Gray Hawk's Lady: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 1 (9 page)

And it did not escape her notice that even as the Indian spoke, the part of his body most obvious to her seemed to grow, to expand, to—

She gasped. She blinked.

“Lady Genevieve, I am only trying to dress the young man. There is no need for alarm.” It was Robert who spoke, though Genevieve barely noticed the other man. “Our Indian friend here is quite resistant to wearing this pair of breeches.” It was only then that Robert seemed to notice, really notice, the state of dress—or rather, undress—of the man. The older man glanced from one young person to the other. “Might I suggest, milady, that you leave me alone with the Indian?”

Genevieve licked her lips, wondering if she’d ever find her voice. At last, she averted her gaze. It was the only thing she could do. She couldn’t yet speak.

“
Naapiaakii
,
the white woman, does not wish to leave.” The Indian leered at her, though he spoke to the man. “
Naapiaakii
has many plans for me; is this not true, my own enemy?”

“No,” she spoke at last. “I…I burst in here only because I heard your scream.” She turned her head back toward the Indian—a mistake. Somehow that part of his body had grown even larger. She shut her eyes and groaned. “I was worried that you… I thought maybe some enemy tribe had… I had to—”

“
Naapiaakii
,
white woman, is my enemy, my own enemy.” His gaze at her was steady, direct. “Know that I always seek revenge, my own enemy.
Always
.”

“Don’t call me that. I am not your enemy.”

The Indian’s expression was disbelieving, insolent. “So the white woman has told me before.” The Indian lifted his arms, his wrists still clearly tied. “The Great Gray Hawk does not believe white woman. Gray Hawk is unwilling captive of white woman. Gray Hawk will obtain great pleasure from taking revenge on white woman.” He leered at her, his lips turning upward in a smirk. “And revenge will come soon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” A chill ran down her spine as she backed toward the door. “There is no need to seek revenge upon me. As soon as my father is finished, I
will
return you to your people. I give you my word of honor on it.”

The Indian sneered. “White woman of no honor expects me to believe her when lies roll easily off her tongue—”

“Nonsense! When have I ever…?” She didn’t finish the sentence. Gray Hawk turned his back to her, presenting her with a clear view of his backside, of his tight buttocks. And Genevieve couldn’t help but look. “I…” She retreated toward the door. “I am sorry that I disturbed you. It’s only that I—”

He looked back at her just then over his shoulder, a smiling jeer accompanying that glance. That he had caught her scrutinizing him did not bear critical thought on her part.

With a gasp she spun away from him, presenting him with her own posterior view, though hers was thankfully clothed. She reached for the door, and, jerking it open, she fled out into the relative safety of the corridor.

Someday,
she thought to herself,
I will have to stop ending our conversations by running away.

Still, even as she thought it, she rushed back to her own quarters, not pausing to look at anyone, nor to talk with anyone along the way. And she quite convinced herself it was better this way.

The young man who called himself Gray Hawk watched the white woman from over his shoulder. And despite himself, he continued to observe her until she disappeared through the door of the big medicine canoe. He jerked his head to the left, his only expression of emotion.

Ha’
!
He was disgusted with himself—with her. He hated her, this female enemy, which made the reactions of his body all the more unwelcome. Truth be, though he had taunted her with the image of his nudity, he was amazed that he reacted to her the way he did.

He thought back to that first night of his capture. From the moment she had stepped into his presence that night, he’d not been able to believe what he saw.

Shock. Yes, that was what he’d felt.

And with reason. He’d been prepared to hate the person responsible for his capture, for the manner and cruelty with which he had been taken. He’d been alone, of course. Alone, and close to the medicine canoe. Otherwise, he would have been able to overwhelm his enemy, no matter that they had struck him from behind. But never had he dreamed at the time that his enemy would be the white woman…at first.

Truthfully, he’d been attracted to her at the fort, admiring her persistence, her beauty, her courage in the face of his peers, who had laughed at her. Certainly, like the other members of his tribe, he knew what she asked, knew that she was seeking to take one from among them back to a place she called St. Louis. And though, like the others, he’d known that what she asked was outrageous, a thing no one from the Blackfoot tribe would do, her quiet persistence had gained his admiration.

If his tribe had not been at peace with the white traders at this fort, Gray Hawk might very well have stolen her, perhaps to make her one of his wives…perhaps not.

But his tribe
was
at peace with these particular white people, and Gray Hawk could think of no way to take her away and still keep that peace.

Yes, he had admired her, though after that first momentary shock of seeing her, Gray Hawk had realized his error in doing so. This person, this woman whom he had come to admire, did not deserve such respect.

Where he had endowed her with a quiet strength, now he had learned that she was weak, giving in to demands of the flesh. Where she had, at first, looked sweet, virginal, he’d now come to understand that she was experienced—a temptress.

He’d gazed at her then, as she’d stood there before him, and he’d understood that this was the woman the kidnappers had spoken of; this was the woman those men had been joking about, saying it was
she
who had demanded that the Indian be beaten and then stripped, telling him in lurid language what
she
would do to him after the capture, not only in physical body, but in soul.

Yes, it was she who had taken away his freedom, she who enslaved him now, she who intended for him the utmost in degradation.

Hatred had filled his mind even as he had stood there watching her.

Malicious thoughts, however, breed malicious words, and he had used many on her, knowing her to be an enemy and deserving of such treatment.

And then she had come close to him, and good sense had fled him.

His body had reacted to her, and it hadn’t mattered what he’d thought. He’d wanted her—not out of love, he’d realized, but with lust, and that lust had controlled him, if only for a short while.

The kiss had occurred spontaneously enough, although he congratulated himself on being clever enough to turn the embrace into a weapon, taunting her with the force of his own will.

What he hadn’t counted on was his body’s reaction to her, the stiffening in his groin needing no interpretation but the obvious.

He frowned. None of this mattered now. What he’d felt then, what he felt now, was unimportant. He would escape; it was only a matter of establishing when.

And he would get even. No one—particularly a woman—would treat him in such a manner without cost. And in a land where it remained up to the individual to hand out deserved justice, it had become more than the thirst for revenge that drove him: it was his duty.

In truth, there had been several times these past few days when he could have escaped—the man they called Robert did not guard him well—but Gray Hawk was determined that he would have his revenge upon this white woman.

If he left, he would take her with him, and then let her see who was captive and who was not.

And so Gray Hawk waited for a more enticing opportunity. He, a member of the prestigious Kit Fox Society, the most honorable of warrior societies within his tribe, would dignify that name by seeking the revenge that was rightfully his. He would delay his flight for a while; he would observe his environment, observe the white woman, her habits, her movements, until he could escape and bring her with him. Yes, he would emerge victorious.

“You shouldn’t speak to milady that way.”

Raising one eyebrow, Gray Hawk glanced over toward the manservant. He understood this man to be no more than a slave to this white woman. And in such a position, the man deserved no attention from Gray Hawk.

“She is a good person, and she has reason for doing what she does.”

Again he raised that eyebrow. It was his only response.

Robert snorted. “I know that you understand me, so if you have something to say, speak it; don’t just look at me.”

Gray Hawk shrugged and turned his face away from the man.

“It is true that she is doing what she is doing for her father.”

Gray Hawk didn’t move, didn’t react or indicate in any way that he had heard the man.

“She has risked much to come here. And I can promise you that you are in no danger from her. There is no reason for you to be afraid.”

Gray Hawk turned his face back toward the older man. Afraid? Who was this slave to insult him? No man, and particularly no slave, mocked him without cost. Gray Hawk tilted back his head. Again he studied the man, then said, “You are brave for a slave. But then I would be, too, if I were in your place and the man I insulted was tied and unable to wreak the justice that such words deserve. Afraid?” asked Gray Hawk. “Take away these ties, and I will show you how afraid I am.”

“Yes, I suppose you would at that,” said Robert, a half smile hovering around his lips. “However, I am not at liberty to take away the ties, and,” Robert pinched in a bit of material in the breeches he held up toward the Indian, “I am no slave.”

Gray Hawk turned his head away. “Words and labels mean nothing to me. You do the white woman’s bidding. You are a slave, no matter the title you put to it.”

The other man smiled. “Yes, I can see how it would appear that way to you. Feeling a little indignant that a mere woman has not only captured you, but continues to hold you?”

Gray Hawk shrugged; it was his only answer, though at length he asked, “What is this ‘indignant’?”

Robert held the breeches up to his charge. “A blow to your pride.”

Gray Hawk glanced casually toward the older man, smiling smugly. “Yes,
slave,” he said, “you could say Gray Hawk is indignant. But know, slave, that there is no enemy alive who would treat me in such a way and would not fear the sting of my revenge. Do not doubt that I will have it.”

“She doesn’t deserve it.”

Gray Hawk looked down his nose at the man. “That is for me to decide, slave. To take to heart the words of an enemy is certain death to the one who would listen. Do I look such a fool?”

“She is not your enemy.”

“
Ha’
! There is no enemy that I have who would treat me worse.”

“What?” Robert shook his head at the young warrior. “How old are you that you would even know what worse treatment is?”

When Gray Hawk didn’t reply, Robert asked, “Twenty-four, maybe twenty-five years?”

“I am twenty-five winters old.”

“Too young to know, my good lad. Too young.” When Gray Hawk’s eyes narrowed, Robert continued, “Look around you. I ask you, look around. What has she done to you that is so bad? Yes, you are tied; yes, you have lost your freedom, but only temporarily. As soon as she has accomplished her purpose, you will be freed, your passage on the steamboat paid so that you can return to your people. What is so bad in that?

“Can you tell me that you are denied food, sleep, shelter?” Robert went on. “No, you cannot. You are given all that you desire. Why, lad, look at what we are doing. Am I not even now fitting you with new clothes? Am I not treating you well? I can promise you that as soon as her father is finished with the studies that he is doing, you will be restored once more to the same sort of freedom that you have enjoyed in the past, and you will have much more to show for your time than any one person in your tribe.”

“I do not understand what this ‘studies’ is. But…” Gray Hawk held up his hand when the other man would have spoken, “…you say I have food, sleep and shelter here? Did I not already have that when I was free and with my people? You say that I will have my freedom back when she is finished. Did I not already have my freedom before she took it from me? You say that I will have much to show for the time I spend with her. Did I not have all that I desire before I came into contact with her? When I come to the fort, I see the white people keeping birds in a thing called a cage. The bird has all that he wants, and still the bird longs for freedom, will fly away as soon as the cage is opened. Do not mistake what you do for me. A cage is still a cage, no matter its comforts.

“I put a question to you now,” Gray Hawk continued. “You say that she treats
me
well? Now I ask you how you know this. Will you promise me here and now that she will feed and clothe my family while I am gone? Can you say that she will attend to their needs as well as to mine in my absence? Will she stay behind now and hunt many buffalo so that my family’s bellies will stay full through the winter? So that my women will have many skins to make more clothes, more shelters? Will she do these things while I am gone, so that my family will survive the harsh winters of the North? So that there is no death in my family?”