“She is not your niece,” Winn said.
Thomas cocked his hands on his hips and spit on the ground at her feet with a nod. Maggie noticed his gun shift slightly forward on his shoulder in a way it would be easier to grasp.
“Of course she is. This girl is my kin, I think I would know my own dead brother’s sweet child! I heard word she was lost in the river on the way to Jamestown. My thanks for returning her to me safely,” the man said, pausing before he added, with a side glance at Benjamin, “my friend.”
“No, I’m not your niece,” Maggie stammered, completely confused as to what was going on. Nemattanew stepped forward and placed a hand on the Englishman’s shoulder.
“You will take the woman away?” Nemattanew interrupted, suddenly interested in the discussion.
“Well, yes, I paid a great deal of money to bring her here, and I can’t rightly leave her with you sav—with your people. You don’t expect me to buy her back, do you?” Thomas snorted, the thought evidently causing him much distress.
“Then take her.” Nemattanew made the offering, his eyes fixed on Winn.
Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for Winn’s response.
“You forget she is not yours to give, Nemattanew,” Winn said.
“Then I will ride to speak with Opechancanough, I am sure he will wish to return the woman to her kin,” Nemattanew replied. “Our Weroance wishes nothing but peace between our people, Thomas Martin.”
Veins stood out like cords on Winn’s arms, and Maggie saw the way his eyes narrowed as he stared at Nemattanew. His hand flexed open then closed into a fist at his side.
“Then ride, Nemattanew,” Winn answered. “But until then, she stays here.”
She felt Teyas squeeze her hand, and saw the look she exchanged with Winn. She did not protest when Teyas nodded to the men and then proceeded to drag her back to the yehakin.
Once they were safely inside, Teyas began to pace back and forth, stopping every so often to peer out through the hide-covered doorway. When Maggie tried to ask a question, Teyas raised a hand in dismissal and urged her silence. Suddenly, Teyas stopped pacing and joined Maggie where she stood at the back of the room.
Winn parted the bear hide and ducked into the room. He gave Teyas a short command in his own language and his sister quickly left the yehakin. Alone with Winn and his flaring temper, Maggie braced herself and let him approach.
“That man is Thomas Martin. He claims you as his kin. He wants you returned to him.”
She felt faint as his words struck her.
“But you know I’m not his niece.”
“I know.”
“But Winn—”
“Listen!” he hissed, “There is no time to argue! Nemattanew has left the village to seek permission from my uncle to give you to the English. If he returns with orders from the Weroance, the Council will support him, and they will release you from me.”
“Release me?”
“You became my prisoner when I found you,” he said quietly, his eyes dipping down away from her stare. “It is my right to keep you or cast you off. Only the Great Weroance can compel me to release you.”
“Your prisoner?” Her back stiffened. “Is that what I am to you?” she replied, the words slipping from her tongue laced with anger and betrayal. It shattered her to know he would rid himself so easily of her after what they had shared.
“You know you are more to me than that,” he growled.
“Am I?” she whispered, afraid to hear his answer even as she demanded it. She saw his fists clench at his sides.
“You are. Have I not showed you what you are to me?”
She remained silent. What could she say to him? As much as she wanted to hear him declare his love for her, there were much more pressing matters to deal with.
“Would your uncle send me away, against your wishes?” she asked, dipping her head down to avoid his stare.
“When Nemattanew tells him the English claim you, he will order me to give you to them. My uncle seeks to keep friendship with the English above all else, he will not risk angering them. If the English wanted Teyas, or Chetan, or even Ahi Kekeleksu, he would give them away. It only matters to him to keep peace right now.”
She glanced up at him, seeing his skin flushed red from his neck to his ears, his jaw clamped and his veins standing out like bowstrings.
“I thought your uncle hated them.”
“He does. I do. But for now we give them friendship. It is part of his plan. I cannot tell you more than that.” He shook as he glared at her, every muscle across his chest rigid as his hands tightened, his knuckles white from the pressure. He raised his arms as if to draw her close, then thought better of it and thrust them back to his sides, turning his back to her. “I have no choice but to obey my uncle, or bring his anger on my village.”
She made the rash decision and crossed the space between them, desperate to draw something other than anger from him. Placing her hands against his back, she slowly slipped them around his waist and rested her cheek against his shoulder. His taut muscles relaxed at her touch, and she felt him take her fist and hold it tight to his chest.
“I know what happens to the English, Winn,” she whispered. “I know he plans to attack them, and that he will succeed. Will you be a part of that? Will you just send me to them, and slaughter me with the rest of the English when the time comes?”
He turned rapidly around at her words, his hands closing around her face to capture her gaze. Blazing blue eyes narrowed and brows squared as she met his stare.
“How do you know this?” he asked, his voice strained and hushed, as if he were afraid of ears that listened.
“In my time children learn history. I was taught about the Indian Massacre in school, Winn.”
“Indian Massacre? Is that what your people call it?” he hissed.
“It was – it will be a massacre!” she shot back, unafraid of his rising fury. “You’re going to kill hundreds of people, women and children! God, how can I love you when you would do such a thing?”
“Love? You would not love a man who protects his people? You would not love a warrior who protects you?” he shouted. She tried to move away, but his hands kept firm around her face as his slanted blue eyes bore into hers, his features clenched and his veins standing out like rawhide against his arms. She choked back tears, unsure of why such words spilled from her mouth but unable to stop them.
“If your idea of loving me is sending me to the English, then no. At least give me the Bloodstone and send me home before you massacre them all!”
“No!” he roared. His lips silenced her next protest. It was no seductive kiss like his prior attentions, nor a gentle invitation. It closed her down, consumed her denial, and then he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, the sound of their shallow panting filling the void their passion had left. She lifted her lips to him again, but after dropping a series of kisses along her eyes and cheeks and chin, he grasped her face once more and forced her to listen.
“You belong to me. I will not let you go,” he whispered. “You will stay here while I go to speak to my uncle. I will not let Nemattanew be the only voice my uncle hears.”
“Don’t leave.”
“Stay here until I return.” His tone was hoarse but firm, issuing yet another demand. She shook her head furiously at his words, refusing to submit. He pressed his lips to her hair, murmuring words that danced to her ears like the melody of a song.
“I will always come for you, ntehem. Do you not know that by now?” His voice thick, he drew her close, pressing his face to her neck. She felt the smoldering anger flicker out as he held her in his arms. “As long as I breathe, I will hold you here,” he said, taking her hand to press it against his heart. “I lie to my men, I disobey my Weroance, and curse you, woman, I will do it again!”
She buried her head against his chest in that shallow valley beneath his throat, where his bronzed skin felt softer than the lines of his muscled chest. He murmure
d words of love in soft Paspahegh, and although she did not know the meaning of them she loved the intent, and she nestled tighter against him.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she said softly, fearing his answer but driven to say it nonetheless. He cupped her face in his hand and ran his thumb over her pink bottom lip, parted it with the pressure, and then gently kissed it.
“You are worth everything to me,” he murmured. “I have nothing to give you, no fine clothes such as you once wore, no land to call my own but where we might rest our heads at night. Can you love a man such as this?”
She placed her hand over his heart, and he covered it with his own.
“I love this man beside me, and that is all that matters,” she whispered.
He turned his head to her palm and kissed her cupped hand, pulling her close to fit against his broad chest. There would be no other for her, she realized. The warmth coursing through her body from his embrace chased away even her deepest fears, smothering any lingering doubt between them.
“For my people, when words of love are spoken between a man and woman, they are married in the eyes of the village,” he said softly. “You are my wife, in here, in my heart…if you will have me.”
She nodded, choking back a sob as her tears flowed.
“Say the words to me, and I will have you.”
He brought her hands to his lips and gently kissed them, his eyes never wavering from hers.
“Now you will feel no rain, for I will shelter you.
Now you will feel no cold, for I will warm you.
Now you will never be lonely, for we will be together.
There is only one life before us.
Now we walk as one.”
His lips tasted of sweet brandy when he kissed her, the kiss of a man she now called husband.
They both heard Makedewa call for Winn at the same time and saw his shadow across the doorway.
“Nexasi, ntehem. Lapich knewel,” he said softly.
“Tell me what that means,” she whispered. His lips formed a smile that failed to reach his eyes as he answered her request.
“Be safe, my heart. I will see you again.”
CHAPTER 22
Winn sat perched on his pony, ready to follow the English back to their town. He glared at the man who claimed to be her uncle, and wondered what game he played as he snapped the reins and sent the horse forward. Winn knew little of the man called Thomas Martin, and he was certain Benjamin had no idea the man was lying about Maggie being his niece. Perhaps the man truly believed Maggie was his lost niece, but Winn suspected there was something afoul in the Englishman’s claim and Benjamin was caught in the middle of it. Benjamin had proven his friendship to the Paspahegh and visited Winn often, so he felt some trust for him, but he had none of that confidence for the rest of the English.
Damn that interfering Nemattanew, that sneaky spy his uncle trusted so much. Forced to make a decision in front of his people and the English, none of the choices were acceptable to him. Give her to the English who claim her as kin, or refuse to relinquish his right to her as his captive. Either choice would lead to a similar outcome: Nemattanew would inform Opechancanough of the Time Walker in their midst, and his uncle would send her away or demand her blood.
Honor his uncle, and slay the Red Woman. Use the Bloodstone to return her to her own time. Release her to the English. He would choose none of those options.
Finally, when his head cleared, he made his decision. It was a decision that would gain him no support from the English or his kin, but the only one he could bear to live with, the one that kept her safe in his arms and protected from the rising storm he knew would come.
He would see the English safely back to town and then ride to speak to his uncle. If his uncle refused his request to keep her, he would return to the village and take Maggie far away. He had no plan beyond that, not yet willing to face the consequence of betraying his Weroance, but knowing his path was set nonetheless. It was the only way. Winn hoped his uncle would forget about the woman, and leave off with the notion she needed to die like the rest of the Time Walkers. Surely it was not a woman Time Walker that would someday take his life. The prophecy could be wrong. After all, his uncle had once spared the Pale Witch.
“My thanks to you for your escort, Winn,” Benjamin offered as he rode up beside him. His larger, leaner mount fell in step with the sturdy war pony Winn rode. Winn nodded in response without turning his head to the other man, his gaze still focused on Thomas Martin’s straight back.
“She is not the niece of Thomas Martin, my friend.”
Benjamin frowned.
“Of course she is. Who else would she be? Surely Martin knows his own kin.”
“I know not his purpose, but I know the truth. You have my word on this,” Winn replied, trying to use an assurance that Benjamin would identify with.
“You know I trust ye above all others, Winn, but on this I think ye are mistaken. The man recognized his niece, and it all makes sense. Who else would she be? It is not as if she dropped from the sky!”
Winn snorted. “No. Of course not,” he grumbled. Not the sky, but that assertion was not too far off.
“Surely ye do not object to returning her to us? You know what that would mean.”
He ground his teeth in the back of his jaw at the implied consequence and nodded to the man. He could not antagonize the English at this point or risk his uncle’s wrath, and until Maggie was safely hidden away, he was bound to pacify them. Of all the whites to challenge him, how could his friend Benjamin be the one? They had played together as children and he hoped to save him somehow from what was to come, but if his friend posed an obstacle to Maggie, he would kill him without hesitation.
“I wish no war with your people, friend. But I will not release her,” he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “She must stay until Opechancanough gives his decision.” He omitted the fact that no matter what decision his uncle rendered, he planned to take Maggie far away. Even if by some miracle the Weroance refused to return her to the English, Winn knew it was impossible his uncle would not demand her sacrifice. The old man believed too strongly in his visions to consider any alternative when it came to a Time Walker.
“Well then,” Benjamin said quickly. “Jack-of-a-Feather is a swift rider, I’m sure he will return soon with permission to return her to us. Will ye give her up then?”
“No.”
“You’re acting a fool. Ye cannot keep a good Englishwoman as a slave! I thought ye were better than that!” Benjamin snapped. “She will be returned to us, now or on order of your uncle.”
“She is no slave,” Winn growled, his ire beginning to rise. Benjamin pushed him too far. “I found her, it is my right to keep her.”
“If you found her as ye say, then why are ye so sure she is not Martin’s niece? The woman fell overboard during a storm on the way to Jamestown, who can say for sure who she is? She must have lost her wits when she fell from the ship, and she admits she cannot recall anything before ye saved her.” Benjamin cast him a pained glare. “I feel that there is more to this than ye have revealed to me. If ye went raiding and stole the girl, I will not judge ye. I just did not think ye did such things. Tell me the truth, and I can assure Martin she is not his niece.”
“I did not steal her.”
“So she must be the woman from the ship. The Virginia Company sent them here to find husbands among our men.”
“A stupid English plan,” Winn muttered, ignored by Benjamin as he rattled on.
“Why will ye not tell me the truth? I thought more of our friendship than that.”
Winn noticed the way Benjamin squinted as he waited for the answer, and his hands clenched at the implication of his words. He could say he was angry Benjamin questioned his honor, but he knew the English thought his people little more than animals.
“She is here under my protection.”
Benjamin let out a sigh.
“I have no doubt ye protected he
r,” Benjamin muttered. “I’ve never seen ye so taken by a woman.”
Winn quickly turned his head to the other man.
“Yes. I know what you see. Is that what English men do, spy on each other like snakes?” he asked, his words slow to form as he suppressed the sickness rising in his gut.
“I am sorry. I should not have followed ye. But I thought I knew ye better than that. Better than a lout who would take advantage of a helpless woman! What were ye thinking? Ye know ye’ve ruined her, no decent Englishman will take her to wife after ye tire of her.” Benjamin said.
Winn ducked his head and his lips formed a scowl in response as he glared at the Englishman. Unwilling to pacify Benjamin any further, he decided his journey with his old friend was over.
“You know nothing of me, Englishman,” he growled. “We gave you food and supplies. Take your beggars and go back to your village. Think what you will. As for the woman, I keep her. Try to take her, and I will kill you the same as any other.” Winn swung his horse around in a circle, and let out a fierce howl that pierced the silent night sky. He glared at the man he once called brother.
No Englishman will ever take her from me, he vowed, and with that thought, he knew he would risk everything to keep her. He pictured his knife slicing through the belly of his friend Benjamin and then the acrid stench of his innards as they slid through his hands. A painful wave of anger surged through his chest and squeezed the air from his lungs.
Benjamin had been his friend since they were too young to notice the difference in their skins, loyal and true in brotherhood nearly as much as his own blood brothers. Of all men to stand between him and Maggie, would it be Benjamin? He was the only white man he wished to save from what was to come. Until now.
He was glad Maggie was safe back in the village, away from the English, waiting for him to return to her.
His heart thudded a steady beat, and he could feel the sweat break across his skin and moisten his clenched palms against the leather reins. Numbness settled through him like the unwavering truth, a truth that would change his life forever, and that of all those that loved him. He would bide his time and steal his woman away. The course he chose would settle his own fate and he would not be able to turn back, but he realized his path had been sealed the moment he looked into her shining jade eyes and fought the brown bear.
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