Night Thunder's Bride: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 3 (15 page)

Truly, it might never be.

Soon, the healing rays of Sun drew her spirit upward, however, and she realized she floated free above the prairie, above her home. She felt herself fly and for the moment, she drew comfort from such a simple action, admiring the tremendous show of nature and thanking Sun that she was being allowed to see it.

A hawk soared by her, its squawk a gentle reminder that she had to leave this place and go to her home. Her parents would worry.

She glanced at the hawk, but for a moment she saw not the bird, but a woman. A woman with terribly pale skin, a woman with hair the gold color of autumn leaves and eyes tawny like those of a mountain lion. Giving a squawk, the hawk turned all at once and flew away, but as it left, the young girl could have sworn she saw the bird transform into something else yet again. A warrior. A warrior she knew and recognized.

Shock made the Indian maiden plummet instantly and suddenly back into her body, the impact of her return to it momentarily sending the young girl sprawling onto the ground. But she quickly picked herself up.

Who was this woman, what importance did she hold, and why had she turned into a warrior?

Had she, an Indian maiden, imagined this, or had she obtained a vision? She, a woman, receiving a message from Sun? Surely not. Only the wise men of the tribe were so gifted.

Yet she could not deny what had happened.

What did it mean?

Perhaps, after she made her way back to camp, she would tell her father and they could seek out a medicine man who could relate to them the significance of the vision. If it were a vision.

No one would believe her, she was certain. Others might even laugh at her.

Still, it was her duty to tell one and all of this vision if it were truly a message from the Sun.

Picking herself up and drying the tears from her eyes, she set out on wobbly legs, making her course one that would return her to the village. And as she glanced up at Sun, Blue Raven Woman sent a prayer of thanks for the wisdom shown her, vowing that she would do all she could to learn of this thing she had seen, that she might do honor to herself, to her family, and to Sun.

Night Thunder despaired as he glanced down at the sleeping woman in his arms.

She had fallen asleep standing up, still nestled in his embrace. He tightened his hold on her and grimaced.

How was he to save her, himself?

The enemy’s singing had continued on and on throughout the night, as had the dancing. What sort of war party was this that these warriors celebrated through the night—in enemy territory? Night Thunder wasn’t mistaken about their identity, was he? No, he couldn’t be. He had seen the cut of their moccasins, had listened to their talk. They were not Blackfeet, nor from any allied tribe that he could fathom.

He didn’t recognize their speech pattern, either; which was odd. He might not be able to utter the different languages of the plains, but he could usually distinguish one tribe from another by their words. This one he could not.

There was more. Why had no one from this war party come to challenge him? He was certain he and Rebecca had made more noise than they should have. He was positive, too, that these warriors should have heard the two of them, or at least have felt their presence. Why had the men not attacked?

Had he been on his own, he might have challenged these men. He might already have had the glory of waging battle. But he could not do that now—not with Rebecca with him. True, her life might be spared by this enemy, but he did not wish to put that particular assumption to the test.

Which brought him back full circle: why was he being left alone? Was it possible his and Rebecca’s lovemaking hadn’t been heard? It seemed improbable.

But more important, hadn’t these warriors “felt” that they were being watched? As a hunter and a warrior, Night Thunder had been trained never to observe the enemy too closely, since it was well known that they could sense the attention of others upon them.

Were these warriors delaying the inevitable for some reason of their own? And if they were, how could he spare Rebecca? He glanced down at the sleeping woman in his arms.

Aa,
Rebecca. He sighed.

She remained a mystery to him. She had been distant from him for so long that he found it incredible to envision that she might desire him. Yet she had kissed him, had loved him, with as much ferocity as he had loved her. Surely this must mean that she held some fancy for him.

She had also been a maiden. Surely, no young miss would give the gift of her virginity without strong affection, would she?

She had said that she held a loving place for him within her heart, but her utterance had been whispered in the heat of passion, said at a time when she had not known if she might live from this moment to the next. These were the sort of words one could come to regret within the light of day.

Would she? Would she rue their lovemaking? Especially when she discovered that he could not change his alliance with Blue Raven Woman?

He tilted his head and frowned. Why, he wondered, did it matter to him?

Yet it did.

Looking away from her, another thought occurred to him. What if they lived? What if the enemy truly had not seen or heard them? What would he do then? How could he make Rebecca understand that he loved her, though he must marry another woman? Especially when, by the laws of his tribe, he had now made Rebecca his wife, too?

He didn’t want to think about it.

Rebecca stirred and wiggled against him, and had Night Thunder been anything but the trained warrior that he was, he would have groaned.

His body answered hers, his manhood stiffening as though to reassure her that he remained in readiness for her.

He should make love to her again.

The thought came to him unbidden.

He should make love to her, yet he must not. The enemy lurked outside. Both he and Rebecca had been spared the danger of discovery once; they would be fools to tempt fate yet again.

Still, with her so near to him…

“Night Thunder?” she whispered.

He brought his attention back to her. “I am here,” he said unnecessarily, and pulled her body in toward him.

“Night Thunder, has it occurred to you that this enemy is not keeping their presence well hidden?”

“That is true.”

“If they are in dangerous territory, shouldn’t they be? That is, shouldn’t they be trying to keep hidden?”

“
Aa,
yes, that is as it should be.”

“Then, why?”

“I do not know. I have been wondering the same thing.”

She stirred against him again, her stomach up against his stiffness.

“Night Thunder, you are—”

“Sh-h-h. We must not talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Is it not obvious? There is an enemy close by and we must remain silent.”

“But we are talking now and—”

“Sh-h-h.”

She wiggled against him and he let out a low growl.

“Be still,” he said, even as his hands reached down to massage her buttocks.

“But you are—” He captured her lips, then, ravaging her mouth with his.

Haiya,
this must be a madness with him. With the enemy so close to them, he could think of nothing but her and he lifted her up against him, even while he was certain the enemy would discover them.

He wanted to be gentle, but he was not. He parted her legs, wrapping them around him as he drove into her with all the finesse of a buffalo bull in heat, and he sent a prayer of thanks to Sun that Rebecca appeared to welcome him.

He covered her sighs with his lips, and as their movements began to keep time with the beating of the drum outside, Night Thunder lost himself to the wonder of her, to the incredible feeling of being one with this woman. Never had he felt the powerful draw of another female, never could he remember having had such glorious pleasure.

He could sense her nearing her climax, and as he felt her tiny muscles tighten up around him, he emptied his seed within her, praying that the sound of their lovemaking would not betray their presence.

Her breathing was as ragged as his, and he held her even more closely to him as he drifted back to earth, content for the moment in the knowledge that the wind blew against them, carrying his moans and her sighs away from the danger of the enemy.

He would not let her go, he realized. Now that he’d had her, he wanted her even more. What this would mean to her, to Blue Raven Woman, and even to himself, he dared not consider. At least for the moment.

He only knew he would keep Rebecca with him, somehow, in some way. And despite himself, despite his troubled thoughts, Night Thunder drifted off
into an amazingly contented sleep.

The silvery rays of early morning trickled into the hollow tree, while outside, the lyrical call of the lark and the mourning dove proclaimed the start of a new day.

Night Thunder came instantly awake and glanced around him. Shock kept him silent; his stomach fell. He had slept through the night.

How could he have done it? Now there would be no chance of escape. He groaned inwardly, trying to remember a time when he had acted so irresponsibly. He couldn’t recall one.

He nudged Rebecca awake, putting a finger to his lips to silence her.

The enemy hadn’t yet found them. Perhaps there was still a chance…

He chided himself for his foolishness. There would be no chance once Sun was fully up.

But it was still early morning. Maybe if the enemy still slept? The warriors had danced and sung most of the night away. Surely he might find the men resting?

Cautiously he drew Rebecca out of his arms, and positioning her so that her back rested against the tree, he motioned toward her to remain where she was. Meanwhile, he crept back toward the opening of the tree.

He peered over his shoulder at the outside, slowly, making certain to create no sound.

He saw nothing.

He turned, and bending, crept out a little farther. He glanced out.

Nothing.

He slunk back into the protection of the tree. Where were the warriors? Had they already broken camp?

And if so, why had they not attacked and killed these two who had been hiding within a tree trunk? He was certain that he and Rebecca had left a trail. Why had the enemy not acted?

Night Thunder bent down on hands and knees and crawled forward, taking care to make no sound.

Nothing.

He stood up and glanced around him in a full circle before stooping to examine the ground.

What was this? Not only could he see no warriors, he could detect no evidence of their having been there; not a blade of grass bent where they might have stepped, not even a broken twig.

Surely there would be some evidence. Had their fire not been here, in this place where he stood? Yet he could find no trace of it. Of course the warriors would have tried to erase all signs of a fire, but there still would have been some sign of it left behind, if only a warmer piece of ground. But as he covered the dirt all around him, he could find nothing.

What did this mean? Night Thunder could make no sense of it. Unless…

A cold chill ran down his spine. It couldn’t be. Yet…

Spinning around, Night Thunder hurried back to Rebecca.

“
Oki,
come!” He reached a hand into the hollow tree and took her elbow, propelling her forward and out. “Let us leave this place.”

She followed him, albeit reluctantly. “But the war party…?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

“Do not worry about them.”

“They are not here?” Her voice was louder. He shook his head.

“We are free to go?”

“
Aa,
would I ask you to come with me if we were not?”

“But I thought that—”

“Later I will tell you about it. We must leave this place now.”

“Yes,
of course, but—”

“
Now
.”
And with nothing more said to enlighten her, he ushered her from their hiding place, onto the prairie, setting their course to intersect with that of his fellow tribesmen.

He only hoped that the danger would not follow them.

Chapter Ten

“Did I hear you correctly? Ghosts?”

“I do not know what this ‘ghosts’ is. I only tell you about the shadow of those who were once living.”

“Ghosts,” Rebecca repeated, saying it more to herself than to her companion. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“I do not ask you to believe,” he replied over his shoulder, his intention clearly on keeping pace with the others from their party. Night Thunder had found their companions’ trail easily this morning and had caught up with them, losing little time in doing so. “I am only explaining to you,” he continued, “why there was no trace of the enemy warriors. A great fight must have taken place where we were encamped last night, and those who are still there must have been blinded or had body parts cut off in the fight, for they are unable to find their way to the Sand Hills.”