Black Eagle (11 page)

He sighed, while his gaze followed her progress away from him. He could almost hear the blue silk of her dress rustle as her steps carried her closer and closer to the ballroom. Tendrils of her auburn hair swept over her shoulders, while pearls and decorative ribbons of blue fell down her back. A gentle breeze blew those ribbons backward, their movement seeming to accentuate her motion away from him.

He turned his glance elsewhere, forcing himself to listen to the crickets and locusts, instead of to her footsteps. It would not do to become too besotted with her, he reminded himself, although, perhaps this was a dubious point at present. Though he feared to admit it, he might very well have already lost his heart to her.

Except for a chance meeting here and there, which, given their two cultures, was nearly impossible, she would never again have the pleasure of his company. The feeling of loss that had settled in over her was an uncomfortable sensation at best.

Yet there was nothing to be done about it. She had known, even as she had flirted with the young man, that there was no impending happiness for them. For one thing, their cultures were too different; for another, he was what her step-uncle would call a savage. And whether or not she agreed, it was her step-uncle whom she was duty bound to appease.

At least parting now lost nothing more between them than a few kisses. What might be if they were to pursue their attraction further, she dared not consider.

As she and Sarah stepped toward the ballroom, Marisa silently thanked her friend for allowing her the time and space to compose herself, as well as to come to terms with the upset. But why was she upset?

She barely knew Black Eagle. Therefore, a few kisses should not a heartache make.

Yet she could little deny it.
And she would never see him again.

She sighed. Such thoughts would never do. Indeed, she could almost hear the disapproving voices of tutors from her past, lecturing her on proper behavior. They would say,
“Your guardian might be a distant and stern man, but because he has provided for your upbringing, you owe him your loyalty. 'Tis your duty, nay, your obligation to submit yourself to his will.”

Marisa frowned as she stepped from the veranda into the candle-lit hall of the ballroom. However, the hum of the gaiety of the dance, the music and the violins, were all lost to her as she glanced forward, seeking out her guardian.

It took little effort to find the man, since most people in the room catered to him. Across the room, her survey caught onto the disapproving frown of John Rathburn, and the condemnation that she witnessed there, written so abundantly upon his countenance, sent yet another spark of defiance rushing through her.

But, as was expected of her, she quelled it. After all, she was not a common rebel.

She watched her guardian set down his wineglass, watched, too, as he made to cross the room toward her. He was enraged, that much was evident, and he was going to have words with her. Sighing, Marisa prepared herself for the coming battle.

While it was true that she did owe loyalty to her step-uncle, an inner voice would not be silenced. Troubled, she glanced away. Her thoughts seemed to be her enemy; she didn't want to revolt, yet . . .

As though Sarah were reading her thoughts, she murmured, “It is too bad that your step-uncle feels he must dominate and control you. One would think, from the way he acts, that you were as much an indentured servant as I am.” Sarah paused, then, “The only difference is that in six years I will be free of him.”

Free? As though suddenly jerked awake from slumber, Marisa lifted her head, and her gaze came up to lock with that of her guardian's.

Freedom. It was an enticing concept. What would it be like to be free of her step-uncle's plots? To make her own choices? To act on her own decisions?

These were scandalous ideas, ideas that seemed to be afloat and alive in these American states of late. Perhaps it was the very air of this place that bred them. However, their cause little mattered.

“Sarah,” Marisa muttered softly. “Forgive me. If I fail to return before the party is ended, I shall meet you at the stables at first light, and we shall leave this place, perhaps forever.” And before Sarah could speak, Marisa had picked up her skirts, had spun around and had fled out through the open doors of the veranda.

 

 

The swish of a skirt and the delicate hammering of slippers over the hard-packed footpath had Black Eagle realizing that someone was hastening toward him. He turned swiftly and watched as the vision of loveliness fled toward him.

“Sir Eagle!” she called.

What was this? The beauty was deserting the party? Was there a reason?

Perhaps so, but he didn't think to contemplate what that reason might be. Instead he responded, and he turned and rushed toward her, closing the distance between them. He opened his arms, and she ran headlong into them. He took hold of her, and held her, simply held her.

“You have returned,” he whispered, stating the obvious.

“Yes. Do not let me go,” she said.

“It is not in my thoughts to do so.”

“Take me somewhere else, somewhere private, and hurry. They may come after me.”

“They? ”

“I will tell you later. Please hurry.”

“Then come!” He dropped his hands from around her to take hold singly of her hand, and turning, he broke into a fast walk. “Can you keep up with me if I run? ”

“I will try,” she said, “but my shoes have a high heel, and this may slow us down.”

“Then we must leave the path, and take to the ground, where it will be harder for others to follow. Come!” He broke into a run, but kept his pace slower than what he would have done, were he alone.

“Where are we going? ” she called after him.

“Into the woods. Our trail will be harder to find there.”

“Yes.”

Under normal circumstances, Black Eagle would never have doubted his ability to outrun an opponent. However, the lady's silken skirts were long, and he could hear the material catching onto stickers and other brambles under foot. Plus, her shoes were unfit for the tangles of the various grasses and bushes. As he jumped a branch that was blocking his path, she tripped over it, and fell face forward.

Luckily, her skirts buffered her fall, and though he was certain she was unhurt, he ran to her, and bending toward her, said, “Forgive me. I thought the branch was low enough to cross easily. Are you injured? ”

“No, but I cannot run as fast as you.”

“Then if you will permit me . . .” He reached his arms around her, his embrace encircling her. “I will carry you.”

She didn't object. Truth be told, when he stood up to his feet, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he found himself delighting in their soft feel against him.

“Are we to camp here in the woods, then? ” she asked.

“
Nyoh.
Yes.”

“Have you considered that if they follow, they might find us? ”

“We will remain in the woods, but in a place that I doubt they will see.”

“Truly? There is such a place? Even if they look for us far and wide?

“Even then.”

“Yes. Oh, please do hurry there.”

He didn't really need to be told. Though he little understood what drove her, he sensed her urgency.

What had happened? he wondered.

As he ran, he enfolded her more securely in his arms, and she was so close that he could sense the fear in her. Alas, every cell in her body communicated it.

Had someone threatened her? If so, whoever it was would have to deal with him.

As he hurried forward, his feet found their pace and his exertion practically lifted his feet off the earth. The wind against them, however, had her skirts flying up in his face, but she grasped hold of her petticoats and folded them in toward her. Then she turned her face in toward him, hiding her eyes against his chest.

What a feeling she created in him. It was as though she were saying with her body that she placed herself completely in his trust. It made him feel a little taller, a little bigger, a little stronger.

As he ran, his senses leapt into full play, and he could practically taste the odor of her cologne. He was also more than aware of the enticing scent of the delicate femininity of her; a heady seduction that her perfume could little hide. At first whiff, pure male desire soared within him, but he held it in check. He had one duty and only one duty at present: find them a safe spot.

His direction found him soon within the denser and deeper part of the forest, one that the white man seldom entered. And there, far ahead of him, loomed his destination. It was the tree. Perhaps the only one of its kind, it was an ancient and grand oak tree.

Measuring perhaps six to seven feet across, and with its main trunk standing about ten feet in height, it had at one point in its history been hit by lightning. And what had failed to kill the tree, had become its strength.

The hit had been to the center of the tree's main trunk; it had left an open scar in the center, a scar that over time had developed into a crater that was itself about four to five feet in diameter. The hole in the tree could be seen from above, if one were to climb high up onto the tree's branches. But it could be little detected from the ground.

He shot toward it, splashing through the shallow stream and carrying his prize to the tree, and without explaining why, he lifted the beauty up as high as he could hold her. But the lowest branch was still a little beyond what he could reach.

He said, “Can you scramble up and sit on one of the tree's low branches? ”

“Yes,” she answered, “I am certain that I can. But why? I'm afraid anyone coming into the woods would be able to see me there.”

“Yes, that is true. But there is a reason for you to do so,” he answered. “I will lift you up and push you while you grab hold of the branch.”

Without further objections, she did so, and it turned out to be easier than he had suspected. Within minutes, she was seated on one of the tree's lowest branches. He climbed up to sit beside her.

“Do we make our way to the top, then? ” she asked.

“
Neh.
No.”

“But we can be very easily seen.”

“It is true. But then, perhaps you should not look down.”

She frowned. “Do not look down? ”

He nodded. “Beside you. Do not look down.”

She glanced all around, looking toward the ground, out into the distance, above her, then down again. But still, she didn't see what was most important to observe. She said, “I fear that I little know what it is I'm supposed to see.”

“There.” He pointed toward the gaping hole in the tree's trunk. When she still didn't see it, he rose up and maneuvered himself until he was standing beside the cavity, and when she chanced to look away from him, he jumped down.

It didn't take long before she missed him. “Sir Eagle? ”

“I am here,” he answered.

“Where?” She was scooting on the branch toward the sound of his voice. “Oh,” she murmured barely, before she fell, head first into the hole.

He caught her, although the motion of her fall pushed him back against the “wall” of the tree. But he held her fast, and gradually, he lowered her to the ground. “Can you stand? ” he asked.

“I think so. Is the ground uneven? ”

“A little.”

“And is it filled with dirt and debris? ”

“Perhaps. But weather, time and perhaps an animal or two has smoothed the ground a little.” He lowered her, letting her feet touch the solidness of the tree's cavity.

She seemed to find her footing easily enough, and standing on her own, she asked, “However did you find this tree? I have lived on this estate all my life and I have never been aware of it.”

“That is to be regretted. Perhaps because the white man is not as comfortable in the forest as the Mohawk, he seldom comes here. That might explain it, because it was not a task to discover it. There were signs pointing to it. They only needed to be followed.”

“I am certainly glad that you were able to see those signs, then.”

From somewhere close to her feet, an animal scurried past her, and startled, she shrieked. He immediately took advantage and pulled her into his arms.

“What was that? ”

He chuckled. “I believe it was a squirrel.” Then addressing the animal, he said, “You will have your home back tomorrow, friend squirrel.”

“Are there other animals here besides squirrels?” she asked.