by Karen Kay
“None, except the limits that you place upon yourself. Your wound was only superficial.”
“Will you hurry then, please? I can’t allow Black Bear to be alone with them. He will not know what to do, and he would never think to say no to anything they would suggest. It is his way.”
The doctor nodded, and as his gaze met hers, Estrela thought he carefully masked something, some thought, though all he said was, “Do not strain yourself overly much. The wound may be minor, but you might still be weak from the excitement. Promise me that you will not exert yourself too much and will rest when you’re tired.”
“I promise,” was all Lady Estrela said before rising. She curtsied to the doctor, and then in a flurry of motion, left the room.
And if she didn’t see the physician’s eyes narrow at her departure, so much the better.
She found them in the west wing. Black Bear stood, arms over his chest, surrounded by feminine laughter and wiles. The two girls chatted with him, taking turns trying to escort him along the corridor.
They were making little progress, however. Black Bear simply would not move along at the pace they desired, taking his time studying the portraits that lined the walls.
He towered over the women as they relentlessly shot questions up at him, but he paid them little attention. He scrutinized the portraits instead, striding up to them, touching one, then another. He would gaze at a painting, then step back. And all the while the women moved with him, pacing up, then back, constantly talking.
Finally, Black Bear shook his head, opened his mouth to speak, perhaps to ask a question, but he didn’t get the chance. The demands for his attention were such that Black Bear, unable to do more than listen to the women, resorted back to his original stance, arms crossed over his chest, posture straight.
And Estrela couldn’t take her eyes from him.
He looked magnificent. He had draped his buffalo robe over his shoulders, his hair fanned out behind him in one long mass; his stance with legs apart reminded Estrela of his stubbornness. She was caught up at once by the odd comparison between the Indian and a portrait of an English gentleman that Black Bear was studying. Black Bear was as well and richly dressed in his own culture as this representative was in his. Both the Indian and the Englishman boasted weapons, both mocked the world with an intelligent leer; but the most striking resemblance between the two was that in the portrait, as well as in Black Bear, Estrela noted an air of confidence. The Englishman’s claim to it most likely stemmed from his title, the Indian’s, more readily from his skill.
Estrela sighed and felt a pain and longing like she had never known deep inside her.
It didn’t matter how much she admired him; she could not have him.
He turned quickly at that moment to catch her study of him and, before she could drop her gaze, he frowned. “Why are you not resting? Surely the white medicine man has insisted upon this.”
Perhaps it was because of all the excitement today. Perhaps it was her own shock over seeing Black Bear or maybe the stress was simply physical. Whatever the cause, Estrela suddenly felt quite faint. And she struggled with herself, determined to stay upright. She tried to think of something brilliant to say, but her mind was sluggish, her wit at rest, and all she managed to utter was, “I—”
“Oh, no, my dear, no,” the Duchess interrupted. Her Grace broke away from the others, hurrying toward Estrela. “My dear girl, your Indian friend is right. You should not be worrying about us after your terrible ordeal today. I shall take good care of your Indian. You really should rest. It would be a pity if you took ill. Here, I will accompany you to your room while my girls entertain your Indian, won’t you girls?”
The two girls didn’t even acknowledge their mother, so rapt was their attention on the Indian. Both of them giggled.
“I’ll be fine,” Estrela said, her gaze flicking to Black Bear as she spoke. “The doctor said the wound is only superficial and that I can carry on as usual. So you see”—she tried to smile brightly—“there is no reason why I can’t keep you company. I mean, you aren’t going out, are you—at this hour?”
“I, well…” The Duchess of Colchester was stunned speechless, an unusual circumstance. But she recovered quickly, saying, “I had hoped to visit one or two friends, but I believe you are right, my dear. It is too late and ha! I know what I shall do. I shall give a party myself, within the month. A party for you—a party for your Indian. Oh, my goodness, yes, what a simply grand idea. I imagine there won’t be a person in the Royal Court who wouldn’t come to my party—not with the Indian and all. Why, I daresay, it will be the most talked about event of the year. Bless me, what an opportunity you and your Indian have given me. Come, my dear, come along with me. And as long as you are sure that you are feeling up to it, you may as well accompany us while we show your Indian the rest of our home.”
Estrela nodded and allowed herself to be pulled along behind the party of three women and Black Bear as they set off down the long corridor of the Colchester mansion.
They made a magnificent sight, this foursome plus one, standing on the second floor of the hall with just a brass railing separating them from what could only be called a grand spectacle of a room below them. The entire hall stood bedecked with black and white marble floors, upstairs and down, along with lush, red carpet; spectacular paintings and sculptures hung everywhere; and Black Bear, instead of appearing the backwoods cousin, blended in with the rest, his stately manner as much at home here as the English treasures.
Estrela watched the images they presented with interest, but soon she began to feel weaker and weaker, and she sincerely started to doubt her own ability to continue along the tour. Had she a chair, she would have sunk into it without the least excuse.
But there were no chairs, no excuses, and Estrela somehow had to hold herself upright.
She stood, propped up with a hand on the second-floor railing, as she witnessed the butler approach the Duchess. And it was with tremendously mixed emotions that Estrela overheard their conversation: the Royal Duke of Windwright had arrived and was waiting for them in the drawing room, requesting specifically to meet the new Lady Estrela and Black Bear. Estrela grimaced. She did not feel up to the occasion.
Literally.
Nevertheless, the Duchess of Colchester ushered them all along the hall, hurrying them on toward the drawing room where the Royal Duke of Windwright stood, and as they drew near, it was clear he awaited them none too patiently.
“Oh, dear sir,” the Duchess said even before they had come fully into the room. She hurried forward and met the Duke, offering him her hand. “I am delighted, simply delighted, you have come calling on us. And lucky man, we have not yet taken dinner. Won’t you please stay?”
“Well,” the Royal Duke began, “I thank you for the invitation, but so sorry I must decline. I have come here solely to meet the new lady in the house and her interesting friend. I must say I was quite impressed today by the young lad—what did you say now? Is he Indian? Whole town is talking, you know.”
“Oh, my, but they are? How perfectly splendid. But you must stay for supper, Your Grace. At least there you can question our guests to satisfy your curiosity about them, and I’m sure these two lovely people will not mind this in the least. Will you?” She turned an engaging smile upon Black Bear, but the gesture was lost on him. He scowled at her, at the Royal Duke, and in answer to the Duchess’s question, placed his arms back over his chest.
“Yes, well.” The Duchess put her hand on the Royal Duke’s arm. “Come along this way and we will sit down to dinner. Won’t you please? I’m sure my husband is there already.”
But the Royal Duke was not to be led away so easily. “I say,” he said, “how has the Indian come to be here? Has he a sponsor?”
“Why, yes, Your Grace, I suppose we are. After all, he is here because of Lady Estrela, isn’t he, my dear?”
All heads turned toward Estrela where she lagged behind the others, and though she would hav
e loved to claim that she hadn’t heard the exchange between the Royal Duke and the Duchess of Colchester, she knew it would do no good. All here expected her to answer.
She opened her mouth to speak, too tired and too weary to parry their interest.
“I can understand your language,” Black Bear spoke up as Estrela entered the room. He glanced over to her quickly, examining her from top to bottom. “I can even speak English a little. Why do you question a mere girl when I can answer your questions myself?”
Estrela’s eyes opened wide. She hadn’t expected Black Bear to speak. She hadn’t expected him to assert himself. She couldn’t help the warm feeling it gave her to experience his care and concern.
Black Bear moved across the room so that he stood in front of her, a bit to the right; his countenance, his stance clearly stating his intention.
“Why, I…yes, old chap,” the Royal Duke said. “I suppose that you can speak for yourself. No harm meant to the Lady, after all.” The Royal Duke’s laugh held a particular sort of nervousness. He cleared his throat. “I do believe that I can ask these questions of you personally,” the Royal Duke said although he never repeated the inquiry, “but let me introduce myself first.”
“Oh, dear me, I have forgotten my manners,” the Duchess of Colchester said at last. “Let me introduce you to the Lady first.” She led the Royal Duke toward Estrela. “Lady Estrela, the Royal Duke of Windwright. And my dear man, can you believe that she is related to our family? But of course you can see the resemblance yourself. However, we have only recently discovered her, and, bless me, but isn’t my husband trying to research through our family tree to find her relation. And he will find it, my dear man. He will find it.”
Estrela curtsied, her head low, her body bent.
Oh, dear.
Estrela grimaced, her worst fear realized. Her head reeled. I’m going to faint. She tried to straighten up, she tried to rise, but her body simply wouldn’t obey her command, and the ground suddenly loomed ever closer.
“But come along, my dear man, I know you are anxious to meet the Indian.” The Duchess of Colchester, unaware of Estrela’s plight turned away and moved the Duke along until they stood directly in front of Black Bear. “And this.” She reached out and touched Black Bear’s arm, which produced such a scowl from the Indian that she snatched her hand back at once. She cleared her throat. “Yes, as I said, this is the Indian, Black Bear, who so gallantly saved Estrela this afternoon and who is staying with us—”
“Ah, such a daring rescue,” the Royal Duke interrupted, “I couldn’t keep away. I had to come and meet you myself, old chap.” He offered his hand to the Indian, but Black Bear held back, arms still positioned over his chest.
Estrela, with one last concerted effort, tried to straighten up. But blood rushed to her head and with dim awareness, she saw the room spin out of control and…she swayed, rocking without intending it. Oh dear. I can’t faint. I can’t.
But it was useless. She couldn’t keep consciousness. She attempted to speak, perhaps to convey her predicament, but no words came to her. Without any warning to the others, Lady Estrela fell over, flopping onto the floor.
“What the…? Oh, dear me.” The Duchess looked to Estrela and gasped, clutching her throat. “I…ah… Where are the servants? Ah…I told the girl she shouldn’t be up and about after her horrible afternoon… I… Girls…”
“I say, are you quite all right?” the Duke asked from a distance, as though Estrela would immediately respond to his royal question.
No one made a move toward her.
The two daughters cried, looking faint themselves, and if it weren’t for Black Bear, Estrela might have lain on the floor for a very long time, at least until a servant could be summoned to carry her.
But Black Bear was there. He bent down to her, lifting her into his arms, and had anyone looked closely, they might have seen the fleeting rush of pleasure come onto his face, a look that told of his feelings for this pale-haired beauty. But too soon it was gone, quickly masked.
“Where does she stay?” he asked.
“Oh, but my dear boy, I…why, you can’t take her there. Wait and I will get a servant.”
But Black Bear had already strolled away and was climbing the marble stairway, his gaze silently admiring the girl he held closely in his arms.
“I need no one else,” he said. “I will see to her. Just tell me where she stays or take me there.”
“I never…you can’t… I wouldn’t allow—”
“She needs her rest. Had she been in my home, I would have sent her to sleep long ago. Now if you will not tell me where it is that she stays, I will pick any room of my choosing.”
“Third door on the right, up the stairs, dear boy. And do be quick about it. I couldn’t allow you to stay there with her for any length of time. Beth, my daughter, will fetch a servant to help. Your Royal Grace, please come this way. I am truly sorry for all of this. I simply can’t imagine what could have happened and I cannot believe that…”
Her words trailed into the distance as the three women and the Royal Duke left the drawing room, adjourning to the north wing, there to partake of dinner and to relate over the scandalous events of the day; and Beth, the prettier of the Colchester daughters, never thought to summon a servant.
He stared at her on the bed where he had placed her. She lay amid creamy, silken sheets, and he thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
He had risked much to come after her in this foreign place: his home, his friends, his life itself. Yes, he had risked much. But as he looked at her now, he knew his decision to come after her had been the right one.
He touched her cheek. So soft—it rivaled the very texture of the wild rose. He bent down to inhale her sweet scent, a fragrance so uniquely her own, he had found himself unable to find its equal in nature. His senses reeled under the onslaught of that which she was.
He tried now to memorize her every feature, for he had discovered today that his recall of her had not been true to her beauty. Her unbound, blond hair flowed about her face and shoulders, the mane’s wild profusion fanning out over the silken sheets, and the cast of the wild, red sunset filled her cheeks with color.
His gaze fell to her full breasts, which her gown did everything to emphasize, pushing them up and clinging scandalously to them. He had seen gowns such as this on the eastern seaboard of the Americas, but none as exciting as this, and certainly none of the women had been as beautifully shaped as his own Waste Ho Win. How he longed to cup her breasts, to feel the creamy mounds in his hands as they rose and fell with her breath. But he dared not do it.
She had changed.
He closed his eyes against the longing to feel her, to claim her, to make her his own. He reminded himself that he could not pursue it. He had discovered in only a matter of moments that their relationship held a difference. Waste Ho kept herself distant from him as though she… He was unprepared to acknowledge it, but she held herself aloof as though she no longer desired him as husband.
His insides filled with raw emotion at his thoughts and for just a short moment, he let his features mirror the inner struggle of his torment.
He had not expected this change in her. He had thought his pursuit of her would end once he had found her, that she would easily leave with him to return to the Western plains. Never had he dreamed that her feelings for him might have dimmed. Never had he thought that she would have found something else—perhaps someone else—more precious than their own love.
So much was different between them now. And though he tried to fault the English culture for the change in her, he could not. There was something else here, something more compelling, more commanding than just the difference in culture; and he did not know what it was.
True, she had found family here, family and a need to stay—something he had not considered and something he could not change.
But there was more to it. He sensed it, trusting his instincts on such things as re
adily as he did his sense of sight, smell, or taste.
Either she had changed or something was causing her to act in a way he did not understand, in a way that did not fit her character. For of one thing he was certain, she did not intend to keep her vow.
It was there in her demeanor, unspoken within her words.
Why?
Did she no longer desire him? Or was something else distracting her?
He brushed a delicate tendril of hair from her face, groaning at the effect she had on him. Desire leaped to life within him, and as he looked down on her, he could only hope that someone would come soon to help him put her to bed; for she needed her clothes removed and he doubted he would have the willpower to do it without… Not now. He wanted her too much.
“Waste Ho,” he whispered just before he brushed his lips over hers. “Waste Ho Win, Pretty Voice Woman, Estrela. I have come for you and what do I find? A beautiful woman who is deeply entrenched in a life without me. And I wonder, when I came to you in thought these past years, did your heart beat faster at my memory? I did not think that I would have to win you again, but I see that I am wrong. You do not intend to keep your vow to me. Why? Has your love faded so much while mine has grown stronger? I am like a man demented. I want you and only you. No one else will do for me. And so I will try to understand. I ask that you do not test my patience for long, though. I am but a man with manly needs.” This said, he gave her a lingering kiss, then slipped silently away to summon a servant.
Chapter Four
Strong arms held her, hugging her, endowing her with sweet, precious warmth. It reminded her of…
She dozed, she couldn’t quite recall it. It reminded her of…?
“We’ll marry…” he’d said, his voice quiet, yet certain, filled with authority. “You will give me many sons. You will call me husband, and I shall love you, extend to you all my protection and care for you all of my life. I do not believe there is anything you could do that would make me love you less.”
