To her relief, Fights Bear nodded slowly in agreement.
“I will do whatever you ask,” she murmured. “If you wish to have me in your bed, then that is your right. Indeed, I am honored that so great a warrior as Fights Bear would favor a mere white woman. Still, it is a pity…” She lowered her eyes sadly.
He barked something that she took to mean “What are you talking about?”
“It is a pity that Sharp Lance will suffer for adhering to Comanche law. In this case, it would greatly hurt his consequence in the white world.”
“I tell you, I care nothing for the opinion of whites!”
“Yes, I know. Forgive me.” She clasped her hands humbly.
“It is just that…I care for my husband. I don’t wish for him to lose face with either people. I would do anything to protect him.” She stole a glance at Fights Bear. “Is it wrong for a woman to wish to protect her husband?”
For the first time, Fights Bear cast a glance at their Mexican translator. “I would wish that my own wives would show such devotion,” he replied in a tone that sounded almost dry.
Summer bit her lip. She hadn’t wanted to cause a family squabble. “I’m certain they would do no less for you than I wish to do for Sharp Lance,” she said quickly. “I worry greatly for his pride, for I know the scorn that the whites will show him if he allows his wife to sleep with another man. However…there is an honorable alternative, I think. One that would allow Sharp Lance to save his pride and still honor you as a brother.”
Fights Bear looked at her narrowly.
“Perhaps you would accept horses in exchange, as proof of Sharp Lance’s respect for you as his brother.”
She held her breath as she let that sink in. Horses to a Comanche were like gold to whites; they symbolized wealth and prestige and power, and meant more to a Comanche than females ever could. She could only hope Fights Bear would rather have horses than her body.
The speculation on his dark features told her she had aroused his attention at least, and Summer went on hopefully, beginning with flattery. “I know that you already own many horses, and that you do not need more to improve your consequence, but you would spare your brother much pain by accepting the horses instead.”
“It is not the usual way,” the war chief said thoughtfully.
“No…but then, these are not usual circumstances. And you are wise enough to see the merits of this solution. Would you at least consider it, Fights Bear? You would make your brother very happy.”
“Ten horses?”
Summer slowly let out the breath she had been holding. Ten horses was an exorbitant number, but she wasn’t about to quibble or accuse Fights Bear of taking advantage of her position.
With a soft smile of agreement, she bowed her head humbly. “Thank you, Fights Bear, for your wisdom and your regard for your brother. I think Sharp Lance will think that a fair exchange.”
She wanted to tell Lance of her victory at once, but when Summer returned to the tepee she shared with him, he was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t allowed to go in search of him, either, for she had to help cook supper—more roasted meat, as usual—and then prepare the bedrolls for sleeping. By the time the camp settled down for the night, she still had seen no sign of her husband.
Restlessly Summer turned over in the bed they usually shared and pulled a buffalo robe more snugly around her body. The feel of the tanned hide rasping against her naked breasts made her wince with remembered pleasure. Embarrassed, Summer shut her eyes, recalling the heat of Lance’s mouth assaulting her nipples, the wicked lash of his tongue between her thighs, the fierce passion that had exploded between them this afternoon. What in heaven’s name had happened to her? One moment she was struggling in his arms, resisting his fierce caresses. The next, she didn’t even recognize herself.
She’d been an entirely different woman in his arms—primal and lusting and oblivious to anything but the need to get closer to him. It frightened her, the wild way she’d responded to Lance, to his fury, his violence. She’d been raised a lady, and ladies did not behave like strumpets. Ladies did not allow their husbands to do such shameful, abandoned things to them, either.
What was more alarming, she had always relied on charm and beauty and the power of her femininity to control men, but Lance had proven invulnerable to all her usual maneuvering. She, on the other hand, was growing less and less certain in their relationship. It frightened her to contemplate a future with Lance as her husband. If she fell apart each time he merely touched her, then she would have no control over the marriage he’d forced on her, no control over him. And Lance was ungentlemanly enough to exploit her weakness if he could.
Still, her wanton behavior and her growing helplessness weren’t her only concerns. It worried her even more that Lance was gone.
* * *
He rode into camp at midmorning the next day. Without a word, or even a glance at his wife, Lance dropped the deer he’d killed beside the working women and then dismounted to enter the tepee.
Summer wiped her hands on the grass to clean off the tanning solution, then rose and followed him inside. She found him hanging his bow and arrow quiver from a lodgepole.
“Where have you been?” she demanded without preliminaries. Her relief that he had returned safely was overshadowed by her anger that he had frightened her so.
The menace in his black gaze when Lance glanced over his shoulder at her took her aback. “I don’t reckon that’s any of your business.”
Summer started to retort that where her husband slept was very much her business, that she was his wife—but she remembered the argument they’d had yesterday concerning his proprietary rights, and she bit her tongue. Theirs was not a normal marriage, by any means.
“I didn’t sleep with him,” Summer said in a low voice.
The silence that greeted her announcement stretched into a full minute as Lance settled on the ground with his back to her and began refilling his parfleche from the tepee’s stores, replenishing the supplies he’d used up during his hunting trip.
“I’m afraid you are ten horses poorer, though.”
If Summer hoped he would be curious enough to ask what she meant, she was disappointed. Lance went indifferently on with his task.
Trying to keep a rein on her temper, Summer moved across the tepee to stand before him. “I offered myself to Fights Bear. I told him that you sent me because you wanted to honor him as a brother. But then I suggested an alternative. I managed to convince him to accept another ten horses in exchange for not sleeping with me.”
“Should I give a damn?” Lance asked finally.
Summer felt like stamping her foot in frustration. Why was he being so contrary? She had gone against his wishes yesterday, yes, but she’d had no choice. Couldn’t he see that?
“You seemed to care a great deal yesterday. In fact, I distinctly remember you throwing a tantrum because I risked approaching your brother.”
A muscle twitched warningly in his jaw, but he didn’t abandon his smoldering silence.
Summer watched Lance in dismay. Did he truly not care? Or was he merely jealous because she’d been prepared to sleep with his brother?
If it was jealousy, then she was glad. He hadn’t tried to hide his possessiveness yesterday—yet that could have been explained as mere male pride. A man held on to an object he possessed, and a wife belonged to a man much as an object. Or perhaps he wanted to protect his own consequence. Much of what she’d told his brother last evening was true. If his wife was shamed, then Lance would suffer. He had married her to improve his status in white society, or so he’d said.
Yet she wanted to mean more to him than simply an object, or a means for social advancement. She wanted…What did she want?
She wanted Lance to respect her, at least, Summer realized. She wanted him to see her as more than the shallow, vain creature she’d once been. She wanted to earn a measure of the same reverence Lance had used when he’d spoken of his mother.
This man was her husband; he had become part of her yesterday. She didn’t want him to think badly of her because of what she’d been willing to do for her sister.
And whatever the reason for his anger, she was feminine enough to realize the wisdom of soothing his wounded pride.
Swallowing her own frustration, Summer knelt beside him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. His body went rigid at her touch, but he didn’t pull away.
“Don’t be mad at me, Lance,” she pleaded softly. “I should think you would be pleased I persuaded your brother to change his mind.”
Lance recognized her change in tactics immediately and wanted to curse. He had little resistance when Summer went into her “helpless belle” routine. “You trying to work your wiles on me again, princess?”
She gave him a smile that could have lit up a room with its warmth. “To be truthful, I’m trying to charm you out of your sulks.”
“It isn’t going to work,” he declared gruffly.
“No?” Her green eyes skeptical, she eyed him thoughtfully. “You’ve accused me often enough in the past of using feminine wiles to get my way, but in this case I think you should be grateful, for that’s just what I did with your brother. I presented a reasonable argument that appealed to his masculine pride.” Her smile turned wry. “Men are not so different in any culture that they’re immune to flattery.”
Lance grunted. “Yeah, and you’ve always been expert at playing us for fools.”
“Not fools, precisely. Merely targets for persuasion…like wet clay susceptible to molding.” She gave a rueful laugh. “I don’t know why you are so sensitive about my methods. You’ve always been immune to my charms.”
Despite his determination to withstand her assault, Lance found himself struggling to maintain his fury. Her wiles were working, damn her. But it was her success with his brother that had made his relief possible. For the first time since yesterday afternoon, he could breathe again; the jealousy that had clamped like a tight band around his chest had eased.
He hadn’t been able to stick around camp and watch while Summer gave herself to his brother, so he’d stormed off in a jealous rage and gone hunting. But he’d been so clumsy and sick with fury that he’d only hit a single target. And he hadn’t slept a full minute last night, either. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Summer lying beneath his brother’s thrusting body and he’d wanted to kill.
Now all he wanted to do was haul her into his arms and shout for joy. And maybe take his brother’s place.
The thought of having her again, hot and wild like yesterday, made Lance’s mouth go dry. Not that he deserved the privilege. As rough as he’d been yesterday, he could have hurt Summer badly. He’d nearly raped her in his rage—and guilt had been eating him alive ever since. But apparently he hadn’t hurt her too much. She was here now, smiling at him, teasing him out of his temper with her seductive charm. At least she didn’t seem to hold his violence against him. His fierce relief at her forgiving attitude almost matched his gratitude over her deliverance from his brother.
At her playful smile, the corner of his mouth twitched; he couldn’t help himself. “I’m not immune, dammit!”
She gave another ripple of laughter that was pure delight to hear. “Well, that is certainly reassuring! I had begun to think I’d lost my touch entirely.”
Lance shook his head in exasperation, hardly believing he was sitting here joking about Summer’s powers of manipulation, and loving every minute of it. “Your touch must have been working pretty well if you managed to get around my brother. He hates white women.”
“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you. And I’m not certain he’s happy about it. If you are ever in a horse race with Fights Bear again, it wouldn’t hurt to let him win. Bolster his male ego, you know.”
Lance laughed in spite of himself, a gruff chuckle that was rusty with disuse. “Yeah, I know.”
“I am sorry it cost you so many horses.”
“I’m not. I would have paid ten times that amount to keep you away from him.”
“Then you think I am worth a hundred horses?”
His eyes surveyed her with reluctant amusement. “Fishing for compliments again, princess?”
“Well, yes,” she admitted shamelessly. “I don’t believe it would hurt you to feed my feminine vanity once in a while. But I was also curious. Your grandmother suggested I was worthless because you didn’t pay my brother any horses for me when we married.”
His mouth curved in a wicked grin. “You’re not worthless, at least.”
Summer winced in mock pain and wrinkled her nose. Her saucy reply, however, was interrupted when Short Dress ducked beneath the flap of the tepee and entered, chattering urgently in Comanche and clutching Summer’s arm.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What is she saying?” she asked Lance in alarm.
The grimness had returned to his expression. “The emissaries Fights Bear sent out have returned. They’ve found your sister.”
Summer felt her heart lurch. “Amelia? She’s here?”
“No. They weren’t able to ransom her. Fights Bear wants you to attend a council to discuss the matter.”
Chapter 12
The council meeting took place outdoors in the village arena, with all the warriors attending and the peace chief of the band presiding. He opened the proceedings by lighting a pipe made of engraved soapstone, filled with tobacco and crushed sumac leaves.
Allowed to watch, Summer sat behind Lance and war chief Fights Bear, her nerves ragged with fear. By the time a smoke offering had been made to the Great Spirit and the pipe had been passed around the entire group, she wanted to scream with anxiety. Only then did they begin deliberations regarding the sister of Sharp Lance’s wife.
“Why are they taking so long?” Summer asked Short Dress, whose hand she was clutching fiercely.
The Mexican woman shook her head and told Summer to have patience. She had only been permitted to attend because she might be called on to speak, but she would be sent away if she interrupted the men—and she didn’t want to shame her husband, did she?
“You must be brave,” Short Dress admonished. “The People respect courage and have only contempt for those who show fear, especially whites.”
Summer clenched her teeth and subsided, yet she considered it one of the most difficult tasks she’d ever performed in her life, to sit there for three interminable hours while Amelia’s fate was deliberated.
The warriors spoke in turn, beginning with Fights Bear, who told of his promise to help his brother ransom Amelia. Then his emissary spoke—one of the young men who had gone in search of Amelia. He had eventually located her with a band of Antelope Eaters two days’ ride northwest of here, but her owner would not return her for any price.
Lance, to Summer’s immense gratitude, asked about Amelia’s condition, and if she was fit to travel. The young man replied that she seemed like any white captive—cowed and groveling—which brought guffaws of laughter from the Comanche warriors around the circle, and made Summer taste blood, she bit her lip so hard. She could only console herself with the fact that her sister was still alive and that Lance would not abandon her.
He didn’t. After more general discussion, Lance expressed his intention of rescuing Amelia himself, which sparked a good deal of argument from the Comanches. No one, not even a peace or war chief, had the power to prevent him from conducting a raid on his own, but they were not required to support him either, and he would likely need help if he meant to appropriate Amelia from her owner. Someone suggested that they try more diplomacy first, and Fights Bear waded in with a proposal that supported a diplomatic initiative.
The council meeting dragged on for what seemed an eternity, primarily because the decision had to be unanimous. Compounding the difficulty was that Amelia belonged to another Comanche band, and Comanches did not make war on each other.
Finally, though, the peace chief announced a plan of action that had heads nodding in agr
eement.
“What did he say?” Summer demanded of Short Dress in an anxious whisper.
“Fights Bear will lead a party to visit the camp of the Antelope Eaters, and will conduct the bargaining himself. When they see that a powerful war chief makes the request for ransom, they will likely reconsider their decision.”
Closing her eyes, Summer almost gave a sob of relief. The battle for Amelia hadn’t been lost yet. She could almost kiss Fights Bear for throwing his powerful weight behind his brother.
The council meeting continued for a while longer, but Summer scarcely cared what decisions were made. Short Dress paid more attention and explained that the People would hold a dance tonight to make medicine for the success of the venture. It was not a raid precisely, nor a hunting party, but Fights Bear needed medicine. Then the warriors would slip away at night, one by one, because it was bad medicine to begin a venture in daylight.
The discussion still wasn’t finished when Short Dress gestured for Summer to leave. “Come, we have much work to do to prepare for our husbands’ departure.”
The preparations consisted of readying food and horses and weapons, and the women of the camp pitched in eagerly. Fights Bear’s grandmother directed all his wives, and Summer as well, scolding them all to hurry and to take care in the packing.
Everyone knew of the venture, for as soon as the council meeting concluded, the camp crier rode through the village, heralding the decision. Shortly the volunteers who planned to accompany the party began bringing their shields to hang on a rack before Fights Bear’s doorway to absorb the all-powerful medicine of the sun.
Summer was filling a parfleche with dried meat and mesquite bean meal when Lance returned to the tepee to take charge of his weapons.
To her surprise, he gave her a grin of reassurance. “Do you realize how big a victory you won today?”
“Victory?”
“When Fights Bear decided to take up your cause. I’ve never seen him take the side of a white before, especially a woman. But he swayed the council. Good thing, since I couldn’t have managed it on my own.”
The Savage Page 22
