His Wild Heart

by Colleen French

  A face appeared in front of hers, a savage face painted in frightening streaks of blue and black and green. Terrified, Alexandra tried to escape the hideous apparition. She struggled, but to no end. Her feet were still bound, her hands tied behind her back around the tree trunk. She was defenseless against the night apparition that was all too terrifyingly human.

  "Shhh," the form hissed as he drew a long knife from his belt. Alexandra cringed, certain he was about to slit her throat. Instead, keeping one hand still clamped over her mouth, he drew the blade to her feet and cut the leather bindings. Then he freed her hands.

  Just as he swept her into his arms, one of the soldiers sleeping near her called out an alarm. Suddenly Cain's camp was alive with confusion. A volley of musket shots sounded in the night and the sky rained with arrows.

  "Run," a voice shouted in the darkness. "Take your woman and run, Hunter of the Shawnee. This man will defend you."

  Hunter? Where was Hunter? Alexandra was frighteningly confused. Who was calling out to Hunter? Was she being rescued? Who was this creature who carried her in his arms?

  She heard her kidnapper groan as a feathered arrow sunk into his forearm. Seemingly unaffected by the wound, he leaped over the burning campfire, and ducked into the overgrowth at the edge of the clearing. Just inside the tangle of greenbriers he dumped her.

  "Run, sweeting," the kidnapper ordered as he grabbed the shaft of the arrow embedded in his forearm and broke it off at the skin. "Run deep into the forest and hide."

  "Hunter?" She grabbed the painted man's bare arm, realizing for the first time that he was almost completely naked. "Is that you?" she sobbed.

  He grasped the folds of her cloak and pulled her up against him, crushing his lips against hers. "Not Hunter, the Queen of the May," he whispered.

  She smiled through her tears and then suddenly remembered the arrow in his arm. "Oh, God, you're hurt."

  "Let go, sweeting." He gently took her hand from his shoulder.

  "Go? Where are you going?" She watched him as he pulled away from her and turned to go. "Don't leave me, Hunter."

  "Do as I say, and you'll be safe, Wife. Run and hide. I'll find you. I have to go back for Cain and Two Crows."

  "Two Crows? What are you talking about?" But he was already gone. She watched Hunter disappear into the darkness as a sob rose in her throat.

  Run, he had said. Run from Cain, from the Mohawks. But how could she run when he had gone back?

  And what was he talking about, going back for Two Crows? What did Two Crows have to do with all this? Did Hunter intend to kill him as well? She couldn't let him do it! Two Crows had warned her of Cain's approach. Because of him she had been able to protect the women and children inside the fort.

  Alexandra dropped to her hands and knees. She couldn't let Hunter kill Two Crows, no matter what he'd done in the past. He had helped her, maybe saved her life. She crawled through the greenbriers, realizing now that it was a man-made tunnel Hunter had brought her through. Reaching the end of the tunnel, she crouched, getting her bearings.

  By the light of the campfire she could see bodies strewn everywhere. Mohawks and soldiers alike lay in heaps, staring up with unseeing eyes.

  Someone had opened the fort gates and the young men Alexandra had gotten to know so well were charging Cain's camp, their muskets flashing and echoing again and again in the darkness.

  Near the fort walls Alexandra spotted Hunter fighting a soldier and a Mohawk at the same time. He swung a pole in his hands, fending off their attacks. With one swift movement he caught first one man and then the other beneath the chin, sending them both reeling backward.

  Stepping over a dead body, Hunter raced across the clearing. Two Indians wrestled on the ground, both with glinting knives. Alexandra suddenly realized one of the Indians was Two Crows. Her heart leapt in her chest, but everything was happening too quickly. Before she could shout to Hunter to let Two Crows live, her husband released his knife, letting it turn end over end through the air. To Alexandra's relief, it sank into the back of the Mohawk that had Two Crows pinned to the ground. The dead Indian flopped to the dirt and Two Crows bounded to his feet. To Alexandra's amazement her husband and the man who had once kidnapped and sold her, exchanged looks that could have been interpreted as nothing but a strange kinship between warriors.

  "So you're the one," Alexandra heard a voice say.

  It was Cain.

  Hunter turned around to face the man who was calling to him. "Cain," he said.

  "You have taken my woman. Surely you know the consequences of your actions."

  "She's mine," Hunter's voice was frighteningly even. "Alexandra is my wife, as was Laughing Rain."

  "Ah yes, the redskinned bitch I had to kill. Come now. Are you still angry with me over that, Hunter of the Shawnee?" He spoke Hunter's name with a hint of sarcasm.

  "Then you admit your guilt?"

  "Don't tell me you would let a heathen whore stand between two English gentlemen. God's bowels, Hunter, my uncle, the lord chancellor, knows your father."

  Alexandra studied Cain carefully. He knew who Hunter was? She watched the captain lower his hand to his belt. A pistol rested on his hip. It was a cat-and-mouse game now.

  "Guilty or not guilty?" Hunter demanded.

  "Surely—"

  "Guilty or not guilty of the crime of which you're accused?"

  The corner of Cain's mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. "Guilty, and you want to know something? I enjoyed killing the minx."

  Hunter stood utterly still except for the nervous movement of his fingers on the carved hilt of his knife. Soldiers and Mohawks still fought around them, but the two men seemed oblivious to the carnage. "She was my wife," Hunter murmured through clenched teeth. "She carried my child."

  Cain sighed dramatically. "I suppose you think I should return this jade in exchange for the savage whore's life." He nodded in Alexandra's direction.

  Alexandra thought to back up further into the shadows of the forest, but what was the point now? Cain had seen her. She remained crouched, not wanting to disturb Hunter's concentration.

  "An exchange?" Hunter's gaze never wandered from Cain's face. "Not hardly. I'll have your life, instead."

  The handsome captain threw back his head in laughter. "You can't kill me. Did you hear me? My uncle is the Chancellor of England, for Christ's sake!" He smiled an arrogant smile. "No one can hurt me. No one can stop me. Why else do you think they've not sent anyone to curtail my activities? Because they can't. They wouldn't dare."

  Alexandra wasn't certain who made the first move, Hunter or Cain. Cain's pistol cracked and a streak of light blew from the muzzle. Hunter dove for the ground, rolled, and came up only a foot from Cain unharmed. Cain cursed at his bad luck and threw the pistol aside. There would be no time to reload now. With one fluid motion he withdrew a short saber from beneath his coat.

  Alexandra closed her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. Hunter had only his knife and the captain a sword. How could Hunter possibly best him?

  The two men turned slowly, summing each other up. Hunter moved in a crouched position, his gaze riveted to the enemy's face. By the glint in his hazel eyes she could tell that he would make only one move and that would be to kill.

  Growing restless with Hunter's patience, Cain brandished his saber. "What kind of Englishman are you anyway? A man to marry a redskin? A man to run through the forest naked like some heathen? A man to marry a white woman who's lain with every redskin on the Chesapeake?"

  At that barb, Alexandra expected Hunter to pounce. But he didn't. It was what Cain wanted. He wanted him to attack with his hatred rather than his clear head. Every soldier knew that emotions weakened a man.

  Alexandra's legs began to cramp and she stood. There was less fighting now. Many dead and wounded lay on the cold ground. Several of the Mohawks and Cain's soldiers had disappeared into the forest.

  Twice Cain lashed out at Hunter with his saber. Both times Hunter leapt back
ward, then dashed forward again. Still the men circled each other.

  Alexandra's nerves were taut with fear. If something didn't happen soon—

  Alexandra saw a sudden flash of movement behind Hunter and heard an unholy war cry. She looked up to see a Mohawk running straight for his back. She screamed out his name. "Hunter! Behind you!" she cried.

  Hunter half turned, knowing he couldn't turn his back to Cain. It all happened so quickly and yet standing there in the shadows of the pine trees, everything seemed to Alexandra to move at quarter time.

  The Mohawk raised a hatchet above his head and hurled it into the air. Two Crows appeared out of nowhere. "Nooo!" he screeched.

  Two Crows's body met the cold steel of the Indian hatchet in midair. It struck his breast, splitting flesh and cracking bones as it sank deep into his chest cavity.

  In the confusion of that split second, Hunter dove forward and sank the blade of his knife into Cain's stomach clear to the hilt.

  Cain's eyebrow arched in startled shock. Hunter twisted the knife and pulled it out. The saber fell from Cain's hand. He touched his hand to the oozing wound and looked up at Hunter in utter disbelief. "You can't harm me," he whispered, his voice barely carrying in the night air. Blood bubbled from his mouth and he fell to his knees. "No one can harm me. The chancellor is my uncle."

  Hunter wiped his blade on his bare, muddy leg and thrust it into his leather belt. He walked away from Cain, who was now extending a hand to him.

  "Don't leave me," Cain sobbed pitifully.

  Alexandra watched as Hunter walked to Two Crows and knelt. She wanted to go to them, but she didn't. She only stood and watched.

  Hunter lifted Two Crows's body and held him in his arms. Two Crows was still breathing, but barely. Hunter leaned and whispered something in the Mohawk's ear.

  Alexandra took a few steps closer, unable to resist hearing what her husband would say.

  "This man thanks you for his life."

  Two Crows shook his head. "This sorry man owed the Hunter of the Shawnee. To take the woman. It was not right."

  Hunter forced a smile. "Then we're even."

  Two Crows closed his eyes and for a moment Alexandra thought he was dead, but then he opened them again. "Tell me, Hunter of the Shawnee. Have I taken back the honor that was once my family's?"

  "Aye," Hunter answered. "You die a warrior's death and I will bury you with honor. I do not know the rituals of the Mohawks, but a Shawnee ceremony will take you to the heavens just as well."

  Two Crows coughed, his entire body convulsing. When the spasm passed, he spoke again. "My fingers. In the bag at my waist. Do not forget them, Hunter of the Shawnee."

  Tears ran unchecked down Alexandra's cheeks as she watched her husband cradle in his arms the man who had been his enemy. What man would hold his enemy with such respect, she wondered, even if he was dying?

  Two Crows's chest rose and fell one last time and then his body went limp. Hunter lowered him to the ground and he stood. "Alexandra," he called, his voice cracking.

  Alexandra ran toward him. The fighting had ceased. The last of Cain's Mohawks and soldiers still alive had run into the forest when their leader had fallen.

  "Hunter!" She threw herself against his mud-caked naked body. "Oh, God, Hunter, I thought he would kill you! I thought—"

  "Hush," he soothed. "Hush, sweeting. It's done. Done now."

  She smoothed his cheeks with her palms, not caring that she covered herself with his war paint. All she cared about was that he was alive. She kissed him again and again. When she touched his arm, his face paled.

  "Oh, God," she murmured. "Your arm. You've still got the arrowhead in it."

  He draped the other arm over her shoulder and started toward the fort. "Easy enough to fix," he assured her. "It doesn't hurt."

  As they passed Cain, he half sat up, reaching out to Hunter. "Please kill me," he begged, clutching his oozing stomach wound. "Please. Don't leave me here to die like this. Finish me off. I beg you . . ."

  Hunter stopped and stared down at the pathetic man who had boasted only moments ago how he had enjoyed raping and murdering a pregnant woman. "I'll do you a better turn than you did Laughing Rain," he told Cain coldly, looking him straight in the eye. "I'll let you live . . ."

  Cain fell back onto the ground with a moan, and Hunter walked off, taking Alexandra with him.

  Inside the walls of the fort, Alexandra had hot bath-water brought to her room and poured into a copper tub for Hunter. She-Who-Stands-Strongly came with a knife and a needle and thread and cut out the metal arrowhead embedded in Hunter's arm. He never flinched as he sat submerged in the tub and allowed the old Indian woman to do her surgery and stitch him up.

  Alexandra hovered over him, wanting to help, but knowing her friend knew what she was doing. Once the wound was cleaned and stitched, She-Who-Stands-Strongly took up her medicine bag and left with a wave of her hand.

  "Thank you, She-Who-Stands-Strongly," Hunter said. "Now see to the other injured men."

  "I must prepare the dead for burial."

  "They can wait until morning, Aunt. Now is the time to deal with the living. Tomorrow will be soon enough to give our brave fighting men a proper burial."

  "How many died?" Alexandra asked.

  "Only two of the boy-soldiers, and then the Mohawk the Hunter called friend," the old woman answered.

  "Eli?"

  "A cut on the arm. A black eye. A happy young man to have fought his first battle."

  Alexandra couldn't resist a smile as she accompanied She-Who-Stands-Strongly to the door. "What should I do for Hunter?" she asked.

  She-Who-Stands-Strongly shrugged. "The warrior needs sleep." She smiled the barest hint of a smile. "And what all young virile warriors need when they have come home from battle."

  Alexandra felt her cheeks color with embarrassment, but she laughed. "Good night, friend. Thank you."

  She-Who-Stands-Strongly gave a wave over her shoulder as she shuffled down the corridor. "Do not thank me. Bring a son or daughter into the world. That is how you may thank an old woman."

  Alexandra stepped back in her room and dropped the iron bolt. Hunter had climbed out of the tub and was now drying himself off. When she approached, he opened the cotton towel and drew her in against his wet skin. She laughed as she ran her finger down the bridge of his nose, wiping away the last streak of warpaint.

  "Are you tired?" she purred.

  "Not tired." He bent and kissed her lower lip.

  "Hungry?"

  He drew his warm lips across her cheek and down the length of her neck. "Not for food."

  "You've been injured." She lifted her hands and rested them on his bare shoulders, kneading them. "You should rest."

  "Can't rest until I've kissed you." He kissed her again, but this time his lips lingered on hers, sending shivers of anticipation through her veins. "Can't rest until I've touched you."

  He brought his hand up her rib cage and she covered it with hers, guiding him up to the swell of her breasts. She sighed as his warm hand touched her. Even through the leather of her tunic, she could feel his caress. Her nipple puckered against the brush of his fingertips and she pressed closer to him, molding her hips to his.

  "I don't want to be accused of forcing you," Alexandra teased. She drew an imaginary line with her finger, starting between his breastbone and moving lower.

  Hunter groaned as she brushed her finger past his navel and lower still. She laughed, a soft rumble deep in her throat. Already she could feel him growing hard beneath her hand.

  "Too many clothes," he chided. "Take them off."

  Her fingers found the leather ties that ran the length of the front of her tunic. As she unlaced top to bottom, he followed with his tongue, painting a wet path of shivering delight.

  "Witch," he accused. "Enchantress."

  She undressed herself slowly, tantalizing him, reveling in the pleasure she could give him. When her tunic finally fell to the rough-hewn plank floor,
she started on her leather legging. Finally she stood in the center of the room, wrapped in Hunter's arms wearing nothing but her moccasins.

  She threaded her fingers through the wet locks of auburn hair that fell across his shoulders. Lifting herself up on her bare toes, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply.

  "Alex, Alex," he murmured in her ear. "Let me love you."

  She took his hand and led him to the narrow wooden cot. "Let me love you," she whispered, pushing him gently backward onto the bed and straddling his legs. "Let me take away the pain." She brushed her fingertips lightly over his freshly sewn wound. "The physical pains and the emotional."

  "My pain has ended," he assured her as he pulled her down beside him. "Laughing Rain can now rest. It's time for us, sweeting, for you and for me."

  He lowered his mouth to her breast and teased her nipple with the tip of his tongue. She laughed a sensual laugh, arching her back in encouragement.

  "Good?" he asked, turning his attention to the other nipple.

  "Good," she responded, letting her eyes drift shut as the waves of pleasure washed over her. "Too good!"

  "Too good? Ah, there's no such thing as too good when it comes to the flesh, sweeting."

  Instinctively Alexandra lifted her hips as he kissed his way down her stomach and even lower. She threaded her fingers through his hair, drawing up her knees, thinking just one kiss. But when the tip of his tongue touched the moistness at the apex of her thighs, she could feel her flesh melting with pleasure.

  "Hunter, Hunter," she moaned.

  "Love me?" he teased between strokes of his tongue. "Tell me you love me, Lady Alexandra."

  She tried to twist away, half laughing, half sobbing with pleasure. "Let me go! Beast!" she accused. "Savage! Heathen! Torturer."

  "Say it and I'll release you. Tell me you love me, savage or not." His voice had a husky catch to it. "Better yet, tell me you love me for the savage in me."

  She hesitated for only a moment. She did love him. She was certain of it now. "I love you," she cried, breathless, wanting him to stop what he was doing to her, wanting him never to stop. "I love you. I love you for the man you are."