, he did not feel gratified by such honor. Not tonight.
Instead, White Lynx felt a sense of helpless frustration that served only to aggravate his short temper. He was aware of a growing confusion inside him. What thoughts lay truly in Katari’s heart?
Nicholas Belline sat close by, only three men away. Most of all, he wanted to peer directly into the mind of this White trapper who now quietly watched his woman dance from where he sat next to the French priest. What was he thinking? There was no way to assess the man’s expression within the shadows cast upon them by the encroaching forest night.
White Lynx admitted that Katari had done nothing wrong. In actuality, even the trapper known as Nicholas had made no false move since his arrival in the Minsi village. The man held his face carefully impassive and he had not made any advances toward Katari. Nor had he claimed to have known her in any way other than as travel companions during the girl’s recovery. White Lynx had even sought out the Jesuit priest, Allouez, who had vouched for the validity of this particular claim.
Still, he could not force the vision of Katari, naked – and beautifully so – in the river near the trade-town, standing next to an equally naked Nicholas Belline. That she had healed him with her magic medicine was a given fact. The man had been one breath from joining his ancestors, and Katari had brought him back from the edge. Had she grown some inner desire for this man as a result? For one moment, he was certain that they had looked at each other as lovers would. The joyful expression on Katari’s face would be forever etched upon his mind.
It was a question that he dared not ask of her. Knowing Katari’s temperament, an explosion much like an ominous thunderclap would surely ensue, and he would do more damage than good with such a query.
Running Wolf’s only daughter would not make for a docile mate, and that was a certainty. It was an issue that White Lynx had often considered in the past. He did not care for drama, and he did not care for petulant demands from a woman. She had been raised as a child of high status, and spoiled a bit as such. He knew this. Yet, her light continued to shine brighter than any other woman’s he had ever known. She haunted him, now. She had bewitched him.
The mere notion made him want to drag her away from the Stomp Dance and back to his own lodge. White Lynx was four years older than Katari, and possessed a man’s needs. He was tired of nibbling kisses. He was tired of her ploys, and her games to keep him at bay. He was bored with the chase, and ready for the taking of her body.
Although he felt poorly for such thoughts of aggression, Katari was stirring up such emotions. It was unfortunate. As a Minsi warrior, he had not been raised to mistreat a woman, ever. The desire to physically dominate a female had not been part of his nature. Until now.
White Lynx sighed. Although he admired Grey Wolf’s skill with song, he thought him more than a bit long-winded. He scuffed his moccasins into the trampled earth of the campsite and wished for the dance to be over. Katari belonged planted next to him and not on display for the smug trapper’s enjoyment. Shooting another glance in the outsider’s direction, he noted that the man was still watching. Of course, he would be. He knew exactly what lay beneath her softly hugging doeskin dress.
“Why the grimace, brother?”
Brown Eagle had startled him. His older brother could still slip among his people as quietly as a mink into still waters. He laughed shortly. “You are a sly one, older brother. As always.”
“I do not let the troubles of my mind chose my footing,” he replied lightly. “The senses should travel before thought.”
“Oh, my senses are speaking,” White Lynx grumbled. “But I do not like what they tell me.”
Brown Eagle nodded and stroked his chin. “If you are inferring to matters of the heart, then I do not offer much warrior wisdom. I have found that common sense will not prevail, no matter what the occasion.”
Laughing, White Lynx relaxed a bit. His older brother’s quips were as familiar and as soothing to him as his mother’s warm hominy, smothered with honey. He had always idolized Brown Eagle. You could never put a warrior such as him in low spirits. He was capable, confident, pleasant, and ever-composed. White Lynx was determined to mirror his brother in temperament someday.
Right now, however, he could not escape his dark thoughts and his hidden jealousies. Katari danced onward, her head blissfully tilted up to the blanketing night sky. He could see the glimmer of sweat bead on her neck and chest in the firelight. The curve-hugging dress accentuated her slim waist and the full mounds of her young breasts. He shifted his weight and gritted his teeth once again.
“If you are concerned about the newcomers, I don’t believe you need to be,” Brown Eagle counseled. “They will be passing on when the Ojibwe woman’s baby is birthed. Katari knows her own mind, a fact that I am sure you have noticed quite well.”
“But, I do not know what to do at this juncture… or how to act,” he grumbled.
Wrapping his bare arms around his knees, Brown Eagle cocked his head. “You know, I was once in love with a woman so beautiful, so captivating, that I could think of nothing but making her happy. She occupied my thoughts and dreams, even when I wished very much against it. This lovely and talented girl was very much like your Katari.”
White Lynx looked away from the fire to stare at his brother. “Truly? What happened?”
“Why, I let her go,” he replied succinctly. “To do so brought her joy and completion. That was my goal as a man, and as her friend.”
“Of which woman do you speak, Brown Eagle? You married our mother, who has brought you much happiness and love.”
“Exactly,” the brave returned. “I was meant to marry your mother, and not the hesitant girl who did not know her true heart. Waiting brought me my happiness, and Jenna’s.”
White Lynx rocked back on his heels, rendered mute. This was news to him. Jenna and his brother had always been best of friends…but more? “Where you ever…?” He left the question hang in the air.
“No. Never. And I am happier for it. That is why I counsel you now – to wait, little brother, and to watch. Then you will know the truth in Katari’s heart. Love won’t be forced, no matter what the circumstance.”
Although White Lynx believed his brother’s words, he found them hard to apply to his own particular situation. He looked at the beautiful girl silhouetted by the fire’s golden glow. He would find a way to make Katari his. Loved could be forced, and he would surely find a way to do it.
Chapter 20
Dawn came swiftly. One moment, the air was thick with shrouding darkness, but with the very next blink, pink tendrils rained down through the limbs and boughs of the trees above. Katari slipped away from the remaining group, having evaded White Lynx while helping her mother to gather up the empty dishes and smoother the smoldering fire pits with fresh dirt.
Eventually, most men of the tribe returned to their lodges or fell asleep where they lay, leaving the women who remained to finish the busywork. Such was often the case at such night-long festivals….warriors or not, their stamina could never match that of a woman’s. Katari sniffed in feminine disdain, and then drew in a breath of chilly air. It was both damp and heavy from the swirling waters before her. She puffed it out forcefully, and watched the resultant cloud of mist hang in the light-grey air. Strangely, she found that she was not in any way sleepy.
As it turned out, Nicholas Belline had not been drawn into the Stomp Dance. All night, Katari waited for the opportunity to watch him dance in the firelight, unclothed and unguarded, but it had never occurred. He merely sat, pensive and quiet, chatting with her mother and father at times, as well as with Father Allouez and Pétant. He hadn’t really even looked her way again.
Katari had taken her place next to a rather grumpy White Lynx, and attempted not to sulk in response to her disappointment. She had had high expectations for a night of unparalleled revelry. With Nicholas watching her, and even participating.
Katari remembered back to the manner in which Nicholas had touched her hair, and stroked her cheek with his warm thumb during the Touch Healing. How could such an action cause her to be angry, and yet to want more of the same, all in one heartbeat?
How frustrating were her thoughts as of late! She had been reduced to the simpering notions of younger her friend, She Who Sings. Only Kanti was now married, and lying with a man she desired on a nightly basis. Silly notions aside, Kanti was now more of a woman than Katari was. It was exasperating.
“No need to take your rest yet, Kat?”
She jumped as if thunder had clapped hard from above, without warning. Nicholas was standing beside her. Katari had not heard his approach over the rush of stream waters and her own tumbled musings.
“Strangely, I am not tired,” she admitted after a pause, wherein she collected herself and smoothed her smudged and rumpled dress. Katari was aware that her hair was likely tangled and her face was grubby with all the debris that she had encountered after the dance. She managed to tuck several wayward strands behind her ears.
“You look lovely, Katari,” Nick grinned at her. “Even when a complete mess.”
She pursed her lips as he continued to watch her. He was still bare of chest, and his nearness disconcerted her. She felt tiny in his large, male presence, and yet it was not a bad feeling. The sheer size of him made her feel…womanly. Her feminine power seemed only enhanced, not diminished in his close proximity.
Although White Lynx was agile and well-formed, sitting close to him did not bring on a feeling like this. She wondered if it was because she had lain with Nicholas intimately, skin on skin, even though they had not committed the actual act of coupling. He had been unconscious and, therefore, unaware of her body sprawled on top of his. She had been truly desperate, that day. They had been pulled into a trance together and then…
Katari cleared her throat to stop the flood of memories, but could find no retort that suited her. “Why are you not asleep with the others?” she finally asked.
He tipped his head back and gazed up at the strengthening dawn. “I did not wish to miss this stunning vision.”
Now, shades of both gold and ochre were seeping into the pink flush, casting everything beneath it in a faint glow. Katari loved the color that it lent to Nicholas’s skin. She looked away from him guiltily.
“When I cannot find sleep, I will often roam,” he continued in explanation. Katari smiled at that notion, thinking that Grey Wolf was very much the same. “And Opichi cannot tolerate the light of the lamp. I do love to read my books late into the night, so it is difficult for me sometimes.”
“You carry books with you on your travels?” Katari asked in surprise. Books were heavy and cumbersome. What Coeur de Bois would tow a pile of books through the wilds? She actually chuckled aloud at the thought.
“Tease not, Katari,” he admonished. “You have not yet learned the joy of the written word. The way you seek knowledge, you would be entranced for certain with such books as I have read.”
“Would I?” she questioned lightly. “We of the Minsi pass our knowledge through stories. It has always been that way.”
“Then consider gaining the knowledge of thousands of tribes, spanning weeks, months, years of travel distance. Peoples and strange locales that you have never heard of. What they have learned, and can thus teach you.”
“Like the cunning of the Greeks who laid siege to the city of Troy?”
“Exactly,” he answered with a smile, obviously pleased that she had remembered their discussion from months ago.
But it also made her recall what had transpired shortly afterward. Katari had sipped too much ale, and had impetuously decided to play the part of his Country Wife again. The game had grown from mischievous to serious very rapidly. At the end of the game, Nicholas had changed into a fierce man that she had not seen previously. He had actually frightened her. But she had wanted that man, anyway. Even more so, in fact. She blinked away the images that had been evoked in her mind.
“Would you walk with me a moment, Katari? I have something that I wish to share with you.”
Katari knew that she should return to her lodge. It was the right thing to do. She was White Lynx’s woman, and she should therefore remain very wary of this trapper’s male allure. But, as ever, her curiosity overstepped her logic. When he stuck out his elbow, as she had seen other White gentlemen do for their ladies in New Amsterdam, she slipped her hand carefully into the space that it provided. Her fingers curled around his bare forearm. It was hard and very warm. It felt much too good to touch him.
“Maluwe,” she cursed in a whisper.
“What was that?” he questioned.
“It means…let us go.”
“Yes, let’s do just that.”
They walked through the early morn. The advance of the sun’s fresh and tender rays had lent a bit of mist to the air as it rose from the damp forest earth. Nearly all of the women had returned to their lodges. The village was empty and quiet, when it was usually bustling with life and people about their chores. To Katari, it seemed otherworldly.
“It will be this way till the sun reaches the highest point, I would imagine,” she explained.
“Mornings after a spring brigade revel were much the same,” he said. “Although there would be many unsightly…characters scattered about,” he added with a chuckle. “This village retains its innocent beauty without the addition of jack-whiskey.”
Katari wrinkled her nose wryly. “I suppose the White spirit-drink does have the ability to change your actions. My head felt funny…but also…happy.”
“Ha. And you only tried ale sweetened with honey. You would not like whiskey, Kat.”
She sniffed. “Perhaps I would, Nicholas. I would judge this for myself.”
“Always the stubborn one, aren’t you, Katari?”
They had arrived at the Big House lodge and had come to a halt. She furrowed her brows in confusion. Many people slept within the large dwelling, especially during such an event, and there was certainly no place to talk. “Why did you bring me here, Nicholas?”
“Stay here, just a moment. I would bring you a gift.”
Katari opened her mouth to object, but he had disappeared within the door-flap. He was gone for several pregnant moments, during which time she thought she heard a thump and a muffled curse. Nicholas had likely stubbed his toe in the dimly lit interior.
She sighed and waited impatiently. When Nicholas returned, he held two books in his hands. He brushed their covers off carefully and pla
ced them in her hands.
Katari ran her fingers over the inlaid cover and bit her lip. “Shakes-spear?” she inquired. “A warrior?”
“A warrior of words. Katari, you must read these stories. You will be amazed at the way in which he tells them.”
She lifted the cover of the first and saw the tiny words, running one after another, penned in the French language. She turned a few pages. Haltingly, she read aloud.
“Let’s not confound the time with conference harsh; there’s not a minute of our lives should stretch without some pleasure now. What sport tonight?” she murmured, in awe.
Nicholas chuckled. “What sport, indeed, Katari? Shall we play dice while all others sleep? Or perhaps the game of Country Wife?”
It was her turn to feel the flush of shock and heat rush to her face, at the memory of her actions long ago. Nicholas had never been this forward with her. “It is morning,” she sputtered.
“Not a minute of our lives,” he repeated Shakespeare’s words softly and slowly. Katari realized with a lurch that he was much too close to her for it not to happen. Nicholas’s hand caught up in her hair and his mouth moved to touch upon her open lips. His mouth was hot. Again, she felt the sear of the contact all the way to her toes as her stomach turned over with the thrill of her body’s ever-traitorous response. The male scent of him enveloped her.
But instead of willingly stepping into the circle of his arms, as her senses urged her, guilt invaded her conscience. She saw an image of White Lynx, and of her father and mother. They were looking at her with dismay - not their typical love and pride. Katari gathered what will-power she possessed and stomped on Nicholas’s toe.
He reared back in surprise. “Oww, Kat!”
She advanced angrily, snapping her foot down once again, but Nicholas agilely moved out of the way of her second attack.
Savage Journey Page 19
