Elizabeth was not surprised by his proposal. She was thrilled, yet wondered how this could be arranged. “Strong Heart, I want nothing more than to say yes to your proposal. But how can I? If my father knows about you, he will also have to know how I happened to know you. It could prove dangerous.”
He dipped his head and smelled the sweetness of her hair. “If your father loves you,” he whispered, “truly loves you, he will do nothing to endanger your life. Bringing the sheriff to arrest Strong Heart would threaten your life. No, I do not think a father would do this to a daughter.”
And then he paused, remembering that through all of the confusion of these past days, he had not thought to ask her about her father—why he had come to the Pacific Northwest in his great ship, and what he was building on the shores of Puget Sound.
He quickly asked her now.
Elizabeth paled, not wanting to reveal the full truth to her beloved, fearing that it would cause a confrontation between her father and the man she loved. Strong Heart could not afford an argument with any white man now that he was a fugitive.
“My father?” she said, easing from his arms. She turned her back to him and plucked a leaf from a tree. Nervously, she began shredding it into tiny pieces. “My father came to Seattle because he was no longer planning to travel the seas with his ship. He found the Pacific Northwest a perfect place to enjoy fishing.”
She turned quickly to him and looked innocently up into his eyes. “Yes,” she said, her voice lilting. “That’s why he came to Seattle. To enjoy fishing.”
Strong Heart lifted an eyebrow as he regarded her, feeling that she was not being altogether truthful. But he did not want to think that she would lie to him.
“I will help you search for your grandfather, and then go alone to speak with my father,” she said. “Perhaps it . . . it would be best for you to come back to the village alone, just in case my father doesn’t react favorably to the news. I will come to you later, when I am certain that it is safe.”
Strong Heart did not respond quickly. He mulled it over, then said, “That is not the way I want it to be, but if you feel that is best for you, then I will agree.”
“Strong Heart, you have searched for your grandfather before and did not find him,” Elizabeth said, as he placed an arm around her waist, walking her back toward the village. She gazed up at him. “What if you still cannot find him?”
Strong Heart frowned down at her. “Perhaps I will not be able to find him this time, but I will find him some day,” he vowed. “It seems that my grandfather has learned the art of being invisible. Strong Heart hopes to find out why, and how.”
In Elizabeth’s mind, she was recalling the times that she had seen his grandfather, and how quickly he had faded from sight. And the mere fact that he had chosen to return to the grounds of his ancestors, gave her cause to be afraid for her father. What if the old man decided to set a torch to the house to finish what his ancestors had not been able to?
What then not only of her father, but of Frannie and Maysie?
Maysie, she thought suddenly. Elizabeth wondered if Maysie had stayed on at the house, or had been forced to leave. Perhaps to return to a life of sin again—or to die in the Sound?
Yes, Elizabeth decided. It was best that she return home, to tie up some very loose ends.
Chapter 16
Love’s wing moults when caged and captured,
Only free, he soars enraptured!
—THOMAS CAMPBELL
As the sun was setting beyond the ever purple ridges of the distant bluffs, the crackling fire of lightning forked across the heavens above Elizabeth and Strong Heart as they dismounted. They looked warily at the display.
Elizabeth moved to Strong Heart’s side and jumped with alarm as the cannon roar of the thunder reverberated all around her, the ground shaking ominously beneath her feet. “I have never seen such weather as I have found in this country,” she said, shuddering. The heavens darkened to an inky blackness as the storm clouds moved in rapidly. “On our way to your village we were almost drowned by rains, and now, on our way back to Seattle, it storms again?”
She turned her green eyes up at Strong Heart. “Is the weather always this temperamental, Strong Heart? Or am I just worrying too much?”
Strong Heart placed a comforting arm around her waist, and gazed at Mount Rainier in the distance as lightning danced and played around its peak. “Rain is a natural thing in our land of trees, mountains, and rivers,” he said, his voice hushed. “But thunder and lightning do not always accompany the rain. You have cause to be alarmed over the repeated storms. It is the spirits of the mountains that cause storms. They are angered. The spirits of the mountains speak of this anger tonight.”
He paused and turned his eyes back to Elizabeth. “When there is lightning and thunder around Mount Rainier, my people say it is the Thunderbird’s doing. We picture the storm as a giant bird with flashing eyes and fierce spirit. Its flapping wings cause the sound of thunder as it swoops from the clouds around the mountaintop.”
“I have heard about the Thunderbird. I have read about it. Thank you for sharing this with me, Strong Heart. I want to know everything about your culture, about your beliefs. It will make my being with you as your wife more complete.”
The sky seemed to open up as rain began to fall in torrents, quickly drenching them.
Strong Heart grabbed a blanket from his saddlebags and held it over Elizabeth. He turned and searched quickly around him for a place to go for shelter.
When another lurid flash of lightning lit everything around them, he caught sight of a cave not that far from where he and Elizabeth stood.
“Come,” he said, taking her by the elbow with one hand, and grabbing both horses’ reins with his other. “Over there. We shall seek shelter in the cave. The spirits are kind to us. They have lit the sky enough so that I could see the protective sheltering of the cave.”
Trembling from the cold of the rain, her buckskin dress clinging wetly to her skin, Elizabeth walked briskly beside Strong Heart as the horses followed. She sighed with relief when they stepped into the cave.
Hugging herself, her teeth chattering, Elizabeth watched Strong Heart quickly unsaddle the horses, tossing the saddlebags toward her.
“There is another blanket inside my bag,” he said, running his hands down the flanks of his roan, settling him down as another crash of thunder echoed into the cave. It was as if someone had pounded a giant drum within the close confines.
“There is a change of clothing for you in your saddlebag,” Strong Heart called, above the sound of the thunder. “Many Stars packed not only one clean buckskin dress in your bag, but two. Change into one. As soon as I get the horses settled down, I shall search for wood inside the cave, then build a fire.”
Elizabeth was too cold to answer him. She fell to her knees on the damp ground of the cave. With trembling fingers, she opened his saddlebag and grabbed a blanket from inside it. She wrapped it around her shoulders, savoring its warmth.
She then reached inside her own bag and felt the softness of the buckskin dress and also some moccasins that Many Stars had been thoughtful enough to provide.
Elizabeth clutched the moccasins to her chest, and smiled, filled with such gratitude and love for a friend as kind as Many Stars.
Her smile wavered. She hoped that she would be able to see her again. This journey back to Seattle had many risks for Elizabeth—and her future with the Suquamish.
Before she was able to change into the dry dress, Elizabeth was amazed to see that Strong Heart had found enough wood and had a fire going. Its warmth touched her flesh like a soft hand.
She drew the wet dress over her head and lay it aside. Again she quickly drew the blanket around her shoulders to warm her nakedness.
While slipping her wet moccasins off, she peered up at Strong Heart as he hurriedly yanked his wet clothes off. Then he stood close to the fire, absorbing the warmth into his gleaming, copper body, his back to her.<
br />
Elizabeth felt wanton when her heart began to beat at the mere sight of his nudity. Never before in her life had she hungered after a man as she now hungered for Strong Heart.
It was a fact that he was in her blood. Her very soul cried out for him at this moment.
She looked at the planes of his shoulders, his straight back, slim hips, and muscled buttocks, recalling the rapture she had felt when she had explored every inch of his body with her fingers.
Her gaze caressed him now.
As Strong Heart turned to place his back to the fire, to warm it as well, the muscles moved down the length of his lean body, and his eyes caught Elizabeth’s.
Elizabeth blushed. She was afraid that he could read her mind—her thoughts of wanting to go to him and run her hands down the full length of him, and then gather his manhood within her hands, to stroke it. She felt strangely lightheaded.
Strong Heart reached a hand out toward her, beckoning her to come to him. She hesitated for a moment, then rose slowly to her feet and went.
When she reached him, she blinked her eyes nervously. Her heartbeat almost swallowed her whole as his hands went to the blanket around her shoulders and tugged at it.
He began pulling on both corners of the blanket, drawing her with it against his hard body. Both of them were enfolded within the warmth of the blanket. Elizabeth closed her eyes in pleasure. Never had anything felt as wonderful as to be with him in such a way, the blanket and their fiery need for each other warming them.
As he held the blanket in place, Elizabeth snuggled against him. Her arms wrapped around him, hugging him tightly.
Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his. He answered her silent invitation by crushing his mouth down upon hers, his tongue surging between her teeth, exploring the depths of her mouth. She melted into him, grinding her body against his, her breasts pressed hard into his chest.
Not even knowing how the transition had been made, just knowing that her back was now pressed hard against the cave floor, the blanket beneath her, his body warm against her as he nudged her legs apart with his knee, she welcomed the floating sensation as his hands stroked her sensitive flesh.
Breathless, longing to have him inside her, to fill her with his magnificent strength, Elizabeth opened her legs willingly to him and arched her hips. She moaned with pleasure against his mouth as he entered her with one, quick thrust.
Strong Heart began his even strokes within her. Her body moved with his, rising and falling as he plunged deeply in and out.
Elizabeth’s hands thrilled at the mere touch of him. She reached down and touched his manhood as he withdrew it from her, circling the shaft as he paused before his next thrust, allowing her to give him this sort of pleasure for a moment.
As Elizabeth moved her hand on him more quickly, more determinedly, Strong Heart slipped his mouth down to the hollow of her throat and moaned against it.
She could feel his body stiffening with his building pleasure. And when he reached down and moved her hand away from his throbbing hardness, and once again buried himself deeply within her, she tossed her head in excitement. Then the thrashing stopped when he caught her face between his hands and he kissed her.
Strong Heart was no longer aware of the lightning, the thunder, nor the torrents of rain that were falling just outside the entrance of the cave. All he could concentrate on was this vision that lay beneath him, her lovely red hair spilling away from her face, spread out beneath her like a fiery halo. Her flawless features were vibrant and glowing, her slim, white thighs now clutching to him as she locked her legs around him.
His hands framed her face as he smiled down at her, feeling he was drowning in passion, hardly able to hold back any longer.
His lips brushed the smooth, satin skin of her breast, and then again he kissed her lips.
As he thrust his tongue teasingly into her mouth, so did he press his manhood endlessly deeper within her moist channel. He could tell by her harsher breathing that she, too, was ready to ascend that same plateau as he, where a joyous bliss was awaiting them. He could feel the excitement growing, growing, growing.
And then his body jolted and quivered as for a moment he lost all sense of time, place, or even of being. All that mattered was that wave that rose through his whole body, making it fluid with fire.
Elizabeth sucked in a wild breath of air, then let herself go, to experience the ecstasy. It flooded through her, it seemed, with sweet agony.
Afterward, they lay together, their bodies still throbbing with the afterglow of love.
Then Strong Heart rolled away from her and drew the blanket over them again. “You are no longer cold?” he asked, his eyes smiling into hers.
“No,” Elizabeth said, softly giggling. “I feel as though I’m burning up inside.”
“It is a good feeling?” he asked, flicking his tongue across one of her breasts as he bent beneath the blanket.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and shivered. “Yes, a good feeling,” she whispered. “As is what you are doing right now.” She placed a hand to his head and urged his mouth even more closely to her breast. “My darling, how wonderful you make me feel, always.”
He moved his lips back to her mouth, yet did not kiss her—only whispered against it. “Remember what you just said, that when you reach Seattle and are tempted to stay behind, to live the life that you are more familiar with,” he said huskily. “Remember that, my la-daila, always remember that.”
“Always,” she whispered. “How could I ever forget how you make me feel? I could never live without you, Strong Heart. You are my very reason for breathing—for getting up each morning. It is you I wish to see upon my first awakening. Only you.”
“That is kloshe, good,” he whispered back against her lips. “That is very good.”
He kissed her softly, his hands plumping her breasts.
She slung a leg over him and trembled with pleasure as his manhood found her open and ready for him again.
* * *
Earl was cursing as he yanked off his wet clothes. “This damn weather,” he grumbled. Members of the posse stood around the campfire in the cave, also taking off their drenched clothes. “I’ve never seen anything like the weather here. Why does it have to rain so often?”
“We’re lucky we found this cave,” one of the men said, totally naked and drying himself off with a blanket before the campfire. “So quit grumblin’, Earl.”
Another of the men came up next to Earl—a Suquamish Indian who had taken more to the life of the whites’, than the Indians’. “You have angered the mountain spirits by traveling too far into land that one time only knew the footsteps of the Suquamish,” Joe Feather grumbled, squeezing water out of his waist-length black hair. “That is also why your horse took a spill, and even now limps on its lamed leg. It would be better if you would shoot the horse. If you continue riding him, your journey back to Seattle will be slowed, and then you will have to shoot him anyway.”
“We don’t have any spare horses and I’m a damn sight better off riding my own steed, than saddling up with someone else,” Earl snarled. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a dry change of clothes. “And don’t fill my head with any more nonsense about the mountain spirits. I’ve had enough of your mumbo jumbo for one day. If you still believe in so many of the Suquamish customs, why the hell are you riding with the white men, as though you’re one of them? Or don’t you know where you fit in best? Huh?”
Joe Feather frowned at Earl as he stepped out of his fringed breeches, and then into dry buckskin. “A lot of me is still Suquamish,” he said, his voice void of emotion. “That part of me speaks of spirits whenever it seems fit to do so. And tonight, when the storm warriors are throwing their lightning sticks to earth, I remember my beliefs.”
“Save me from a lecture about Indians,” Earl retorted, even though he wished that he knew of a secret potion that he could use on Chief Moon Elk, to sway him over to his plans. “I’ve got one Indian on my mind
tonight. That’s enough.”
Earl buttoned his fresh, dry shirt, then stepped into his breeches and fastened them. Disconsolately, he sat down on a blanket close to the fire, wondering where Elizabeth was.
The search was going badly.
And now, with his hobbled horse, it would take him much longer to return home to see if any word had arrived there about her whereabouts.
Joe Feather sat down beside Earl. He drew his knees to his chest and hugged his legs. “There are many beliefs about why there are fierce storms,” he said, ignoring Earl’s agitated sigh. “One belief is that there are warriors who live in the sky who dash about on their painted ponies as they battle one another. Lightning and thunder result from the clash of their lances. This is the story mothers tell their little ones, but if the children become frightened by the roar of the storm, the mothers place soothing bay leaves on the fire, and the danger is soon forgotten.”
Earl turned angry eyes to Joe Feather. “Will you just shut up?” he growled.
“This cave that we are in?” Joe Feather said, looking over his shoulder, toward the darker depths of the cave. “It has another opening, on the far end. Would you want to go and see what might be at the other end?”
Earl glowered at Joe. “I like this end just fine,” he said, his teeth clenched.
Joe Feather shrugged, then stretched out on his side, his eyes soon drifting closed.
Earl sighed heavily. “Finally,” he whispered to himself. He had not been sure how much more of the damn Indian that he could tolerate.
He glanced over his shoulder at the darker depths of the cave. “Another entrance, hogwash,” he said, soon forgetting about it.
Chapter 17
Wild Embrace Page 15
