by Bobbi Smith
As the sky lightened and the village came awake, Hunt was watching. He could see the women moving about the campsite, stirring the fires, and the men slowly emerging from the tepees, but there was no sign of Glynna. His tension grew. He began to anticipate the worst. He worried that he would have to fight his way in to find her. He worried that she might not be there at all, that he might have missed a clue to her location on the trail in.
Hunt was planning his next course of action when a warrior came out of his dwelling on the far side of the camp. The renegade looked around himself and seemed quite contented with the new day.
Still hidden at his vantage point, Hunt smiled to himself. The man below was his cousin, Painted Horse.
Unwilling to wait any longer, Hunt stripped off his shirt and mounted his horse. He kept his pace slow as he started down the trail. He might not find Glynna in the village, but Painted Horse might know where she was. Hunt controlled his eagerness to hurry. He did not want to appear threatening in any way as he rode in. He heard the shout go out that he was coming, and Hunt could see the warriors grabbing up their weapons.
Painted Horse heard the other warriors' warning calls and ran to see who was entering their village. As the rider came into view, he could only stare in disbelief. It was his cousin, Lone Hunter, approaching, and he was riding the most magnificent stallion he'd ever seen it was the stallion from his vision.
Painted Horse remembered the words of his vision-the prize the hunter seeks and he understood it now. Lone Hunter had come for the woman named Glynna. He smiled.
"Do not harm him. He is one of us," he called out as he waited for his cousin to come to him.
The others in the village relaxed then, but they remained wary of the man who rode alone into their midst. He was a stranger to them. They could tell he was not fully Comanche, but he did not look fully white, either.
Hunt was aware that all eyes were upon him, yet he kept his gaze focused on his cousin across the camp. He kept his pace steady and slow, and did not stop until he'd reined in before Painted Horse.
"It is good to see you, Lone Hunter," Painted Horse said.
Lone Hunter had come for the woman named Glynna.
"It is good to see you, too," Hunt answered, swinging down to greet him. It troubled him that his cousin was off the reservation, for he knew the dangers that faced him as a renegade. "How is Striking Snake?"
"My father is well, as is my mother."
"Good." He looked around the village, searching for some sign that Glynna was there, but saw nothing that indicated she was.
"You have traveled far?" Painted Horse asked.
"I have been tracking you for days." Hunt grew serious.
Painted Horse nodded in understanding. "A vision told me you would come."
"Your last raid was on my father's land."
Painted Horse was surprised, but did not show it.
Hunt went on. "Do you have the woman?" He met his cousin's gaze directly, not wanting to waste any more time. If Glynna was there, he wanted her.
"Yes."
"You have taken what is mine."
"She is your woman?"
"She is mine. I want her."
At his statement, a smile curved Painted Horse's mouth. "If, as you say, she is yours," he said slowly as he looked past Hunt to where Warrior stood, "then there will be a bride-price to pay to claim her."
Hunt almost managed to hide his shock at Painted Horse's words. "A bride-price?"
"If she is to be your woman, then you will take her as your wife, but the cost to claim her will be high." Painted Horse wanted to make sure that Lone Hunter had come not for the other whites, but truly on his own. Only when he was certain of his motive would he return the prize to the hunter, as his vision had revealed.
"How high?"
"Your stallion is the finest I have ever seen." He went to the horse and ran his hands over Warrior, examining him closely. "I will accept this horse as your bride-price. Then you will have Vision Woman as your wife."
Hunt stared at his cousin, trying to understand his ploy. Painted Horse hated the white men who had driven the Comanche from their ancestral lands, and he wanted revenge against them. If Hunt married Glynna, he would prove to Painted Horse that she was his woman, that he wasn't there for any other reason, that no one else had sent him in search of her.
If he married Glynna, she would be ruined in the white world....
The terrible realization haunted Hunt, but he knew there was no other way to save her. Protected as she was in the village, he could not rescue her or help her to escape. The odds were too great against them. The most important thing was to keep her safe, and this was the only way to do it.
Marry Glynna...
Hunt rationalized that the marriage would be valid only in the eyes of the Comanche. He would make sure that no whites ever found out what happened while they were together. It would be too damaging to Glynna's reputation if anyone learned that she had been his Comanche bride.
Marry Glynna...
Hunt looked at Warrior, then at his cousin. He knew what he had to do. "It is done."
Only then did Painted Horse allow himself to smile. He picked up Warrior's reins and swung up into the saddle. "I have made a fine bargain."
"No. I have," Hunt countered.
"You will stay with us for a time." It was a statement.
"I will."
"The prize you sought is there." He pointed to his tepee. "She is yours, Lone Hunter. No harm has come to her."
With that, he put his heels to Warrior's sides and raced from the camp. Hunt watched him go, then turned toward the tepee. Relief surged through him. Glynna was here. He had found her.
He had also just married her.
Hunt drew a deep breath and went to check on her. He was sure she was frightened, and he wanted to reassure her as quickly as he could that everything would be all right. She had been through hell these last days, and it was time to put her fears to rest.
Hunt made his way to the tepee and stood in the doorway. The sun was at his back as he looked inside to see Glynna lying asleep on a blanket. His heart thudded almost painfully in his chest at the sight of her. She was resting peacefully and seemed to be fine, but he couldn't be sure she was all right until he'd talked with her.
"Glynna?" he called, just loudly enough to rouse her. He did not want to startle her. He was certain she'd had enough shocks in the last few days.
Though she had been exhausted from staying awake all night, Glynna had not managed to fall asleep until Painted Horse had left her alone that morning. He had retied her wrists together before going, but she had been too tired to fight him or to care. Almost the moment she'd lain down again, she'd been asleep. The dreams had come then, wild, disconnected visions of renegades and longhorns, of Aunt Mimi and Diego, of her father and Edmund and of Hunt snatching her up to safety.
The sound of Hunt saying her name dragged Glynna back from the abyss of her fitful slumber. Confused, she lifted her head to see the figure of a tall, broad-shouldered man standing in the doorway across from her. He was silhouetted by the sun, and she couldn't make out his features. For a moment she thought it might be Hunt that at last he had come for her-but the memory of her dreams convinced her she was imagining things. It couldn't really be Hunt.
Then he said her name again.
"Glynna."
And she knew it was he. This wasn't a dream! Hunt was the man standing before her! He had come to save her.
"Hunt! You came."
Hunt saw her anguished look and immediately went to her. Kneeling beside her, he wanted to reach out to her, but he held himself back. She looked frail and terrified. Her hair was wild about her; her eyes were wide with disbelief. His every instinct told him to take her in his arms and never let her go, to clasp her to his heart and shield her with his strength, but he didn't want to do anything that would further upset her. It took all of his considerable self-control to deny himself and wait for her response.<
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"Are you all right?" he asked gently.
"I am now," Glynna said. She lifted her tear-filled gaze to his.
"Were you hurt in any way?" He studied her carefully, taking in every detail, looking for any sign that she'd suffered abuse.
"No," she whispered.
She couldn't believe he was really there. But he was. Her tears began to fall. She no longer needed to be brave. She could give in to the emotions she'd been fighting so hard to keep at bay. Instinctively, in one swift move, she went to him. A great sigh escaped her as his arms enfolded her, giving her safe haven.
"You did come for me. I prayed that you would," she said softly as she clung to him, reveling in his strength. "You rescued me from the longhorn, and I knew you would rescue me from the renegades - I knew you wouldn't leave me with them."
Glynna's words of trust stormed the defenses of Hunt's heart. Hunt looked down at her, and warmth and tenderness filled the long-frozen void within him. He could no more have let her go than he could have stopped breathing.
"You're safe now," Hunt promised in a husky voice.
"I know," she said simply.
He worked at the rope on her wrists, freeing her, then shifted them both to sit on the blankets. He drew her across his lap, cradling her to him. He had ridden for days on end and had gone without sleep, desperate to find her. And now Glynna was there with him, and she was unharmed. This moment, holding her this way, made every treacherous mile worthwhile.
"Thank you," Glynna said, rubbing her wrists. She rested back against his chest, and in that instant she knew her days of horror were over. In Hunt's arms, she was protected from all danger. Peace filled her.
A great sense of relief swept over Hunt, and with that relief came joy. The joy surprised him. This woman in his arms had somehow managed to touch him as no one else ever had. He realized then that, against all logic and his better judgment, he had come to care about Glynna. He should have been tormented by the reality of his feelings, but, in truth, acknowledging the way he felt about her left him strangely tranquil.
Hunt knew he should put Glynna from him and concentrate on getting her back home as quickly as possible to ease the others' worries. But they were there, alone together, and it felt so right to hold her this way. Slowly, tenderly, he bent to her.
Glynna felt Hunt stir and looked up at him. She saw his intent mirrored in his eyes. A thrill of anticipation shivered through her. She did not resist, but welcomed him like a flower opening to the sun.
Hunt's lips met hers in a soft kiss, and all the world vanished except for the two of them. Desire stirred deep within Hunt, but he denied his baser needs. This moment was too fragile and too beautiful. It was innocence and trust and bliss.
When the kiss ended, neither spoke. There was no need. Their kiss had said it all. Hunt held Glynna quietly, secure in the knowledge that she was with him.
The powerful sound of Hunt's heartbeat was calming to Glynna as she rested against his chest. She started to close her eyes to savor the moment-she was safe; Hunt was there. Then, suddenly, the horrifying memory of the raid returned, and along with it her fears for Aunt Mimi and Diego.
"Hunt, what about Aunt Mimi? Is she all right? And Diego?" She sat up straight, searching his ex pression for the answers she needed. He looked very serious, and she feared the worst.
"When we reached the site of the ambush, we found that your aunt had been shot, but she was still alive."
"Thank God. And the boy?" she pressed.
"I'm sorry, Glynna. He was killed." Hunt hated telling her the truth, but there was no point in lying to her.
She gasped in heartbreak. "But he was so young."
Hunt drew her close again, wanting to soothe her, but there was nothing he could say or do that would change what had happened. He could only hold her and wait for her pain to ease.
"I'm all right," Glynna said, straightening up as she forced herself to be strong. Though she was completely exhausted, her sadness over Diego's fate and her concern for Aunt Mimi would give her no rest. She had to return to the Rocking M as quickly as possible. In her mind, she could still hear the sound of gunshots and Aunt Mimi's cry.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Let's go back. Can we leave right away? I have to make sure Aunt Mimi's all right."
"We'll go soon," he told her. "For now, you need to rest and get some strength back."
"But I have to go to her. She might need me. It's all my fault that this happened that Diego's dead and Aunt Mimi's wounded. It was my idea to come here to Texas." She was frantic and miserable.
"If anyone is to blame, it's me. I should have been the one riding out with you while you were painting. I shouldn't have trusted your safety and your aunt's to Diego."
She was shocked by his words. She couldn't imagine how he could even think that way. "This wasn't your fault. There was no way you could have known that the renegades were near."
His expression was grave as his gaze locked with hers. "You could have been killed."
She saw the agonized look in his eyes. "Hunt, you came after me. You followed our trail for days. You're here now. You rescued me."
Glynna reached up to draw him down to her for a kiss.
"Thank you," she whispered against his lips.
At her gentle gesture, a dam broke within him. His mouth claimed hers in a hungry, devouring exchange. His desire sparked an answering fire within Glynna. She pressed herself even more tightly to him, returning his passion with abandon.
Hunt's lips never left hers as he slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her so they lay together upon the blankets. Her every sweet curve was molded to the lean, hard length of his body.
Glynna had never lain so intimately with a man before. His hard-muscled body intrigued her even as his nearness aroused her. She ran a hand over the width of his chest and heard him draw a sharp breath at her action. She knew nothing of seduction or enticement, but she was learning. When his mouth left hers and he pressed a hot kiss to her throat, she gasped at the sensations his caress evoked.
The sensual sound forced Hunt back to reality. He went still and rested against Glynna, curbing his need, reining in his runaway desire. He was angry at his own lack of control.
Had he saved her from Painted Horse only to take advantage of her himself?
After a moment, Hunt shifted completely away from Glynna and sat up. He glanced down at her to see her cheeks flushed and her expression questioning as she looked up at him. His gaze drifted lower, to the swell of her breasts taut against her blouse. His breathing grew ragged. He wanted to unbutton the offending garment and bare the beauty of her to his gaze and to his touch, but he didn't. He would control his need to caress her. He would control his hunger for her. Even though she was his wife...
"Hunt?" She was mystified as to why he'd stopped kissing her and moved away from her.
"When we leave the village, the trip is going to be long and hard. You need to rest."
She almost told him that what she needed was for him to kiss her again. She reached out and put a hand on his arm, and she felt him tense at her touch. "How soon will we be leaving? This afternoon?"
"No. We won't start back for another day or two."
"Why? I want to get out of here now," she told him, eager to be away from her captors.
"I understand, but I told Painted Horse that I would stay on for a few days."
It suddenly occurred to her that Hunt had managed to ride into the middle of the renegade camp without firing a shot, and that he had come to claim her without so much as a fight. "Do you know these renegades?"
"Painted Horse is my cousin."
Her surprise was real. "Did you know it was he when you were tracking us?"
"No. I didn't find out until just before I rode in this morning. I saw him come out of this tepee."
"And they didn't try to kill you when they saw you?
"No. They knew I was one of them."
His words sent a shiver of
awareness through her. Bare-chested as he was, he did look the warrior as he sat beside her. He was proud and powerful.
Intimidating though his presence was, she had never been so glad to see anyone in her whole life. Hunt had come for her; just as she had hoped he would.
Hunt glanced down at her to find her gaze upon him. "Do you want to rest now?"
"Yes." She had to admit she was exhausted.
"Then sleep."
"Painted Horse won't be back?" She looked nervously toward the entrance to the dwelling.
"Don't worry. Painted Horse will not bother you again."
"He did not harm me, but the one called Crouching Wolf is dangerous. He feels that I should be his." She went on to explain what had happened the day of the raid.
Hunt's expression darkened. Crouching Wolf he would remember and keep watch. "I'll stay with you. No one will ever hurt you again."
Glynna believed him. She slipped her hand into his and found his warm, strong grip reassuring. Her eyes closed. She could rest now. Hunt was there. She fell asleep quickly, and rested easily. Her nightmares were gone.
Hunt remained at her side for a long time. He watched over her quietly, and he took the time to study her as she slept. She looked almost fragile as she rested, but he knew there was nothing fragile about her. Glynna was an extraordinarily strong woman to have survived what she'd been through.
And she was his bride, too, though he hadn't found the right moment to tell her yet.
Hunt was certain that Reverend Paul would have something to say about the Comanche way of taking a bride. A slight smile curved his lips. If Glynna had been a Comanche maiden, she would have been given the chance to reject his offered stallion and so reject him, but she was a captive. She was Painted Horse's property, and the warrior could do whatever he wanted with her. So now she was his bride.
