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

Though every muscle in his body tensed, Night Thunder forced himself to show no reaction.

Strikes The Bear continued, “Surely she would not object to showing you some affection, here before us all, that we might know the truth of your words.”

It took great control and strength of will for Night Thunder to keep from betraying his consternation. But after a few moments he managed to effect a smirk at his opponent before he said, “You know that she would not agree to express a fondness for me in so public a place as this. What would you have her do? Go against tradition? Both hers and ours?”

“It seems little enough to ask.”

Night Thunder allowed himself no quarter as he glanced around the circle of warriors. Sweeping his arms toward all assembled, Night Thunder said, “This thing that Strikes The Bear asks is a great insult to me and to my wife. It would embarrass any woman, and a man, if she were to show her husband…feeling in front of so many eyes.”

“
Haiya
!”
Strikes The Bear glowered, speaking to all. “So there is the proof that he lies. He will not do as I ask because he knows that the woman will not come to him. By his own actions, we know that Night Thunder lies.”

“
Saa,
no! Have I not already said I will ‘Swear by the Horn’? Perhaps it is you who is the liar. Perhaps your intentions are not as honorable as you claim. Will you, then, also ‘Swear by the Horn,’ as you ask of me?”

“I do not have to. My honor is not in question.”

“I say that it is.”

Strikes The Bear started forward.

“
Ssikoo
!
Enough!” The old man stepped between them, holding out his arms against the two men to keep them apart. “You sound as two old wives arguing over a piece of meat. Do you forget, brother,” he addressed Strikes The Bear, “that our friend from the
Pikuni
has much medicine that he could wield against you? It would not be wise to go against him. I do not believe he would lie without fear of reprisal from the spirits of his ancestors. And if this woman truly is his wife, then we have committed a grave lapse in manners and we should do all we can to salvage her honor…and ours.”

“Humph!” said Night Thunder.

“But surely you can understand Strikes The Bear’s anger.” The old man looked toward Night Thunder. “Not more than four moons have passed since his wife was killed. The desire for revenge burns in his heart. It is his right to seek judgment upon a white woman. The wise men say good for good and evil for evil.” He paused. “But not if she is the property of Night Thunder.”

Both men glared at the old man.

“There is a way to solve this. While it is true that Strikes The Bear was using this woman to seek his revenge, I believe him when he says his heart was pure and his intentions were to marry her soon after.”

Night Thunder cautioned himself against objecting to what he was certain was a lie. Such an interruption would have been the height of discourtesy.

“The woman should therefore choose the man she wishes, with the warmth of her embrace. It is not too much to ask, given the circumstances.” And to Night Thunder’s grunt of displeasure, the old man added, “But it will be necessary only this once.”

Night Thunder looked toward the woman, knowing that he might have already lost this battle. What the old man asked was little enough to request, yet too much. He could think of little reason why the woman would deem to honor him with her embrace. Perhaps this was to be his punishment, for was it not said that he who deals in lies will soon meet with all he deserves?

Night Thunder stood up to his full height. If he were to face ridicule or death because of what he had been forced to do, then he would face it bravely, with honor.

Still, he needed to tell the woman all that had transpired here, to translate for her what she was being asked to do.

Bringing to mind the language of the Long Knives or the Americans, Night Thunder began to talk to her, using gestures and sign language as he spoke. And if she denounced both him and Strikes The Bear as liars, then so be it…

Chapter Two

Surely Rebecca hadn’t understood. Was Night Thunder asking her to kiss him? To show him a
wheen
bit of affection? Here, before all the others? Was this, then, an added insult on top of what she had been made to endure by these Indians?

She hadn’t expected to look upon Night Thunder again. When she had been captured by the Indians, she had assumed Night Thunder would go back to his own people with nary a thought for her, believing as she had that the man would feel his obligation to her at end.

But she had been wrong.

Had it been only a few months previous that Night Thunder had pledged his word of honor to protect her?

“I will watch over Rebecca,” he had told his friend and companion, White Eagle, “so that your woman need not worry about her. I give you my word that so long as I breathe, Rebecca will remain safe.”

That White Eagle’s woman had been the niece of a new breed of man that the Indians referred to as the Long Knives had made no difference to Night Thunder. White Eagle had needed help. Night Thunder had given it, no questions asked.

Rebecca remembered at the time being struck by the incongruity of it.

An Indian swearing his life to protect a white woman?

Yet he had.

She was suddenly glad she had spent the time necessary to ensure this man knew her language. Addressing Night Thunder, she said, “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Despite his stately demeanor, Night Thunder looked suddenly sheepish. And Rebecca could well understand why. Thus far in their relationship, Night Thunder had shown her nothing but the utmost respect, keeping a careful distance from her. Even during those times when the two of them had been alone, he had rarely spoken to her, Rebecca coming to understand that in his society, their association with one another—that of an unmarried woman with a man—would have been strictly taboo. Rebecca could only wonder at what else had been said among these Indians to cause Night Thunder to ask her for her embrace now.

“Why is it that you would be asking me this?” She put the question to him gently.

“I have told these people that you are my wife in order to save your life,” he replied to her, his voice deep and strong, yet with a hint of chagrin. “They are demanding some…proof of our union. But I can say no more on it now. I can tell you only that you are being asked to choose one of us. Either myself or my cousin who stands here beside me.”

She glanced from one man to the other, her gaze coming back to settle upon Night Thunder. She held out her wrists. “If someone would untie me?” The old man stepped forward, the knife in his hand, cutting the rawhide bonds.

Several pairs of eyes watched her as she paced toward Night Thunder. She glanced up at him warily and raised her eyes to his. “Could you help me with this…kiss, now?”

She glimpsed no emotion on the man’s countenance before he said, “This is a thing you must do on your own. I can only tell you what you have to do. You must choose either myself or my cousin.”

“With all these people here watching?”

“It cannot be helped.”

“And will this act truly make us man and wife within the eyes of your people?”

An embarrassed, almost bashful look stole over Night Thunder’s face, though his voice was strong as he said, “Only if we consummate the union as a man and a woman who are truly married are bound to do.”

She was certain her face filled with color. She stammered, “And…and must we do this in front of…?” Her hand swept out in front of her.

“No, just one kiss should be all that is required.”

She sighed. “It is little enough that you ask in exchange for my life.”

With this said, she came right up to Night Thunder and put her hand on his shoulder, reaching up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

As soon as he received the kiss, Night Thunder stepped immediately back from her, and in his own language, said something to the others.

Chuckles were heard from around the circle surrounding them, and after some moments, Night Thunder said to her, “They say a kiss on the cheek is little enough proof.”

She paused. “Then let them deny this,” and she threw herself into Night Thunder’s arms, placing her lips against his.

When her lips met Night Thunder’s, something unexpectedly stirred to life within her. What was it? A warmth. Aye, surely, and yet more.

She felt her blood surge with newfound exhilaration. It made her want to curl in closer toward him, though she curbed the inclination to do so.

The faint scent of him engulfed her and she found it pleasing. He smelled of grass and smoke and prairie, yet more…There was another, almost indefinable aroma about him, too, something very male, and very arousing.

And there was an almost soft texture to his skin, his lips. She wondered, how would the rest of his skin feel beneath her fingertips? She brought her hand up to trail her fingers down his arm, only half aware of what she did.

He moaned in response and his reaction, far from causing her to reevaluate her actions, made her lean in closer.

His lips were full upon hers, making her feel warm, protected. Making her aware of her femininity. She became conscious of her breasts pushing forward against her dress, suddenly sensitized, and that area of her body most private to her began to ache, as though that part of her had awakened to life, too. The whole effect caused her to utter a soft sound, deep in her throat.

Rebecca heard another groan from Night Thunder and then all at once his arms came around her, pulling her in so closely to him that she could feel the evidence of his masculinity against her belly.

She could barely think.

For the past two months, she had grown accustomed to the company of this man as he had watched over her, guarding her. She had observed him within this time, had become used to the look of him, the sound of his voice, his quiet humor. She had even come to admit a fair amount of respect for him.

But this? What was happening here between them was more than mere respect. This was…well, it was…
sexual.

Ah, yes. Pure and simple. This kiss was communicating more than words could have, that she might…fancy him…and he her.

Had he felt this pull all these months? Had she? Surely not. Or were they both only realizing this now?

She barely heard the footfalls of the other men in the camp, as they moved away, uttering words she didn’t understand. She was only aware of this one man whose arms held her securely, whose touch roamed even now up and down her spine, causing her to shiver.

Someone spoke from beside them, jarring Night Thunder’s sensual exploration.

“
Soka’piiwa,
”
someone said. What did that mean?

His arms fell from around her, and she lowered her head, looking down at the ground. Without his arms around her, Rebecca felt suddenly embarrassed. She had meant to give him only a chaste little kiss. It should have been a simple affair. Yet the kiss they had just shared was anything but modest.

What did one say to a man who had affected her in such an unusual way? How did one act?

“Come,” said Night Thunder, taking hold of her arm and causing a tingling up and down that arm where he touched it. “The others are convinced of our union and are erecting a
niitoyis,
a camp lodge, for us. It seems we are to be left alone for the night.”

“A-alone?” A part of her gladdened at the idea of having no one else around her but this man; another wiser, more subdued part of her despaired.

“
Aa,
yes,” he said. “Alone. But do not worry. I will not violate you, if it is that which concerns you. In the morning, I will take you back to the fort, as I should, and you will be no worse for your adventure here tonight.”

“Aye,” she acknowledged, nodding, “that is good.” Although she wondered if, having experienced a kiss such as the one they had shared, things would ever be quite the same between them again.

She let Night Thunder lead her toward the outer circle of the camp, where, as he had promised, a lodge had been hastily constructed. She hesitated and Night Thunder stopped, turned around, and gazed at her. “If you take me back in the morning, won’t the others in your camp begin to think that perhaps you lied to them? What will happen then?”

He shrugged as though the thought of such things were beneath him. Yet in his haunted eyes she glimpsed a hint that perhaps his true feelings were quite different.

“The others will find out, in due time,” he said, “that all I have spoken of this night is not true. Then I must face what I must. But that time is distant from now. Now I must get you to safety. When that is done, I will seek to confront the wrath of my ancestors over what I have said and done this night.”

“I see,” she said, although she didn’t, not at all. Ancestors? Did he mean dead people passing judgment, seeking revenge on the living? Had she heard him correctly? What strange manner of beliefs were these?

With any other man, she might have thought he’d gone daft to say such things. But not with Night Thunder. There was nothing about this man to suggest even a hint of weakness: in body, in spirit, or in mind. And so, she figured, if he believed such things, he must have good reason.