"Do not put on the medallion," a voice said. It came to her as clearly as if whoever spoke stood right beside her.
Opening her eyes, Mara saw a flash of white. It seemed to shape itself into the outline of a man. He was dressed in a white robe, and his long hair was white as well. She must be hallucinating, she thought. Perhaps she really was ill. Now she could see him more clearly. He was an Indian!
"Who are you?" she whispered in a voice that shook with fright.
"Do not put the medallion on," he repeated.
Her hand trembled as she threw the golden object across the room and heard it slam against the wall. Closing her eyes tightly she willed the vision to go away. Opening her eyes a crack, she could no longer see the old man. Mara felt relief. She was sick, she told herself. That was what was wrong with her. She would feel better by morning. It was the wee hours of the morning before she could get the incident out of her mind so that she could fall asleep.
8
Do not leave me, he pleaded.
I cannot say, I replied.
I need you, he answered.
I love you I cried.
When Palomas had recovered sufficiently, he searched the place where he had last seen Mara, not expecting to find anything since any clue would have long since been washed away by the rain. They made a wide sweep of the countryside, but found nothing. There was no sign of Matio, and Palomas had thought he would at least find his dead body.
It was with a heavy heart that Palomas turned his horse toward home. He knew how difficult it would be to tell Tajarez that Mara was missing, perhaps dead. He could not ever remember feeling so helpless. He considered sending the others back to the hidden valley to tell Tajarez of Mara's disappearance, so he could continue to search for her. But no, that would be to play the coward. He would face Tajarez. He alone was responsible for Mara. He alone would face the king.
* * *
Matio devoured the last of the rabbit he had killed the day before, and washed it down with a cool drink of water. He almost felt his old self again. His head wound was all but healed. It had proved to be mainly superficial, and now that he had gotten over the fever, he had regained his strength. He was ready to renew his search for his queen.
Matio had no notion how many days had passed since she had been missing. All he knew was that some force seemed to be pushing him onward, guiding his footsteps, giving him the will to find her. Everything was against him, he was not familiar with the territory he was traveling through, and he could not be sure he was even going in the right direction. It did not matter. He would not turn back until he found her, alive or dead.
Zeke had told Mara that it was now June, not that time had any meaning to her. She was perfectly content to let the days pass without notice. Sometimes it bothered her that she still did not remember who she was, but perhaps it was better that way. Since she had been captured by Indians, there was a good chance that some members of her family had been slain, and she did not want to know about that.
Mara was grateful that she no longer became nauseated in the evenings, and she felt that hard work was having a good effect on her. She would work until she was exhausted, and at night she would fall asleep without having the disturbing dreams about the old Indian man. She had hidden the medallion at the bottom of a small chest Zeke had carved for her from a piece of oak, and she had tried to forget about it.
Her cooking had improved; at least she now felt somewhat more confident about serving the food she prepared. Her hands were no longer white and soft, but red and calloused from the hard work she now loved doing.
Mara was aware that the brothers never left her alone at night. One of them would always show up before dark. She felt guilty knowing they were neglecting their trapping because of her. No amount of persuasion on her part would induce them to leave her by herself at night. She had also become accustomed to being called "princess" by the brothers, and she answered to it as if it were her own name.
It was a warm evening and Mara was preparing supper. She removed the deer meat from the roasting spit, taking cafe not to burn her fingers with the hot juices. Placing it on a platter, she picked up the razor-sharp hunting knife and began slicing the tender meat. Stepping back a pace she admired the meal she had prepared. Jake had taught her how to make spoonbread and the flapjacks he was so fond of.
She could hear him now, chopping wood at the back of the cabin, and she smiled slightly. Sometimes Jake and Zeke reminded her of two overgrown boys, and she had grown accustomed to the way they hovered and fussed over her like two mother hens. Lately she had noticed they would become upset if she lifted anything they considered heavy, insisting that she leave the heavy work for them to do when they got home.
She walked over to the window and called out to Jake. "Will Zeke be home this evening?"
Jake leaned on his ax and grinned at her. "Now that your cooking's so good, can't hardly keep him away at suppertime."
She removed three plates from the cupboard and placed them on the table. She was humming to herself when Jake and Zeke entered the cabin.
After they had eaten, Zeke took his fiddle out of a box he kept under his bed and began playing a snappy tune. Mara finished putting away the dishes, then tapped her foot and curtsied to Jake. She then gave him a coquettish smile.
"Tell me, sir, would you dance with a poor young lady whom no one seems to want to dance with?"
She watched as Jake's face turned red. Taking his hand she urged him to rise.
"I ain't danced in many a long year, princess, I don't recollect how."
Mara cocked her head, and laughter bubbled out of her mouth. "I do not remember if I ever danced, so perhaps we could find out if either of us can dance."
Jake took her hands reluctantly. At first both of them were awkward, but before too many steps, they were dancing around the room, laughing. Zeke tapped his foot as he played the fiddle. Mara was surprised to find how light Jake was on his feet.
"You have been holding out on me, Jake," she said laughing up into his face. "I bet you danced with many a fair maiden."
"It must be my partner that makes me seem to dance well, princess," he teased lightly.
As Zeke finished one tune he went right into another and the cabin rang with laughter and music.
Suddenly Mara felt a pain rip through her side, and she paused to catch her breath.
Zeke put down his fiddle, and Jake turned her to face him. "Princess, are you all right?" he said in concern.
She smiled brightly. "It was no more than a stitch. I want to dance."
Zeke took her firmly by the arm and led her over to a wooden chair and sat her down. "It's time we told her, Jake. We can't let her go on not knowing," Zeke said, giving his brother a troubled glance.
"Yep, she might do harm to herself or the baby," Jake agreed.
Mara looked from one brother to the other. "What are you talking about. What baby?"
Zeke's face reddened and he could not meet her eyes. Jake knelt down beside her and took her hand in his. "Princess, Zeke and me ... we want to tell you . . .aw, hell! You are going to have a little one," he finally blurted out.
Mara's face lost its color, and her free hand stole up to her stomach. She felt a roundness that was well hidden beneath her doeskin gown. She swallowed convulsively and tried to speak. Jerking her hand free of Jake, she stood up abruptly.
"How can this be? I do not want to have a baby! Say you are mistaken." Tears of helplessness gathered in her green eyes, as the two brothers watched, not knowing how to comfort her. Mara bit her trembling lower lip as the tears spilled down her face.
"Could it be an Indian's baby? Oh God, no, please do not let it be," she cried pitifully.
Jake stood up slowly, feeling distressed at her reaction. "There ain't no reason to think it is an Injun's baby, princess. I bet you are married, and it's your man's baby."
Zeke took Mara's hand. "I bet that's the right of it. It ain't likely that a gal as pretty as you ain't got no
husband," he said convincingly.
"That's right," Jake agreed quickly.
Mara's hands fell hopelessly to her side. "Oh, how I want to believe that. If only I could remember!"
Jake sat her back down in the chair and knelt down beside her while Zeke poured her a cup of coffee from the pot that rested among the hot coals of the fireplace. Mara took a sip of the scalding liquid and noticed her hands were trembling.
Jake touched her golden head, feeling pain at her distress. "Don't you fret none, little princess. Me and Zeke are going to take real good care of you. We know a doctor at a trading post not too far from here. We intend to take you to him."
Mara took another sip of the coffee, then stood up and placed the cup on the table. "I want to go to bed now. I do not want to talk about it anymore tonight," she said, as if not talking about it would make the baby go away.
The brothers watched her silently as she climbed the ladder to the loft. When she disappeared at the top, they sat down wearily. Neither spoke for a long time. They just sat staring into the fireplace. Finally Zeke stood up and stretched his arms over his head and leaned against the table.
"What's going to happen when the baby comes and it's an Injun?"
"I don't know, but remember Pa always said not to go hunting trouble, let it find you. Maybe she is married."
"Maybe. One thing for sure, we will know when the baby comes. There ain't no way you can disguise an Injun baby."
Mara felt the heat of the sultry night as she tossed on her bed. Her hand sought her rounded stomach. Hot tears scalded her eyes. Burying her face in the blanket, she tried to muffle her sobs. She wanted desperately to believe that she was married and carrying her husband's child. But if that was the case, how did she come to be with the Indians? Had they slain her husband? She tried to open her mind to the past, but nothing would come to her.
Her only link with the past seemed to be the medallion, and for some reason she was frightened of it. She did not want to see the old Indian man again. Sitting up, she reached for the wooden chest, realizing that she must overcome her fear. As she lifted the lid she thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her, because the medallion seemed to have an eerie green glow about it.
Her fingertips touched the metal and found it was warm, as she knew it would be. Her fingers closed around the golden chain and she lifted it out of the chest.
"Help me," she whispered.
Mara lay back on the blanket and her fingers tentatively touched the pyramid-shaped object.
"I am frightened," she said in a trembling voice. "Help me." Suddenly it was as if her body were being lifted into the sky. She was no longer lying in the loft but soaring among the stars. She knew she was not dreaming. She was awake! What was happening to her? She was now standing in water. It appeared to be a pond. She could feel the wetness of the water as it gently caressed her body. The night was bright with millions of stars. There was a man beside her, but she could not yet make out his face.
"I am frightened," she told him.
"There is no need to fear, beloved," the man said in a deep voice. "I will never allow anything to harm you."
A feeling of peace and contentment came over her, a sense of belonging. But that feeling did not last long. It was replaced with something else as she looked into the man's face. His dark, liquid brown eyes seemed to burn her with their intensity. She gasped as he touched her face. Her eyes moved from his handsome face to his dark ebony hair, then downward to his wide, muscled chest. He was standing in the water, and her eyes could not see below his trim waist, so they returned to his face. He was magnificent. His powerful shoulders rippled with muscles as he picked her up into his arms. Without her wanting them to, her arms went around his neck. She could almost feel the texture of his long raven-black hair. His face was unbelievably beautiful, if one could call a man beautiful who was so obviously male, so virile looking.
She flinched as his eyes moved over her body, and then when he waded out of the pool and set her on her feet. He had no clothes on! Blushing, she turned her head away, but her eyes were soon drawn back to his magnificent body. His skin was bronze and he was exceedingly tall. Her eyes widened in shock. He was an Indian!
"Come to me, beloved," he said in a deep voice that seemed to vibrate though her body. She took a step backwards hoping to escape his hand as he reached for her. She shivered as his hand came down on her arm, his touch was so gentle as his hand moved up her arm to her cheek. So gentle it felt as though she had been kissed by the soft wind. She could feel her legs begin to tremble, and her stomach seemed to tighten into a knot, but the feeling had nothing to do with fear. Once more he lifted her into his arms, and now he placed her on the sweet-smelling grass that grew beside the pond. Her eyes widened as he ran his hands over her body. She had no clothes on! What was she doing with this man she did not know? How had she gotten here?
Looking into his dark face that was now hovering over hers, she let her lips part invitingly. When his head started its slow descent, she thought his lips would never reach hers, and when they did, it was as if the sky came down and touched the ground. She was no longer earthbound but winging her way across the heavens.
Her hands moved down the corded muscles of his shoulders to his tapered waist. Her body came alive with burning desire. Looking into his face she saw an answering desire in his dark eyes. She closed her eyes as his hands moved down her back, across her hips in a stroking motion. She moved closer to him, wanting to feel his body pressed against hers. He allowed her the closeness she craved. She was aware that her breathing had heightened, in fact all her senses were alive to touch, feel, taste, smell. Never had she felt so alive.
"I need you," he said and his voice came out in a passionate growl, which she answered with a low groan.
He took her lips in a burning, savage kiss, ravishing her tender lips.
She knew what his intentions were, they were no different from hers. His lips and his body were stamping his ownership on hers, and for the moment she was his, body and soul, to do with as he wished.
Her fingers entwined in his soft, ebony hair, as his lips blazed a trail of kisses down her throat to her breasts.
Mara cried out as his male hardness entered her body, filling her with its warmth. The pain and the beauty of it was so intense that she felt tears on her cheeks.
He began to fade as she seemed to be lifted into the air. With all her strength, she tried to stay with him.
"Do not leave me, beloved," the Indian cried out in an agonized voice.
"I cannot stay. I am lost," she answered him.
Mara could no longer feel the cool grass beneath her, but she felt instead the roughness of the blanket she lay upon in the loft bedroom. She was breathing hard and she did not know if it was from fear or desire. What had happened to her? Did the medallion have some strange magical power? Tiny whimpers escaped her lips and she clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle them.
"Oh no!" she cried out as she realized her body was wet. Turning her head she buried it in the blanket. Was her body wet from perspiration, or from being in the pond?
"It cannot be," she whimpered.
"Have no fear," a soft voice said to her from the dark shadows of the loft. "Sleep now, be at peace with yourself."
Mara knew it was the voice of the old Indian man. She also realized he spoke to her in some strange language, and she had understood him. The beautiful Indian had also spoken in that language, and she had answered him in kind. She felt herself drifting off as the shadowy form of the old man knelt down beside her.
"Sleep, sleep," he told her. And she did.
Tajarez awoke from his dream and sat up quickly. He had dreamed he had been with Mara in their Eden. The dream had been so real it seemed he could almost smell the sweet scent she always wore. As she had begun to fade he had tried to hold on to her, but the dream had ended with his begging her not to leave him.
It reminded him of the dream he had had before he had ever met Mara
. In those dreams he had also begged her not to leave him. He felt real fear in his heart. Was it an omen, a warning? Was Mara in danger?
Standing up he walked over to the balcony and stared out into the night. He wished Sagas would return, then he could tell him about the dream. He shook his head and looked up at the stars that were just beginning to fade, with the first fingers of daylight touching the eastern sky.
He was being foolish, Mara was with her brother David now, and any day she would be on her way home.
9
Why can I not see, why do I not know?
Whom do I seek, when the cold winds blow?
Tajarez crossed the huge anteroom and placed his hand on Jeffery's shoulder. Seeing the worried frown on his brother-in-law's face, he felt inclined to comfort him.
"Vista tells me that your child is being born." Jeffery's face was an ashen color. "Yes, Sasha's pains started last night. I summoned the medicine man. I had no idea having a baby would be so painful. Sasha was very brave, but I could tell she was in agony."
"You are concerned that it is taking too long?"
Jeffery turned back to the window and stared down at the city below without really seeing it. "I am frightened. Sasha is so frail I cannot bear to think of her being in pain."
Tajarez wanted to comfort his brother-in-law, but did not know what to say to him. He loved and respected the golden-haired man as if he were the brother he had never had. Tajarez had made Jeffery the leader of his royal guards, and he had never had cause to regret putting a white man in charge of the fierce Lagonda warriors. Jeffery's even temperament and patience had won him the respect of all of the Lagonda tribe, who had accepted him as one of their own.
"Come sit with me, Jeffery. We shall wait together for the birth of your child."
Jeffery followed Tajarez across the room and they both sat down on cushions.
Savage Splendor (Savage Lagonda 2) Page 10
