Candace McCarthy

by Fireheart

  “We are not destined to be mates.”

  His eyes gleamed brighter in the moonlight. “I can make it so,” he said, reaching for her. He bent his head to kiss her, and she gasped, struggling until his warmth, his magic, wrapped around her, making her whimper and cling to his shoulders.

  “Black Fox,” she gasped when he lifted his head.

  “I want you to be my wife. I want to share your sleeping mat. I wish to kiss these lips often. And touch you . . .” He cupped her bare breast. “Touch and taste this woman’s fruit until you cry out with pleasure, and want to feel me deep inside you.”

  His words made Moon Dove tremble. Her nipple hardened beneath Black Fox’s palm, her breast swelled to throbbing life. “You must go,” she said weakly, not meaning it.

  “I must stay,” he said. He bent his head, and captured her nipple with his mouth.

  “Black Fox!” She gasped, then moaned as she clung to him, weaving her fingers into his hair, holding him against her tighter.

  When he lifted his head, he wore a smile of satisfaction at the passion he saw in her dark eyes. He cupped her face, and kissed her sweet mouth with longing.

  Black Fox straightened and stared at her. “Tell him, Moon Dove. Tell him, or I will go to him and tell.”

  “No!” she cried. “You would shame me in this way?”

  He scowled. “How is it that I shame you? I want only to take you as my bride. In what manner does that cause you shame?”

  “I have been selected to be our sachem’s bride.”

  “You have been selected for Fireheart,” Black Fox said coldly. “Do you think that Fireheart will make you forget this man’s lips? His touch? Will you be a full woman on his sleeping mat? Or will you wed him and wish it were not so?” His voice thickened with passion. “With me, you will find happiness because this man loves you. He loves and desires you above all else, and he will kill any man who questions this truth. I am bound to you by something that is above this life. Berry Tree and the matrons might wish you to wed Fireheart, but it is the spirits who have bound our hearts and our bodies. Why do you fight this when you know it is so?”

  “Oh, Black Fox,” she whispered as he opened his arms to her. She dared at this moment to surrender to her feelings for him for she loved him as she would never love Fireheart.

  “Marry me, Moon Dove,” Black Fox said as he bent to nibble on her mouth.

  She drew a sharp breath as he caressed her. “I cannot.”

  “Kitehi, feel this man’s body,” He placed her fingers on his breast. “Feel the way this heart beats for you and only you.” He slid her fingers up along his throat, over his chin to his lips where he tasted her thumb then her forefinger.

  Moon Dove’s world spun. “Black Fox . . .”

  He had come to the lake to immerse his body in the cool water. Last night had been long, and the day following had been longer.

  Fireheart left the path from the village to visit the clearing where he and Joanna had made love. He had only his memories of her now. She was still in the village, but she was gone from him. And he had gone to the clearing to remember before taking his swim.

  He found the clearing as they’d left it. The only change was that the wildflowers that had been growing here had died away. The glow of the moon was bright, casting its white light onto the bed of pine needles through the trees.

  After a time, Fireheart headed toward the place where the villagers swam, bathed, and washed their dishes.

  A sound drew his attention as he found the path again. He paused, drew his knife, then sighed with relief when he saw the shadows of two figures.

  Like himself, they must have left the festivities to be alone, but while he had only his thoughts for company, the man and woman had each other.

  Suddenly, he thought of Joanna, and he became alert and tense as he moved forward. He couldn’t have her; would she turn to another? Would another man give her the love, the comfort she needed?

  The couple moved into the moonlight, and Fireheart sighed with relief when he saw that the woman had the dark hair of a Lenape maiden. The man bent and kissed the woman deeply.

  Fireheart felt relief that the woman wasn’t Joanna until she turned, and he saw Moon Dove silhouetted in the light.

  Chapter 27

  He walked with his hands tied and his ankles bound just enough for him to take small steps. The Indian with him struck him with his club when John didn’t go quickly enough.

  To John’s shock and dismay, the Lenape had set their Iroquois prisoner free and given him John as his captive. John was furious, and not just a little scared. There had been some discussion of honor and of giving the Iroquois a replacement for the dead. John didn’t understand except that he had been given to the Iroquois people as a prisoner, in the hands of their chief, Flaming Sky.

  John shuddered. Did a fate await him that was worse than his time with the Lenni Lenape? The only thing that John cared about was that soon he could be free. Only one Iroquois chief would take him to the Cayuga village, one chief while before many Lenape braves had guarded him. Surely, he could escape from only one warrior!

  He didn’t know the Iroquois language. When the warrior babbled in his strange native tongue, John nodded but didn’t understand a single word. He was tired and hungry, and he tried to tell the Indian as they walked.

  Flaming Sky glared at him. “Haht-deh-gah-yeh-ee.”

  John wasn’t sure, but took that to mean he was to keep going. He tried to explain what he wanted again. The Lenape had at least fed him and allowed him to rest. Would the Iroquois keep him plodding along forever?

  He needed the food and sleep to keep up his strength. He needed it soon before he was too far from the Lenape village to find his way back . . . before they reached the Iroquois village and he became trapped.

  “Food,” he said, trying to show the Indian what he wanted while continuing to move. “Eat!”

  The chief scowled. “Te-ah!”

  John halted, refusing to move. “Food,” he insisted. The Indian stopped, and John breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, he had some control over the Indian. He hid a smile. This might work to his advantage.

  The warrior pulled his knife and ran the sharp edge down John’s cheek, cutting him, making him bleed. John cried out, then became frightened.

  “Ey-on-di-ko-ni!” Flaming Sky exclaimed. “Te-ah!”

  Unable to clutch his throbbing cheek, John continued to walk the trail, cursing beneath his breath at the Indian. The heathen had cut him! He made a silent vow to kill the Iroquois before he escaped. Savage bastard!

  During the third day of the Gawing, Fireheart called Moon Dove into his wigwam.

  “You wish to see me?” she asked as she followed him inside.

  “Kihiila,” he said, gesturing for her to sit. “I must talk with you.”

  Moon Dove lowered herself to the rush mat.

  “The matrons have decreed that we should marry,” he began, watching her face closely. “But they are wrong. We will not marry.”

  Alarm flickered across her features. “Have I displeased you?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

  “You love another.”

  She gasped, turning pale. “I have not shamed you!”

  Fireheart’s expression softened. “Did I say I would punish you? Hurt you? Maata, I wish only for you to be happy. We talked of this before. Remember? You assured me that you wish for us to wed, but if this were so, you would not kiss another, or enjoy the moonlight with him.”

  Terror flashed in her dark eyes. “You saw us?” He inclined his head. “I am sorry,” she whispered, hanging her head.

  He reached to cup her jaw, urging her to meet his gaze. “Moon Dove. I am not angry with you for, truth be told, I do not love you. I love another.”

  A tiny ray of hope shone in her dark eyes. “You are not angry?”

  Smiling, he shook his head. “I am disappointed that you would not be honest with me. But I understand, too.” The smile lef
t his face as he thought of Joanna. He was relieved that he would not have to marry Moon Dove, but sad that Autumn Wind was not his to wed.

  “I wished only to be a good wife to the sachem.” Fireheart frowned. “I am Fireheart first before I am sachem.”

  She flushed, looking embarrassed. “I know this. And this was what Black Fox said. He wanted me to tell you.”

  “Black Fox said this?” he asked, and she nodded. “I wish to see him.”

  He felt her fear. “You will not punish him?”

  Fireheart sighed. “I would not punish a good warrior for loving you. It is what you deserve. Why do you not take his gift with both hands?”

  “I didn’t think I could,” she admitted.

  His smile was grim with understanding. “I will talk with Berry Tree. She will not object to your choice. Black Fox is a good warrior. A powerful war chief. Any mother would be glad if her daughter took one such as he for a husband.”

  “But if the matrons don’t approve—”

  “They will approve,” Fireheart said. He tapped her on the nose and grinned. “This man is still sachem.”

  “But they will want you to marry.”

  “I will handle finding my own bride. I will speak to Woman with Eyes of Hawk and Mary Wife. They will understand and convince the others.”

  “Wa-neé-shih,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling with happy tears. “You are truly a great chief.”

  “Do not tell Black Fox of our meeting. I would frighten the great warrior some before I tell him the good news.”

  Her eyes widened, and she looked uncertain.

  “I would not hurt him, Moon Dove, but I wish him to know that it is not wise to defy the chief.” His smile must have convinced her because she returned it. Fireheart followed her outside, then kissed her lightly. “Now go, and tell your brother White Cat to find Black Fox and send the brave warrior to me.”

  Mortimer Grace arrived with a married couple who wanted to get to the white settlement at Fort Dobbs. Joanna was outside, watching a group of children at play when she spied the newcomers. Recognizing the tracker, she hurried to greet him.

  “Mr. Grace!” She smiled. “Thank you for returning. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  The young man returned her grin with a smile of apology. “I’m sorry I took so long. I had only gotten word of your need a few weeks ago.” He glanced at his friends. “I came as soon as I could.” Noting the couple’s curious gazes, he introduced Joanna to them.

  Joanna smiled at each of them as she greeted them. Then she explained about the occasion as they entered the village yard, and invited them to join the feast. The woman, Abigail Weatherby, looked scared while her husband, Richard, looked merely nervous. They eyed Joanna’s doeskin garment strangely, apparently surprised to see a white woman dressed like the savages.

  “The Lenape are a peaceful people,” she assured them. “You don’t have to be worried or frightened here.”

  Her words had the desired effect, she saw, for both the man and the woman looked more relaxed.

  Joanna introduced Abigail and Richard to her cousin, Mary, and they seemed happy to see another white woman within the village, a woman who obviously belonged, for with her was her Indian husband, Rising Bird.

  With the couple safely in Mary’s hands, Joanna drew Mortimer aside to speak briefly with him. “You can stay for a while, can’t you?” She had promised Little Blossom she would stay until the Gawing was done, but twelve days seem a long time to her now.

  “Are you in a hurry to go?” he asked. “The Weatherbys are exhausted. They wouldn’t mind spending a night or two, I suspect. Is there a place for them to stay?”

  Joanna nodded: “If they don’t mind sharing. There is always plenty of room for guests in Little River.”

  She left Mortimer with Turtle That Hops, the two of them having been acquainted before, and went in search of Little Blossom. She was going to have to explain why she felt the need to leave early. There were other people to be considered now. Little Blossom would just have to understand.

  When she couldn’t find her friend, Joanna left the public square to search for her, heading first to the long wigwam of the Turtle clan, Little Blossom’s family. Crossing the yard to another cluster of wigwams, Joanna hesitated when the door flap on the sachem’s hut lifted, and Moon Dove and Fireheart left the birch bark structure together. She watched with an ache as the couple spoke briefly, quietly, then with a sharp shaft of pain as Fireheart kissed the Indian maiden, touching her hand briefly before she left.

  Her stomach churned as Joanna turned away from the sight. Her mind screamed with pain, and she fought to escape it. How could Little Blossom expect her to stay when to see such a sight would be too painful for her? She couldn’t remain, couldn’t be forced to watch again the man she loved kissing another woman.

  I want to leave now, she thought. She would talk with Mortimer Grace, and if the Weatherbys were willing, they would leave tonight, or first thing in the morning.

  As luck or fate would have it, the Weatherbys, despite the Lenape people’s warm hospitality, were still uncomfortable in the Indian village. They had been ready to leave almost as soon as they’d stepped into the compound.

  Joanna hated farewells, but she couldn’t leave without talking with Mary, saying good-bye. It wouldn’t be fair. And Little Blossom would be upset with her if she didn’t explain her change of plans.

  She said a brief farewell to all who mattered to her, all but Fireheart for she had already said good-bye to him days ago. She wouldn’t suffer the moment again. It was bad enough she had to leave with the lingering image of him with Moon Dove.

  That night, while the villagers were gathered in the Big House, Joanna left with Mortimer Grace and the Weatherbys. Their first stop would be the white settlement at Fort Dobbs where the Weatherbys were expected by Mrs. Weatherby’s father.

  Once again, as the drum music was swallowed up by the distance and the night, Joanna left with tears in her eyes and the knowledge that she would never be back again

  John stood over the dead body of the Iroquois chief and gloated. He had slashed the man’s throat, using the savage’s own knife. It had been easy. He had followed the fool obediently until the chief had lowered his guard and untied him. Even then, John had continued to be the model prisoner.

  Then, after night came and the savage slept, John had been able to steal the chief’s knife. It had almost been too easy. He had slipped the blade from the sheath that the Indian had set on the ground beside him. Then, with one swipe of the sharp edge, he’d slid it across the man’s neck.

  “Stupid savage,” John said with a grin.

  The sight of the blood pooling on the ground made him feel competent, important . . . powerful. He had outmaneuvered all of his Indian captors. He was a free man again.

  John grabbed the war club, the Cayuga’s other weapon, and tucked the knife behind the waist strip of his breeches.

  Joanna,. His smile turned grim. It was time to kidnap her and teach her a lesson she would never forget.

  Chapter 28

  Fireheart received word on the fourth morning of the Gawing that John Burton had escaped. The Iroquois, Flaming Sky, was found dead.

  He felt cold seep into his bones as he thought of Joanna. Burton would be back, he realized. Fortunately, Joanna was here within the village where he could protect her.

  He nodded a greeting at Woman with Eyes of Hawk as he passed her on his way to the Big House. Later this day, he would find Joanna, talk with her, and let her know that he was not going to marry Moon Dove. He would then tell her that he would wait many moons for her return.

  His heart lightened as he entered the ceremonial house, and joined the shaman in the center between the fire-pits. As he stood readying to address the group, he searched for Joanna, but couldn’t find her.

  He would find her later, he thought. And he would kiss her breathless so that she would know that he loved her. And he would make her admit that she love
d him.

  The trail was mostly clear, and the journey this day was an easy one. Joanna lifted her skirts to avoid a twig and kept moving. The air was. cooler than the previous morning’s. A bird’s song sweetened the soft breeze, making her smile as she looked up to see the warbler high in a treetop. Mortimer was ahead, and the Weatherbys were behind her. Joanna paused to wait as Richard Weatherby helped his wife to hurry forward.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized as he and Abigail joined her.

  “ ’Tis no problem,” Joanna assured him. “ ’Tis a lovely day, and we’ll not be reaching the settlement until tomorrow. Why not take time and enjoy the lovely scenery until we arrive?”

  Abigail looked at her as if Joanna had sprouted two horns. “You call this ‘lovely?’ ” she snapped.

  “Now, darling,” her husband scolded.

  “I’m sorry,” Abigail apologized. “I’m not feeling well.” She leaned close to Joanna to exchange womanly secrets. “I’ve come upon my courses.”

  Joanna patted her arm consolingly. “I understand. Perhaps we should rest a while.”

  Abigail looked grateful, but Richard would hear none of it. “If we stop to rest every hour, we’ll never get to Fort Dobbs.”

  At his brusqueness, his wife appeared crestfallen.

  “Mr. Weatherby—”

  “Richard,” he invited with approval from his wife.

  “Richard, Mrs. Weatherby—Abigail,” she corrected when she saw the woman’s face, “is feeling poorly. Surely we’ll be able to make better time if we allow her to rest through this difficult time. If you don’t allow this, ’tis likely she’ll be feeling worse tomorrow. Then we won’t reach the settlement until the day after tomorrow.”

  Mortimer Grace had stopped ahead once he’d noticed the others had not kept up. He returned now to see what the problem was.

  “We were just discussing the need to stop and rest,” Joanna explained. “Abigail isn’t feeling well, and I told Richard that we need to take care of his wife, or she’ll be feeling too poorly to travel.”