Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (31 page)

"What happened?" Levi wanted to know.

"My wife was leisurely taking a bath while a Sioux warrior decided she would make a pretty decoration to his lodge."

"Ah. I hope you didn't have to kill him to persuade him otherwise. I wouldn't want to have to deal with the whole Sioux Nation, just because one of them took a fancy to Breanna."

"He was a young warrior, and apparently he had heard of me. He released her with little hesitation." He turned to Breanna, though his words were for Levi. "From here on out, one of us will be with her at all times."

"Yes, that's good reasoning." Levi glanced back at Breanna. "Are you hurt in any way?"

She was grateful that at least he cared enough to ask if she had been injured by the brute who had attacked her. "I was merely frightened."

"And rightly you should have been," Levi announced, ambling out of the tent.

For a moment Breanna and Dakota stared at one another, then he knelt down beside her and slipped her feet into her soft leather shoes he had picked up by the stream. "I don't have to tell you how serious this could have been, Breanna."

"I know," she said, tears brightening her golden eyes. "I was so frightened."

He gathered her close, pressing his cheek tightly against hers. "Don't ever do that again. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."

She pressed her body against him and felt his quick intake of breath. Seeing the flame in his eyes, she shook her head, knowing the others were just outside the tent.

"Surely not here," she whispered through trembling lips.

His emerald gaze deepened with desire. "Yes, Breanna, here. No one will come in," he murmured in her ear.

Dakota blew out the lantern and velvet twilight filtered through the slit in the tent, washing the surroundings in its soft light. Dakota held Breanna to him, wishing he could absorb her into his body, to make her his so completely that no man would dare look on her with longing. She was his and his alone. Couldn't she see that?

When his eyes moved over her fragile features, he saw the light of surrender in her eyes, and the breath became trapped within his body.

Breanna was burning with a. slow fire. As Dakota would remove an article of her clothing, he would kiss her, touch her in a certain way that made her want to melt against him. Masterfully, he maneuvered her to a mindless world where she was riding the tide of passion.

Dakota lowered her onto the buffalo hide that served as a rug, and joined her there. She surrendered to him completely when he slid his hard naked body up the length of her soft curves. She gasped, rolling her head from side to side. His lips were hot against her breasts, his hands touching magical places that brought a gasp from her lips and caused her to tingle all over.

Caught within an emotion she could not control, Breanna slid her fingers into his midnight-colored hair, pressing her lips against his in total surrender.

When he slid into her, she bit her lip and arched to meet him. The dark passion that glowed in Dakota's eyes caught at her heart. Wild emotions encased her whole being as she rose and sank, rose and sank, in tune with his fluid motion. She trembled in his arms, her mind and body as one with him.

Breanna realized that this man was her life and she would be lost and adrift without him.

A tremor shook Dakota's body in reaction to his final deep thrust, and he held Breanna tightly to him, his pleasure heightened because he felt an answering tremor from her body. Rolling over, he carried her with him. "You are mine," he breathed, kissing her eyelids, her cheek, her neck, her lips.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes." Not willing to let him go, she clung to him, kissing his shoulder, nuzzling his neck, brazenly rubbing her breasts against his chest. She felt his renewed desire swell against her thigh, and she looked at him with uncertainty.

With deep laughter, Dakota rolled her over, his knees between her thighs. "You are asking for it, Breanna, and I will go to great lengths to please my lady and give her what she wants?'

This time he took her in a swirl of passion. She gave him joy that sang through his body, and he had the satisfaction of knowing she was completely his while he was making love to her.

Through a drifting haze, Breanna lay curled up beside him on the cot, feeling contented and secure in Dakota's warm embrace.

He watched her eyes drift shut, and moments later he knew she was asleep. Dakota felt her even breathing while he reflected on their situation. Would Breanna ever reach out for the love that burned within him like a fire out of control? He ached to speak of his love, for it needed to be confessed, but he dared not. Now was not the time to make promises he did not know if he could keep. He could make her body react to his lovemaking, but he wondered if he had ever touched her heart.

Pressing his lips against her closed eyelids, Dakota felt love throb through his body. He wanted to hold Breanna and protect her, keeping her from all harm.

He lay awake, wanting to touch her, to hold her forever. He was jealous of every smile she bestowed upon another man. Tonight belonged to him alone, but with the appearance of the morning sun, he would have to let her go. He was a man with a purpose, and he could not allow himself to think about a future with Breanna or he would lose his concentration. He would need all his cunning when he finally faced Black Otter.

31

When Breanna awoke, it was still dark, yet she could hear sounds that alerted her to the fact that the men were breaking camp. Remembering the night before, she reached out to touch Dakota, only to find he was already gone.

Sitting up, she hurriedly dressed and ran a brush through her hair before twisting it up and tying her bonnet beneath her chin.

As she stepped outside, Inman smiled and wished her a good morning before he began disassembling her tent. She found Levi by the campfire and walked over to him, while her eyes searched for Dakota.

Baxley poured Breanna a cup of coffee, a brew that she had been forced to drink out of necessity. She thought how good a cup of tea would taste.

"Where is Dakota?" she asked, shaking her head to refuse Baxley's offer of food.

Levi piled dirt on the campfire and watched it sputter and go out. "He's about somewhere. Like as not, he's having a look-see."

Breanna noticed that Levi had abandoned his usual attire in favor of buckskin trousers and shirt. She had to admit he looked more at ease in his buckskins.

John came out of his tent and stumbled toward the coffee pot. "I detest this brew, but it does go a long way toward bringing me back to life in the mornings."

Breanna smiled as she took a final swallow of her coffee. "I agree with you. I was just wishing for a cup of tea."

John looked Breanna over. "I heard about your experience last night. Are you all right?"

"Yes. Everything is intact except for my dignity."

"You would have lost a good deal more than your dignity if Dakota hadn't come along when he did," Levi informed her.

Breanna shivered, remembering the incident.

The sun was just coming up over the tall pine trees when Breanna saw the lone rider coming toward camp. Since the blinding sun was in her eyes, she couldn't tell who it was. As he rode down a gully and up the other side into her view, she gasped. It was Dakota! But he was different.

Like Levi, Dakota wore buckskin trousers, but his chest was bare, and he wore a knife in the leather sheath about his waist. Around his dark hair he wore a leather headband. He looked so like an Indian that Breanna held her breath.

Breanna knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. She remembered the one other time she had seen him dressed this way —the fringed trousers, the moccasins, the leather headband. She stared in wonder at the bear-claw necklace he wore about his neck.

As her eyes met his, she saw indifference there. It appeared as if civilization had been stripped from him, and when he rode into camp, he dismounted with ease and agility, moving with a panther-like grace, the muscles on his back rippling with each movement he made.

"I'll be damned," John said, forgetting Breanna's presence as he stared at his cousin. "I had forgotten how much you can resemble an Indian when you are dressed like this."

"I am an Indian," Dakota said, turning away and directing the hired men as they loaded the pack-horses.

Breanna had hoped that after last night there would be some sign of affection from Dakota when they met today, but her hopes were soon dashed. He didn't even acknowledge her presence. She would have spoken to him, but it was apparent that his mind was on whatever it was that had been driving him these past few weeks.

In less than an hour everyone was mounted and the column moved out. It did not escape Breanna's notice that the men were watchful and alert. When Dakota did not ride off as was his usual habit, but stayed at the head of the column, she realized he was being cautious because of her encounter with the Sioux warrior the day before. What she did not know was Dakota and Levi were concerned lest the Sioux warrior change his mind and decide to recapture Breanna with the help of others from his tribe.

All day they rode north with the hot sun beating down on them. Breanna felt exhausted, and every bone in her body seemed to ache. The only reprieve came when they dismounted to rest the horses. She was careful not to complain, however, and pushed herself beyond endurance so she could prove to her husband that she could keep up with him.

She pulled her bonnet low over her forehead, hoping the sun would not burn her delicate skin. She kept her eyes on Dakota's rigid back, wondering what was going on in his mind. She longed for a look, a kind word, anything that would tell her he knew she was alive.

***

It was late in the afternoon, and they were riding through a canyon with steep inclines on both sides. The limestone walls were painted with a rosy glow from the setting sun, and Breanna was awed by the beauty. This land was such a contrast, with its mountain peaks, valleys, and prairies. She halted her mount to glance up at the boulders overhead, which seemed almost suspended on the cliff side. She was so engrossed in what she was witnessing that she did not notice that everyone else had ridden on ahead.

With a smile on her lips, she cupped her hands and yelled out, "Hello." The echo of her own voice reverberated back to her. "Hello . . . hello . . . hello."

She was so engrossed in the beauty around her, and she did not know that the slightest noise could easily start a rock slide. At first she did not see the danger because only loose sand and pebbles slid down the slope.

When Dakota heard Breanna's voice, he whirled his mount around, realizing that her echo had set off a landslide. Now larger rocks and earth were breaking loose, and when Dakota saw Breanna right beneath the slide, he spurred into action. Kicking his horse in the flanks, he raced forward while the others watched in horror, sure he would lose his race against time and Breanna would be crushed to death!

By now Breanna was aware of the danger, but she couldn't seem to react. Thinking she would surely be crushed and buried alive, her eyes sought Dakota.

Her horse, panicked by the landslide, wheeled around, pitched, and sent Breanna flying through the air. Free of her rider, the mare made it to safety.

Breanna felt herself rolling and sliding down the slope. Her body twisted like a rag doll as she was slammed against the rock face of the canyon.

It had all happened so fast, but in an instant Breanna knew she was going to die. In a haze of pain, she saw Dakota racing toward her, but she knew he would never make it in time.

The roar of the landslide was now deafening as it gained strength, sweeping scrub oaks and boulders in its path. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the final moments of impact.

Breanna felt a rock smash against her left shoulder, and she waited for another impact, but it didn't come. Instead, strong arms went around her waist and she was yanked from the jaws of death as Dakota pulled her up on his horse.

He whirled his horse out of the way just in time to avoid the falling debris. Breanna's body trembled with relief as she buried her face against Dakota's chest and he pressed her tightly against him. He had saved her, she was alive!

When Dakota lifted her down into Levi's waiting arms, she cried out in pain and grabbed her shoulder. They were quickly surrounded by the other men, who were anxious to see that Breanna had not been harmed.

It was Levi who pronounced that Breanna's shoulder had been dislocated.

Dakota ordered the men to make camp. Breanna was placed near the fire, her back braced against a boulder, while a tent was quickly erected under Dakota's supervision.

John was seated beside Breanna, and he poured a glass of the wine and held it out to her. She was in so much pain that she didn't realize John was talking to take her mind off what was to come. "Here, drink this," he ordered. "I brought three bottles with me, and this is the last of the lot. I doubt there will be anywhere I can purchase good wine in this forsaken country."

When she tried to settle herself more comfortably, she cried out in pain. "I don't want to drink wine, John," she said, wiping away the beads of perspiration that gathered on her brow. "Save it for yourself."

His eyes were sympathetic. "I would advise you to drink as much of this as quickly as you can, Breanna."

She glanced from him to where the tent was now erected and several lanterns were being lit. "Why? What . . . is going to happen to me?"

He shoved the glass in her hand. "Drink up."

"Is he going to hurt me?"

"Breanna, if your shoulder is not properly tended, you will suffer with it all your life. Now drink the wine," he said kindly.

She nodded and quickly drained the glass, then held it out, indicating she wanted John to refill it. "Will it hurt?" she wanted to know.

"Not if you drink enough of this," he assured her.

That was all Breanna needed to hear. After the third glass, her head was swimming and the pain in her shoulder had dulled a bit. She even managed to smile at Dakota when he lifted her in his arms and carried her into the tent. She saw that several lanterns lit the interior.

When Dakota placed her on the cot, Levi moved to one side and John knelt at her head, while Baxley held a lantern so Dakota could see.

Dakota's hands moved over her shoulder tentatively, touching the place where the bone was dislocated.

Levi saw Dakota hesitate. "Do you want me to do it?"

Dakota glanced down at Breanna, feeling guilty for what he was about to do, because she was looking at him so trustingly. "No," he said grimly, "I will do it myself."

"She drank almost half a bottle of wine, and that should take the edge off the pain," John said.

Breanna gritted her teeth. Even with the wine dulling her mind, she could still feel the pain.

John placed his hands on either side of Breanna's head, while Levi braced her arm. "Don't watch them," John said encouragingly, trying to take her mind off what was about to happen. "Think about Weatherford Hall. Try to imagine yourself in the library, watching as the waves are spraying against the windows."

Breanna swallowed convulsively. She was trying to imagine the picture John had painted, but the reality of her pain throbbed in her mind. She wasn't expecting it to happen so suddenly, and she screamed out in pain when Dakota jerked her arm sharply. She was sure she had felt the bone move back into place. Blackness closed in on her, and she fought to hold it at bay.

John dabbed at her face with a damp cloth while Levi made a sling and slipped Breanna's arm into it.

Dakota spoke to her, his voice seeming to come to her from a long way off. "It's over, Breanna," he assured her. "You can rest now."

Suddenly the heat from the lanterns became too much for Breanna and she tried to sit up. "I cannot breathe in here. I need air," she said, looking beseechingly at Dakota.

Gently he lifted her into his arms and carried her out into the night air. She rested her head against his shoulder, wishing the ache in her own shoulder would go away.

John handed her another glass of wine, and after she drank it, the pain lessened.

The Americans looked on with concern, their eyes kind with understanding. One of them pulled out his old battered guitar and began strumming a tune. His voice was high and sweet as he began singing an old Irish ballad, his gift to Breanna.

"Do you want me to carry you in now, Breanna?" Dakota asked.

"No, I want to hear the music." Suddenly she felt giddy and lightheaded. "I want to dance."

John smiled, while Dakota frowned. "Don't worry, cousin," John told him. "That's the wine talking. Chances are she will not even remember in the morning."

"Put me down, Dakota," Breanna insisted. "I want to dance."

Dakota gave John a heated glance. "You did this to her," he said accusingly.

"Yes, and because I did, she was able to bear the pain."

Angrily, Dakota turned away, carrying Breanna into the tent. When they were inside, she became aware that Dakota was silent. When he set her on her feet, she swayed and then covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a giggle. "As my brother would say, I'm in my cups." She backed up to Dakota, and feeling frivolous, she spoke with a slurred imitation of a Cockney accent. "Unhook my gown, will ya, ducks? There's a good chap. I suppose you will have to cut the gown, but no matter."

Dakota had never seen Breanna like this, and he was not amused.

He unhooked her gown and then carefully removed her injured arm from the sleeve and tied the sling back in place.

Breanna stepped out of her petticoats and kicked them aside, leaving her dressed only in her chemise. With her hand over her mouth, she eased herself back on the cot, her head spinning drunkenly. When Dakota sat down beside her, she tightly clasped his hand, wishing the world would right itself.

"Why do you not have a glass of wine tonight?" she asked, noting the dark look of displeasure on his face. "It will make you feel better."

"I do not drink wine. As an Indian, I never understood why the white man indulges in false stimulation when it tastes so foul."

She sat up and made a face at him. "Oh, so you are an Indian now, are you, my lord? I know what is wrong with you. You never learned how to have fun," she mocked, giggling at her daring statement.

"I did not have fun watching while you were almost crushed to death today. I did not enjoy the fact that I had to cause you pain so you would not lose the use of your arm."