Candace McCarthy

by Fireheart

  Gillian glanced away, looking uneasy. “I’m glad, too.”

  “Where is Autumn Wind?” Fireheart asked.

  Little Blossom seemed surprised by the question. “She has gone, Fireheart. She and her English friends left after you went to kidnap the enemy chief.”

  “Gone?” His chest tightened with pain, making it difficult to breathe. “Gone to England?”

  “Kihiila,” the young matron said softly. “Perhaps you should speak with Mary Wife. She will know more about Autumn Wind.”

  Although she’d talked about going soon, he hadn’t really expected her to leave before his return, he realized. He had wanted to say good-bye. Now she was gone, and he would never see her again.

  Little Blossom was right. He must speak with Mary Wife. Fireheart started across the yard toward Mary’s wigwam.

  “Fireheart!”

  He halted as he saw Turtle That Hops crossing to meet him.

  “I must talk with you,” the brave began.

  “Autumn Wind is gone,” the sachem said as if he’d explained something, but he hadn’t.

  “Aye!” the brave exclaimed. “I do not trust that John Burton. I saw him with that woman—Gillian. They were joined in the forest like two dogs stuck together.”

  Fireheart stiffened. “John and Gillian have joined as a man would with his wife?”

  “Kihiila, this is so.”

  “Autumn Wind must have decided not to marry him.”

  Turtle That Hops shook his head. “She has not changed her mind. She does not know that John and her friend sneak off to lie with each other.” The brave grabbed his chief’s arm. “But I fear there is more. I think the white man is not an honorable man. I think he would steal and kill easily for what he wants.”

  Fireheart shrugged. What could the man possibly want from Joanna? he wondered. His blood chilled. Her uncle’s property.

  “How do you know this John would kill?”

  “Little Cloud,” the brave mentioned his son. “He saw the white man’s gun. It was a small gun, but Little Cloud saw this John kill a rabbit, then let it be.”

  “He didn’t take the fur, or bring back the meat?” Fireheart frowned. This showed a disregard for the spirit of the animal and the gifts of this earthly life.

  “He did not touch it. He killed it, and laughed before he put away his gun.”

  Fireheart began to fear for Joanna’s safety. What manner of a man was this English John, one who would lie with his wife-to-be’s friend? he wondered. One who would kill for no reason.

  “I must talk with Mary Wife,” Fireheart said. “I must know if this English John would take Autumn Wind away to harm her.” He looked at his friend who looked relieved. “Wa-neé-shih,” he said.

  Turtle That Hops acknowledged the sachem’s thanks, and left Fireheart who continued on to see Joanna’s cousin.

  Joanna began to have doubts during the second day of traveling. She wasn’t ready to go back to England, wasn’t ready to marry John. She wanted to talk with her cousin again, say all of the things she’d never taken the time to say. She wanted to know what Mary had written in all those letters.

  If she waited much longer, it would be too far for her to return. She could go back, spend a few more days, then seriously consider what to do with the rest of her life.

  Recalling her time with Fireheart, Joanna realized that Fireheart must care for her. He had made exquisite love to her. She was no expert on relationships, having lost her mother and father at a young age before being torn from her cousin Mary to live with the monster who was her uncle. But surely a man whose only motive had been lust wouldn’t have been such a tender thoughtful lover.

  She wanted to go back. She had to stop John and the others now before it was too late.

  “John!” she cried, hurrying past Gillian toward him and Thomas Brown, her heart pounding with excitement. “I need to speak with you and Mr. Brown immediately.”

  Chapter 18

  “You can’t go back!” John argued. “We’ve wasted too much time, and we are too far along. Returning to the village will only delay us further. If we don’t get to port soon, we’ll have to travel during the winter months.”

  “I have to go back, John,” Joanna said. She didn’t care whether they had to travel during the winter or not, or if she had to endure rough seas. “I may never get back to the village again. There are things I have to say to Mary and the others. Things I have to do.”

  She needed to see Fireheart again, she decided. Confess her feelings for him. She wanted to ask him if there was a chance they could be together if she stayed.

  “No,” John said. “Gillian and I are not going back, and neither are you.” John placed his arm around Gillian who looked exhausted. There were shadows under the young woman’s eyes. “Look at her, Joanna. This journey is hard for her.”

  Joanna had noticed a strange tension about her friend, and she had attributed it to the hardships of the journey. Studying her more carefully, she wondered if her friend was ill.

  If she were, Joanna thought, Gillian would benefit from a trip back to the village. They could stay for a few days until Gillian felt rested and well enough to travel. Perhaps the Lenape shaman, Raven Wing, would be able to help her.

  “I’m sorry, Joanna,” John said, his voice softer, apologetic. “You understand why we can’t go back, don’t you?”

  “But Raven Wing can help Gillian if she isn’t feeling well,” Joanna replied.

  “Joanna,” he said, losing patience. “We’ve been too long from Neville Manor as it is.”

  She stifled the guilt that came from knowing that she had neglected her responsibility to her uncle’s property, and to the people who had worked for him.

  Joanna firmed her lips, determined to return. She had left the village once before against her will. She would not do so again.

  “I’ll return alone if you’re so dead set against it. You can wait for me in Philadelphia. I promise I’ll only be a few days, and no longer. Gillian will be rested and ready for the next ship by the time I get there. If I don’t come when the ship is in port, don’t wait for me. Just go.” She had to add that in the event that Fireheart wanted her to stay.

  “Joanna, love,” John said. He released Gillian to reach for her. “Be reasonable. ’Tis too dangerous a journey for you to go back on your own. And how would you find your way?”

  She smiled. She knew a few things more about the woods than she had when she’d first come. Fireheart had taught her what to look for when one was lost and needed to backtrack a trail.

  She could do it, she thought with confidence. She had come to know the area well since her return to the New World. Time spent with Woman with Eyes of Hawk and Little Blossom had taught her even more techniques for finding her way through the forest. She would discover the signs for the path they’d taken to come this far. She would make it back to the village; she was sure of it! She was not in the least worried that she would be in danger or lose her way.

  And it wouldn’t matter if I were afraid, she thought. She wanted to go that badly.

  Confident and sure of her plans, Joanna gazed at John, and decided that even if she did return to England, she would not be marrying him. Marriage between her and John would never work, she realized. Not when her heart belonged to Fireheart.

  Joanna knew better than to tell John at this time. She would keep her decision a secret until the right occasion came along.

  “I’m going, John,” she said, gathering her satchel of belongings. “I have to go. Nothing you can say or do will convince me that I shouldn’t return. You can’t stop me.”

  “You’d best think again, Joanna.” John’s voice was cold.

  She halted, and heard Gillian’s gasp of shocked surprise as Joanna hefted her satchel into a more comfortable position, and turned to face him.

  Her blood chilled as she saw the pistol. He was aiming the barrel of his gun directly at her. “John, no—”

  “I don’t want it to b
e this way,” he said calmly. “But I can’t let you do this. ’Tis for your own good that I stop you. Someday you’ll thank me. I just can’t let you leave, and be killed.”

  “You’ll not kill me—”

  “Nay, but I will injure you enough to keep you from doing further harm to yourself. I’d rather carry you to port than see you travel back through these woods.”

  Joanna gaped at him. Was the man insane? She stared at his face, and the glitter in his blue eyes disturbed her. This wasn’t John Burton, her friend!

  She transferred her gaze to Gillian who stared at the gun in a stupor as if she, too, couldn’t believe he’d pulled his weapon on her friend.

  “You wouldn’t shoot me,” Joanna said with a gasp.

  John smiled grimly. “I would.” He threw a glance toward the fur trapper who stood off to the side, watching the whole scene. “Mr. Brown,” he said. “Don’t you agree that this territory is too dangerous for a lone woman to travel unprotected?”

  “Certain enough,” the gruff man said without apology.

  “John,” Gillian cried, having found her voice at last. “This is Joanna. Your friend and fiancée! Surely, you wouldn’t use that pistol on her?”

  “This isn’t any of your concern, Gillian,” John said darkly. He ignored the young woman’s stricken face. He softened his expression as he turned back to Joanna. “You understand, love, don’t you?” he said gently.

  Her heart skittering with fear, Joanna could only nod.

  “Then let’s stop for a bite to eat, shall we?” he said. He nodded toward Brown as he spread a blanket on the ground for the ladies.

  John captured Joanna’s arm firmly, and escorted her to the blanket to sit. “Here you go, dear.”

  Joanna sat, more certain than ever that she’d made the right decision not to marry John. Her eyes met Gillian who had taken a seat on the edge of the blanket. Her friend’s face was white, her hands trembling as she lifted fingers to tuck back a lock of escaped midnight-dark hair.

  When John handed her something to eat, Joanna wanted to tear it from his hands, and throw the hard tack into his face, but she accepted it with gracious thanks instead. The man was crazy, she decided, and she would find a way to escape him.

  But what about Gillian? She couldn’t escape quickly without leaving Gillian behind, yet how could she manage to flee successfully with her friend?

  Joanna ate the hard dry biscuit only because she needed the nourishment for strength. She would get away somehow. Somehow, she would find a way.

  After talking with Mary, Fireheart left the village in search of Joanna. He explained what he’d learned about John Burton, and Mary had been as concerned as he about her cousin’s safety. She had wanted to come. It had taken all of his persistence to keep her within the village. Finally, when Rising Bird had insisted on accompanying him, Mary had relented, knowing that, together with her husband’s help, Fireheart would find Joanna, and bring her back.

  “I didn’t want her to go,” Mary had said.

  Fireheart had nodded. “I drove her away.”

  “You?”

  “Kihiila. She is unhappy that I am to marry Moon Dove.”

  Mary didn’t seem surprised by the revelation. “She cares for you.”

  “I care for Autumn Wind,” he said, his dark eyes bright.

  “Bring her back to me,” Mary pleaded to her husband and the chief.

  “We will find her, and bring her back,” Fireheart vowed. “There are things I must say to her.”

  “Kihiila,” Mary had said. “I have many things to tell her, too.”

  Hours later, Fireheart halted to examine the dirt of the trail. “They left the path here,” he said, pointing in one direction.

  Rising Bird bent to check the same sign. “Let us go that way then.”

  His thoughts wild with images of Joanna, Fireheart left the trail, and continued into the woods as night fell, darkening the forest.

  “John,” Gillian whispered, “you weren’t really going to shoot Joanna, were you?”

  It was night. With Brown and Joanna asleep, the couple had left the campsite a short distance for a few moments alone together.

  John gently cupped the woman’s cheek. He smiled. “No.”

  She shuddered with relief. “Thank God.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You doubted me?”

  “I—” Her violet eyes filled with tears: “I’m sorry, but I’ve not been feeling well. A bit queasy mostly.”

  “Queasy?” he asked, his mind working quickly.

  “Nothing too terrible,” she assured him. “I’ll be all right.”

  A cold knot formed in his belly. Was she with child? he wondered. Could Gillian be carrying his babe?

  The thought gave him no pleasure. A swollen belly on his fiancée’s friend would only complicate matters between him and Joanna.

  Joanna. He had frightened her, but he thought she understood why. Since that unfortunate incident when he’d been forced to pull his gun, she had listened carefully, and obeyed him. She will make an excellent wife, he thought, pleased.

  But before him was a woman who aroused him to the point of pain. He wanted her as he’d never wanted Joanna. His cock had been hot and throbbing since night had fallen, and he’d imagined doing all sort of delicious things to her. With Joanna and Brown only yards away, they would have to be quiet. His excitement grew.

  “John, did you hear what I said?” Gillian whispered. “Why are we here?”

  He looked at her without hiding his lust for her.

  “No,” she whispered, appalled. “We can’t. We’re too close to them.”

  He grinned. She could see his face clearly in the glow cast by the campfire. Too close, Gillian thought. They were too close. Joanna and the fur trapper would hear them. The thought unnerved her even while she felt a tiny spark of arousal.

  John was pushing her to the ground. She drew a sharp intake of breath as he ran his hand beneath her skirts, slipping his fingers along her thigh.

  “John—”

  “Hush!” he ordered her before he plunged his fingers into her opening, making her stiffen and arch up. “Let me touch you, but don’t make a sound.”

  “I don’t know if I can be quiet,” she gasped as he began to expertly rub her. He tortured her pleasure point until she was writhing on the ground, trying hard to stifle the moan that formed on her lips.

  It slipped out—a soft groan of pleasure as he spread her legs, and used two hands to send her soaring, flying....

  The cry came to her mouth as she climaxed, but John quickly stifled it with his kiss so the sound that escaped was barely a whimper.

  She lay there, shuddering with ecstasy, gazing up at the man she adored. “I’m sorry,” she whispered apologetically.

  His gaze glistened as a small smile played upon his mouth. “Now it’s your turn to touch me,” he said, grabbing her hand and placing it on his erection.

  She was startled for she hadn’t realized that he’d freed himself from his breeches; she’d been so caught up in the spiraling whirl of sensation that he’d woven like a pleasure web around her.

  Happy now, trusting the man she loved, Gillian gripped her lover’s staff and stroked him.

  “More,” he ordered.

  She rose up, rolled him over, and bent her head between his legs.

  Something woke Joanna, a strange sound in the night. She lay for a time, listening, then became aware that Gillian wasn’t asleep beside her. Where was Gillian? Had she left the campsite to relieve herself in a place more private?

  She sat up, saw Thomas Brown lying on his sleeping pallet, and turned toward the glowing embers, all that was left of the fire. The man slept with his mouth open, a trickle of drool running from the corner of his lips into his beard, and onto the blanket.

  Her first thought was to escape as she turned toward the spot where John’s sleeping pallet had been spread out the previous evening. The pallet was empty. John and Gillian were gone. Perhaps Gillia
n had awoken and needed John to escort her some distance from camp.

  She pictured John as a gentleman with his back toward Gillian while Gillian lifted her skirts and relieved herself in as ladylike a manner as possible.

  Joanna stood, and decided that she needed to relieve herself, too. Then she heard a sound like a harsh groan, and then a light whimper. She froze. An animal? Then the noise came again, and she recognized it as human.

  Curious, concerned that Gillian might be ill with John comforting her, Joanna moved in the direction of the sound . . . and that’s when she saw them. Gillian and John lay on the ground, rutting like two animals.

  Joanna stared in shock at Gillian with her skirts raised, her legs spread-eagle while John with his arse bare, his breeches down about his ankles, humped and ground his hips against Gillian’s. The two of them were clearly in the throes of building ecstasy, oblivious to the woman who stood nearby.

  Joanna struggled with the hurt of being betrayed not only by John, but by her friend Gillian as well. If, at first, she had thought for one moment that Gillian was being ravished against her will, the notion was quickly gone as she saw the way her friend clutched John and moaned his name. She was not pushing him away.

  She thought of her own love for Fireheart, how she had fought to keep from surrendering to her passion for him because he was promised to another. Yet Gillian, her best friend, had not bothered to consider her feelings. Gillian had wanted John, and had surrendered to her lust for him. It hadn’t mattered that Joanna had agreed to marry him. Gillian hadn’t bothered to fight her feelings for Joanna’s fiance.

  Joanna stood frozen for a heartbeat longer, and then she realized that this could be her only chance for escape.

  Gillian be damned, she thought with anger. Gillian could stay with John. They deserved each other.

  Joanna turned from the mating pair, and quietly made her escape.

  Chapter 19

  “What was that?” Gillian gasped as John rolled off her, satiated, spent.