by Fireheart
Fireheart found himself wondering what lay beneath the blue fabric. He scowled as he recalled how earlier he’d noticed the way the gown had outlined her womanly curves, and how the firelight in Wild Squirrel’s wigwam had brightened the red-gold in her blonde hair.
She paused in mid-stride as she saw him. They stared at each other for several long seconds before she dismissed him to continue on toward her wigwam
He should not be thinking of her, he thought. He was to marry Moon Dove. She would make him a good wife while Joanna never bothered to look his way before now.
We were children, he thought. And now they were not.
It was dusk. Fireheart watched as Joanna disappeared inside her wigwam. With a frown, he turned away and tried to force her from his mind.
Joanna wandered about the village the next morning, searching for familiar faces. Her servants were still asleep. They’d had a difficult time on their first night in the village. Unfounded fear, she was sure, was the reason for their sleeplessness as Joanna herself had slept quite cozily on her fur pelts. For propriety’s sake, she had erected an animal-skin curtain to separate the women’s quarters from Harry’s, a simple arrangement that would be taken down during the day. Despite her servants’ difficult first night, Joanna was sure that Cara and Harry would adjust after a few days in the encampment.
A young mother came out of one of the larger wigwams followed closely by a naked boy and girl. Joanna wasn’t shocked by the children’s lack of clothing. It wasn’t unusual to see youngsters at an early age without garments. The Lenape saw nothing indecent or wrong about it, and Joanna, smiling at the grinning brother and sister, had to agree.
The threesome headed toward her, venturing onto a path that led out of the village, probably toward a lake or pond, Joanna surmised. The young woman nodded as she passed by her, then, with a word of scolding to hurry her children, she continued on her way.
The thought of refreshing cool water tempted Joanna on this warm morning, and she fell into step behind the mother and her offspring.
The path narrowed, then widened as it reached a glistening lake. Joanna stopped to appreciate the natural beauty. When she’d been a child and lived among the Lenape, she had bathed in lakes and streams—not this one perhaps, but ones like it.
The mother and children were not the first at the waterside. A group of women were already there, but a short distance farther along the shore. They chatted and giggled as they washed and swam naked.
Joanna longed to take off all of her clothes and join them, but she was too self-conscious of her English white skin and undergarments. She was no longer the child who had bathed with the Lenape. She was a woman with a different form, and she was pale where these women were golden-brown. She had no desire to draw attention to her naked body.
She saw a boulder near the water’s edge, away from where the Indian women cavorted. Moving toward the natural seat, Joanna decided to remove her shoes and stockings and be content with getting her feet wet.
Some of the matrons regarded Joanna curiously as she sat and dipped her bare feet in the cool water. Joanna smiled at them, then tried not to stare at the scene made by the naked women. She turned her gaze instead to a view of the lake and the land that she could just make out on the other side.
After a while, she turned her attention from the view to search for small pebbles to cast into the lake. She found a few and cupped them in her palm. She tossed first one tiny rock, then another into the water, enjoying the different sizes and shapes of the ripples made by the splash.
She became so engrossed in her actions and their effect on the lake that she sensed someone’s presence only when it was within a few feet.
Joanna looked bark and saw a woman She frowned for something about the Indian maiden looked familiar. The girl smiled, and Joanna felt a shock of surprised pleasure. “Little Blossom?”
Little Blossom nodded. “Autumn Wind,” she said with a smile. “It is good to see you again.” She spoke slowly as if she realized that it had been a long while since her friend had spoken Lenape.
Pleased to have understood, Joanna rose and gave her old friend a hug. It had been seven years since she’d seen Little Blossom, but the memories of their friendship came back to her sharply, moments of joy from a distant past.
“You have been too long in returning home,” her friend said as the two young women released each other.
“I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome,” Joanna said.
Little Blossom raised her eyebrows. “You doubt you are a daughter of the Lenape?”
“It’s been so long,” Joanna whispered. “I’m not the same person as when I left.”
“You are my friend,” the Indian maiden said, gazing at her with concern. “That will never change.”
Her words made Joanna smile. “It is good to see you, Little Blossom. How is She with a Smile?” she asked, recalling the sweet disposition of her friend’s mother.
Sadness dulled Little Blossom’s beautiful dark eyes. “She is no longer with us.”
Joanna drew a sharp breath. “I am sorry,” she said. The Lenape did not speak of their dead, and she was afraid she had offended her childhood friend.
“I have a daughter,” Little Blossom told her. The mention of her child brightened her gaze.
“A daughter?” Joanna stared at her friend in stunned amazement. Little Blossom had a child! “You are married then?”
Little Blossom chuckled. “To Broken Bow. That is how I had mv daughter, this is true.” She patted her bare belly. “Soon there will be a son or daughter to join my Water Flower.”
Joanna smiled with genuine pleasure. She suddenly recalled the brave Broken Bow. He had been a handsome warrior. She was glad Little Blossom had found happiness with him. “I am pleased for you.”
“Wa-neé-shih,” her friend said, thanking her. Little Blossom glanced toward the group of women enjoying bathtime together. “Why do you not join the matrons?”
Joanna followed her gaze. “I don’t know anyone . . . it’s been a long time.”
Little Blossom frowned. “You know many,” she told her. “Come.” She held out her hand. “I will tell you about each matron, each maiden.”
Feeling self-conscious in her cambric gown, Joanna placed her hand in her friend’s.
The two women approached the group enjoying their daily bath. Soon, Joanna was undressing to join them.
Fireheart dipped his paddle in the water rhythmically to propel his canoe. Feminine laughter drew his attention toward the lake’s edge, and he smiled to see the Lenape women at play. He grinned and waved at Moon Dove who stood amidst a group of giggling maidens. Their giggling increased when the girls saw the direction of Moon Dove’s returning wave.
Suddenly, he heard shouts of encouragement from the matrons to someone on the shore. Curiosity had him glancing to see the object of the women’s focus, and his smile froze. A woman ran naked into the lake, and dived beneath the water’s surface. Fireheart recognized the flash of red-gold hair.
Autumn Wind.
He found himself waiting with bated breath for her to rise, then releasing a sigh when she rose up several feet from where she had gone under.
As she ran her hands back over her slick wet hair, she appeared all white and smooth and silky, and Fireheart felt an involuntary tightening in his loins. She turned to speak with Little Blossom, and he got a glimpse of her white shoulders and red-tipped breasts. Desire stole his breath. His whole body ached with it.
Then, as if she’d sensed that someone male was watching her, she spun, saw him in his canoe, and with a gasp, dipped her head below the water. There was much laughter as she came up sputtering. She rose to reveal only her shoulders, keeping those soft, womanly curves beneath the surface, much to Fireheart’s chagrin.
He saw her talking excitedly with her friend, and saw Little Blossom glance his way before she replied to Joanna. Then, one of the matrons saw him and began to scold him to go away.
With a w
ave, Fireheart began paddling his canoe farther up the lake. His mind retained Joanna’s image clearer than any of the other women, even Moon Dove’s. He scowled and tried again to block her from his mind.
Chapter 4
“Is he gone?” Joanna asked, refusing to look. Little Blossom nodded. “He has taken the canoe for fishing farther up the lake.”
Joanna’s sigh of relief drew her friend’s curious glance.
“Autumn Wind.” Mary Littleton, Joanna’s cousin, known to the Lenape as Mary Wife, suddenly appeared at Joanna’s side. She had been bathing with the matrons, and looked pleased to see Joanna join the group with Little Blossom. Surprised by Joanna’s shyness, she smiled at the young woman. “It is good to see you among us again.”
Startled by Mary’s appearance, Joanna managed a cool nod. “The lake feels wonderful,” she admitted.
“It has been a long time since you have enjoyed such a bath.”
“Yes.” Joanna frowned. “Too long,” she said, feeling renewed anger at her cousin for having sent her away. She felt slightly guilty when Mary appeared taken aback by her hostile tone, more so when Mary excused herself to rejoin the matrons
Joanna studied her cousin, battling with conflicting feelings of love and anger. After her cousin had found her as a child, Mary had been the center of her world. Now, they spoke as strangers. When she’d been sent to England onboard ship, fourteen-year-old Joanna had felt unloved and abandoned. She’d been terribly frightened to be traveling alone. Mary had placed her in the care of Mrs. Whitely, a stranger they’d met only minutes before the departure of the ship, but Joanna hadn’t liked or trusted the old woman. The girl had kept to herself most of the time instead, frightened of the crew and other passengers, a difficult feat for a journey that seemed to go on forever.
By the time the Nancy Kay had reached port in England, Joanna had been anxious to get off the ship. She’d been optimistic about meeting her uncle who would surely treat her kindly since she was his only niece.
She had become disappointed and frightened once again to have been met, not by her uncle, but by his barrister—an ugly sinister little man who resembled a weasel.
Her uncle hadn’t been much better, she recalled with a shudder. Was it any wonder she’d felt unloved and betrayed by Mary?
“Are you ill?” Little Blossom asked, stirring her from her thoughts.
Joanna forced a smile. “I’m well. Thank you.”
“Come, let us talk with Woman with Eyes of Hawk.”
Remembering the name, Joanna was able to give her friend a smile that was more genuine.
As she swam alongside her friend toward the woman Little Blossom wanted to see, Joanna looked down the lake for Fireheart. Her heart gave a thump when she saw his canoe, a small speck in the distance. Who was he? she wondered.
As she and Little Blossom visited with Woman with Eyes of Hawk, Joanna found her thoughts drifting to the Indian brave. She would learn more about him, she decided. She wanted to know why this man had the power to make her pulse race and her stomach flutter when it was obvious that he disliked her.
“She wants me to do what?” Cara exclaimed as she eyed the deer carcass that one of the braves had just brought in.
“Woman with Eyes of Hawk wishes to teach you how to tan the deer-hide,” Joanna told the young woman.
“I don’t want to learn how to tan a deer,” the maid whined with a look of disgust.
“Cara,” Joanna said patiently, “if you don’t try to settle into village life, you’ll never be happy here.”
Cara gazed at her employer with horror. “Why do I have to be happy here? You said we’d be going home in another fortnight, didn’t you?”
“Yes, yes, I did.” But Joanna wasn’t in any hurry to return to Neville Manor. She was enjoying her time in Little River despite the continuing tension between her and Mary, despite Fireheart’s strange animosity toward her.
“Then why must I learn to tan doeskin?” Cara asked.
Joanna sighed as she studied her. The maid wore a gray muslin gown with a white V-neck collar that reached the white apron covering her skirts. Small ringlets of the girl’s dark hair peeked out from beneath the edges of Cara’s white mobcap with its matching gray ribbon. She was the portrait of a perfect servant at Neville Manor, but here in the Lenape village she looked uncomfortable and out of place.
She could understand Cara’s reluctance to tan a deer. The job was an unpleasant one for someone who was not used to the work. In tanning animal skins it was necessary to scrape the fur from the skin then rub the brains of the beast into the hide to preserve it. The work was important to the Indian way of life. Animal skins were used to clothe the Lenape and as bedcovers and mantles to keep them warm. Still, Joanna took one hard look at Cara’s white apron, slightly soiled but still white all the same, and knew she couldn’t force Cara to do it.
“You run along, Cara,” she said. “I’ll explain to Woman with Eyes of Hawk that you have little stomach for such things.” She paused to remember when she had learned how to skin and tan her first deerskin. “I’ll help her.” She had on a brown muslin gown that she’d never liked anyway. She didn’t care if it became soiled or ruined as she had two or three other garments with her.
“You?” Cara asked with surprise.
Joanna smiled. “I’ve done the task before. ’Tis not so terrible.”
The maid looked skeptical, but pleased that she wouldn’t have to do the chore. “May I go find Harry?”
Joanna nodded, then turned thoughtful as she watched her maid scurry off in search of her friend. It had become more apparent with each new day that Cara and Harry were smitten with each other.
What was she going to do about the two of them? she wondered. She hadn’t foreseen the couple’s increasing unhappiness with village life. Perhaps she should think about sending them home.
She herself could stay, she thought. Wild Squirrel had awoken, but he was still weak, and she wanted to remain until he was better. She was also reluctant to leave because there was much unresolved about her past and present life. She hoped she would find answers here, in this village of her past, before she returned to the estate and the England of her future.
He saw her at the lake, fetching water. He knew he should stay away, but something about her drew him near. Fireheart approached on silent feet, remembering the last time that he’d seen Joanna in the lake, naked. He paused several yards from where she stood to study her unobtrusively.
He watched as she bent with the water-skin and dipped it into the lake, holding the neck of the vessel under for several seconds until the container was full. She straightened with the heavy skin, then set it down near the base of a tree before picking up another. After filling the second water-skin, Joanna retrieved both containers, then stumbled under the heavy weight.
Fireheart hurried forward and took one of the water-skins.
Joanna gasped as the brave took up one of the skins to help her. Heart thumping wildly, she stared at him, and he nodded without expression as he gestured toward the path with his free hand.
“Wa-neé-shih,” she murmured gratefully. She studied him to gauge his reaction to her thanks, but his attention was elsewhere as he reached for the other water-skin.
“I can manage this one,” she said, holding on to the container tightly.
“Maata,” he said, tugging it from her grasp. No. “I will carry it. Why must you females be so stubborn?”
A flash of anger lit up her green gaze. “Because I wish to finish the job I set out to do?”
An amused smile curved his lips, but didn’t quite reach his cool dark eyes. “Go, Autumn Wind. I have offered to help you. Take my offer and move along.”
“You know who I am,” she said, stunned that he knew her Indian name. She should be angry, but the fact that he knew her made her more curious than vexed.
Who is he? She narrowed her gaze as she studied his hard-hewn features. Had she known this man as a child?
; “I know you,” he said.
“Who are you?” she asked, deciding to be bold.
He raised an eyebrow in reproach. “You do not remember me?”
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His features seemed familiar. She should know him, she realized. He was about the same age or older than she. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “It matters not. It was a long time ago.”
“Yet, you remembered me,” Joanna replied softly.
They headed back to the village in silence. Joanna was conscious of Fireheart’s strength, his presence. She cast surreptitious glances at him, hoping to find something that would trigger her memory of him. It disturbed her that nothing did.
“Please,” she said, “tell me who you are.”
He turned to look down at her and shook his head.
Her breath caught as she gazed at him. He was taller than she was—and attractive. She couldn’t keep her attention from focusing on his firm sensual mouth.
His dark eyes glistened in a masculine face that had chiseled features more appealing to her than the smooth cultured faces that belonged to most Englishmen.
Who was he? she wondered. “Fireheart—”
He looked at her expectantly. “It matters not,” he told her softly. “It was many summers ago.”
She recalled that Lenape boys were given new names when they became men.
“Broken Bow?” she guessed, wondering if this was Little Blossom’s husband.
Hardness came to his dark eyes. “No, Broken Bow was already a warrior when you were here last.”
“Then who—”
“Autumn Wind!” Little Blossom appeared on the path ahead as she crested a small hill.
Joanna waved and silently wished her friend away. She didn’t want to end her time with Fireheart, and she could already feel him withdrawing . . . just at a time when she thought he might have unbent a little and told her his identity.
Why should she care if Fireheart liked her or not?
“Fireheart,” Little Blossom gasped as she hurried toward the pair.
