To Tame A Rebel

by Georgina Gentry

  In the darkness, she watched his face and tried not to think about food. She was so hungry.

  “Tell me what I want to know and you can have some.”

  The bastard. She should have known he wasn’t being kind. “Got nothing to tell.”

  “Have it your way.” He got himself a bowl of soup and a biscuit and settled down to eat nearby. It occurred to her he was making sure she saw every bite.

  It looked so good. She tried not to watch him eat. “Why—why are we camped so far from the others?”

  He hesitated, didn’t look at her. “Wanted you to have quiet; that’s all.”

  “Liar.” She was afraid to guess why they were alone.

  “You sure you don’t want some of this?”

  “I might talk if you’d feed me.”

  He paused. “Talk first.”

  “Food first.”

  “You’re stubborn, Yank. All right.” He looked relieved as he got up, poured another bowl, laid a biscuit in it, and brought it over.

  “I—I’m not sure I can hold a spoon. My arm—”

  “Here.” He had to put his arm behind her shoulders as he began to feed her. “You’re awful small for a soldier.”

  “Big enough to hold a rifle.” She kept gobbling in case he changed his mind and took the bowl away.

  When she had finished the soup, he set the bowl aside, staring down into her eyes. “Want some coffee?”

  She nodded, and he got her a cup. She held that in her good hand, grateful for the warmth of the cup now that the darkness was turning cool. It tasted so good. “Sugar?”

  He shook his head. “Haven’t seen sugar in months.”

  “You rebs don’t seem to have much of anything.”

  “We got guts, Yank. We’re runnin’ on sheer guts.”

  “You can’t win a war with that.”

  “You damned Yankees are invading our land, stealing our livestock, killing our people, raping our women.” His voice was bitter.

  “You own slaves?”

  He shook his head. “Never had that kind of money; don’t believe in it anyway. Enough questions, Yank. You talk.”

  “Tomorrow,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

  He began to curse, but she ignored him. Time was what she needed, time to gain strength so she could escape.

  “I’ve got my orders, Yank. Make it easy on yourself and tell me what I want to know.”

  She just looked up at him.

  “All right, then, I don’t want to do this, but I’m under orders.” He grabbed her good arm, dragged her to her feet, and turned her face against the tree. He took a length of rawhide from his belt and tied her wrists together around the tree trunk. Before she could protest, he reached up and caught the collar of her shirt and jerked hard, ripping it down the back. She felt her shirt falling away to her waist, and she pressed her bare breasts against the rough bark so he wouldn’t see them. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw him pull the quirt from his belt.

  Oh, my God, he was going to whip her. She gritted her teeth stubbornly and concentrated on her throbbing arm. Maybe if she thought about something else, she could bear the pain without shrieking and giving away her sex.

  Damn the Yank anyhow. Jim stared at the naked, slender back and brought his quirt up. He didn’t want to whip the slight boy, but he was under orders to find out what, if anything, this prisoner knew. He snapped the quirt back and brought it down lightly on the boy’s bare flesh, leaving a livid pink streak. The boy cried out and hung on to the tree. “Damn it, kid, tell me what I want to know and spare yourself this pain.”

  The boy only shook his head. In anger Jim reached out and jerked off the boy’s cap. Instantly, a cascade of long black hair tumbled down the bare shoulders, almost hiding the red streak the quirt had inflicted. “What the . . . ?”

  He cut the rawhide, grabbed the boy’s shoulder, whirled him around. First he saw the eyes, dark and defiant, and then . . .

  The small, taut breasts thrust from the remnants of the torn blue shirt. “A girl! Oh, my God!”

  Chapter 16

  He stared down at her in disbelief. There were tears in her eyes, but she did not scream, although blood dripped from her bitten lip. He caught her as she staggered away from the tree, and for an instant he was acutely aware of the feel of her bare breasts against him; then he swung her up in his arms. “What the hell’s going on here?”

  She only shook her head at him, tears in her dark eyes. He carried her over and laid her gently on his blankets. She winced, and he rolled her over on her belly, staring down with distaste at the whip mark he had put there. “Damn it,” he muttered, “why didn’t you tell me?”

  She seemed to be fighting not to cry. “Not gonna tell you anything.”

  “We’ll deal with that later.” He got some ointment out of his saddle bags and smeared it slowly down the wound. Her skin was smooth as dark cream. It had been a long time since he had a woman, and just putting his hands on her flesh made his groin ache. It crossed his mind that she was helpless and his prisoner. No one would know or care if he used her for his pleasure here in the darkness. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t resort to rape, not even of a damned Yankee spy. “Tell me what you were doing on that boat. Did the Yankees know they had a girl aboard?”

  She sighed, enjoying the gentle feel of his hands on her bare flesh as he ministered to her. “No. I—I was trying to reach my lover at the fort, that’s all.”

  “You must really love the guy to take the risk,” he muttered. “Damned crazy thing to do.”

  He believed her. A sense of relief swept over her. “I—I hadn’t seen him in a long time.”

  “So where’d you get the gray uniform?” He kept smearing ointment on her bare back, his hands moving lower and lower.

  She thought fast. “I was taking it to him as a souvenir.”

  “You little liar.” He turned her over and stared down into her face. “That’s a new uniform.” His gaze dropped to her bare breasts, and she was acutely aware of the hunger in his dark eyes. Evidently, he had been a long time without a woman. She tried to shake her black hair so that it fell across her chest, but his hand reached out and cupped her breast.

  She attempted to push him away as she shrank back. “Don’t touch me.”

  His thumb raked gently across her nipple, and she felt it swell at his caress. “I’ll do more than touch you if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”

  She looked up at the need in his rugged face, now shadowed by the darkness. She knew now what she might use to buy her freedom. “If I let you make love to me, will you let me go?”

  He hesitated, his thumb stroking her nipple until a warmth like she’d never known stirred her blood. He shook his head, then paused. “You little bitch, that’s the devil’s own bargain.”

  Before she was aware of his intent, he pulled her to him and kissed her, his hands circling her back so that he pressed her naked breasts against the brass buttons of his uniform. His mouth covered hers, forcing her lips open so that his hot tongue could invade inside. For a moment, the unexpected feelings that swept over her caused her to freeze in place. She tasted the heat of his eager mouth as his hand came around her back very slowly to touch and stroke her.

  “Would you like to make love to me?” she whispered.

  He pulled away from her with an oath. “You little tart, you’d do anything to make me forget my duty, wouldn’t you?”

  “I—I just want you to set me free.” She began to sob now, unable to stop herself.

  “That isn’t going to happen.” He went to his saddlebags, dug around, returned with one of his gray shirts, and tossed it to her. “Put this on.”

  It was much too big, but she put it on, making sure he saw the movement of her breasts as she did so.

  He cursed again and began to roll a cigarette with shaking hands. “Damn you for flaunting yourself like that. I’ve got a good mind to take you right here in the dirt.”

  She
paused, seeing the mental picture of this big savage ripping her clothes away, shoving her down in the grass. He’d put that hot, wet mouth on her breasts, sucking them until she was writhing with her own need, then force himself between her thighs. No doubt he was built like a stallion and knew how to please a woman. In her innocence, she was both fascinated and afraid of losing her virginity.

  He paused, the tip of his smoke glowing red as he inhaled deeply. “Now, damn it, now tell me the truth.”

  What would he believe? Certainly not the truth. Besides, he might be the very spy she was seeking.

  “All right.” She shrugged as if in defeat. “I’m just a common whore.”

  “Common? With your body, I’d say you’re not too common. I’d say you were a toy for officers and rich men.”

  She smiled. “That’s right. I figured to make plenty of money off the officers at Fort Gibson.”

  “And the Confederate uniform?” He was staring at her in a way that made her uneasy, as if he could see into her very soul and know the truth.

  She didn’t look at him. “I—I bought it on the black market. You can buy anything if you’ve got enough money.”

  “Including you?” He sounded annoyed and angry.

  She shrugged. “I told you so. I figured I’d get all the money the Union officers had to spend on entertainment, then move over to the rebel side.”

  “You have no loyalties to either?”

  April shook her head and laughed. “Only to gold. If you hadn’t taken me off that boat, I’d be in some Yankee officer’s bed right now, taking as much money as I could get from him.”

  “You shameless little slut.” His disgusted tone told her he finally believed her. Yet his eyes still betrayed how much he wanted her. “How much do you get for a night?”

  She tried to figure out how much he had. What would she do if he took her up on it? She’d never bedded a man in her innocent life. She smiled archly. “Whatever the market will bear. I’ll do you for a cartwheel.”

  “Twenty dollars?” His voice rose. “I hear the best whores in New Orleans don’t get but five or ten.”

  She winked at him. “But you’re not in New Orleans. I told you, whatever the market will bear.”

  He ground out his cigarette. “Suppose I just take me a free sample?”

  She gasped, then decided to bluff, although she might be playing with fire. Somehow, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would rape a woman. “You’d like it a lot better if I were willing.”

  “You win, you bitch. It’s a shame an Indian girl has lowered herself to become a plaything for rich white men.”

  “I’m not Indian,” she protested.

  “And ashamed of your blood, too—that’s worse. What’s your real name?”

  “None of your business,” she snapped.

  He stared at her. Then, very slowly in his Cherokee language, he said, “I think I’ll just cut your throat and throw you in the river.”

  “Don’t you dare!” She came up alert and ready to fight.

  He smiled without mirth. “So you’re Cherokee, are you?”

  “I’m not.” She stumbled to her feet, backed away against a tree.

  “What’s your real name?”

  “April. April Grant.”

  “Kawoni.” He said it slowly, then said it again, rolling it across his tongue as if he liked the taste of it. “Kawoni. I think I knew a girl by that name once, a half-blood girl who was born in the month of April. My younger brother, Will, was in love with her.” He turned and stared at her as if puzzled, then a light broke across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Of—of course it’s not me. Same name, maybe. I’m from Boston.” She shook her head, but she didn’t look into his eyes, because he might read the truth. She recognized him now. When she was not old enough to marry, Will Wohali had wanted her to be his wife, but she had had eyes only for his older brother, who didn’t seem to know she was alive. Then her father had taken her away north.

  The officer shrugged. “Well, I reckon I was mistaken. The girl I remember wouldn’t sell herself for money; no Cherokee girl would.”

  “I am white, I tell you,” she fired back.

  “And she’d be proud of her heritage, not ashamed.”

  When had she become ashamed? When the snooty white girls at Miss Priddy’s fancy school had taunted her and made her life miserable. Money might make the difference in being accepted. “So now that you know I’m nothing but a whore, you going to let me go?”

  He shook his head. “Not without talking to the general. Sometimes camp followers are used to carry messages.”

  He was staring at her again as if he’d give anything to possess her.

  She ran her tongue over her lips very slowly, looking at him. “If you’d let me go, I’ll make love to you.”

  For a moment, he said nothing, just stared into her eyes as if he were attempting to see into her very soul. “You slut. You’re beneath contempt.”

  “But you still want me?”

  “Shut up.” He stood up, turned away as if ashamed of his need. He strode over to his saddle bags and came back with a fresh length of rawhide.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Tie you to a tree so you can’t run away. I’ll figure out what to do with you in the morning.” He grabbed her good arm and wrapped the rawhide around her wrist.

  She’d never escape if he tied her. “You can’t sleep with me if you tie me up.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you,” he growled.

  “But you want to.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t.” He began to tie her. She looked down at the knot and knew she couldn’t untie it. There was only one way to escape. Tonight she’d have to sacrifice her innocence by seducing this lieutenant into setting her free. She wasn’t quite certain how to seduce a virile rogue like this one. She’d only flirted with a few green boys.

  “Before you get me trussed up like a hog for the night,” she said, “I need to go into the bushes.”

  He frowned. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

  She didn’t answer, and he sighed and began untying her. She made sure she brushed her bare breast against his hand as she turned away and started into the brush.

  “You slut, don’t try to run away. Besides the fact that you won’t get very far, there’s no telling what’s out there in the woods.”

  She paused and looked back at him over her shoulder. “Am I in any more danger out there than I am with you?”

  He scowled at her. “I was an honored Lighthorseman before the war. You know what the Lighthorse do to rapists?”

  She remembered then. The Lighthorse was the law enforcement for all the Five Civilized Tribes. Their courts were swift, and their justice merciless, the sentences carried out by public lashings or a firing squad of warriors. “Don’t worry, I’m not going far.” She watched him settle down before the fire with a hand-rolled smoke and a cup of coffee. He looked exhausted.

  Once out of sight in the woods, April took off at a run. Her arm and her wounded back throbbed, but she had to escape. She knew now that this tough soldier would do whatever it took to get the information he needed, and she wasn’t sure that she had convinced him she was merely a whore.

  In the darkness she ran into a low limb and fell, got up, and took off again. After a few yards, she tripped over a tree root and fell again. She wasn’t even sure which direction she was moving, but it didn’t matter as long as she escaped from this grim rebel. She had to put distance between them.

  Behind her, she heard the lieutenant shout, “Yank, where are you?”

  She didn’t answer but kept running. Behind her, she heard him call again, and this time he was cursing. There was no telling what he would do if he caught her. She was breathing hard, but there was no time to stop and rest. He probably knew these woods well, and being a former Lighthorseman, he was surely also a skilled tracker. Well, he couldn’t track her in the dark, and she’d take her chances at
daylight.

  She didn’t hear him calling anymore. Good, maybe he’d decided it wasn’t worth it to come looking. After all, if she managed to get anywhere near Fort Gibson, a Yankee sentry might pick him off.

  She wasn’t sure how far she’d run or how far she was away from the camp. All that mattered was escaping that rugged Cherokee and his hungry eyes.

  A shadow suddenly appeared in the path before her—a big, wide-shouldered shadow. She cried out and tried to dodge him, but she was moving too fast to stop.

  “Gotcha!” He reached out and grabbed her, and they struggled, but she was no match for his strength. They went down in the soft leaves, and she came up biting and scratching.

  “Stop it; you’ll hurt your arm!” his deep voice ordered as he pinned her to the ground with his muscular body.

  “You don’t give a damn about my arm.” She was trying not to cry as she struggled to get out from under him. She could feel every inch of his hard, aroused body along the length of hers. Her gray shirt had come open, and his brass buttons pressed into the flesh of her breasts.

  “You little liar,” he swore, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her neck, “I ought to turn you over my knee for running away.”

  “Why not whip me to death!” she screamed in defiance.

  “Don’t tempt me, Yank.” One of his big hands went to cover her bare breast.

  “You’re going to rape me. I knew it.” She gritted her teeth and glared up at him.

  He shook his head and sighed regretfully as he stood up. “Unlike you, my little Yankee whore, I’m not a liar.”

  She reached to jerk her shirt closed because in the moonlight, she could see the way he was staring down at her with hot desire in his dark eyes. “I—I was afraid.”

  He snorted with derision. “A whore afraid of men? I doubt it, slut.” He reached down, caught her hand, and pulled her to her feet. “So why did you run?”

  She didn’t look at him. “I—I figured the Yanks would pay better than a bunch of poor crackers who can’t even afford new boots.”