Savage Splendor (Savage Lagonda 2)

by Constance O'Banyon

Mara lowered her head and tried to suppress a sob. If he was not Andrew's father, then she had been with another man, maybe more than one. She was a more despicable woman than she had thought at first. No wonder Jeffery kept her in the place he sometimes referred to as the hidden valley. He could not allow her to live among decent people.

  "I will never allow you to come near me again. I would kill myself before I would let you touch me as you did last night," she finally said.

  "You are assuming that I would want to touch you."

  Mara's head snapped back as if he had delivered a mortal blow to her. So deeply did his harshly spoken words wound her that tears gathered in her eyes.

  "I cannot blame you. You must despise me for what I am."

  Tajarez closed his eyes against the horror he heard in her voice. "What do you think you are?"

  "I know there is a word for women like me, but I do not know what it is. Please go."

  "If that is what you want."

  He stood up, willing his legs to take him out of the tent. Mara hoped she could keep from breaking down in front of him. The blast of frigid air told her he had opened the tent flap. When she no longer felt the intense cold she knew he had departed, and she opened her eyes.

  Sobs that she had tried to smother broke the silence of the tent, and she threw herself down on the fur robe and cried brokenheartedly. She knew why she felt as if her heart had been ripped to shreds and why she felt like the lowest form of life. She was in love with another woman's husband, and she had just been rejected by him.

  The pain was so intense she could not stop crying. She was not aware that the tent flap had been jerked open and that Tajarez knelt down beside her. He lifted her into his arms.

  She buried her face against his shoulder, loving the feel of his strong hands that ran up and down her back soothingly. She did not mean for him to see her cry, but she could not seem to stop. All the months of not knowing who she was and not knowing where she belonged, coupled with her discovery that she was a wanton female, made her tears fall all the more freely.

  In her misery she lifted her face to tell him how sorry she was about her tears, but the words never issued from her mouth.

  "I was going to be strong for both of us, Mara, but I cannot. I want you," he whispered against her lips.

  There was no denial in the kiss Mara gave him. Her lips clung to his hungrily as she became limp and pliant in his arms.

  As before, she found herself lying naked in his arms. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she could not stop the raging fire within her body. She felt herself being pushed back against the soft fur and tried not to think how wantonly she was behaving.

  "I cannot be around you without wanting to love you, Mara," he said softly in her ear. "You are to me as food is to a man dying of starvation." He made love to her slowly, lingeringly, and when they lay in each other's arms afterwards, he kissed her softly.

  She curled up contentedly. So much for her decision not to let him make love to her again, she thought, knowing she would never be able to resist him. At that moment it did not concern her overmuch. She wanted only to stay in his arms and hear him murmur lovely words in her ear.

  This time he did not leave her as he had before, and she was glad. She fell asleep, and he picked Andrew up when he began to fuss and laid him between them. Mara awoke, and he watched as his son nursed hungrily at her breast, feeling a great love for his wife and the tiny infant.

  When Andrew fell asleep, Tajarez moved him to the other side of Mara and pulled her into his arms. Words of love tumbled to his lips. He did not voice them, but his hands became intimate, and Mara clung to him.

  They made love again, and this time when she fell asleep, he left her quietly.

  Now he came to her nightly. They would make love, and when she fell asleep, he would leave her. Mara knew he was being thoughtful by leaving, wanting to spare her any embarrassment she might feel if the others knew he spent his nights with her.

  She no longer tried to resist him. When he came to her tent she would run into his arms in a way that delighted him. He waited for her to say she loved him, but she did not.

  One night, after they had made love, she lay quietly in his arms, and he wanted to know what she was thinking.

  "Why are you so quiet?"

  "I was wondering about the woman who is your queen."

  "Are you asking me to tell you about her?"

  "Yes, what is she like?"

  He hid a smile against her golden hair. "She is the loveliest of women. Her hair is indescribably beautiful. Her eyes are haunting, and show her feelings. I can read her thoughts through her eyes; they speak if she is happy, sad, or angry."

  Mara closed her eyes, not really wanting to hear any more, but curious all the same. "You love her very much?"

  "I adore her."

  "Then why do you come to me each night?" she asked, not really wanting him to tell her it was purely physical.

  "You are a very lovely, desirable woman. I cannot seem to stay away."

  Pain knifed through her heart at his words. He had told her what she already knew, he loved his queen, but he desired her. "Do you know who is the father of my baby?"

  "Does it matter so much?"

  "Not to you, but I would hate it if one of the Lagonda warriors who ride beside me each day was Andrew's father and I was not aware of it."

  "He is not one of my warriors."

  "I have come not to like myself very much lately. At times I feel remorse for allowing another woman's husband to make love to me, and at other times I try not to think of it at all."

  "You are saying that your mind is ruled by your body?"

  "Yes. I wonder what my brother would say if he knew about you and me?"

  His hand slipped underneath her chin, and he stared down at her. "Mara, is it just that I hold your body, or is it possible that I hold your heart?" he said, changing the subject.

  Mara considered telling him that she loved him deeply, but saying the words out loud would make it too real. Once they reached his home they could no longer meet like this, and if he knew of her love, it would only arouse his pity. The words he had spoken about his wife had been beautiful. There was no doubt that he loved her. Some sixth sense told her that men did not like clinging females, especially when they had a wife they loved.

  "I doubt that I know what true love is, Tajarez. If you want love, you should seek your wife."

  His hand tangled in her hair and he jerked her forward painfully. In a strange way he felt as if he was his own rival, competing with himself for her love.

  "And if I do not seek love, I can always come to you," he said savagely as his mouth ground into hers with a punishing force. He was hurting her and he knew it, but he was angry with her and she did not know why. Pitiful whimpers were escaping her throat as she fought against him. She twisted and turned in his arms, trying to get away from him. She could hardly breathe, and his hands were cruel as they untangled from her hair and ran roughly over her body.

  "If lust is all you want, I will give you lust," he growled. He took her brutally. Her fists pounded at his chest with no more effect than a leaf blowing in a strong wind.

  After he had finished with her he shoved her away from him. "Do not think you can ever keep me from taking what I desire, Mara. I can have you any time I want."

  Mara was humiliated by the thing he had just done to her body and the words he had spoken. She was nothing to him but a body, someone he could use until he was with his queen again. She turned her head away so he would not see the tears that scalded her eyes. She would never submit to him willingly again, she told herself. He might take her body, but never again would he reach her heart, and never again would she let his lovemaking render her mindless. All she would have to do when he came near her in the future was remember the cruel words he had spoken to her tonight, and it would be the shield she needed to save herself from him.

  She was beginning to realize that behind her outer facade was
a strong-willed person. He might have more outward strength than she, but he would be no match for her inner self. If it was possible, she would leave and seek Jake and Zeke. They would take her and little Andrew back, but she had no idea where to find her two friends, and with Andrew to think about, she could not afford to be irrational. Perhaps she could ask her brother to take her away. She was so deep in thought that she did not hear Tajarez leave.

  Sitting up clutching the robe about her, she noticed she was alone except for Andrew, and he was sleeping. She slipped her nightgown over her head and lay down once more, to ponder her future. She could tell Jeffery that Tajarez had made love to her, and perhaps he would help her. But what could she say to him? "Jeffery, your king made love to me and I welcomed it?" She began to feel hatred for the man who had used her for his own pleasure while he claimed to love the woman who was his wife. Mara no longer envied the queen. She had a faithless husband in Tajarez. How many other women had he made tremble at his touch while professing to love his wife?

  Her sleep was troubled, and she dreamed that Tajarez was taking her body against her will and afterwards he mocked her.

  The next morning she found her Indian gown and moccasins and dressed herself in them. She braided her hair in one single plait that hung down her back to her waist. Then she woke Andrew, fed him and dressed him warmly, and left the tent in search for her brother.

  Her mind was made up. She would ask him to take her back to Jake and Zeke. She would beg him if she had to. She found her brother shaving a day's growth of beard from his face, something that the Indians did not have to contend with since they had no facial hair. Jeffery watched her approach through the mirror he had hung from the branch of a tree.

  "Good morning, little sister. I am glad to see you wearing the Indian garb. It is much more sensible than the gowns you have been wearing."

  "Jeffery, I want to talk to you," she said, not knowing quite how to broach the subject of her leaving.

  He wiped his face on a cloth and turned to her. "You have about five minutes before we have to leave.

  "That is what I want to talk to you about. I do not want to go with you to this city."

  He placed his razor back in its brown leather case and placed it in his satchel. "I was wondering when you would get around to that," he said, unruffled by her announcement.

  "Would you consent to taking me back to Jake and Zeke?" she said, her hopes rising.

  "What would you do stuck in an obscure cabin in the wilderness with no one for company but two grizzly old trappers?"

  "They are like family to me. In fact, I know them far better than I do you, who are my own brother. I want you to take me and little Andrew where we will be safe. Please, if you love me, do this for me," she said clutching at his arm. "I do not belong with you and your Indian friends. I felt safe only when I was with Jake and Zeke."

  "What has happened to make you feel unsafe? I can assure you each man you see here would give his life to protect you. What could be safer than that?"

  She wanted to tell him that what she feared was the man he called his king. She was frightened of what he might turn her into with his dark eyes that drew her to him like a magnet and his lips that could make her surrender all of her principles and cause her to sacrifice all she felt was right and decent. But she could not tell him this.

  "You said I had been on my way to visit our brother David when Jake and Zeke found me. Could you not take me to St. Louis, where you said he lives?" she said, clutching at straws.

  He could see how distressed she was, and he did not want to tell her that Tajarez would never allow her to leave.

  "I could talk to Tajarez and see if he would allow you to visit David perhaps next spring," he said, trying to put her off. If she would only remember who she was, she would not want to leave.

  Mara's eyes narrowed, and he had been on the receiving end of her temper far too often not to recognize her anger now.

  "I am not one of your mighty king's subjects! I am not governed by his laws, as you seem to be. I can leave any time I please, and not you, he, or anyone else can stop me!"

  "Mara, be reasonable. I cannot take you back. It is impossible at this time," he said, hoping he could make her see reason.

  "Very well, if you will not help me, I shall just go by myself."

  "You are being childish now, Mara. You know as well as I do that you could not survive past the first day in the wilderness. Besides, what about Andrew? What would become of him should you lose your way? There are wild animals, hostile Indians, and the weather that would all be against you."

  "You are a coward. I am ashamed to call you my brother. I believe you are frightened of this man, this king, whom I detest."

  Mara did not hear Tajarez come up behind her. Jeffery tried to warn her with a glance, but she misread him and continued. "Yes, I can see the fear on your face. This king is only a man, not some god who seems to rule you and his warriors with some strange power. I hate him and I do not like you very well, either," she raged.

  "Hate is a very powerful emotion, Mara," a deep voice said behind her. She spun around to face Tajarez, not in the least sorry he had overheard her.

  "You can add sneaking up on people to listen to private conversations to your other sins, oh mighty king. I believe an eavesdropper never hears anything good said about himself."

  Tajarez stared at her blankly for a moment, then he looked past her to Jeffery. "Had you not better get the men together? We are already late starting out."

  Jeffery nodded and took Mara's hand, but she pulled away from him, her angry eyes defying him to say anything more to her. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away from her.

  "Should you not mount your horse, Mara? I do not like being held up by a woman's temper tantrums."

  "I know what you can do, Tajarez. You can go right straight to the devil."

  "Ah, but the devil is a white man's demon. He would not be interested in a mere Indian."

  "I think you are wrong. I would suggest you are his disciple."

  "If that is the truth, then, should you not fear me? Perhaps I seek your soul."

  Her eyes went to the golden cobra that spanned his upper arm. "Do you know what the cobra the pharaohs of ancient Egypt wore represented?" she asked, not knowing where her knowledge came from. "It meant they had the power of vengeance, a grim reminder to anyone who disobeyed them that punishment could be swift and deadly. Do you practice that?"

  He looked at her, astounded for the moment. "You never told me that before now. ..."

  "Was there ever any reason for me to? Did I have your ear in the past?" she said testily.

  "I do not wish to continue this conversation. Either you get on that horse, or I will forcibly put you on it."

  "I will do it, but I want to warn you. The first chance that presents itself, I will get away from you. It will be impossible for you to watch me all the time. Once you let your guard down, I shall be gone."

  Before she knew what he was doing, he took Andrew from her arms.

  "In that case, I will see that you are not left alone with the baby. Knowing you as I do, I know you might try to leave, but you would not go without Andrew."

  "If you know me as well as you say you do, tell me what I am that would have made me behave as I have. What kind of woman am I that I would allow you to touch me, and to have another man's child without benefit of marriage?" The anger seemed to drain out of her as she waited for him to tell her the answers that eluded her.

  "It would not be a fair assessment were I to tell you what you seek to know. I confess to being blinded in the way I see you. I cannot help you open your past, Mara. You are alone in a hell you did not create. If it were possible I would walk in your aloneness with you and point out the way." He motioned for Palomas to come to him, and when the tall craggy-faced Indian approached, he handed Andrew to him.

  "She is not to be left alone with the baby, under any circumstances. See to him," Tajarez ordered.

  P
alomas's dark eyes went from Tajarez to Mara, assessing the situation with a clarity that would have surprised Mara had she known of it.

  Mara wanted to protest, but now was not the time. It would serve no purpose to make a scene before everyone. Her mind rejected the fact that Tajarez seemed to view her as someone who was subservient to his wishes. He would find out different, she thought, as she mounted her horse in mock submission. She would bide her time until she was alone with the king of the Lagonda tribe, then she would tell him she would not tolerate his high-handed treatment of her.

  20

  I saw the sadness in his dark eyes.

  A sadness that he did not try to disguise.

  It snowed most of the day, and the temperature dropped to below freezing. The snow made a crunching sound beneath the horses' hooves. The weary travelers plodded onward, always moving in a westerly direction.

  Mara was glad when they made camp for the night. Andrew had been changed and fed, and Mara held him gently in her arms, loving the feel of his warm little body. He gave her a bright smile, and she kissed his soft cheek.

  Palomas had carried out Tajarez's orders, and Mara was never allowed to be alone with her son except when she was in the tent at night. The only time she was allowed to hold him in the daytime was to feed him, and then Palomas was always near by, with his back discreetly turned to her. Sometimes she would see Palomas looking at her with what looked like sympathy, but she could not be sure.

  She watched as Andrew drifted off to sleep. She was like a wild filly chafing at the bit as she paced the length of the tent and back again. Laying Andrew down and pulling the covers around him, she thought that if she did not get away from Tajarez she would lose her mind. She was so angry with him for the way he tried to run her life. He was not her king. She owed him nothing.

  She pushed the tent flap aside and felt the cold wind blast her in the face with its icy fingers. Seeing that the Indian Matio was stationed just in front of her tent, her anger rose to a new height. Tajarez would do well not to trust her, she thought, for should he be lax and let his guard down, she would find some way to take Andrew and escape.