Maverick Heart

by Joan Johnston

  “Rand, I—”

  She wasn’t expecting the kiss. Even if she had suspected it was coming, she couldn’t have imagined the effect it would have on her. After all, she had already kissed Rand twice, and nothing very momentous had happened.

  This time, her toes curled right up in her half-boots.

  When he released her mouth, she stared, wide-eyed, at the shadow where his face should be. She reached up to touch her lips. They still tingled. It had to be the dire situation … or pity … or something.

  “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

  “Countless times,” she retorted, still off-balance from the searing kiss.

  His fingers threaded through her hair. “Your hair is incredibly soft and silky.”

  “Rand, I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think,” he said in a husky voice. “Just let yourself feel.”

  His hands tangled in her hair, and he used his hold to draw her mouth toward his. She opened her mouth in protest, and his lips captured hers. The feelings were as extraordinary as they were unfamiliar.

  First the utter softness of his lips, the heat of his mouth on hers, the rough wetness of his tongue as it sought entry. She kept her lips pressed together, but oh, she was tempted to let him in.

  He nibbled at her lips with teeth and tongue until they were soft and puffy and unbelievably sensitive. For the first time in her life she felt the hard length of an aroused male against her belly. His bound hands pressed against the small of her back, urging her against him.

  “Feel how I want you, how I need you,” he crooned.

  Freddy panicked and shoved at Rand’s bare chest with her bound hands. “Let me go! Please. Stop, Rand. This is wrong. This is crazy. This shouldn’t be happening!”

  He released the pressure on her spine immediately but did nothing to take his arms from around her. “Be still, Freddy. You’re hurting my shoulder. Lie still.”

  She lay panting in his arms, frightened as a fox that can hear the hounds baying. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I don’t understand.”

  “What is it you don’t understand?” Rand asked in a quiet voice.

  “This isn’t supposed to happen. I don’t love you. How can this be happening?”

  “Shh. Be still. I won’t kiss you again. Relax and go to sleep. You’re safe with me.”

  Rand soothed her with quiet words until she settled in his arms. She was not really relaxed, but at least she was no longer trying to escape him.

  Rand had enough sexual experience to know that an innocent could be seduced even when there were no emotional ties to bind them. It had happened to him the first time. He had no reason to doubt the same principle would apply to a woman. Perhaps it had been unfair to use his knowledge on Freddy. But he had no intention of playing fair if it meant there was the least chance he would lose her.

  He had loved her for a long time, which was saying a lot when she was seventeen and he was twenty-one. Frankly, he had been amazed when she agreed to marry him. It hadn’t taken him long to realize she had doubts.

  He had seen her watching him during the long journey across the ocean with her lower lip caught in her teeth. He had listened to enough aborted “Rand, I need to …” and “Rand, I have to …” declarations to suspect what she was trying to say. He had always managed to divert her so she hadn’t been able to make her awful confession.

  Until tonight.

  He had finally let her speak because he knew, even if she did not, that there was no turning back. He would be her husband. She would be his wife. But his work was cut out for him. Quite simply, he wanted her to love him before they stood in front of a vicar and said the vows that would bind them together for life.

  They were both nearly asleep when a sound at the entrance to the tipi brought them wide awake. Rand lifted his arms from around Freddy and rose, prepared to defend her, if necessary.

  “Who’s there?” Freddy said.

  “Do not be afraid,” a woman’s voice whispered in the darkness. “It is only Willow. I tended the wound of the white man.”

  When she entered the tipi, Willow carried a torch. She moved to the center of the tipi where a ring of stones held kindling. Moments later the fire was lit. She extinguished the torch and sat down across the fire from them.

  At first, all the Sioux had looked the same to Freddy, with their straight black hair and dark brown eyes. As she stared at Willow, she noticed individual features that made her distinctive. An overlapping eyetooth. An especially wide mouth. A bump on the bridge of her nose. Eyes that were wide-set with short, straight brows. And she was even shorter than Freddy, who was of less than average height.

  Rand and Freddy exchanged worried glances. Why had she come? What did she want?

  “How is it you speak English?” Freddy asked.

  “Hawk taught me the words.”

  Willow traced the beaded design on her moccasin. Silence descended again.

  “Did you have something you wanted to say to us?” Freddy asked, unable to bear the building tension.

  Rand frowned at Freddy’s impatience.

  Willow answered her question. “I wish to help you escape.”

  Freddy gasped and turned a hopeful look toward Rand.

  “Why would you do that?” Rand asked, less willing to believe such good fortune could fall into their laps.

  “Because Hawk chooses this woman to be his wife,” she said with a scornful jerk of her head in Freddy’s direction. “Once she is gone, he will see that I am the woman—the only woman—who was meant to share his pallet.”

  “You want to marry Hawk yourself?” Freddy asked.

  “We are husband and wife already,” Willow said.

  “Then why does he want me? He can’t have two wives,” Freddy protested. “It’s against the law.”

  “It is not against our law,” Willow said.

  “Cut us free, and we’ll be on our way,” Freddy said, holding out her bound hands.

  “Wait a minute,” Rand said. “Maybe this is some kind of trap.”

  “We can’t be more trapped than we already are,” Freddy pointed out.

  “I guess you’re right,” Rand conceded. He turned to Willow and said, “What do you want us to do?”

  “I have taken away the dog that guarded you. I will lead you through the camp to ponies I have waiting to carry you away from here.”

  “We don’t know where we are,” Freddy said. “How will we know which way to go?”

  “The white man’s fort is to the south. That is all I can tell you.”

  “Won’t Hawk be angry with you when he finds out what you’ve done?” Rand asked.

  Willow shrugged. “Perhaps. But the white woman will be gone.”

  “What if Hawk comes after us?” Freddy asked.

  “You may be certain he will come after you, as soon as he discovers you are gone,” Willow said. “That is why you must ride like the wind. Do not stop until you reach the safety of the fort.”

  “Are we that close to the fort?” Rand asked, surprised.

  Willow smiled. “Hawk is very smart. And very brave. It pleases him to do what he does under the noses of the soldiers, who believe him to be far away in the hills to the north. Now, come with me.”

  Rand held out his bound hands. “You’ll have to cut us free first. And I’ll need a shirt to replace the one you took.”

  Willow crossed to a parfleche near the edge of the tipi and pulled out a beaded buckskin shirt. She thrust it at Rand, who grabbed it between numbed fingers. Then she pulled a knife from a sheath tied by a thong to the waist of her buckskin dress.

  Rand felt the coolness of the metal against his flesh and felt the pressure of it against his leather boots. Moments later he experienced a series of excruciating pinpricks as blood flowed into his numbed hands and feet.

  “Oh, Rand, it hurts!” Freddy said as she carefully opened and closed her hands after Willow cut her bonds. She reached down to rub her calves. “I’m
not sure my legs will support me.”

  Rand gritted his teeth as he lifted his arms to slip the shirt down over his head. Fortunately the agony was over quickly. The buckskin was warm, and heavier than the fine lawn shirt he was used to wearing. He ran his fingers over the colorful beaded design. “Did you make this?” he asked Willow.

  She nodded.

  “It’s beautiful.” He shook his hands as painful pinpricks gave warning that blood was circulating once more.

  Willow reached for Rand’s hands and began to massage them. “It will not take long before the feeling returns.” She eyed Freddy and asked, “Is this your man?”

  “Yes,” Rand answered for her.

  Freddy shot him an annoyed look, but she didn’t contradict him. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t let her answer for herself, except he didn’t want to hear her deny again that she belonged to him. The matter was settled in his mind. The vows might as well have been said. As far as he was concerned, they were husband and wife.

  He staggered to his feet and leaned on Willow until his wobbly legs would support him. When he was standing on his own, he turned and held out his hands to Freddy and pulled her onto her feet.

  “Can you walk?” he asked her.

  “I can try.”

  Rand winced at the pain when he took his first steps and saw from the pinched look around Freddy’s mouth that she wasn’t in much better shape. He admired her fortitude. Most English ladies he knew would already have collapsed. Not his Freddy.

  “Follow me,” Willow said. She left the tipi without waiting to see if they followed.

  Holding each other upright, Freddy and Rand hobbled their way after her through the sleeping village, using the half moon and a star-filled sky for light. As Willow had promised, the dog that had slept in front of the tipi was absent, and they didn’t encounter any more animals. Two Roman-nosed, sway-backed Indian ponies were waiting along the edge of a stream, not many yards from the nearest tipi. Neither pony was saddled, and each had only a halter arrangement instead of a bridle with a sturdy metal bit.

  “Where are our horses?” Freddy asked.

  “Hawk gave them to the bravest of the men who raided with him,” she said.

  Rand and Freddy exchanged an annoyed look before he boosted her onto the nearest sorry-looking pony and handed her the reins. She could feel the body heat of the animal through the thin layer of separation provided by her undergarments.

  If Freddy had been any other properly bred English girl, it would have been a novel sensation. But she had ridden bareback in her rowdy youth and absolutely loved it. The feel of the power between her thighs was exhilarating, rather than terrifying. “Oh, Rand,” she breathed. “I think we’re actually going to get away.”

  “I’ve never been so glad in my life that you’re a neck-or-nothing rider,” Rand muttered as he mounted his own pony. His legs nearly reached the ground on either side of the animal.

  Freddy tsked as she examined the halter that provided the only control she had over the Indian pony. “I suppose it doesn’t matter that I probably can’t stop this animal, because I don’t want him to stop anytime soon.”

  “Thank you, Willow,” Rand said. “We’ll be forever in your debt. If there’s ever any way I can repay you—”

  “I want nothing from you, white man. One further warning I will give you. Do not lead the soldiers back to this place. We will be gone from here long before you can return. And Hawk will be watching and waiting with many braves to ambush and kill you. Now go.”

  Freddy didn’t have to be told twice. She kicked the Indian pony hard and the animal jumped into a stiff-legged trot with Rand not far behind her.

  Freddy felt like shouting. Once away from the village, they loped until the horses were winded, then slowed to a walk to allow them a rest. “We’re free, Rand. We’re free! All we have to do is keep riding south and—oh, my God. How do we know we’re going in the right direction?”

  “I thought she pointed us in the right direction.”

  “I assumed you knew which way to go.”

  “Why would you assume that?”

  “You’re a man. You’re supposed to know these things.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  Freddy halted her mount, and Rand pulled his pony to a stop beside her. She looked up at the sky. “Isn’t there some way you can tell from the stars which direction is north?”

  “I think so. But I never learned how.”

  “What now?”

  “We could wait till daylight. I could figure it out then. Assuming the sun comes up tomorrow, of course.”

  “That isn’t funny.”

  “I wasn’t joking. Look at those clouds scudding past the moon. If it rains we’ll be out of luck.”

  “We can’t stop. You heard what Willow said. Hawk will come after us as soon as he returns. We need to get to the fort before then.”

  “Then I suggest we keep riding in the same direction,” Rand said. “And hope it’s south.”

  “I guess we don’t have much choice.” Freddy kicked her horse into a mile-eating trot, and Rand followed after her.

  Unfortunately, they were headed due north.

  8

  “I’m hungry, and I want to go home.”

  “You sound like a seven-year-old,” Rand said, ruffling Freddy’s hair as he would a pouting child’s.

  “Oh, surely ten or eleven at least,” Freddy quipped.

  She met Rand’s heavy-lidded gaze and glanced quickly away from the tenderness—mixed with something not quite so benign—she found there.

  Rand’s arm circled her waist as they lay spooned together. The rising sun hadn’t yet warmed the ground, and she snuggled close to share his warmth. She felt surprisingly safe and secure, even though they had no shelter over their heads, no weapons to defend themselves against predators, animal or human. She knew Rand would protect her with his life.

  She had awakened to find him watching her, his gray eyes lambent, his lips full. Instinctively she had recognized the signs for what they were. She had stretched lazily, like a cat, letting her breasts brush against his chest and causing him to make a sound in his throat somewhere between a grunt and a groan.

  She wouldn’t have known what to do if he had taken advantage of her invitation. She was merely testing her sexual wings, making a little soaring trip and flying right back to the nest. She supposed the fact that she felt free to tease him meant that she trusted him. Which surprised her, because she was not normally a trusting sort of person. At least not where young men—the kind who might compromise an unwary female and force her into an unwanted marriage—were concerned.

  “I know I’m used to being a little indulged,” she said.

  Rand snorted at the understatement.

  “But I’ve always believed that if the circumstances ever arose when I needed to be strong, I could be.” She swallowed over the surprising lump of feeling that clogged her throat. “I don’t feel very brave at the moment, Rand. In fact, I’m feeling pretty scared.”

  Rand closed his arms tighter around the woman he loved, bracing for the pain that occurred when he strained the muscles in his wounded shoulder. He understood her fear. They had spent the night along the bank of an unknown river, hidden amid thickly overgrown cottonwoods and willow trees matted together with tough vines. Completely lost.

  “I’ll take care of you, Freddy,” Rand murmured. “I’ll be strong for both of us.”

  But his comment was more wishful thinking than fact. He had been so weakened by his wound that they had been forced to stop after only a few hours of riding. As soon as the sun began to rise he realized it was a good thing they had stopped, because they had been headed in the wrong direction. It was sheer luck they had stumbled upon this river in the dark and been able to quench their thirst. He planned to follow the river south today, in the hope it would lead them to civilization, preferably not of the Indian variety.

  “I wish I knew how to make a trap,” Rand said. “
We’ve seen enough rabbits to fill both our stomachs. Of course, I have nothing with which to start a fire, so we’d have to eat our rabbit raw.”

  “I could never eat a rabbit,” Freddy said, “cooked or raw.”

  “Why not? They’re quite tasty, actually. Roasted, I mean. I’ve never had occasion to eat one raw myself.”

  Freddy made a face. “My father raised rabbits for food on his summer estate. I used to sneak in and play with them when they were babies. I could never eat one after that.”

  “You’d be surprised what you could eat when you’re really hungry.”

  “Not rabbits. Please, Rand. How about a pheasant? We’ve seen plenty of those, too.”

  “Pheasant it is,” Rand said. “Since I can’t catch either one, you might as well wish for what you want. Raw pheasant. Sounds delightful.” He smacked his lips.

  Freddy chuckled. “That’s what I like about you, Rand. You could always make me laugh.”

  “Is that all you like about me?” Rand knew he was taking a chance asking such a personal question. But if he was going to woo and win her, he had to know what she admired in a man.

  “You’re not afraid to take chances,” she said. “Like coming all the way to America to seek your fortune.”

  “I didn’t have much choice. My father left me nothing in England.”

  “A lot of men would simply have chosen a rich wife and—” Freddy cut herself off.

  Rand smiled. “Has the difference in our circumstances finally occurred to you, love? Yes, you have a fortune, or will someday, but no, that isn’t the reason I came courting.”

  “I never thought for a moment—”

  He kissed her to shut her up, because of course the thought had occurred to her. A little late, perhaps, but she wasn’t as grown up as she liked to think. He was barely four years her senior, yet he didn’t think he had ever been as naive or innocent as he believed her to be even now. Yet it was that very innocence that drew him. He had always believed the greatest beauty was to be found in an unfolding bud.