Passion's Series

by Adair, Mary

  Lowering his head he covered her mouth with his own. She struggled but his hand on her wrist held with little effort. Her body trembled uncontrollably beneath his touch, and she realized her struggles had stopped as she waited in anticipation.

  His mouth against hers was hard, hot, and wet. She didn't know what to expect next, but the sensations he caused in her now made her head spin.

  As his wet lips slid seductively over hers he nibbled gently. His tongue came out to trace the outline of her lips. Finally he placed a thumb on her chin and applied pressure. When she opened her mouth to protest, his tongue swept inside to stroke the interior of her mouth with blatant ownership.

  Passion ignited like a prairie fire within New Moon as his tongue rubbed against hers. She opened her mouth wider to welcome the intimate intrusion. Her spirit soared and her head spun as her inner voice, her spirit voice, told her once again...He is the one.

  The white man released her arms and they rose upward over his wet chest to his neck and onward until her fingers wound their way into his hair. His warm hands went lower to slip beneath the curve of her bottom.

  Heat from his naked body scorched her through her still damp dress, and her skin beneath tingled with desire. New Moon could feel his strength as well as his heat. She felt it in the way he held her, in the way his muscles bunched beneath her fingertips.

  Clawing at his shoulders she returned his kiss in kind. A moan of pure pleasure erupted deep within his chest. To New Moon the sound was like tossing fresh kindling on an already burning fire.

  Then his words screamed into her consciousness, "I will show you the pleasure in needing a man."

  Her slipping resolve strengthened. No man, especially a white man, would ever dominate her! She would bring him to his knees first. She could feel the power she had over him even as her own flesh burned from the touch of his fingers on her exposed skin.

  Then he brought her further under his spell as he slipped her hem up about her waist, leaving more of her sensitive flesh exposed to his searching hands. The full heat of his hands, no longer kept at bay by her damp dress, burned into her flesh.

  He pressed her hips, pulling her up tightly against himself. She clung to him as one falling would cling to a vine.

  There was no longer a barrier between his body and hers. If she did not pull away soon he would slide her legs about his waist and she would be lost. She must pull back first, she screamed silently in an attempt to gain control of her warring passions.

  He broke the kiss and pulled back to look into her eyes. She gazed into their blue depths and for a moment felt a comfort she had never experienced before. The spell was broken with his next words, "Now is not the time to make you mine, little purring kitten."

  The reality of what almost happened, what could have happened slammed into her. For a moment she was lost in a swirling mix of emotion, regret, surprise, and finally anger. Her body was still too attuned to his as he held her hips pressed tightly against him. She fought without success to quail the quivering in her own body that called out to his in a way that made her doubt her own control.

  In near panic she raked her nails downward from his shoulder and across his bare chest. Finding herself suddenly free from the support of his body she stumbled. Her eyes never left his as she steadied herself.

  How could he just stand there with that grin on his face? His eyes actually twinkled with laughter as they devoured her hair, her eyes, and her lips while what she wanted—what her body cried out for—was for him to take her.

  An exaggerated huff escaped her lips while she raised her chin and smoothed her dress down to cover her exposed hips. With as much Cherokee pride as she could muster she turned and made her way to the narrow pass.

  ***

  James tilted his head to one side as he watched the retreating hips swish angrily from side to side. Then, with a quick glare over her shoulder, she was gone.

  The woman must be crazy to step out and face a cat with no weapon! Yet he couldn't help but be impressed by her calm bravery. He was surprised by his own actions. He'd shook with relief that the cat had not turned on her, yet was burned with fury because she took such a risk. But she is alive, he told himself. Alive...and brave and beautiful beyond any other woman. God, but she is magnificent.

  He looked down at the four long, red welts stretching across his left breast. Several drops of blood oozed slowly to the surface. "So much for not making the same mistake twice," he mumbled as he touched a finger to one small, ruby-red drop of blood. He rubbed the crimson drop between thumb and finger.

  "So your claws are as sharp as your tongue, my little Wa-sa." Laughing loudly he called out, "Did you know that you have stolen my heart away, Little Wa-sa?"

  She probably couldn't hear him. It didn't matter. He'd tasted her passion and he would have more. For all her show of spit and vinegar she had responded to him. The only thing left was to win her respect, something that was sure to be a challenge.

  Never had he considered proving himself to a woman. He'd never had to. Yet, he wanted to prove himself to this one, this Cherokee princess who thought him a NoThing. He wanted to capture her strength and turn her fire into passion, but he wanted more than that. His pride demanded more. He would have her respect!

  That settled in his mind he let out a happy whoo-whoop and dashed back to the water.

  ***

  New Moon leaned against the boulder just out of sight. Her legs trembled so badly she could not take another step. Are you the one? She asked him silently.

  She remembered her vision. It was a vision of a great and strange cat, one she knew did not live in her land. She knew this cat to be the totem of the one to come.

  The great muscular beast in her vision had a wide tuft of hair circling his neck. His eyes were a calm, gentle shade of blue, but like this white man's eyes, they had flashed with the warmth of the summer sky when he turned his head and locked his vision to hers.

  Her heart skipped a beat as his laughter reached her ears. Would he follow her and find her leaning weak as a kitten against the rock? She heard him call out. He said she had stolen his heart. Then she heard the water splash. Good. He wasn't coming after her.

  She ran her tongue lightly across her still sensitive lips and felt again the longing as she remembered the taste of his mouth and the way his hands felt on her body. With the memory also came the vision of his mocking eyes and she stiffened.. How could she, a woman of the Wolf Clan...a warrior, be so affected by a No Thing! Her chin lifted as she mentally pulled about her the shreds of her dignity and returned to the village.

  Chapter Five

  The sun had long since set, casting everything beyond the light of the campfire into darkness. Even the stars above were shut out to the ones cocooned in the warmth and brilliance of the flames.

  Men, women and children sat cross-legged and watched as one by one the warriors danced to the rhythmic beat of the drums, their feet, arms, even their heads kept time with the ever-increasing beat. The dancers dipped; swirled, and spun with such control they seemed to become one with their music.

  James found himself not immune to their creative story telling. Not the finest theaters in London could boast of actors more in control of an audience.

  As each warrior finished his tale he reverted back to the solemn, dignified protector of his people. No white man would believe that such as he could have danced with such exuberance and feeling.

  But this chance to flamboyantly express one's tale was not free. In payment, as each warrior completed his performance, he placed an offering that would be of value to one of the needy in their camp on a large buffalo robe that was spread out to one side.

  James carefully lifted the vest of bone and knotted rawhide from his sore chest to allow air to circulate across the scratches there. He impatiently looked around for New Moon.

  "Are you looking for New Moon, Uncle?" Buffalo asked with a hint of conspiracy.

  James turned to see Buffalo making himself co
mfortable at his side. "Uncle?" He answered with amusement.

  Buffalo stiffened his back and puffed out his thin chest. "Yes, I have learned that it is a show of respect to call older warriors 'Uncle'."

  James chuckled. "Have you tried this new form of respect on Thomas?"

  Buffalo tilted his head as he glanced up at James, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  James laughed out. "Well, I am honored that you choose to call me Uncle." Ruffling the boy's short topknot he turned his gaze back to the dancers, and his thoughts back to New Moon.

  "Uncle?"

  "Yes, Buffalo."

  The boy sat straight, his face stiff with tension. "When you left to go to the Choctaw you stayed away a long time. Are you planning to stay as long with the Cherokee?"

  James looked to Buffalo and saw the sweat beading on the boy's forehead and upper lip. "I don't know how long I will be here. Why do you ask?"

  Buffalo shifted nervously. "I would like to stay with you."

  "What about your mother?"

  "She has..." his brow wrinkled, "found a friend. I do not belong at the post!"

  He turned to James then, and James recognized the determination as well as the fear of rejection on the boy's features. He'd planned to send Buffalo back to the post with Thomas. The thought had not crossed his mind to take on the role of adoptive parent to the boy, not until it had been mentioned earlier by Cloud.

  Buffalo was obviously becoming anxious by James' hesitation. "I am Indian." He hit his thin chest with his fist. "This is where I belong. With my own kind."

  James looked back to the dancing. "There is also the blood of a white man running through your veins, Buffalo. Some day you will find that you must learn to accept the two people who are inside you, the white man and the red man."

  "I know this thing," Buffalo argued. "I have lived all my life at the post with the two types of men you speak of. I have seen very little to be proud of."

  The silence stretched out between them until finally Buffalo offered his last argument, "It is right that I should stay here with you a while and learn about the red man that I will someday be."

  James took a deep breath. Buffalo was right. The post had been no place for a boy, who wanted and needed to find honor in his heritage. His mother had given up her place among her people. Now it was Buffalo's turn to choose.

  James tilted his head back and watched the glowing sparks from the flames float upward to disappear into the darkness above. Tomorrow he would send out a runner to let Buffalo's mother know that the boy would stay awhile in Dancing Cloud's village.

  To Buffalo he said, "You will live with me until your test of manhood is complete. After that, your path will be yours to choose."

  ***

  New Moon stood hidden in the shadows as first Buffalo and then later Cloud made their way to where James sat and watched the dancing.

  "Why is your heart troubled?"

  New Moon looked over at Old Woman Who Hears the Spirits Of The Wind. "He is a white man," New Moon answered with some surprise.

  "Of course he is! I knew that the moment these old eyes looked at him." Old Woman craned her neck forward and squinted her eyes as if having difficulty focusing. New Moon knew the old woman's eyes were sharp.

  "He should stand up."

  New Moon was startled and swung her head back in James' direction. "Why? Is there something wrong?"

  Old Woman chuckled. "Wrong? of course not. Have you seen his legs, New Moon? They are beautiful."

  New Moon relaxed. "You are too old to be looking at a warrior's legs, Old Woman," New Moon half-heartedly scolded with a grin.

  Old Woman straightened her back as best she could and peered up at New Moon. "And you are too young to scold your elders!"

  "I am sorry, Old Woman. You are right." New Moon turned away and rubbed her hands along the tingling flesh of her arms. "You are wise..." she began but Old Woman interrupted.

  "Of course I am. I'm old!"

  New Moon turned back to her. Old Woman's gruffness did not concern her. "What does the wind tell you? Why has the Great Spirit sent a white man?"

  A sad smile touched the old woman's lips. "We are not meant to always understand the ways of the Great Spirit, but I will tell you what I know. The Earth is our mother. This you know. All the creatures that live on Mother Earth are brothers. This you know." Old Woman peered up at New Moon with eyes as black as night and as sharp as an eagle's.

  "The white man is also our brother. He is a brother that will cause us much pain, but a brother still. The winds whisper into my ears that there are many white brothers to come. They will come as boldly as Grandfather River when he rushes through the cove you call your private place. With him he will bring many things strange to us and he will take many things that are dear to us away."

  Old Woman paused and New Moon thought she was through, then..."There will be a time for mourning what our people have lost. Then the time will come when many of our grandchildren will say: 'We will mourn no more.' They will remember the stories they were told as children and they will tell them to their children and to their grandchildren. These children will feel in their hearts the pride of their ancestors. Then the Great Spirit will look upon them and smile. Then The People will live again."

  Old Woman looked at New Moon with kind eyes. "Do not fret about what I say. Our people have been here from the beginning. But we have many brothers we have not seen.

  "Sometimes it is hard for brothers to live together. Sometimes one brother loses his pride. This is a bad thing. But, if the brother is wise he will remember what his fathers taught him and he will become strong again. This brother will never lose his pride again and he will be stronger than before.

  "Our people must go through this time of learning. We must also learn to read our brother's heart. Not all white men are the same." She directed New Moon's gaze back to James. "See how the Blue Eyes talks with Cloud. See how he plays with Sparrow? There are many ways to judge a man's heart. This is my advice to you, young one. Do not judge a warrior's strength by the number of men he kills in battle. Judge him by the love you see in the children's eyes, for in our children's eyes will you know the destiny of our people."

  New Moon and Old Woman watched in silence as James taught Sparrow a new game of guessing which hand held a stone. Cloud and Buffalo played along as well, sometimes calling it right, sometimes not. James leaned forward and whispered something into Sparrow's ear. After that she chose correctly every time. The two women could easily hear Sparrow's laughter.

  Finally Cloud stood and led Sparrow away. New Moon and Old Woman saw the child's disappointment and resistance to leave.

  "Ha!" Old Woman cheered. "See, this is a. good white man."

  New Moon shrugged, she was tired of Old Woman's riddles. "What about French men, Old Woman? You said not all white men are alike, not all of them bad. I have never seen a French man that you liked."

  Old Woman's aged face tightened into a pucker and she snorted loudly, "French men are all alike. They all have skinny legs!

  James stood and stepped from the light of the fire. Old Woman poked New Moon in the ribs with her bony elbow, "Blue Eye looks for you."

  "He does not look for me, Old Woman. You should not tell such stories."

  James took no more than two steps, spotted New Moon and Old Woman standing in the shadows and stopped. "I do not tell stories that are untrue," quipped Old Woman. "I have things that need doing." She patted New Moon gently on the arm and disappeared into the darkness.

  ***

  James was surprised to see New Moon standing so close to his position in the circle. The only explanation he could come up with was that she was watching...again. A grin touched his lips. Curious little minx.

  He took a step in her direction. When he saw her stiffen, he stopped. The look of approval he'd first seen on her face was gone. Her features shifted to a guise of boredom and disinterest. Disinterest? Not likely, he thought with delight.

/>   New Moon let her gaze travel over him and he gritted his teeth as he worked to retain control over his body. She stood at least ten feet away from him, yet it felt as if she physically touched him. It didn't matter that she tried to intimidate him with her appraisal. He knew she saw nothing to displease her.

  Her eyes lingered just below his waist and he gritted his teeth harder. She pointedly cocked her head as if assessing his wounded member. Flashing him an exaggerated look of pity she turned to disappear into the darkness.

  James threw back his head and laughed with sheer pleasure. New Moon was no dainty miss. He gingerly lifted the bone vest from his stinging chest for the hundredth time. He wondered what the blood thirsty little creature would think when she saw his chest.

  Late into the celebration many of the young people paired off and disappeared into the night to continue their celebrations in each other's arms. James, Thomas, and a few of the more curious warriors sat casually around the dying embers of the fire exchanging stories of bravery until sunrise.

  As the first rays of morning brightened the eastern sky, they rose to their feet and headed for the stream to greet the dawning of a new day.

  A cry for entrance sounded at the gate and all turned around. A young Indian brave sprinted up to Dancing Cloud. According to tradition, he waited respectfully for the Chief to address him.

  "Welcome," Chief Dancing Cloud's tone was solemn. "I am here," the runner announced.

  "Yes, you are. It is good," the chief answered in the ritual of generations.

  The boy fixed his gaze over Cloud's left shoulder, "The warriors of Tellico challenge the warriors of Chota to the Little War."

  Cloud nodded. "We will be ready when they arrive."

  The boy turned and sprinted out through the gate.

  The moment he disappeared, the village seemed to burst with excitement. James watched in amazement as the village, which had only moments before been the picture of calm and contentment, buzzed with keen activity.

  Lack of sleep was no hindrance to James as he, too, was caught up in the spirit of excitement. He had his own reasons for being anxious for the challengers to arrive. No doubt DuPrey would come with them.