“We have given our trackers too much opportunity to gain on us,” he said, rolling up the blanket. “We shall have to increase our pace to keep ahead of them.” He paused and looked directly at her before asking, “…if, that is, you still wish to continue with me.”
Rosalind knew the answer before he even asked the question. She wanted to remain with him for as long as possible – for as long as he would have her. The mere thought of leaving him, never to see him again, caused her heart to ache nearly as much as it had ached when her father died. She did not, however, wish Shadow to know how she felt, for she had not a clue of his own feelings.
“I shall continue with you,” she said, hoping her voice sounded casual. “I am not yet ready to return to the chaos at the Corwins’.”
“Good. Then let us be on our way.” He reached down to help her to her feet. “We can eat as we walk.”
“I fear our food supply has just about run out,” she informed him. “Had I known I would be accompanying you on this journey, I would have packed more.”
“We can eat raw fish later then,” he said, shrugging.
Rosalind wrinkled her nose. “Raw?”
“We cannot risk making a fire to cook it,” he said. “It does not taste bad…especially if you are hungry.”
“I may never be that hungry,” she said, falling into step behind him.
* * * * *
Nathaniel’s anger spurred him to keep walking. So strong was his determination to find Rosalind, not once during the past eight hours had he paused to eat or rest. Even stronger was his desire to kill the savage who had taken her. Nathaniel suspected that the Indian long had been attracted to Rosalind. From the first day he had introduced them, the spark in the savage’s eyes had been unmistakable.
Nathaniel’s grip tightened on his musket and his steps quickened as a vivid image of Shadow forcing himself upon Rosalind blinded him to all else. He shook his head to dismiss the thought. He would find Rosalind before anything happened to her…he had to. And if he arrived too late? What then? Nathaniel already knew the answer. He would have no choice other than to call off the wedding. It was imperative that his bride be chaste. After all, he reasoned, he was a Corwin, a man who could have his pick of any woman, so there was no reason to settle for one who did not meet his high standards.
Within an hour, Nathaniel’s feverish pace began to slacken. Cursing his rubbery legs, he blamed his waning energy on his recent voyage. Had he not just returned from the sea, he told himself, he undoubtedly would have been better prepared for this search – and better rested.
Nathaniel paused to drink from the stream, then splashed the cold water on his face, hoping it would refresh him. He had closely followed the stream, assuming the savage would travel by water to conceal his tracks. Although Nathaniel had not yet spied any solid evidence to confirm that the pair had come this way, his instincts told him he was on the right track. Sighing, he seated himself on a rock along the edge of the water and removed a biscuit and a boiled egg from his pack. He desperately craved sleep, and felt his eyelids growing heavy as he ate, but he would not – could not – allow himself to give in to the urge. He knew that each minute he spent resting afforded the Indian additional time to drag Rosalind farther away.
After he had finished eating, Nathaniel rose to his feet and stretched. On the other side of the stream, the terrain dipped into a small vale, then rose to a steep, tree-covered hill. He squinted at the row of trees on the hill. He longed to lie beneath the shade of their branches and sleep for hours, but he knew it was not an option. He had to keep moving. Grabbing his pack and his musket, he stole another glance at the hill…and froze. Near the crest, he spied two figures swiftly moving through the trees. He narrowed his eyes against the sun just as the pair disappeared over the top of the hill.
“Praise God!” Nathaniel silently cheered as he leapt into the shallow stream. “I have found them!”
With renewed strength, he quickly made his way through the water and ran up the steep hill, his breath coming in short, anxious gasps. His lungs felt as if they were about to burst, but he continued to push himself. A victorious smile curved his lips as he thought of how heroic Rosalind would think him when he rescued her. He even dared to hope she might reward him in a passionate and spontaneous manner. Perhaps, he thought, as odd as the idea seemed, Rosalind being taken hostage would prove to be to his benefit. No longer would she be inclined to accuse him of caring about no one but himself.
Silently and stealthily Nathaniel moved through the trees, his heart racing as he rounded the top of the hill and caught another brief glimpse of the two figures moving among the shadows of a thicket of evergreens below. Readying his musket, Nathaniel hastened down the hill, pausing only when he was certain his target was within shooting range. “Halt!” he shouted, squinting into the sun as he aimed his musket at the back of the taller silhouette. “Take one more step and I will fire!”
Both figures abruptly stopped, their hands rising above their heads. “Hold your fire!” a familiar voice called out. “We mean you no harm!”
Frowning, Nathaniel lowered the musket and sighed. “Father? Is that you?” He already knew the answer.
The shorter figure spun around. “Nathaniel!” Elias’s voice confirmed his relief. “My boy, you really gave us a start!”
Nathaniel approached his father and brother and gave each a brief embrace. “I am sorry,” he said, unable to conceal his frustration. Of a sudden, he felt unbearably tired. “The shadows concealed your identity.” He paused to eye the two men. “Have you yet managed to find any clues to their whereabouts?”
“Their whereabouts?” Matthew questioned.
Nathaniel nodded, his expression grim. “It appears the Indian has a hostage with him…my Rosalind.”
Elias’s mouth fell open. “That cannot be!”
“I fear it is,” Nathaniel said. “Rosalind has not been seen since Shadow’s escape. ‘Tis likely she stumbled upon him just after he broke free and he forced her to accompany him. I think the savage has always fancied her anyway.”
Matthew shook his head and released a long breath. “The poor girl.” He cast his brother a sympathetic look. “The odds are not good that we shall find her…unharmed, especially if, as you say, the savage fancies her.”
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at him. “I do not wish to hear such talk. I vowed to Mother I would return Rosalind safely to her, and I fully intend to keep that promise!”
“Then I suggest you rest ere you collapse,” Elias said, critically eyeing his haggard-looking son. “I can fully understand your desire to find your future bride, Nathaniel, but you cannot possibly go on in your present state. Have you slept at all since your return?”
Nathaniel shook his head. “Do not concern yourself, Father, I am fine. I cannot allow the Indian time to gain any more ground. When he makes camp tonight, I shall seize the opportunity to close in on him.”
“Have you any evidence of the Indian’s whereabouts?” Matthew asked.
“Nay, ‘tis just a strong feeling I have. I know I am on the right track. My heart tells me so.”
“Your heart will cease to beat if you keep pushing yourself this way,” Elias said. He paused to wipe his perspiration-soaked brow on his sleeve. “Heed my advice, son, and get some sleep. ‘Twill make a new man of you.”
“The only thing that will make a new man of me is getting my Rosalind safely back. And I shall not rest until I do!”
* * * * *
By the time Rosalind and Shadow paused to rest for the night, the stars already were twinkling in the sky. The day’s journey had been long and arduous, causing Rosalind to have serious misgivings about her ability to continue with Shadow. As much as she wanted to remain with him, her tired, aching body was telling her if she did, she would slow down his progress and possibly allow Elias and his men to gain on them and capture him…or worse. She could never forgive herself if that occurred. She already was having a great deal of difficulty forgiving herself fo
r thrusting Shadow into such an unfortunate situation to begin with.
Seating herself on the trunk of a fallen birch tree, Rosalind rubbed her tender feet and painfully knotted calves, wincing when she touched a particularly sensitive area.
“I am too exhausted to carry on,” she defeatedly announced to Shadow. “I fear that for your safety, you may have to continue on without me, for I shall only slow you down.”
“After you have eaten something and had some sleep, you will feel much better,” he assured her. “You did well today, keeping pace with me. I pushed you harder due to the time we lost this morning, and for that, I apologize. But I must confess, you impressed me. You possess remarkable strength for someone so slight.”
“I fear all of my strength has been spent,” Rosalind said. She slipped her right foot back into her boot, which had stiffened from being in the water. The tender flesh on her heel all but screamed in protest. As much as she longed to be with Shadow, she doubted she could bear one more minute of sleeping on rocks, fending off muscle cramps and insects, and spending countless hours with her feet submerged in icy water. Even the thought of emptying Abigail’s chamber pot suddenly did not seem quite as distasteful.
Shadow removed the last of the bread from the pillow coate and broke it in half, then handed a piece to Rosalind. She took it from him and nibbled on it. The bread was as dry and hard as tree bark. She thought of what she might be eating if she were back at the Corwins’. A vision of roasted venison, bacon and freshly baked bread covered with a thick layer of butter, made her momentarily want to shout, “I am here, Elias! Come and fetch me!”
Rosalind and Shadow finished eating their meager rations and sat silently, gazing up at the stars. The sounds of crickets and a bird making “whip-poor-will” sounds in the distance, were all that disturbed the peace of the forest.
“I have never spent so much time outside in the night,” Rosalind quietly said. “The dark has always frightened me. But somehow, I now find it peaceful.” She turned to look at Shadow, who was seated with his back against a tree. “Have you the blanket? I am feeling a bit chilled.”
He reached for the blanket and unrolled it. Rosalind moved to sit next to him on the ground. He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and unconsciously, Rosalind snuggled against him, resting her head against his shoulder. This, she thought, made all of the pain, all of the exhaustion worthwhile, for she felt as if being next to Shadow was where she truly belonged.
Shadow slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her more tightly against him. Together, they sat, not speaking, just listening to the music of the forest.
“Shadow,” she began. “How does a man propose marriage to a woman in your village?”
He chuckled. “If he is interested in a woman, and wishes to make her his bride, he drops a piece of wood at her feet.”
Rosalind turned to look at him. “You jest!”
He shook his head.
“What would occur if a warrior were carrying an armload of wood for the fire, tripped and fell in front of a group of women?”
He smiled. “Then I suppose he would have to suffer with many wives!”
Rosalind giggled. She leaned back against Shadow and sighed. She could not believe how easily he was able to lift her mood and put her at ease. His mere touch seemed to have the power to soothe her and make her forget her problems. All last eve, as she had lain next to him, she had fantasized about what it might feel like to be kissed by him. Would his kiss, she wondered, leave her feeling naught but cold and repulsed, the way Nathaniel’s had? Did savages, she also wondered, even know how to kiss?
Snuggling even closer to Shadow, Rosalind felt the warmth of him, the strength of him, and suddenly her curiosity became more than she could bear.
Perhaps her exhaustion, or the stress of all that had happened, had affected her ability to think rationally, but she found it impossible to prevent herself from doing what she did next. She pulled away from Shadow just far enough to look up at his face and then murmured, “I would like you to kiss me.”
He only stared at her.
Rosalind swallowed her pride. “Please,” she whispered, “do me the favor of just one kiss?”
Shadow neither spoke nor moved.
Rosalind held her breath in anticipation. Finally, after what seemed like the passing of a hundred years, Shadow lifted his hand and gently ran his index finger down the length of her cheek.
“Believe me,” he said softly, “there is nothing I would enjoy more than to grant your request. But I fear that on the morrow, once you are rested and are able to think more clearly, the memory of our kiss might cause you some… regret.”
Rosalind shook her head. “You are wrong. This is something I have given serious thought to. Truth be known, I have felt drawn to you since the first day we were introduced on the Corwins’ land.”
Rosalind’s confession greatly pleased Shadow, but he was careful not to allow his expression to reveal his feelings. He also was careful not to allow his desire for her to rule his actions. Fear and exhaustion, he decided, had made Rosalind vulnerable. He did not wish to live up to the title of “savage” by taking advantage of her in any way.
“Get some rest,” Shadow whispered, attempting to pull her head back against his chest.
Rosalind jerked away from him. “I fear what I am feeling cannot just simply be slept off,” she said. Silently she cursed herself. What, she wondered, had possessed her to so foolishly blurt out such a bold request when it was painfully obvious that Shadow was not the least bit attracted to her? Granted, he had treated her with naught but kindness during their journey, but she sensed it was solely because she had saved him from the gallows. Had she possessed the ability, she would have been sorely tempted to deliver a well-deserved kick to her own backside.
Rosalind rose to her feet and walked a few steps, presenting her back to Shadow. She wondered how she ever could face him again, especially once she no longer had the dark of night to conceal her humiliation. She momentarily contemplated running off into the blackest part of the forest where Shadow would never find her. Dealing with a pack of hungry wolves, she decided, would be preferable to having to face him. She closed her eyes and silently wished the ground would open up and swallow her.
Rosalind tensed when she felt Shadow’s hands on her shoulders. Gently, he turned her to face him, but she was much too ashamed to look at him. Her cheeks burned and she swallowed nervously as she awaited his lecture. She already knew what he was going to say: that she was in urgent need of a good night’s sleep; that her exhaustion was to blame for her behavior; that she would feel like a new woman come morning. He would, she was certain, speak to her in the same tone and manner as one would speak to a disobedient child.
With the crook of his index finger, Shadow nudged Rosalind’s chin up until she was forced to look at him. He hesitated only briefly before he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was as gentle as a feather, so light, it barely was perceptible, yet it immediately stirred something within Rosalind that she was unable to comprehend…or control. Uninhibitedly, she clung to him and returned the kiss, her fingers moving up to thread through his thick hair, her body pressing to his.
When she felt Shadow’s arms tighten around her and his lips grow more insistent, she concealed a victorious smile. He did find her desirable!
Rosalind could not understand the feelings that were coursing through her. Her lips could not seem to get enough of the taste, the warmth of his. Her breasts, pressed against his solid chest, felt as if they were hardening, tingling. Her breathing grew more rapid. All she did know was she wanted the kiss to last forever, blotting out all thoughts of Nathaniel and Jonathan, blotting out all but the delicious warmth that was spreading through her.
Seconds later, much to Rosalind’s disappointment, Shadow broke away from her. Suppressing a shiver as the cool night air replaced the heat of him, she tilted her head back and stared up longingly at Shadow’s face. She wanted to memorize every a
ngle of it, every handsome feature, exactly as it looked at that very moment.
Shadow pulled her against his chest and settled his chin on top of her head. His breathing was rapid and Rosalind could hear his heart pounding wildly, just as she was certain her own heart was pounding. She desperately craved another kiss, a much longer one this time, but thought better than to ask for one. It was best, she decided, if she allowed Shadow to make his own decisions about when – or if –to kiss her again. She prayed it would be soon.
Shadow inhaled deeply, attempting to calm the waves of desire that Rosalind’s soft, sweet mouth had aroused. He had not expected her to cling to him with such abandon, nor to return his kiss with such a degree of passion. He had intended to kiss her only lightly, to silence her so she would go to sleep, but the moment she pressed her body to his and ran her fingers through his hair, his honorable intentions nearly had dissolved. He could think of nothing other than how much he wanted to touch every inch of her soft, pale skin…to possess her totally.
“We had better get some sleep now,” he whispered hoarsely. Reluctantly, he loosened his grasp on her and took several steps backward.
“Thank you, Shadow,” she whispered shyly, her cheeks still burning. “I know you kissed me only because I was so insistent…only because you wished to silence me.”
His eyes captured hers and held them. “I do not do anything I do not wish to do.”
* * * * *
Sleep eluded Rosalind that night as she lay snuggled against Shadow beneath their blanket. Over and over again she relived their kiss and the unexpected way she had reacted to it. Try as she might, she could not comprehend the feeling that had raced through her when Shadow’s lips first touched hers. It was as if her blood had been heated over a roaring fire prior to flowing through her veins. Why, she wondered, were Nathaniel’s kisses so distasteful to her, while Shadow’s left her wanting more? And why, after all her years of fearing Indians, was she lying here, desperately craving the touch of one?
Too Far to Whisper Page 12
