Blackbird

by Henderson, Nancy

  Never before had he feared being alone. Now it terrified him.

  “What are you thinking?”

  He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he jumped when Katherine spoke. Turning toward her, all he could do was just stare. She was so beautiful lying there with her hair tousled and spilling over one shoulder. He ached to reach for her but resisted, fearing his touch would infuriate her. He had betrayed her once by not telling her that Song was still living, and now she knew how he had planned to have her killed, which now seemed so long ago. For this, she would never forgive him.

  To his utter shock, she leaned into him and softly touched her lips to his own. She hovered over him, her hair falling around her face and onto his shoulders, waiting for him to respond, but he did not dare. When she feathered her tongue over his bottom lip, he draped an arm over her waist and pulled her close, so close she was lying over his chest. She was looking into his eyes, her gaze mirroring his own apprehension and regret.

  “You do not hate me?”

  “Hate is a strong word,” she answered, as if hesitant. “I know where your responsibilities lie, and I know you fight for the people you love. When you brought me here, I saw you all as murderers, but I know you now. Star...the way we talk sometimes. I never had a best friend before.”

  When she buried her head against his neck, relief washed over him like a warm spring rain. Would she stay with him? She had not said she loved him, but she did not hate him either. That was something at least.

  She was draped across his bare chest, her legs intertwined with his own. He ran his hands down the length of her back, wishing she was naked against him instead of wearing one of Star’s dresses. His arousal came to life immediately, but he lay still beneath her. Their bodies fit so perfectly together, and for now he was content to just hold her, smell the sweet soft scent of her.

  She inhaled. Then slowly released her breath just below his ear. “You feel nice.”

  Softly, she kissed the flesh just under his chin. She trailed a path of chaste kisses from his ear, down his neck, and across his jaw line. She did not even realize what she did to him, the sheer power she possessed over him, and he fought to remain in control for fear any bold movement on his part would set her off again.

  Her hands were on his waist, and then slowly they moved up his sides, over his ribcage, just under his armpits. She was watching him now, her expression intrigue and mischievous, as if she were enjoying this newfound power she had over him.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Yes.”

  Her hands moved down again, slowly, deliberately. They stopped at his hip where his breechclout tied. Then, slowly she undid the ties.

  Liquid fire raced to the pit of his stomach and centered at his groin as her innocent kisses resumed and dropped to the hard space between his breasts. No woman had ever taken such bold initiative with him, and it both shocked and excited him. But then Katherine was unlike any woman he had ever known.

  Her tongue ran to his left nipple, which she suckled before moving to the right one.

  His loins were about to explode. He rasped her name and something else which he had no recollection to, but she did not seem to hear or understand him.

  It did not matter. He did not care.

  Her tongue was playing a game of darting, licking, teasing all the while dropping closer to the part of him which was painful with need of her. She nipped and bit playfully at his navel. He tangled his hands in her hair, fanned it out over his stomach while gently coaxing her downward with his hands.

  He felt her tongue touch the tip of him, and a heavy groan tore from his chest. She was tasting him now, testing his length, withdrawing and taking him once more.

  Song had never done this, and he had never asked for fear of embarrassing her. Once at eighteen, he and Zachariah had paid a tavern maid to do this, but the whore had refused once she discovered they were natives. Katherine’s mouth moving over him, engorging him, suckling him was more than he could bear, more sacred than anything he had ever imagined. He moaned her name, urging her that it was time, but she paid no mind and continued her dance until it was too late.

  He shut his eyes, threw his head back as he expelled his seed, and she took every drop of him. When he opened his eyes, she was smiling down at him, her eyes alight with sleep and sex. She kissed him openly on the mouth, and he tasted himself on her breath. It was both forbidden and erotic.

  She continued kissing him, and his need once again came to life. He leaned into her, rolling her over with him, but she threw her bare thigh over his hip and pushed him back down.

  “I’m not finished with you.” A wicked grin spread over her face. Straddling him, she pulled her dress over her head and threw it aside. She caught his wrists and pinned them above his head and kissed him wildly.

  She was an uncontrollable wildcat, and his senses reeled. No one had ever loved him like this, not even in his most hidden dreams.

  Releasing his wrists, she leaned back and lowered herself upon his engorged shaft. She moved against him, riding him as if they had been sharing these pleasures for lifetimes. Adahya grasped her slender waist and moved with her. He rose and kissed her breasts, her shoulders, her neck. When he looked at her, her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back. He had never seen anything so beautiful as this woman. His woman.

  They climaxed almost simultaneously, and Katherine fell into his arms.

  “Thank you,” was all he could think to say, and they both laughed. “Where did that come from, Chogan?”

  “I don’t know. I guess you brought it out in me.”

  He chuckled, suddenly too exhausted for words. “I wish to take you somewhere today.” He closed his eyes.

  “Where?”

  Katherine’s question echoed in his ears and he fell asleep without answering.

  * * *

  KATHERINE followed Adahya up a path that cut through the forest.

  “Where are we going?” she asked for the hundredth time, but he passed by a row of hemlock and hurried too far ahead to hear her.

  He looked magnificent today. His hair, still wet and shining, was tied back with a leather thong, and he wore a quilled breechcloth and leggings. His chest was bare, and he had a red damask robe draped across one shoulder.

  He had given her a dress made of bleached doeskin and matching leggings. Such gifts only added to the intrigue of where he was taking her and why it required such adornment.

  “Are we almost there?” she called after him. He walked so swiftly she could barely keep up.

  “You sound like an anxious child.”

  He was teasing her again. She had never seen his mood so elated. Earlier this morning, he had fixed her a breakfast of berries and venison and asked that she tell him how her parents met. After she told him how they had attended grade school together, he told her how each member of his family met their life partner.

  She wondered why the sudden interest in relationships.

  “Where are we going?” She raised her voice, curiosity too strong to contain now.

  “I already told you.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t?”

  She laughed. “You know you didn’t!”

  “Then perhaps I forgot.” He stopped walking and when she caught up to him, he wrapped an arm possessively around her waist and kissed her. “You do not handle secrets well, Chogan.”

  He released her and abruptly resumed his swift pace. “We are almost there, Katherine.”

  “Almost where?”

  “To the secret.”

  The forest suddenly opened to a stockade wall of timber. This was smaller than the wall which surrounded Adahya’s village, but the fortification contained a blockhouse on each corner. Two redcoats guarded the entrance, and she stepped back, immediately frightened.

  “Do not be afraid.” Adahya gripped her hand. “No one will harm you here.”

  “Who are those men? What is this place?”

 
“Fort Hunter. This is a mission, Katherine.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  SONG quickly ducked behind a tree so Adahya and the white woman would not see her. When they were long out of sight, she relaxed and stepped into the warm sunlight.

  She wanted to hit or kick something, but she was too tired to do anything but curse. It was not fair. The whole thing--her plans, her dreams--had all gone wrong, and it was not fair. She fought the urge to cry; something that strangely seemed impossible to stop lately. She did not understand her actions. The old Song would have never let someone as insignificant as Adahya hurt her feelings. The old Song would have picked herself up and went on to greener pastures. There were certainly better looking men in the village than Adahya.

  Adahya looked happy with the white woman. Happier than he had been with her. Song cursed the white whore a thousand unpleasant deaths. Even She-who-commands, who claimed to hate this Blackbird, had stuck up for her against the redcoats the other day. She-who-commands said she had done it for Adahya’s sake, that he would be pained if Blackbird was taken away. Song had become furious with her ex mother-in-law, and the old woman had ended up telling her to leave her hearth.

  Everything was always for Adahya’s sake. She hated him, and she hated herself for leaving him.

  And she hated being pregnant.

  If only she looked to be farther along than five months. She could have fooled Adahya into thinking the child was not his, and he would have taken her back. She had loved Roudeaux, the trader who had fathered her child. At least she thought she had. But once she left the village they began fighting, and it seemed it was all they knew how to do together. She could not live like that. Her life with Adahya had been tedious at best, but at least he had never struck her.

  When she decided to return home she assumed Adahya would be cold toward her at first, but she never expected him to have taken a woman. Especially a white woman. She had no idea what he saw in her, what the others saw in her. She certainly was not pretty. She was smart, yes. She knew how to put the white man’s language down on parchment. But pretty? Definitely not.

  Song walked a few yards then sat down under the shade of a hemlock, her legs aching miserably. Walking seemed to help her back, but it was awful on her legs; once slim, beautiful legs that now shown trails of tiny, ugly, purple veins. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She was once a beautiful, flawless woman. Now she was bloated and fat, and tiny red lines trailed the sides of her waist where her child began to grow. Men still spoke to her, still pursued her, yes, but she no longer felt the desire to flirt with them, to tease them as before.

  She removed the bundle of bloodroot from her possible bag. She had repeatedly asked White Swan, the old medicine woman, for the potion, but the woman always refused, saying she was too far along to take it. So she had just stolen it last night when the woman had been out relieving herself.

  Song smelled the foul stench of ground plant root. She reached for her water skin and poured a small amount of water into a pewter mug. She had no idea how much was needed to do the task, but just to be certain she emptied the entire contents into the water and stirred it around with her finger.

  It was the worst thing she had ever tasted, and she fought the urge to gag. She drank the entire solution. Then drained the remainder of water in the skin to rid her mouth of the horrid taste.

  She sat in silence and listened to the forest birds. She wondered how long before the drug took effect, and she wondered what it would feel like. Surely there would be no pain. She would not be going into labor, after all. The task would be quick and painless, and she would soon be able to put this whole incident behind her.

  And no one would have to know about this. She would tell people she fell, and they would believe her. They would take pity on her and shower her with kindness and affection. They would not think badly of her, call her a horrible person who would be cast into the eternal damnation of Heno after death. She would tell no one about the bloodroot. Ever.

  And everything would be all right.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A mission!

  Confused, Katherine looked at Adahya. “Why did you bring me here?”

  He took her hand and pulled her through the large swing gate.

  Inside, Fort Hunter did not resemble a fort or even a mission at all. It looked more like a smaller version of Adahya’s village. Small dome-shaped bark lodges scattered its grounds. In the center of the village stood a stone parsonage with glass windowpanes. The chapel was two stories high with a bell and belfry on the roof. A cross made from birch branches hung over the door.

  Two Indians approached them. They spoke rapidly, too fast for Katherine to understand.

  “Who are they?” she asked after they had gone away.

  “They are Ganeagaono.” He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Come.”

  Katherine drew back as Adahya knocked on the door. It opened and a man in a long black robe appeared in the doorway. Adahya stepped forward and spoke to him in Mohawk.

  When Adahya motioned to Katherine, the parson smiled warmly at her. “Please come in, dear.”

  Katherine slowly entered the little chapel. It was rustic, but compared to Joshua’s mission this was the Saint Peter’s Cathedral. This chapel had pews. Granted, they were made from tree branches and pine planks, but at least this mission’s congregation did not have to sit on the floor like Joshua’s did.

  The chapel actually had an altar and pulpit. And a communion table with a silver bowl and chalice. And an organ.

  It was the most majestic instrument she had ever seen. All she could do was stare at it. The organ was magnificent, beyond anything Joshua would ever dream. She wondered if Joshua knew this mission existed here--so far away from civilization in the middle of a never-ending sea of forest.

  She wished Joshua were here to see it.

  Katherine turned, suddenly aware of the men’s stares.

  “She’s a treasure, isn’t she?” The parson’s eyes were filled with admiration. “The organ and the communion set were gifts from Queen Anne when she ordered the chapel built over sixty years ago. The organ is a wonder for my congregation.”

  His congregation, she assumed, were Indians--just like Joshua’s. She ran her hands over the massive bellows. “How was it ever transported so far from civilization?”

  “It came from England. The pipes arrived a month after the organ. I was told it took an eight-horse team to get them here.” There was no mistaking the pride in his voice. Then, as if remembering Adahya’s presence, the parson stepped toward him. “I’m sorry I’ve kept you. Shall we begin?”

  Katherine looked to Adahya and searched his darting eyes. “Begin what?”

  “May we speak alone first?” Adahya asked the reverend.

  “Of course.” Quietly, the parson walked out of the chapel and closed the door behind him.

  “Adahya, what’s going on?”

  * * *

  WITH all the courage he could muster, Adahya met Katherine’s worried eyes. A thousand needles pierced his stomach, and for a moment, he thought he would be sick. He had thought he would be fine. He had even joked with her on the journey here.

  But the moment he had entered the gates, he began to fall apart.

  Now, as he met her eyes, he fought the urge to bolt.

  Katherine could say no. After all he had put her through she had every right to refuse him.

  He had vowed to never reveal his feeling to a woman again. Star and Sunshine both said this was what Katherine longed for; if he did not say those words he would lose Katherine.

  He knew he was not the husband Katherine had envisioned, and his life was not the world to which she was accustomed. But he wanted to protect her forever. He wanted to love her all the days of her life, and when he grew too old to make love to her, he wanted to hold her by his hearth and promise her an eternity of loving in the afterlife.

  But she could refuse him.

  He was trap
ped.

  “Adahya, answer me.”

  Her eyes were deep and pleading, and they penetrated to his soul. Breathing deeply, he closed the distance between them.

  He removed Star’s ring from the string which he suspended from his neck and cautiously flipped it on Katherine’s left finger, as Star had instructed was the proper way white swore their marriage rings. She did not fight or refuse it.