by Nina Bruhns
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Contents:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17
Epilogue
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Chapter 1
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Santa Susana Hills, California
Suddenly, Katarina Herelius was completely surrounded by Indian warriors. Big ones. With fierce expressions on their painted faces and feathered headdresses flying in the wind. It was as if she had somehow dropped back in time.
Her carefree mood slipped precariously.
With a gnarled hand, the Indians' ancient leader lowered the tall staff he carried and pointed it right at her. A tingle of panic skittered up Katarina's spine.
She edged backward, out of the gang of wild-looking men, but her back bumped firmly up against a solid wall. Then the wall moved. It reached out and grasped her bare arms with warm, strong hands.
Letting out a gasp, she spun around, and was greeted by the sight of a porcupine-quill chest plate covering a male torso so broad it nearly blocked out the hot California sun. The man it belonged to was tall and lean, his ample muscles oiled and rippling under his sparse clothing. All the man wore was the chest plate, a long fringed breechclout, moccasins and a few bells.
Oh, Lord.
She shivered, tore her eyes away from the warrior's body and looked up into his face. His obsidian hair hung long, shiny and loose, braided on one side with beads and leather thongs, and topped with a small headdress bearing two upright feathers. A pipe-beaded choker graced the man's powerful neck below his Adam's apple. Black stripes and dots adorned his high cheekbones and square chin. Deep, brooding eyes peered back at her from behind a solid black painted mask.
The stranger was just about the most intriguing, sensual man Katarina had ever seen in her life. He had the body of a dangerous warrior, but, oh, those eyes—he had the dark, fathomless eyes of a passionate lover.
Not that Katarina'd know anything about lovers, passionate or not. But this man—he stirred something deep and hidden in her. Something she'd never felt before, something almost elemental. Senses whirling, she held on to her hat and took a calming breath.
"Hey, bro, no terrorizing the tourists," an amused voice called out from behind her.
Her warrior's somber face split into a saucy grin that did the oddest things to her pulse. He looked her up and down, as if considering whether or not to fling her over his shoulder and carry her off to an uncertain fate. Nervously, she took a step back.
He glanced past her and, in a voice too gravelly to suit his finely chiseled features, he inquired, "No scalping or flaming arrows?"
The solemn answer came from behind her. "Nope."
"No tying them to anthills?"
"Sorry, bro."
The warrior folded his arms over his chest and slid a leisurely, flutter-inducing gaze down her body, all the way to the tips of her sandaled toes, and then slowly back up again. "No doing unspeakable things to their womenfolk?"
Her eyes widened and a small sound escaped her throat. The short, puffed sleeve of her calico dress slid off her shoulder. Swallowing, she tugged it up.
"Especially not that."
The warrior let out a sigh. "Hell, things are getting way too civilized these days."
Just then a loudspeaker directly overhead blared out the announcement that the grand procession was about to begin from the east side of the dance ring. Katarina clapped her hand over her mouth as she realized she was standing right in the middle of the queued-up dancers. Oh, brother. How did she always manage to do these things? She sidled past the warrior toward the crowd of tourists behind him.
A gust of wind lifted her straw hat, and before it could fall to the ground he snagged it and returned it to her. "Well, darlin', looks like I'll have to spare you this time." Then he winked.
Her body tingled as a thousand tiny fireworks went off in her bloodstream. She bit her bottom lip to give herself a much-needed jolt back to reality.
What was with her? Here she was, barely weeks out of the ego-numbing relationship with her ex-fiancé, David, and already she was practically swooning at another man's feet! It was totally unlike her. Katarina did not swoon over strange men. Katarina did not swoon over men at all. At least not these days.
"Go on," the warrior urged, smiling. "Your boyfriend will be looking for you."
Her gaze flew up, narrowed, and she frowned. "No." Thoughts of swooning vanished, and she shook her head determinedly. "No boyfriend."
A question played in his eyes. "Husband, then?"
Inexplicably, her vision blurred. She shook her head again, turned and fled into the crowd. She didn't stop running until she passed the booth farthest from the dance circle, then leaned against a wooden fence post. She gulped down several steadying breaths. The beat of drums kicked up over the loudspeaker, the nasal wail of the singers joining in. Exhaling slowly, she forced her heart to resume its normal cadence.
She swiped at her eyes. Damn that warrior, anyway. She did not want to think about David now. Not today.
Today was a celebration! She had come to the Cardinal Ranch Powwow to lose herself in the bright colors, the haunting music and the beautiful dancing. In the wonderful diversity the world had to offer. To revel in life. A life that was finally her own.
She was free!
Running unsteady fingers along the brim of her hat, she repeated the word firmly to herself, hardly able to believe it. Free. Liberated, after two long years of trying to be someone she couldn't—wouldn't—ever be. Free to follow her dreams and rebuild the fragile self-esteem that had been so soundly shattered.
Lord, how could she have stayed so long with a man who obviously didn't love her anymore? A man who had taken every opportunity to belittle her opinions and crush her hopes? A man who cheated on her, because he claimed she wasn't woman enough for him?
How naive she had been! To think she'd honestly believed David would change, that her love could transform him from the cold, domineering womanizer he'd become, back to the person she'd thought he was in the beginning—a person worthy of her devotion.
But she'd finally realized that had been an impossible dream. One she had no intention of repeating in this lifetime. She was so grateful for the courage she had somehow managed to scrape together to leave him.
To start over. And this time, to do it right.
Now she would do with her life what she had dreamed of for as long as she could remember—finishing the course work for her nursing degree. She would slowly put her life and her self-esteem back together. And most importantly, she would make her own choices. Choices neither David nor her mother would ever again be able to mock.
Closing her eyes, she let out a long breath that ended in a smile. No, she wouldn't let David ruin today. She wouldn't allow him to ruin another day ever again.
No man, especially one who didn't love and respect her, she promised herself, would ever ruin a single solitary day of her life.
Katarina lifted her gaze to the glittering heavens. It was truly a glorious morning. In more ways than one. Yesterday she had gotten a letter from UCLA confirming her reacceptance to the nursing program. And a few minutes ago, a sexy, intriguing man had actually flirted with her.
Life was good.
The weather matched her buoyant spirits. A sparkling bright sun shone in a brilliant blue, cloudless sky. A breeze whispered through the fragrant wildflowers on the rolling Santa Susana hilltop where the powwow grounds were located, stirring the canopied booths that were filled with silver and turquoise jewelry, antique reproductions, souvenirs and T-shirts sporting political and decorative logos.
She pushed off the fence post, fueled by her happiness at finally being in control of her own fate.
Laughing, she swung arou
nd in a circle, the full skirt of her summer dress billowing about her like a bell. She felt lightheaded and happy. For the first time in years she felt feminine and attractive.
This was crazy! She wanted to twirl up and down the hills until she fell over with giddiness! She was crazy.
For the first time in her life she wanted to do something crazy! The sound of drums and bells and the thump of dancers' feet vibrated over the meadow. She felt a warm glow wash over her as she thought of one dancer in particular. The warrior.
Now there was a choice bit of craziness just waiting to happen.
* * *
Colton Lonetree spotted the woman at the Navajo taco stand. He'd been thinking about her ever since she'd dashed off so quickly after he'd put his foot in his mouth at the dance circle. And he'd thought he was being so subtle.
The woman was pretty as a picture in that little calico number, blond curls cascading from under her straw hat, all dressed up like a country girl on a picnic. He didn't usually go for the tourists. In fact, he never did. Ever. But this one… Well, this one just might be an exception. In any case, she was definitely worth a closer look.
He pushed through the crowd in front of the taco stand. Luckily, it was run by his pal, Ricky Lee. The throng of gawking tourists parted easily for an Indian in full regalia, until Cole stood just behind the woman, who was giving her order to Ricky. The intriguing scents of gardenias and fry bread mingled in his nostrils.
"Hey, good buddy," Ricky said, grinning over the blonde's head as he counted out her change.
Cole smiled at her as she turned to him in surprise. He reached around her and gave Ricky a good-natured thump on the arm, brushing hers as he did so. He heard her little intake of breath, and grinned inwardly.
Ricky ducked into the depths of the booth, and Cole glanced back at the woman. He had her effectively cornered between his body, the booth and the condiment table. This time she wouldn't get away so easily.
"Was it something I said?"
Her head came around. "Sorry?"
"When you ran away."
"Oh!" Her mouth parted slightly, and the tip of her tongue peeked out, moistening her upper lip. "No." She shrugged a shoulder, then tugged up the sleeve that slipped over it at the movement.
Hell. He really wished the damn thing would stop doing that. Her smooth, bare shoulder was driving him to distraction big time.
"I was a bit embarrassed at being where I wasn't supposed to be, that's all," she murmured.
"No need. We did sort of swoop down on you. The guys never could resist teasing a beautiful woman."
She lowered her lashes, blushing, and when she raised her sky-blue eyes again, fire danced in them like sparklers on the Fourth of July. Beautiful blue fire eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Ricky returned and looked from Cole to the woman and back again. With lifted eyebrows, Ricky handed her a Navajo taco and a can of soda. "Condiments are over there," he said, pointing to the table behind her. "You eating, amigo?"
"Better not. I'm dancing hoops in half an hour." Cole waved and followed Fire Eyes to the napkin dispenser. She juggled her plate in one hand, the plastic fork and a root beer in the other, so he obligingly peeled out a few napkins for her. He paused, searching her hands for somewhere to put them, then pursed his lips and examined her dress for a possibility. He didn't get much farther than the curvy bodice with about a million tiny buttons running down the front. Ho boy.
"Don't suppose you've got a pocket anywhere?"
She shook her head. As his gaze fastened on her scoop neckline, her eyes widened in alarm. "Don't you dare!" She tried to step back, but the table blocked her path. Her sleeve slid off her shoulder.
He swallowed hard.
Prying two of her fingers away from the soda can, he inserted the napkins, then moved his hand and gingerly pulled up her sleeve. His fingers lingered on the silky-looking cotton fabric, close enough to her skin to feel the warmth emanating from it.
He looked into her fire eyes. "Watch me dance later?"
Slowly, she nodded.
He smiled then, and forced himself to turn and walk away before he made a complete idiot of himself—as there was no doubt in his mind he would. Those fire eyes did things to him no other woman had managed to do in more years than he cared to count.
And made him completely forget about women and how they always, always left.
* * *
Katarina eased herself through the crowd of people lining the dance circle. The master of ceremonies had just announced the hoop dance demonstration. She didn't catch the dancer's name. A buzz in the public address system prevented her from hearing anything more than that he hailed from the Luiseño nation, but she knew it would be her warrior.
She'd just found an empty space up front when the singers started the drumbeat. The warrior walked into the circle, bells jangling and hoops clacking. His bearing was straight and dignified; every movement conveyed pride in what he was doing. Katarina caught her breath at the pure, feral virility of the man.
The breeze lifted the ends of his midnight hair, which skimmed over the lustrous bronze of his broad shoulders. When he turned to walk to the other side of the ring, her gaze feasted on the undulating muscles in his back and biceps—her gaze and that of every other female in the audience. Until, that is, it found more interesting territory below his tapered waist.
Leather cording held up his breechclout along with an elaborately embroidered and fringed bustle that hung from his waist to the back of his knees. But unlike most of the other male dancers, he did not wear modern gym pants or sweats under them. The tantalizing bit of bare hip showing between the edges of the breechclout and the bustle was enough to make her mouth go completely dry.
Lord above. She fanned herself with her straw hat and watched, mesmerized, as his hoops started to fly.
It was amazing the things he could do with those hoops. And with his body. Graceful and athletic, his moves took her breath away. When the dance was over, all she could do was murmur, "Wow."
"Not bad for an old man!" the master of ceremonies quipped over the loudspeaker. "There'll be an encore at four o'clock this afternoon, folks."
Drums started again; suddenly Katarina's warrior was swept away in a wave of backslapping friends and fellow dancers and returned to the ring for an intertribal dance. She craned her neck to see him, but he was hidden from view in the throng.
She pushed out a sigh. Just as well. There were a hundred booths to explore, weaving to watch, music to listen to. She didn't have time to stand here and gawk at some man just because he had called her beautiful.
Which was why she just didn't understand how she came to be in exactly the same spot at the dance circle at four o'clock, nervously fidgeting with her hat.
Sure, she had spotted him several times during the course of the afternoon, and he'd always smiled at her. A luscious, inviting kind of smile that made her dizzy just looking at it. The same kind of smile he was giving her now as he entered the ring and pinned her with his dark, seeking eyes. Her pulse zinged in response, echoed by the resounding drumbeats that kicked up from the center of the circle.
The warrior lifted his hoops and started to dance. His moccasined feet bounced off the dusty ground in a quick heartbeat rhythm as he swooped and twirled the wooden hoops in intricate patterns around his body, increasing the number of hoops and moving them in ever more complicated arrangements. The crowd applauded at each additional hoop he worked into the design, and cheered as the drums beat ever faster.
He slowly traversed the circle, adding hoops as he went, until he danced right in front of Katarina. His skin glistened with sweat, the bells tied above his calves jingled madly as the tempo surged to a fevered pitch. Muscles bulging, his face etched in concentration, he snapped up the final nine-hoop figure, and the crowd went wild. Katarina stood transfixed as he executed one last deep-knee spin and collapsed the hoops in a quick motion to a single orderly bunch in his hand. He lifted t
he hoops high over his head, and with the last pounding beat of the drums he swooped down on her and slipped them over her head and shoulders, capturing her in a final, unexpected move.
The audience roared and clapped and the public address system blared, but all Katarina could hear was his low declaration, barely audible above the din as he reeled her in. "I've got you now, Fire Eyes."
Her body thrummed, tightening in places she'd forgotten she had. This is crazy, she thought as her blood got lazier and lazier. How could a man she just met do this to her?
He gave her a slow smile and raised the hoops, saluting the audience, waving the wooden rings in the air.
Again he was swept away by the crowd of dancers, although this time she was treated to several curious glances from his friends.
Face blazing, she turned and hurried from the dance ring.
Despite her intense reaction to the man—or, if she were really honest, because of it—Katarina was grateful for the reprieve. She was in an absurdly reckless mood, and heaven knew what she might get herself into if she weren't careful. Just look at what had happened the last time she'd let herself be charmed.
Plopping her hat decisively onto her head, she lost herself in the mass of tourists heading for the conglomeration of tables and benches where the barbecue dinner was being served. After picking at her food, she remembered a promise she'd given her nephew to help with a school project, and made her way to a secluded pasture behind the last row of booths, looking for tepees.
The green meadow was filled with exotic grasses and wildflowers, fragrant and glowing in the pink-and-yellow rays of the setting sun. Rippling gently in the warm breeze stood a dozen or so tepees in varying sizes, made with everything from aluminum poles and canvas to lodgepole saplings and deer hide. It was a gorgeous sight, and for a moment she just stood, taking it all in.
Then, humming in delight, she pulled a small sketch pad from her shoulder bag and threaded her way slowly among the tepees, sketching her impressions, stopping to admire the unique designs painted on the outside of each one.
