Candace McCarthy

by Fireheart

  She felt a sudden nervous fluttering within her breast. Her visit with Wild Squirrel and her encounter with Fireheart had taken a toll on her. She’d lost all desire for confrontation that day. Joanna decided to return to her wigwam where she might have a few minutes alone.

  Her head began to throb. Right now she couldn’t deal with Mary or Fireheart. She attempted to banish Fireheart from her mind. And Mary? Well, she would just have to talk with her cousin later.

  She had another decision to make. There was the matter of when she’d return to England. Her servants were anxious to leave. Joanna, on the other hand, had a strange reluctance to go. But Neville Manor waited, and she couldn’t expect her good friend John Burton to manage the estate forever when he had his own concerns. His brother Michael might need him.

  She needed to go back to England, she thought, before John, in his caring concern, sent a search party after her.

  Neville Manor

  England

  “Miss Gordon is here to see you, sir,” the manservant announced.

  John Burton stood. “Thank you, Charles. Would you show her in?”

  Charles bowed, then left to do the man’s bidding. Within seconds, Gillian Gordon stood in the library doorway.

  “Hello, John. Have you heard from Joanna?”

  “Gillian,” he said softly, “come in.” His gaze narrowed when he saw Charles hovering behind her. “You may go, Charles. I shall not need you for anything more this afternoon. Just have Ellen bring us a pot of tea.”

  “Yes, sir,” Charles said, then left.

  “Won’t you sit down?” John invited, gesturing toward a leather chair.

  “Thank you,” she said sweetly as she carefully took a seat.

  There was an awkward moment of silence between John and Gillian until the maid Ellen brought in the tea, and set it on the tea table within reach of Gillian.

  John politely thanked Ellen, then told the servant that she and the household staff had the rest of the afternoon free.

  Surprised yet obviously pleased by the news, Ellen curtsied to the pair, then hurriedly left to enjoy her unexpected holiday.

  Without being asked, Gillian poured the tea while John went to quietly close and lock the library door.

  When he returned to Gillian, the young woman held out a cup of steaming fragrant tea. He accepted the cup and took a sip. “Delicious,” he murmured, meeting her gaze. “ ’Tis just how I like it.”

  She smiled and sipped from her own teacup. Both were quiet as they enjoyed their tea until John finished his cup and set it down on the tea table with a clatter.

  Gillian, startled by the sound, glanced up at him. John studied her with a look that made her heart thunder within her breast. The thunder became a raging roar in her ears as John removed her unfinished cup from her hands, and set it carefully next to his.

  “Gillian,” he rasped, reaching for her hand. She swallowed hard. She had waited with sweet anticipation for this moment, and now that it was here, she could scarcely contain her joy.

  “Come here,” he urged huskily. John jerked her from her chair and into his arms. He lowered his head. His mouth captured hers in a kiss of passion so hot that she moaned and sagged weakly against him.

  When he released her mouth, there was a glazed look in his blue eyes. Her lips curved as Gillian held his gaze. Her smile became a gasp of pleasure as he settled his hands on her breasts, cupping the soft responsive mounds through the fabric of her bodice. When he fumbled to free her from her gown, Gillian cried out with encouragement and helped him. Then they struggled to undo his shirt.

  Within minutes, they were on the floor, naked, their tea and pastries forgotten. Neither man nor woman gave any thought to Joanna, the woman who owned this room and this house. Amid harsh male grunts and soft feminine cries, the world around them faded as they sought to heighten and satisfy their sexual pleasures.

  With the mistress of the house and her servants gone, the couple made love in the library first, then moved to start again in every room.

  Chapter 6

  Lenni Lenape Village

  Pennsylvania Colony

  June 1727

  Joanna was startled awake by the sound of rhythmic, almost musical, thumping. She sat up and listened.

  “What’s that?” Cara’s shaky voice came out of the darkness next to her.

  “Lenape drums.”

  “War drums?” the frightened maid asked.

  Joanna frowned and rose from her sleeping pallet. “I don’t know.” It was possible, she thought. Why else would they be playing their drums in the dead of night?

  “Miss Neville?” Harry inquired from the other side of the curtain.

  “Yes, Harry, we’re awake.” She’d been sleeping in her muslin shift. She reached for a plain calico gown and slipped it over her head.

  “Miss?”

  “Stay inside, Cara,” Joanna told her. “I’ll go and see what is happening.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?” Harry offered.

  Joanna raised the door flap. “No, Harry, you stay here with Cara.” She could sense his relief in his agreement. “I’ll be back as soon as I learn something.”

  “Are we in danger?” she heard Cara ask Harry as she left the wigwam.

  “No, surely not, dearest” was Harry’s soft response.

  With the sound of Harry’s tender words for the maid in her ears, Joanna stepped into the night. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the gathering around a fire in the center yard. She headed in that direction.

  She spied her cousin’s husband first. Rising Bird stood on the fringe of the circle of men.

  He turned in time to see her approach. “Autumn Wind,” he greeted her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His expression was solemn. “Our brothers to the north have been attacked by the Cayuga.”

  Her stomach tightened. “Iroquois here?” The Iroquois were the enemy of the Lenape. They raided and tried to take over Lenape land. It had been a problem for years, and apparently it continued to be a problem.

  He nodded.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Fireheart is deciding that now.”

  “Fireheart?”

  “Our chief has asked him to take care of this matter.”

  Her gaze sought and found Fireheart. He looked serious, concerned, as he spoke with the Lenape men. He glanced her way, and she stiffened. Moving away from the group, she spied a gathering and headed toward the women.

  “Joanna!” Mary hurried to her side.

  “Are they going to war?” she asked, a ball of fear lodging high in her stomach.

  Mary sighed. “I don’t know. Something must be done if it’s true that the Cayuga have attacked Bear Paw’s village.”

  Joanna nodded. “Bear Paw’s village . . . Isn’t that the village where Red Dress, the matron who owns our lodge, is visiting?”

  “Kihiila, it’s the same one.”

  “Have you heard of any injuries?”

  “The Cayuga don’t usually leave any injured behind. Whomever they don’t kill, they kidnap and take as slaves.”

  “No,” Joanna whispered. She didn’t know any of Bear Paw’s villagers, but it was as if they were her own kind. How could she not feel for them when she had lived among the Lenape for nine years? In many ways, these Indians were more her people than the English were.

  “Is that what they’ve done?” she asked Mary.

  “I wish I knew. Word about the raid arrived only a short time ago. Fireheart is organizing a party of men to go to the village.”

  Joanna heard a tremor in her cousin’s voice and wondered if she feared that Rising Bird would be among them. “Do you think the Iroquois will still be there?”

  Mary sighed and hugged herself with her arms. “I wish I knew.”

  Moved by Mary’s worry, Joanna slipped her arm about her cousin’s shoulders. Mary smiled at her and, for the first time, all tension faded between them.

  The d
rums suddenly ceased, and the sound of Fireheart’s voice filled the ensuing silence. Joanna listened with rapt amazement as the brave spoke confidently and seriously, his deep voice shivering along her spine. It dawned on her how much of a burden of responsibility now rested on Fireheart’s shoulders. She didn’t envy him his position.

  Would he go with the war party? she wondered. Her heart tripped with fear at the thought. He was the acting chief. Surely, there was a war chief who would lead the men into possible battle.

  She studied him as he addressed the men, and felt a tingling in her midsection. He was so handsome, so strong. It was hard to believe that he had been such a shy boy.

  Or had he been that way only with her? Because he’d longed for her friendship? Her love? She thought of the necklace and was sorry.

  Now she was in the same position as young Yellow Deer, wanting another’s friendship and being rejected. Was he paying her back for the pain she’d caused him?

  “You must not go with hate in your hearts,” Fireheart was saying. “Hate clouds one’s judgment. Look first, decide what must be done, then do it!”

  Wise words from the chief, Joanna thought.

  No, she realized, whatever reason Fireheart had for his hostility toward her, it wasn’t to punish her for the past. He seemed too wise, too fair a man for that.

  Why then? she wondered as she continued to watch him. Had she misread her treatment of him? Had she been cold when she’d thought she was friendly?

  Why do I care what Fireheart thinks?

  Because she was attracted to him.

  He is expected to marry another.

  It didn’t matter, she thought. The heart ruled the head, and made one think and act illogically at times.

  It is true that I have not seen Fireheart with Moon Dove often.

  If they were in love, wouldn’t they spend time together?

  When he was done talking with the men, Fireheart came to the women. His expression softening, he spoke again.

  “When the sun rises in the morning sky, a group of our men—your husbands and fathers and sons—will go to Bear Paw’s village to see how our brothers have fared in the attack by our enemy, the Iroquois. This is a dangerous task I have set our men to do, but we must help our Lenape brothers. And we must protect our own village from the dark enemy who threatens our lives.”

  Woman with Eyes of Hawk stepped forward from among the matrons. “How many of our braves must go?”

  “I will send ten men from among us. The warriors who will go have volunteered to protect us.”

  The matron nodded. “This is a wise decision, Fireheart. You act as chief in Wild Squirrel’s name. Your mother’s brother will be proud of you.”

  Mary joined Woman with Eyes of Hawk. “Is there something we can do, Fireheart?”

  Fireheart regarded the women with warm affection. “Protect our children, and be here when our men return. They will bring back any of our people who need our help.”

  All of the Lenape women nodded their approval. The men soon rejoined their families, and returned to their wigwams for the remaining night’s sleep. Joanna lingered to speak with Mary.

  Sensing her young cousin’s need to speak with her, Mary talked briefly with her husband, then turned to take Joanna’s arm.

  “Let us walk for a while,” she said.

  Joanna was only too happy to comply. They walked toward the forest and onto the path toward the lake. She marveled at the way her cousin had read her thoughts. “Will Rising Bird go?”

  “He will go,” Mary told her. “He is a good warrior, and the men respect him. Fireheart will put him in charge.”

  “Are you scared for him?”

  Mary’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m terrified.”

  “How do you bear it?” Joanna felt sympathy for her cousin. She stopped walking to give her cousin a hug.

  Mary hugged her back hard. “I fear for him as much as I feared for you when I left you on the Nancy Kay.”

  Joanna stiffened, disturbed by the memory. “Then why did you let me go?” The air between them grew tense again.

  “How could I make you stay when your uncle obviously had so much more to give you?”

  “You were wrong! Roderick Neville was a hateful man who made me miserable!”

  Her cousin looked stunned. “Joanna ...”

  But Joanna, hurt again by the memories of her past, wanted to talk no longer. She left Mary gaping as she ran off into the darkness of the night.

  Rising Bird saw his wife as she returned to the village yard from the forest. There was a blank, almost stunned look about her. Immediately concerned, he hurried to meet her.

  “Mary Wife, what is wrong?” He placed his arm around her shoulders to lead her back to their lodge.

  She blinked back tears. “I have done a terrible thing.”

  Her husband looked skeptical. “What could you have done?”

  “I sent my Joanna away as a child, and now she has returned a bitter woman.” She reached up to brush away a tear that escaped. “Oh, Rising Bird! Roderick Neville was an awful man, and I sent her to him!”

  Rising Bird frowned. “Are you sure of this?”

  “Joanna has told me so herself. She suffers still, even after the man’s death!” Her tears fell harder and faster. “No wonder she never answered my letters.”

  “You must not blame yourself alone, wife. I helped you to make the decision.”

  Mary smiled through her tears as she cupped her husband’s jaw tenderly. “I was afraid to be selfish and keep her,” she said softly. “You did nothing but allow me to discuss my thoughts with you. You did not make the decision. I did.”

  “I will talk with her,” Rising Bird said.

  “You must sleep, my husband. You have a task ahead of you tomorrow. Tonight, we will think of you and your journey. I will speak with Joanna another time.” She slipped her arm about Rising Bird’s waist, and the two kissed before entering their wigwam.

  Fireheart couldn’t sleep. His first act as chief weighed heavily on him. The responsibility of sending men to meet the enemy was a great one. He hoped he’d made the right decision. It had seemed the only thing to do.

  Tomorrow, a party of Lenape braves would leave Little River and head north to the village of Bear Paw, their Lenape brother. Rising Bird, he knew, expected to lead the group, but Fireheart couldn’t send his men into battle without taking full responsibility for the deed. When the morning sun rose in the summer sky, Fireheart would be among the Lenape war party. He would fight alongside his brothers. He would fight and win, or die in the attempt.

  It was warm that evening, and Fireheart headed toward the lake for a late swim. He would get little sleep that night. He would enjoy the refreshing water.

  He followed the path over a rise then down to the water’s edge, then untied the strings that fastened his loincloth. Naked, he waded into the water, sighing at its coolness. He dove beneath the surface, and began to swim fast and furiously to try to rid himself of this strange tension.

  His arm cut cleanly through the water as he swam farther, into the deeper regions of the lake. He stopped to tread water, then lay on his back and floated. The night was clear, the sky filled to bursting with bright stars. He lay, studying the bright lights, then offering a silent prayer to the spirits of the stars and the sky for guidance. He prayed to all of the good spirits of the earth, asking for assistance in righting the wrong that had been done to his people.

  He closed his eyes and began to swim on his back . . . with a stroke of each arm and a kick from each leg. The air, the water, and the peace of the night began to ease away the tension, and Fireheart felt at peace.

  Joanna had fled to a sheltered spot in the forest where no one was about but the animals of the night and the song of summer insects. She sat on a fallen tree, and sobbed softly for the child she had been. Her uncle was dead, and she knew that she had no reason to cry now, but she clung to the past, unable to release it. The memory of her first day at
Neville Manor haunted her still. It came back again with stark clarity. She allowed the images to come, hoping to face them and put them to rest. She recalled the first time she’d come downstairs to share supper with her Uncle Roderick....

  She had worn her new gown on the day she had arrived in England. Mary had seen that she had the new garment so that she would make a good impression on her uncle Roderick. But she saw Uncle Roderick only briefly that afternoon when she’d arrived at the house. Oh, and what a big house it was! Dark inside, but huge. She wondered if she’d get lost coming from her bedchamber to the dining room where she was to meet her uncle for dinner.

  After bathing, Joanna slipped on her Lenape doeskin gown. She didn’t want to wear her calico gown as it was stale. She had not been able to bathe often onboard ship. Her bedchamber on the second floor was pretty. The draperies and bed covers were in shades of blue, and the furniture, like the kind downstairs, was dark and heavy.

  Clean from her bath and anxious to get to know her uncle, Joanna skipped lightly down the stairs and asked a maid the way to the dining room.

  The maid looked at her strangely, opening and shutting her mouth, but she gave Joanna directions before nervously scurrying away.

  The dining room, like the rest of the house, had walls of dark paneling and a long table with seats enough for ten, but with place settings for only two—one at the head of the table and the other at the opposite end. There was no sign of her uncle so Joanna studied both settings and chose the seat nearest to the door that she thought led to the kitchen.

  She sat carefully with her hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting patiently for Uncle Roderick to come so she could talk with him.

  A manservant entered the room, saw her, then shooed her from the chair. “ ’Tis your uncle’s seat you’ve taken, girl. Get up and away with ya. Roderick Neville likes things the way they is. Your seat is at the other end of the table.”

  She stood, and the man looked at her with disapproval. “Is that all ya have to don? Roderick isn’t going to like yer garment any,” he said. “Ah, but well, then, he can afford to buy ya some new ones what with his money and all.” He narrowed his gaze. “Ye’re a lucky girl, Miss Neville. You’d best remember that. It isn’t every day that a man as rich as yer uncle comes to the rescue of an orphaned girl.”