by Peggy Webb
“If that’s your idea of a welcome, Hawk, it stinks.”
His heart was still racing from finding her standing in his woods. He was in no mood for games.
“Why did you come here?”
“Do you have to ask?”
“It’s too dangerous. You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m a big girl, Hawk. And I carry a big gun.”
“How did you get here?”
“Through the tunnel.”
As he always did in moments of great passion or great turmoil, he resorted to the language of his ancestors.
“Please do me the courtesy of berating me in my own language.”
“Elizabeth.” He took her hands. “I don’t berate you. I curse the Fates that threw us together.”
“So do I.” Her quiet dignity impressed him. “I don’t want this any more than you do. I don’t need this. Hawk... this wonderful and terrible connection between us.”
“Neither do I. I won’t allow you to become a part of my life.”
They looked at each other, mute. Finally she broke the silence.
“What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m going to take you home. There are people who want me dead, Elizabeth. If they see you here... if they know what you are to me, they are likely to try to get to me through you. I won’t have that.”
“What am I to you, Hawk?”
It was another long while before he spoke. Elizabeth’s skin tingled, and a lump rose into her throat.
“You are mine, Elizabeth.”
More than anything in the world, she wanted to deny her past, to forget its hard lessons, and to belong to this passionate warrior. But she wouldn’t ignore the lessons of her past, even for Hawk.
“No,” she said. “I belong to no man.”
He reached for her, but she stepped aside. “My way, Hawk. Tonight we will do it my way.”
She took his hand and led him to a straight- back chair. “Sit here.” He straddled the chair, and she walked away, her skirt swinging around her hips.
It wasn’t her usual severe skirt she wore; it was a skirt of soft butternut suede that hugged her hips like a lover. A row of buttons ran from waist to hem down one side. A soft cotton jersey top, slashed low to reveal cleavage, skimmed her torso.
Elizabeth laid her gun on the bedside table. Then she turned to him, lifted her hair off her neck, and began to sway.
Hawk was mesmerized by her hips. Their movement was so fluid, so smooth, they seemed to move separately from the rest of her body. A haunting, exotic music started from somewhere in the room, and it was a moment before Hawk realized it was Elizabeth singing.
He didn’t recognize the song, but the lyrics were unmistakably erotic. Her lips swayed with the beat of the music, and she advanced toward him, slowly, ever so slowly. When she was so close he could smell her perfume but too far away to touch, she stopped.
“Do you want me, Hawk?”
“Yes.”
“As you have never wanted another woman?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight I am yours... and you are mine.”
She stripped her shirt over her head and stood before him, with her arms held high. Bending down, she draped her shirt around his neck.
All thoughts of political battle and lurking enemies receded as Hawk leaned back to enjoy the sight of Elizabeth McCade. He loved danger, and right now he was playing the most dangerous game of all: He was flirting with a fatal attraction, one that threatened to bind him so tightly, he could never let go.
“Do you hear the music, Hawk?”
There was no music playing, but as Elizabeth began to move her hips again, he could almost hear the far-off strains of some mysterious, exotic melody. Holding her arms high, Elizabeth increased the rhythm of her hips. The buttons on her skirt worked their way out of their buttonholes, one by one.
The soft suede skirt inched downward with the release of each button. Elizabeth’s small waist came into view, and then her navel. She spun and swayed until she had bared her hips. Finally the last button was free, and the skirt slithered down Elizabeth’s legs.
In one quick, fluid movement he lifted her and carried her to his bed.
“Where did you learn your sorcery, Elizabeth McCade?”
“From another man.”
“I would like to thank him... and then to kill him.”
“Once long ago so did I.”
The need to know everything about her ripped through Hawk. He wanted to know who had taught her, where and when she had learned, and why she had wanted to kill the man. But overriding all that was his desire, a desire so great, it could no longer be controlled or contained.
Together they were untamed and untamable. She brought out the savage in him, and he brought out the beast in her. It was a game for supremacy and control that lasted far into the night.
In the end, they lay in each other’s arms, exhausted.
“I was not going to come to you again, Elizabeth.”
“I knew that. That’s why I came to you.”
“I don’t want you to come here again. It’s too dangerous.”
She raised herself on her elbow so she could see his face. “I will never again do what a man tells me to do, Hawk. I am my own woman. I am Elizabeth McCade, and I do what pleases me.”
“Living in your shuttered house alone pleases you, Elizabeth?”
“If you think you can drive me away with anger, Hawk, you’re wrong.”
She got off the bed and found her lingerie scattered on the floor. Then remembering that it was torn, she threw it aside and pulled on the rest of her clothes. He lay on the bed, watchful. She knew better than to think he was relaxed. Everything about him, from the tight line of his jaw to the tautness in his body, told Elizabeth that Black Hawk was a warrior through and through, always ready for battle.
Putting her hands on her hips, she faced him.
“I was cast aside once. Hawk. I will never be cast aside again. I’ll take what I want, when I want it... and then I will walk away.” She pressed her right hand over her heart. “I’ll walk away, Hawk. Not you. Not any man. I, Elizabeth McCade, will do the walking.”
Hawk rose from the bed, and she made no bones about watching him dress, taking pleasure in his body, in the fluidity of his movements, in his proud and noble bearing. His face was inscrutable when he turned back to her.
Without a word he held out his hand, and she came to him. He lifted her into his arms and carried her outside. He whistled softly, once, twice. Out of the darkness came a stallion so black, it blended with the night. In one fluid motion Hawk mounted, taking her with him.
They rode away from his cabin into the thick woods, and when they reached the opening to the secret passageway, Hawk dismounted then lifted Elizabeth down.
“Sweet dreams, Elizabeth,” he said. And then he was gone.
o0o
For the next few days, Hawk and Elizabeth worked tirelessly, desperately trying to forget each other. But it was impossible.
On a dark and moonless night, Hawk left his post high atop the bluff overlooking the city and turned his stallion toward the secret passageway. With a word, he sent the stallion home and climbed down into the crumbling tunnel.
Suddenly he heard a noise. Flattening himself against the wall, he drew his knife from his belt. The sounds came closer.
He strained his eyes into the darkness, and finally he saw it—a shadowy figure, making its way toward him. The figure came closer. It was a woman. Her long dark hair was swinging loose, and she had an unmistakably sensuous movement to her hips.
Elizabeth. His mind shouted her name, even as he remained pressed against the wall. She had been coming to him. In spite of his warnings, she had been making her way back to his cabin.
“Elizabeth.” He said her name before he stepped into her path, for he had also recognized the gleam of her deadly Magnum. She ran into his arms, and he buried his face in her hair.
“You’re the most
stubborn woman I’ve ever met.” He took the gun from her limp hand and placed it on a stone jutting out of the wall.
She ran her hands over his face, through his hair. “I tried to stay away.”
“So did I.”
For a moment they gazed at each other, trying to read expressions in the darkness. Then their passions unleashed, and they came together like a summer storm on the mountains. The sounds of their loving echoed in the dark, damp tunnel.
It was a tumultuous joining that left them both panting.
He reached out and gently touched her face. “Don’t come to me, Elizabeth. I will come back to you.”
Before she could reply, he left her.
“Hawk.” She called his name but he didn’t turn around. “Be careful,” she whispered.
o0o
It was six nights before he came again. Each night Elizabeth waited anxiously, pacing her floors, wringing her hands. She had been keeping up with news of him through the media reports.
Gunshots had been fired at the barricade. No one was hurt, but reporters were saying that if a settlement was not reached soon, someone would be.
And that someone would be Hawk. Elizabeth knew it, for he was always at the front of the lines, always fearless, always the leader. Hawk would be the target.
The sixth night she was so exhausted from worry and waiting that she fell asleep in her chair with the lamp on and the television blaring.
When she woke up, she was sitting on Hawk’s lap.
“Hawk.” She ran her hands over his face, memorizing him. “How did you do that?”
“You sleep the sleep of the dead, Elizabeth. You always have.”
“How long have you been here?”
“An hour.”
“You wasted a whole hour letting me sleep?”
“It wasn’t wasted.”
He laughed then, and Elizabeth thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. Suddenly she knew: In spite of all her intentions, in spite of her past, in spite of her vows, she had fallen in love.
“Oh, Hawk,” she whispered. She batted back her tears so he wouldn’t see them. Hawk was not the marrying kind. She wasn’t even certain she wanted him to be.
He didn’t see her tears, didn’t hear the pain in her voice. He was too blinded by passion, a passion that claimed him as quickly as a brush fire consumes a parched forest.
He reached over, snapped off the lamp, and then time stood still.
Afterward, he held on to her a long time, pressing her head against his chest so that she could hear the slow, steady beat of his heart. Then he kissed her once more and left.
Elizabeth gathered her wrinkled clothes about her and sat in the chair, staring into the darkness. Could they ever have a future together?
Six
Elizabeth was weary and light-headed when she woke up the next morning. Fortunately, it was Saturday, and she didn’t have to go to work.
She lay back in her bed and tried to convince herself that she had not fallen in love with Black Hawk, that it was merely lust she felt, but it was no use. She was too smart and too sensitive not to know the difference.
For the first time since she had come home she longed for a close friend, someone to talk to, someone to confide in. But her only friend was Hawk, and she could hardly go up to him and say, “Hawk, I love you.” He had made it perfectly clear that commitment was not a part of the affair.
“At least I have the cat,” she said.
Sometime during, the cat had come inside and was now sitting in the basket beside the window, licking his paws.
He followed her downstairs and watched while she made herself a meal. Next she picked up her morning paper and searched it for news of the barricade. The Chickasaws were still holding the line. Since the gunshots the previous week, Tombigbee Bluff policemen had joined with the developers. A small sidebar to the main story told of a group of Chickasaw women printing pamphlets at the schoolhouse on the tribal lands, hoping to educate the public to their cause.
Elizabeth believed in the cause. She believed in protecting Tombigbee Bluff Forest from needless destruction, and she believed in the rights of the Chickasaw Nation to keep and protect the property deeded them under treaty laws dating back to the early 1800s.
A new resolve took hold of her. Without even doing her dishes, she left the kitchen and got her purse, then climbed into her car. She was going toward the tribal lands, but this time it wasn’t Hawk she was seeking: It was a different way of life. Elizabeth was tired of hiding, she was finished with safety. Elizabeth McCade was once again joining the mainstream of life.
o0o
The small school was nestled in a beautiful grove of oak and walnut trees. Three cars were parked outside a building marked “Administration.” Elizabeth parked her car and walked inside.
Seven women were bent over a table, discussing their latest endeavor at influencing public opinion, their soft voices blending together like music.
Apparently they didn’t hear Elizabeth come in. They never looked up.
“It lacks something,” a tall, slender woman said. “There’s no fire in this copy, no passion.”
“We could ask Black Hawk. He speaks with a tongue of fire.”
The speaker was a young girl of about fifteen with two dark pigtails hanging down her back.
“No. He has too much to do already. And besides, he seems preoccupied of late. I sometimes wonder—” The slender woman broke off her speech as she turned and saw Elizabeth.
Slowly the rest of the group turned around to stare. An uneasy silence fell over them.
Elizabeth walked forward, smiling. “Hello. I’m Elizabeth McCade.”
The women in the group didn’t speak, didn’t move. Distrust was plainly written on their faces. Elizabeth was not deterred.
“I’ve come to help,” she said simply, holding her hands palm up in appeal.
The slender woman, obviously the leader, moved forward and took her hand. “I’m Susan Mincohouma.” She held Elizabeth’s hand, studying her. “I’m descended from a Chickasaw king who knew the value of allies outside our own people. If you’re sincere, we welcome you.” She released Elizabeth’s hand and stepped back, her face hardening. “But if you’re a spy sent by the people trying to take our lands, we curse you.”
“I’m not a spy.”
“How can we be sure?” Susan said. The other women kept silent. “You are not one of us. I’ve never seen you at rallies, never heard your name. You are completely unknown to us.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. There was only one way she could prove to these women that she could be trusted.
“I am not unknown to Black Hawk.” There was a collective gasp. “Black Hawk knows me; he trusts me.” Elizabeth didn’t say more, but waited, letting the women draw their own conclusions.
The other women began to whisper among themselves, but Susan stepped forward and took Elizabeth’s hand once more.
“If Black Hawk trusts you, then we trust you. Welcome. We need all the help we can get.”
“Just tell me what to do, Susan.”
“What’s your background?”
“A degree in English from Yale. I know more about writing than I do about printing. I have a car, and I have plenty of spare time. I’m no public speaker, but I’m willing to learn.”
Susan handed Elizabeth a copy of the material she and the other women had been studying. “Read that, Elizabeth. It reads like the back of a cereal box. See if you can create a little fire.”
Elizabeth thought of Hawk and smiled. “Creating a fire is what I do best.”
She took the material and set to work.
o0o
Black Hawk left his cabin and stood awhile in his yard, studying the dark to see if his enemies were watching. There was no sound, just the hushed movement of night wind among the pines.
He started through the woods on foot. It would take him longer to get to the mouth of the secret tunnel, but he would be less conspicuous that
way. He moved quickly, darting among the trees. Before he plunged into the tunnel, he took one last look to see if there were watchers.
His foot loosened a stone and sent it tumbling into the blackness. Black Hawk went very still. He didn’t want even the tiniest sound to betray his presence at the tunnel.
He entered the tunnel and hurried toward Elizabeth’s house.
She was in her bedroom, brushing her hair.
He watched her for a while in secret. She was proud and strong, a woman of courage and spirit and fire. She was a woman a man would never tire of, a woman who would always delight and surprise a man.
He stole quickly into her room and reached for her, clamping a hand over her mouth and hauling her against his body. At first she was stiff and ready to fight, then, when she realized who it was, she melted against him, leaning her head back against his chest. He tightened his hold. He needed her, needed her passion, her wildness, her heady magic. He wanted to disappear in her and never have to come back to face the realities of a harsh and thoughtless world.
He turned her in his arms and tipped her face up with one hand.
“I can never touch you without wanting you.”
She smiled. “I’m not refusing.”
He searched her eyes, her face.
“Elizabeth, why did you come to the tribal lands today?”
“How did you know?”
“Susan Mincohouma told me.”
“Why?” Her temper flared. “Does she report all the doings of the women to you... or does she report specifically on me?”
“There are no secrets in this battle, Elizabeth. All my people report to me. I know everything that happens on Chickasaw lands.”
“This has nothing to do with you, Hawk.” Her voice softened, and she reached up to caress his face. “This was not a ploy to see you or to get close to you.” She smiled once more. “If I want to get close to you, I have better ways of doing it.”
She inched closer, her body suggesting another way. Hawk wrestled with temptation.
“Elizabeth.” His fingers bit into her shoulders. “You have to stay away. I don’t want you involved.”
“Why? You’re involved.”
“Things have been happening this week, bad things.”
