Candace McCarthy (4 page)

 

 

Fireheart dipped his paddle in the water rhythmically to propel his canoe. Feminine laughter drew his attention toward the lake’s edge, and he smiled to see the Lenape women at play. He grinned and waved at Moon Dove who stood amidst a group of giggling maidens. Their giggling increased when the girls saw the direction of Moon Dove’s returning wave.

Suddenly, he heard shouts of encouragement from the matrons to someone on the shore. Curiosity had him glancing to see the object of the women’s focus, and his smile froze. A woman ran naked into the lake, and dived beneath the water’s surface. Fireheart recognized the flash of red-gold hair.

He found himself waiting with bated breath for her to rise, then releasing a sigh when she rose up several feet from where she had gone under.

As she ran her hands back over her slick wet hair, she appeared all white and smooth and silky, and Fireheart felt an involuntary tightening in his loins. She turned to speak with Little Blossom, and he got a glimpse of her white shoulders and red-tipped breasts. Desire stole his breath. His whole body ached with it.

Then, as if she’d sensed that someone male was watching her, she spun, saw him in his canoe, and with a gasp, dipped her head below the water. There was much laughter as she came up sputtering. She rose to reveal only her shoulders, keeping those soft, womanly curves beneath the surface, much to Fireheart’s chagrin.

He saw her talking excitedly with her friend, and saw Little Blossom glance his way before she replied to Joanna. Then, one of the matrons saw him and began to scold him to go away.

With a wave, Fireheart began paddling his canoe farther up the lake. His mind retained Joanna’s image clearer than any of the other women, even Moon Dove’s. He scowled and tried again to block her from his mind.

“Is he gone?” Joanna asked, refusing to look. Little Blossom nodded. “He has taken the canoe for fishing farther up the lake.”

Joanna’s sigh of relief drew her friend’s curious glance.

“Autumn Wind.” Mary Littleton, Joanna’s cousin, known to the Lenape as Mary Wife, suddenly appeared at Joanna’s side. She had been bathing with the matrons, and looked pleased to see Joanna join the group with Little Blossom. Surprised by Joanna’s shyness, she smiled at the young woman. “It is good to see you among us again.”

Startled by Mary’s appearance, Joanna managed a cool nod. “The lake feels wonderful,” she admitted.

“It has been a long time since you have enjoyed such a bath.”

“Yes.” Joanna frowned. “Too long,” she said, feeling renewed anger at her cousin for having sent her away. She felt slightly guilty when Mary appeared taken aback by her hostile tone, more so when Mary excused herself to rejoin the matrons

Joanna studied her cousin, battling with conflicting feelings of love and anger. After her cousin had found her as a child, Mary had been the center of her world. Now, they spoke as strangers. When she’d been sent to England onboard ship, fourteen-year-old Joanna had felt unloved and abandoned. She’d been terribly frightened to be traveling alone. Mary had placed her in the care of Mrs. Whitely, a stranger they’d met only minutes before the departure of the ship, but Joanna hadn’t liked or trusted the old woman. The girl had kept to herself most of the time instead, frightened of the crew and other passengers, a difficult feat for a journey that seemed to go on forever.

By the time the
Nancy Kay
had reached port in England, Joanna had been anxious to get off the ship. She’d been optimistic about meeting her uncle who would surely treat her kindly since she was his only niece.

She had become disappointed and frightened once again to have been met, not by her uncle, but by his barrister—an ugly sinister little man who resembled a weasel.

Her uncle hadn’t been much better, she recalled with a shudder. Was it any wonder she’d felt unloved and betrayed by Mary?

“Are you ill?” Little Blossom asked, stirring her from her thoughts.

Joanna forced a smile. “I’m well. Thank you.”

“Come, let us talk with Woman with Eyes of Hawk.”

Remembering the name, Joanna was able to give her friend a smile that was more genuine.

As she swam alongside her friend toward the woman Little Blossom wanted to see, Joanna looked down the lake for Fireheart. Her heart gave a thump when she saw his canoe, a small speck in the distance. Who was he? she wondered.

As she and Little Blossom visited with Woman with Eyes of Hawk, Joanna found her thoughts drifting to the Indian brave. She would learn more about him, she decided. She wanted to know why this man had the power to make her pulse race and her stomach flutter when it was obvious that he disliked her.

 

 

“She wants me to do what?” Cara exclaimed as she eyed the deer carcass that one of the braves had just brought in.

“Woman with Eyes of Hawk wishes to teach you how to tan the deer-hide,” Joanna told the young woman.

“I don’t want to learn how to tan a deer,” the maid whined with a look of disgust.

“Cara,” Joanna said patiently, “if you don’t try to settle into village life, you’ll never be happy here.”

Cara gazed at her employer with horror. “Why do I have to be happy here? You said we’d be going home in another fortnight, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I did.” But Joanna wasn’t in any hurry to return to Neville Manor. She was enjoying her time in Little River despite the continuing tension between her and Mary, despite Fireheart’s strange animosity toward her.

“Then why must I learn to tan doeskin?” Cara asked.

Joanna sighed as she studied her. The maid wore a gray muslin gown with a white V-neck collar that reached the white apron covering her skirts. Small ringlets of the girl’s dark hair peeked out from beneath the edges of Cara’s white mobcap with its matching gray ribbon. She was the portrait of a perfect servant at Neville Manor, but here in the Lenape village she looked uncomfortable and out of place.

She could understand Cara’s reluctance to tan a deer. The job was an unpleasant one for someone who was not used to the work. In tanning animal skins it was necessary to scrape the fur from the skin then rub the brains of the beast into the hide to preserve it. The work was important to the Indian way of life. Animal skins were used to clothe the Lenape and as bedcovers and mantles to keep them warm. Still, Joanna took one hard look at Cara’s white apron, slightly soiled but still white all the same, and knew she couldn’t force Cara to do it.

“You run along, Cara,” she said. “I’ll explain to Woman with Eyes of Hawk that you have little stomach for such things.” She paused to remember when she had learned how to skin and tan her first deerskin. “I’ll help her.” She had on a brown muslin gown that she’d never liked anyway. She didn’t care if it became soiled or ruined as she had two or three other garments with her.

“You?” Cara asked with surprise.

Joanna smiled. “I’ve done the task before. ’Tis not so terrible.”

The maid looked skeptical, but pleased that she wouldn’t have to do the chore. “May I go find Harry?”

Joanna nodded, then turned thoughtful as she watched her maid scurry off in search of her friend. It had become more apparent with each new day that Cara and Harry were smitten with each other.

What was she going to do about the two of them? she wondered. She hadn’t foreseen the couple’s increasing unhappiness with village life. Perhaps she should think about sending them home.

She herself could stay, she thought. Wild Squirrel had awoken, but he was still weak, and she wanted to remain until he was better. She was also reluctant to leave because there was much unresolved about her past and present life. She hoped she would find answers here, in this village of her past, before she returned to the estate and the England of her future.

He saw her at the lake, fetching water. He knew he should stay away, but something about her drew him near. Fireheart approached on silent feet, remembering the last time that he’d seen Joanna in the lake, naked. He paused several yards from where she stood to study her unobtrusively.

He watched as she bent with the water-skin and dipped it into the lake, holding the neck of the vessel under for several seconds until the container was full. She straightened with the heavy skin, then set it down near the base of a tree before picking up another. After filling the second water-skin, Joanna retrieved both containers, then stumbled under the heavy weight.

Fireheart hurried forward and took one of the water-skins.

Joanna gasped as the brave took up one of the skins to help her. Heart thumping wildly, she stared at him, and he nodded without expression as he gestured toward the path with his free hand.

“Wa-neé-shih,”
she murmured gratefully. She studied him to gauge his reaction to her thanks, but his attention was elsewhere as he reached for the other water-skin.

“I can manage this one,” she said, holding on to the container tightly.

“Maata,”
he said, tugging it from her grasp. No. “I will carry it. Why must you females be so stubborn?”

A flash of anger lit up her green gaze. “Because I wish to finish the job I set out to do?”

An amused smile curved his lips, but didn’t quite reach his cool dark eyes. “Go, Autumn Wind. I have offered to help you. Take my offer and move along.”

“You know who I am,” she said, stunned that he knew her Indian name. She should be angry, but the fact that he knew her made her more curious than vexed.

Who is he?
She narrowed her gaze as she studied his hard-hewn features. Had she known this man as a child?

“I know you,” he said.

“Who are you?” she asked, deciding to be bold.

He raised an eyebrow in reproach. “You do not remember me?”

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His features seemed familiar. She should know him, she realized. He was about the same age or older than she. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “It matters not. It was a long time ago.”

“Yet, you remembered me,” Joanna replied softly.

They headed back to the village in silence. Joanna was conscious of Fireheart’s strength, his presence. She cast surreptitious glances at him, hoping to find something that would trigger her memory of him. It disturbed her that nothing did.

“Please,” she said, “tell me who you are.”

He turned to look down at her and shook his head.

Her breath caught as she gazed at him. He was taller than she was—and attractive. She couldn’t keep her attention from focusing on his firm sensual mouth.

His dark eyes glistened in a masculine face that had chiseled features more appealing to her than the smooth cultured faces that belonged to most Englishmen.

Who was he? she wondered. “Fireheart—”

He looked at her expectantly. “It matters not,” he told her softly. “It was many summers ago.”

She recalled that Lenape boys were given new names when they became men.

“Broken Bow?” she guessed, wondering if this was Little Blossom’s husband.

Hardness came to his dark eyes. “No, Broken Bow was already a warrior when you were here last.”

“Then who—”

“Autumn Wind!” Little Blossom appeared on the path ahead as she crested a small hill.

Joanna waved and silently wished her friend away. She didn’t want to end her time with Fireheart, and she could already feel him withdrawing . . . just at a time when she thought he might have unbent a little and told her his identity.

Why should she care if Fireheart liked her or not?

“Fireheart,” Little Blossom gasped as she hurried toward the pair.

Fireheart’s expression softened, and Joanna felt a flash of envy toward her friend at the affable change in the brave. What had she done to cause Fireheart to dislike her?

He had helped her, hadn’t he? Maybe he didn’t actually dislike her. Maybe he was simply indifferent to her.

Which didn’t make Joanna feel any better.

“Wild Squirrel awakes,” Little Blossom told Fireheart. “He asks for you.”

Fireheart nodded before turning to Joanna. “I will carry these up to the lodge of Red Dress.”

“I can take them.”

“I will carry them,” he insisted.

“Wa-neé-shih,”
she said. She wouldn’t argue with him.

He bowed slightly, then hurried away.

Joanna watched him leave with a flutter in her stomach. When she turned to her friend, it was to find Little Blossom studying her speculatively.

“You have made friends with Fireheart.”

Joanna shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“He is a handsome warrior, is he not?”

“Yes, yes, he is,” Joanna admitted, blushing.

“He is expected to marry Moon Dove.”

Joanna felt a burning ache. She had a sudden mental image of a lovely young Lenape maiden, whom she had met briefly at the lake, with long silken dark hair, lovely dark eyes, and a figure that matched in beauty. She felt a curious disappointment. “I understand.”

“He is destined to be our chief,” Little Blossom said.

“Little Blossom, he says I should know him. Who is he?”

“You do not remember the young boy who used to follow you with his gaze?”

Frowning, Joanna shook her head. Then, she recalled a face . . . an adoring look . . . and a feeling of irritation that the youngest of the braves seemed more impressed than the other boys. Could it be?

“Yellow Deer?” she gasped, her mind reeling from the possibility, the shock. The image of a young boy came to her clearly . . . dark eyes that followed her every move . . . his shy smiling greeting whenever she passed him.

“Fireheart is Yellow Deer?” She shook her head. She could hardly believe it. Guilt began to claw at her, making her remember things about her treatment of him that now seemed selfish and mean. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, she thought defensively. She had simply been interested in the older boys.

Little Blossom looked at her sadly
. “Kihiila,
Autumn Wind. Fireheart was Yellow Deer until he became a man. Now he has earned the name Heart of Fire.”

Fireheart is Yellow Deer,
she thought with continued disbelief. When she returned to the wigwam, the two water-skins had been left inside the door flap. She did not see Fireheart again, and she wanted to thank him.

Later, well into the night, Joanna lay awake, marveling that the strong handsome warrior was the same boy who had been infatuated with her when she’d lived among the Lenape. She still had difficulty believing it to be true.

Her stomach burned as she recalled the way she’d ignored him while she’d longed instead for the attention of the older boys . . . braves like Broken Bow and Flying Eagle, and their friends Big Cloud and Silver Fox.