Forbidden Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  Almost as if reading her terrifying thoughts, he sneered, “No man has more power than I do. If you are ever tempted to run away from me, you will pay dearly. I will slice to ribbons anyone who dares to help you. There are ways to make women suffer which an innocent like you could never imagine. And if you’re ever foolish enough to attempt escape through death, I will fix it so you will suffer a living death. I will never permit you to humiliate me in any way. I wonder if you even know the powers of opium, those magic powders which can demand your soul and receive it. If you dare to flee me in any way, I will extract your very heart and soul, your very sanity, a drop at a time. Even if I cannot take your body, it is mine…every inch of it to do with as I so choose.”

  Laughing brashly, he strolled out of her room. He headed to his own room. Alisha wished she had the courage to rush to her door and to bolt it. But, he would only knock it down. After long and deep thought, she realized her only safety lay in feigned ignorance to his true nature and his future plans. She wondered if it was too late to feign love for him. She wondered if her total submission would alter his intentions. She decided it would not, for his bitterness and hatred were too strong and deep. Besides, she would never be able to carry it off.

  “Please come soon, Joe. I need your help,” she prayed, then instantly realized the danger that assistance would place him in. Joe wouldn’t stand a chance against Jeffery and his men. It would be fatal to draw him into her troubles. She wept silently until exhaustion claimed her.

  For the next three days, Jeffery kept her confined to her room and in bed. She realized it was mainly to protect his business preparations downstairs. She did as ordered, savoring her privacy. Mrs. Webster buzzed around her like a mother hen, constantly checking on her or waiting upon her every whim. She was not allowed to do anything strenuous. She ate nourishing meals; she read in bed while she rested. She even slept soundly with the sleeping potions which were supplied to her by the doctor, for she could bear no more secrets.

  On the seventh day, Jeffery came to her room to join her for lunch. He nonchalantly informed her of the barndance which he had planned for his men and helpers. He said he had rented Mr. Blakely’s huge barn a few miles down the road. He talked about the food and drinks which he was generously supplying for this rewarding event. She assumed his actions could only mean that his business downstairs had been completed. Although curious, she did not question him.

  Aware of her compliant, warm nature of late, he offered, “If you feel up to getting out for some fresh air later this evening, we could take a ride before dinner.” His false front as loving husband was in top form. To him, her illness had mellowed her and taught her to cling to him.

  He noted the change in Alisha’s mood and in her conduct, but mistakenly guessed the reasons behind those changes. She was demure and softspoken around him. She watched him closely when he was with her; she clung to his every word as if it was of great importance to her. She never argued with his orders or raised her voice in anger or disagreement. She was totally compliant to his wishes. She appeared even too eager to be cordial and warm to him. On the whole, she appeared to be completely dependent upon him, completely cowed and deceived. In fact, he convinced himself that she might actually be falling in love with him.

  “That sounds wonderful, Jeffery. Spring is becoming more and more noticeable every day. Everything looks so green and alive outside my window. The sky seems so blue, the very color of your eyes. When Mrs. Webster lets up my window, the air is crisp and fresh. A ride would be most enjoyable after all these days in bed,” she sweetly accepted his suggestion, completely disarming him with her excitement and submissiveness.

  “I suppose you are weary of that bed,” he teased lightly.

  “I know my illness has been troublesome for you, Jeffery, but you have been so patient and kind. I promise to make it all up to you when I’m better. I suppose many things have been difficult between us in the past. Perhaps we could forget them and give our friendship an honest try. I hope you know how grateful I am for everything. In spite of everything, I am glad I married you. I only hope you haven’t regretted your decision,” she softly murmured. If feigned sweetness and affection could deceive him into allowing her a longer reprieve from his evil, then she would play her role to the hilt!

  Jeffery had admitted his continued desire for her. He had wanted her enough to force her to marry him. Surely he would be pleased and confident at the gradual appearance of love within his own wife. He had wanted to conquer her. She would let him believe he had finally won his battle. Still, she would have have to proceed slowly and cautiously. A sudden and abrupt change might alert him to her trickery. Yet, his conceited opinion of himself would do most of the work for her. He wanted the perfect wife; she would cunningly present her to him!

  “I have never made any decision which I have regretted, my dear,” he murmured huskily.

  She smiled into his smoldering, smug gaze. “I’ll be ready to go whenever you say,” she vowed in a silky tone.

  “Excellent, Mrs. Gordon. I’ll have Mrs. Webster assist you with a bath and shampoo. A female’s vanity demands she look her very best when going out. Now, if you’ll excuse the rush, I have some business to take care of before nightfall. Until later?” he murmured, kissing her open palm.

  “Until later, Mr. Gordon,” she softly replied, bringing a grin to his lips and flames to his eyes. Her own eyes and lips assumed an enchanting smile, knowing her dangerous ruse was working.

  After his departure, she sighed heavily at the strain of holding such a demanding mask in place for so long. Surely it would become easier with time and with practice. At least she did appear to be having some success with him. She moved around her room, trying to stir some vitality into her listless body and lagging spirits. She would need her wits and energy for later…

  With Mrs. Webster’s assistance, she did enjoy a long and relaxing bath. She dressed in one of her prettiest and most becoming gowns. She allowed the woman to brush her long curls until they shimmered with soft, warm body when the light touched them. Pleased with her appearance, she joined Jeffery downstairs at the proper hour. When he suggested a glass of sherry before their long ride, she sweetly acquiesced with a bright smile.

  Along the way, they laughed and chatted like two, obliging strangers. Yet, each was too caught up with his own play-acting and private thoughts to notice the charade of the other. When they returned home, they enjoyed the delicious meal which Mrs. Webster had prepared. After cleaning up the kitchen, she was dismissed for the night.

  “It’s been a busy first day out of bed for you, Mrs. Gordon. Perhaps you had better turn in early. Do you need anything before you go up?”

  She nodded no, followed by a dazzling smile and a few words of gratitude for the ride and his concern.

  “Need any help getting into bed?” he teased insouciantly at the sight of her fetching smile and serene mood. “I’ll be in my study if you require anything. Don’t travel those stairs again tonight. You’re still too weak to overexert yourself. We don’t want another accident.”

  If only he knew the truth! She was terrified at the mere thought of being alone with him. Being sent to her room was like a blessing, especially knowing he could not join her! “I think I can manage, but thank you. The ride was marvelous. I’m sure the fresh air and exercise did me good. But I am very tired. I’ll see you in the morning,” she added softly, praying she would not have to look at his demonic face again.

  She wondered why he was subtly ordering her to her room. No matter. She slowly climbed the stairs, hoping she could continue to carry off this farce of recuperation for a little longer. She entered her room. She glanced around the beautiful prison, wishing it was a buffalo tepee instead.

  That forbidden thought ripped at her heart. She unbuttoned her dress, having been wise enough to select one which would not require his assistance to remove. She lay it across the sofa, then sat down to remove her stockings and slippers. Clad only in her pantalets
and camisole, she went to stand before the window and to look out.

  Her mind raced along that forbidden, never forgotten path back to her Indian lover. It travelled past all the pain, humiliation, and suffering until it came to halt before those beautiful times which seared her heart with longing and love. She smiled sadly as one image after another flickered and came to life. How she longed to be in Gray Eagle’s arms and tepee again, to taste the sweetness of his kisses, to savor the feel of his cool hands upon her warm body, to know the delights which he had borne within her.

  “Do you ever think of me, my love? Has time and distance lessened your hatred and inspired this same loneliness and pain? Will my heart and mind ever be free of you? God, how I love you.” Gray Eagle was her past; still, she wished he was her future.

  Alisha knew she must take some action very soon. She could not continue to wait for Joe’s possible arrival; he might never come—or come too late. The instant she tipped her hand to Jeffery, he would strike her down. After tonight, that would be very soon. The question was, how could she fight him and escape without killing him?

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What will you do when you find him? Will you slay him on the ground where he stands, or will you take him prisoner to be slowly tortured for his evil deeds?” the resonant voice inquired of his best friend. His keen black eyes intensely studied the odd look which filled the stygian gaze of his long-time companion. Although he had known him since childhood and had shared moments of great danger and of joyous victory with him, he often felt there were times when he no longer knew the desires and pains which were buried deep within his friend’s heart. It had been this way since his treacherous betrayal by the woman he had loved and married: a beautiful, white creature called Alisha.

  Since that moment when he had regained consciousness, nearly two weeks following that day of infamy, he had somehow been different. Being a man unaccustomed to defeat, rejection, or weakness of any kind, he had deeply resented the impuissant condition and traitorous news to which he had awakened. Only his great weakness and the adamant insistance of his father and the medicine chief had kept him on his mats until his wound could heal properly. Seeing his wish for immediate revenge had been overruled, he sullenly and bitterly did as he was ordered.

  He ate what was served to him; he slept when commanded; he exercised only when advised. Yet, his mind worked harder than his body would have had he been free to do as he wished: track down and punish his traitorous wife and her half-breed lover…

  White Arrow’s thoughts fled back to that incredible moment when he had glanced up to see Chula slowly entering their village with the unconscious body of Gray Eagle lying across his back. In fear and dread, he had raced toward the magnificent appaloosa bearing his close friend upon his broad back. He had carefully eased him to the ground, noting the wound near his heart. He had hastily placed his keen ear to his heart, overjoyed to hear a slow and weak heartbeat.

  He had called others over to help him carry the legendary warrior into the medicine chiefs tepee. Running Wolfs face had filled with worry and anguish at the thought of losing his only son. Gray Eagle’s powerful frame had been placed upon a mat, then carefully examined.

  “It is the wound of the white man’s firestick. The magic ball has passed through his body. He has lost much blood; he is very weak. Unless it is not the will of Wakantanka, he will walk the ghost trail before the moon shows her face this very night,” had been the initial conclusion of the medicine chief.

  But he had not taken into account Gray Eagle’s intense will to live and his great stamina. The ball had indeed travelled through his body and he had lost a great deal of blood; but the ball had not touched his heart or his lungs. It had miraculously passed through the narrow track between those two vital areas. It had taken two agonizing weeks to prove to the Sioux that it was not the time for Gray Eagle to meet the Great Spirit face to face. The entire village had prayed for his recovery; there had been silence in the camp and tension in all of their hearts until that moment when he had given the first signs of revival.

  He had sighed deeply, as if having the breath of life returned to his body by the unseen Great Spirit. He had called the name of his wife: “Alisha.” His eyes had shown determination as he struggled to come around. The news had spread quickly around the camp: Gray Eagle would live! There had been joyous singing and prayers of gratitude.

  Several more days had passed before he was lucid and alert. At first he had appeared confused, but only until the full reality of his predicament came to him. He had ordered everyone except White Arrow out of the medicine lodge. He had focused jet eyes upon his blood brother. His gaze had been too full of other emotions to reveal what he was truly thinking and feeling.

  “Did you find Alisha, my brother?” had been his first and most obvious question. “Does she still live?”

  White Arrow recalled how he had lowered his head in shame and in torment, ignorant of the events of that deceitful day. He had painfully spoken the words which he had dreaded to tell his best friend. His own heart had been ravaged with the apparent truth, for he and Alisha had been friends and companions from the very first time when she had been taken captive. He had yearned to have better news to reveal to his injured friend. He would never forget the conversation which had followed:

  “You have been unconscious for many, many moons. We feared you would not live. We begged the Great Spirit to save you. He heard our prayers and answered them. Soon, you will be as strong as ever. We will ride the plains together again, Brother.”

  “Where is she, White Arrow?” his curt, unmoved tone had demanded of his friend.

  “I must hang my head in shame, Gray Eagle, for we could not find her. Many braves and warriors have searched for her many days; she is lost to us. The white man who shot you has captured her and taken her away from us. We searched everywhere; there was no trail to follow. I fear she is either captured or slain. I beg your forgiveness. Your wife is gone.”

  The mistake had instantly registered in Gray Eagle’s astute mind. A look of utter astonishment had filled his eyes, quickly followed by a strange look of relief and satisfaction. White Arrow had stared at him, seeing his reaction to such sad news: a lazy, malevolent smile.

  “Did you not hear me, my friend? She was stolen when you were shot! She is lost to you. We could not find her,” he gingerly repeated his news to the grinning man before him.

  “I hear your words, my friend and brother. There were no signs to follow?” he repeated in a strange tone which disturbed White Arrow.

  “The winds and sands took them away. Even your trail back to camp was lost not far from here. We searched in all directions. She has vanished like the desert flower in winter. How did you escape our white enemy? You were almost dead when Chula brought you here.”

  “He thought I was dead. He rode away. Chula lay on the ground for me to slide across his back. That is all I remember until now. How many moons since my mind slept so deep?”

  “Ten moons passed this way.” Anticipating his next question, he softly added, “Thirteen since the joining ceremony.”

  “No signs at all, White Arrow? Did you search with all your senses? Did you search near the mountains where the sun goes to sleep?”

  White Arrow’s eyes and voice had filled with anguish as he replied, “Many of us looked. There was nothing to see or to hear. I sent braves to all the nearby camps with a message to look for her. I even sent offers of rewards to the camps of our enemies for her safe return. No eyes have seen her since your joining. Black Cloud’s heart is heavy with the loss of his daughter for a second time,” he finished.

  “I see, my brother. Her betrayal has worked. She is free of me at last. If you could not find her, then she has escaped to her land far away. I was a fool to trust any white-eyes, but more so to love and to marry one.”

  White Arrow had gaped at him in utter disbelief, then great worry. “Your fever is still upon you, my friend. She has been stolen from your sid
e!”

  “No, White Arrow, she was not stolen from me. This secret must remain between us alone. I will not face the dishonor of her betrayal and deceit. I have been shamed by this careless defeat by an enemy. I will not allow her to shame me again. I will allow her to take nothing more from me. If ever our paths cross another day, I shall put my knife into her heart and twist it. She will feel and know the same pains my heart and body have known and felt.”

  White Arrow had studied his wintry look and had listened to his icy voice. “I do not understand these strange words…”

  “The half-breed scout who called himself her friend is the man who shot me. They planned to lead me away from the Blackfoot camp and murder me. They tricked me. They have escaped together. She carries his child. She deceived me and betrayed me. My blood is upon their hands. But the Great Spirit has spared my life; I will one day find them and be avenged.”

  “Powchutu shot you! She ran away with him? I cannot accept such words. There is some mistake,” he had argued.

  “The scout followed me. He told me these things.”

  “Then he lies! He has captured her for his own. He feared you would slay her; he feared you did not truly love her or want her. Alisha would not do this thing. She loves you!”

  Gray Eagle gradually revealed the events of that tormenting morning when he had been confronted and shot by Powchutu. When he had completed his tale, there could be no doubt as to Alisha’s part in that terrible tragedy. White Arrow’s anger and hatred was surpassed only by Gray Eagle’s. He, too, had vowed vengeance upon the heads of his two enemies. Yet, he had known there was nothing else to be done to locate them. Their fates lay within the hands of the Great Spirit.

  “Where is her headband? Did I have it with me?” he had abruptly asked.

  White Arrow had handed it to him, while learning of how his friend had attained it. “Each day I will hold it and renew my vow of revenge upon them. It will remind me of her treachery and deceit. It will tear my love for her from my heart; it will take away any good thoughts and memories of her from my mind. It will leave only those of bitterness and betrayal. I took her to my heart and body. I kept her in my tepee. I protected her and loved her. I endured the taunts and laughter of other warriors just to keep her with me. I fought a challenge to the death for her. I married her. She was mine as no other woman has been. I bared my heart and soul to her. I, Gray Eagle, permitted her treachery! She will pay, my friend. Before I leave the face of Mother Earth, she will pay…”