by Linda Ladd
“Don't be a fool, Starfire. You can't escape that way. It will kill you!”
As he spoke, he inched toward her, thinking she wouldn't have the courage to jump. The leap was far too frightening, too dangerous. He wouldn't even attempt it.
Warily, Starfire watched him approach, determined he would not touch her again. She knew now that his magic was too strong to fight. She could swim well, and the falls were her last chance for freedom. She glanced down into the teeming water, more afraid of the white man than of the river. She gave him a defiant look, then Tracker's eyes widened in horror as she leaped out into the plunging, roaring water.
He stood for a shocked second, not believing that she'd actually done it. Then the danger of her action brought him to his senses, and without another thought, he followed her at a run.
Starfire felt herself hurled furiously into the deep water, the slashing falls pounding her under. She fought her way to the surface, her lungs straining from the pressure. When she broke into the air, she gasped for breath as she was slung through the rapids in a violently twisting course. She tried to control the immense push of the current, fighting frantically to ward herself from the jutting rocks on either side.
Tracker hit the water moments behind her and surfaced, trying to see through the blinding spray. He had little power against the current, and his heart clutched in panic when he thought of Starfire's chance against the torrent. He kept his eyes riveted in front of him as he let the force of the water carry him along. When he saw her, he only caught a glimpse of her head, buffeted and swirled by the river, but relief flooded him. He renewed his fight against the current, anxious to reach her.
Starfire rode with the water until she felt herself being washed out of the rapids into a gentle stretch of the river. She had gashed her head against a rock, and the hurt overrode any other concern. She could see a sandbar through the red haze of pain over her eyes, and she splashed toward it, spent and exhausted. By the time she reached it, she was too tired to move and lay with her cheek against the sand, her eyes closed.
Tracker's initial concern was rapidly giving way to anger as he made his way toward her. Sloshing up behind her and pulling her to her feet, he wanted to shake her for her stupid recklessness.
“Damn it, you little fool, are you trying to kill yourself?”
He'd yelled it into her face breathlessly, furiously; but Starfire was too exhausted to answer him and only stared up at him out of glazed, pain-filled eyes.
Tracker saw the blood running in red streams in her wet hair, saw the pain in her dull eyes. His anger fled him, and he quickly enfolded her in his arms, holding her tightly. Emotion swelled in his throat, and an overwhelming tide of protectiveness rolled over him. She was safe, she was in his arms. But he had to admit that it was he who had driven her to such a drastic action. Feelings he could not explain touched his heart, and he closed his eyes and breathed hoarse words against her hair.
“Please, Starfire, please don't ever do anything so foolish again. I won't touch you, I swear it.”
Starfire closed her eyes weakly, not really hearing what he said, or caring, only sickeningly aware that he had caught her, that she was his captive again.
Four
Starfire opened heavy lids, blearily watching dark shadows twist in grotesque shapes on the ceiling of the cave. Weariness sent the dark, heavy lashes fluttering downward, hopelessness welling as elusive visions of her plunge into the cold falls and recapture flitted through her mind. Wood burned near her, crackling and snapping as waves of warmth fanned her cheeks. She turned her head quickly, and regretted the swift action at once. Hot arrows of pain jabbed viciously into her right temple. She moaned indistinctly, raising slender fingertips until they touched the cloth bandage wrapped around her forehead.
“Does it hurt?”
The warm, masculine voice startled her, accelerating the penetrating thud in her skull as she jerked toward it. She winced in pain, eyes riveted on the big white man. He sat across from her, one buckskin-clad arm dangling over his bent knee, his azure eyes glowing like blue flames. Starfire stared in fascination at his strange eyes, until he smiled slowly, his teeth flashing white. The grin seemed mocking to her, but she was too groggy to dwell on it. She let her eyes drift slowly closed when he rose to kneel at her side. Aware of his closeness, she kept her eyes squeezed tight, not wanting to look upon his dark and handsome face.
“Come on now, Starfire, open those eyes. Two days is long enough for anyone to sleep.”
Two days! Startled violet eyes flew wide, and she struggled weakly to raise herself on one elbow. The pain intensified, and she groaned, lowering her head feebly to the ground.
“Here, let me take a look,” the voice ordered from above her, and Starfire flinched away from long fingers that tenderly smoothed away the silky white-blond strands around her face. But his touch was gentle, and she didn't have the strength to resist him. She lay still as he slowly unwound the bandage, watching out of resigned eyes as he carefully applied a greasy salve to her temple.
“It'll be sore for a while, but it's healing nicely,” he said quietly.
The hurt in her head had settled into a muted throb, but Starfire still found it difficult to think rationally. She stared up at him, unable to take her gaze off his glittering eyes.
“Your eyes are like the sky,” she murmured half to herself, then wondered why she'd said such a thing.
Tracker darted a surprised look at her, but it was the first encouraging sign from a very hostile girl.
“And yours are as clear as priceless amethysts.”
Starfire studied him uncomprehendingly, and Tracker tried to explain in Cheyenne.
“Amethysts are precious purple jewels. Valuable to the white man.” Starfire's blank expression greeted his words, and he added, “Someday, I'll show you one.”
Starfire pulled her attention away from him, confusion swirling her mind into a turmoil of contradictions. The big white man smiled now and touched her with gentleness. But before, he'd been brutal, his kisses as hard as his lean body. She shivered under vivid images of his warm mouth on her bare flesh, and the unknown fires he'd sent spiraling into her core.
Tracker saw the long shiver that almost didn't stop, and he stood, looking down at her, silently admiring the way the silver tresses framed her delicate features. He moved away, not wanting to frighten her again, but unable to keep his eyes elsewhere. He leaned against a saddle, greatly relieved that she was finally awake and well. He'd been worried about her; her delirium had lasted much too long. But he'd have to double his guard now, because she would try to escape as soon as she was strong enough. He had no doubt about that.
“I am thirsty.”
Her voice was low and husky, and she did not look at him. Tracker reached for his canteen, dropping to one knee beside her.
Starfire tensed as his strong arm slipped beneath her and lifted her easily. The worn buckskin of his shirt felt soft under her bare shoulders, and Starfire gasped, realizing she was naked beneath the blanket. She clutched it to her, frowning accusingly into Tracker's face. He shrugged with a half-smile and raised the cup to her dry lips.
“You were shivering with cold, and your clothes were wet. I had to get you warm,” he said calmly.
He didn't deem it prudent to tell her how he'd done it. But her soft body pressed against his own had warmed him much faster than it had her.
He let her drink her fill, then lowered her easily to the blanket. She seemed very tired then, and Tracker returned to his place by the fire, watching her as she dozed fitfully. When she finally slept, he left her to check the outside entrance for sign of Cheyenne pursuers. He'd kept a close lookout, and so far he'd been lucky. They'd eluded the Cheyenne search party, but it was just a matter of time until the Indians closed in. He hurried back to the cave, knowing Starfire was too unpredictable and headstrong to trust alone for long—even with a head injury.
When he entered the dark chamber, Starfire was awake and s
itting. He could not risk frightening her into trying another reckless escape, and he proceeded cautiously, not wanting to startle her. He chose a spot a safe distance away, and she avoided his gaze.
“Feeling better now?”
Starfire ignored his softly uttered question. She did feel better, and although she was still a little woozy, the pain in her head had disappeared. Only when she moved too quickly would a dull ache erupt in her temple. She was fully aware of his sky eyes watching her, but she tried not to think about it. She shifted uncomfortably beneath the blanket, feeling the grit of sand upon her skin and in her hair. Her eyes dropped to the kettle of water near the fire, and when she raised them to Tracker, his breath caught as they gleamed with their own violet brilliance in the firelight.
“I am not clean.”
“The water is warm,” he answered in Cheyenne, noting how her fist clutched the blanket tighter, a trace of fear flashing in her shrouded eyes. He added quickly, “I'll wait outside.”
Starfire watched his broad back stoop to leave the cavern, and she marveled at his size, thinking even Lone Wolf did not stand so tall. The thought of her betrothed furrowed her smooth brow. The wedding feast seemed long ago now. It seemed she'd been with the white man for a very long time. An apprehensive quiver ran up her spine, and her eyes sought the entrance distrustfully.
She waited a few cautious minutes, then swayed dizzily as she stood. She wrapped the blanket carefully under her arms, dipping one end of it into the warm water and rubbing it slowly over her face and neck, sighing with pleasure. It felt wonderful, and she scrubbed her skin until it tingled.
She caught sight of the filthy bridal dress she'd worn, thrown in a tangled heap against the wall. She picked it up distastefully, eyeing the torn and bloodstained garment. She was reluctant to put the tattered dress upon her clean skin.
Starfire didn't notice that Tracker had ducked into the opening, and she whirled to face him when his deep voice emerged from the shadows. She had forgotten how stealthily he moved, and she took one involuntary step backward. His expression was intense but unreadable, which made her uneasy.
“There's a clean shirt in my saddlebags. You can wear it if you want.”
His offer was uttered brusquely, then he was gone as silently as he'd entered, leaving Starfire staring after him. She hesitated, her eyes going to the leather saddlebags. She did not want to wear his shirt! She wanted nothing from him!
She looked down at the dirty dress in her hand, and her pride fought with her reluctance to don the dress. Her desire for cleanliness won out, and she moved to the bags, lifting the fringed flap to draw out the shift. It was white, and very soft, softer than anything she'd ever felt. She rubbed it wonderingly between her fingers, then raised it to her cheeks, delighting in its silkiness.
She could not resist the temptation to wear it, and she slipped her slender arms into the sleeves, sighing at the feel of it upon her skin. It was much too large, the cuffs hanging almost to the ground while the tail was well below her knees. The white man was a giant, she marveled, and she searched for the laces. She could not find them and, frowned, wondering how it fastened.
When Tracker returned, Starfire stood by the fire, swallowed in his huge silk shirt, her finely arched brows drawn together in bafflement, as she tried to force a button into a buttonhole far too high on the other side. The corner of his mouth lifted at her intense concentration; but when she became frustrated and stamped one small foot angrily, he laughed aloud.
Starfire's head jerked to him in alarm, and she backed away, gripping the shirt closed. Tracker's smile faded when he read the uncertainty in her expressive eyes, watching the distrust grow as he moved nearer. She was trembling slightly now, and when she nervously caught at her full lower lip with her teeth, shame dug sharp spurs into him as he realized she expected him to attack her.
He halted knowing he would first have to calm her with words. He kept his voice low and said, “Don't be afraid, Starfire. I won't hurt you. I just want to show you how it fastens.”
Her eyes were wary, and she stood poised for flight, like a beautiful wild creature. She didn't move away, and Tracker reached out slowly and touched the shirt. Her slender body stiffened against his fingers, her face upturned to his, her lips parted with quickened breaths. He was aware of the high rounded breasts just inches from his fingertips as they heaved beneath the fabric, and desire whipped at his nerve endings, but it was the softness of her mouth that captured his gaze, forcing him to fight against bruising it under his own hungry lips. But he did not move, did not give in to the tremendous urge to pull her close. He'd sworn not to frighten her again. He restrained himself with difficulty, aware of the hoarseness in his own voice.
“Here. You have to push the top button on one side through the top hole on the other side. See?”
Starfire watched intently as he demonstrated, tensing slightly as his hands paused where her womanly curves strained against the shirt. She looked up expectantly, no longer afraid, for his touch was soft. It surprised her when a look almost like pain passed over his dark face, and she watched with puzzled eyes as he walked away and out of the cave. As an innocent, she did not understand his plight, her own desires awakening only when he touched her flesh or pressed his lips against hers.
She struggled with the rest of the buttons, watching the cave door for his return as she tied a lace from her shift around her tiny waist. Her attempts to roll the sleeves stopped abruptly, her mouth sagging slightly as he reentered the cave. He was soaking wet, his clothes dripping water on the floor of the cave, his yellow hair plastered away from his forehead. It was as if he'd stood beneath the cold falls intentionally. Starfire looked at him as he moved to the fire, amazed at the strangeness of white ways.
Tracker turned suddenly and ran impatient fingers through his wet hair. Their eyes met and locked across the fire, and Starfire's heart sped out of control. He seemed as huge and bronzed as the sun god of Cheyenne legend, and goose bumps rippled down both arms, her fear of him returning.
Tracker watched her expression change, wondering what had caused her wariness to return. He set about preparing their meal, trying to ignore her, but despite the cold shower in the falls, her small and exquisitely formed body haunted him. He'd never been so aware of a woman, never wanted a woman so strongly that his loins burned with desire. But he'd vowed he wouldn't touch her unless she was willing. Which was a very remote possibility, he thought glumly.
He glanced to where she sat cross-legged on the blanket. Her eyes had followed him, but her lashes lowered immediately at his gaze. He finished cutting the rabbit into the pot and slid his knife into the scabbard. Things were not going at all as he'd planned. When he'd first seen her, he'd thought to amuse himself by taming her. But she'd shown him that she was brave and spirited and proud, and she'd earned the right to be treated with respect. Although he wanted her with a passion he'd never dreamed possible, he would never again frighten her. The month he planned to be alone with her in the intimate confines of the cave threatened to be a slow torture, and the thought of turning her over to Huddleston no longer set well with him. Perhaps he'd escort her to her family in St. Louis himself, just to make sure she got there safely.
He decided suddenly to try to talk to her, tell her about her grandparents, assure her that he would take her to them himself. It might relieve some of the tension between them. He crouched in front of her, and when she didn't look up, he reached out with one finger and turned her chin to face him. She did not recoil at his touch, and her large eyes were like soft blue-violet pools of velvet. He stared down into them, feeling like a fool as he forgot what he was going to say.
“How's your head?” he said gruffly.
Starfire sat still, feeling more secure with him now that the hungry expression was gone and a frown had taken its place. Despite his dark look, his fingers did not hurt her as he checked the healing cut. She didn't answer, becoming uneasy as he remained so close to her. She could smell the clean,
leathery man scent of him and the thought entered her mind how pleasant it was. She gritted her teeth in self-disgust, then looked at him as he spoke.
“Starfire, I want to tell you why I took you.”
He used Cheyenne, but he wasn't as fluent in that dialect as he was in Sioux and found himself groping for the right words. It was very important that she understand what he was about to say. He frowned to himself, muttering in his own language, “Damn, I wish you could understand English.”
He tried again to put the right Cheyenne words together, then was stopped in midsentence by Starfire's soft voice.
“I can understand your words.”
She'd spoken in an oddly lilting English, almost an Irish brogue, and he was so obviously astonished by her admission that Starfire smiled, two deep dimples framing her small white teeth. Tracker's surprise rapidly turned to awe as the fleeting smile enhanced her beauty. Her smile quickly disappeared as fires flared in the blue depths of his eyes, turning them dark with passion. Her eyes darted to the door, seeking escape, and furious with himself, he spit out harshly in her language. “I'm not going to touch you, so quit looking so damned afraid of me.”
The fragile line of her jaw hardened as she clamped her teeth together and set her eyes on the fire. The soft moment of her smile was gone forever, and he cursed himself for his inability to handle her or the situation as calmly and sensibly as he should. He sat back on his heels and stared at her finely chiseled profile.
“I was paid to bring you home. Your white family wants you back.”
Starfire's brilliant eyes flew to him, the look so wild that Tracker was startled. Her words came at him through clenched teeth, deadly low.
“I will never go. You have stolen me away and stopped my marriage to a brave chief. I hate you! I hate all wasichus!”
At the mention of Lone Wolf, a great, billowing cloud of anger roiled up inside Tracker, one he didn't dare analyze. “I'm taking you back whether you like it or not,” he told her in a tight voice. “You can't stop me, so you might as well get used to the idea.”
