Proud Wolf's Woman (14 page)

He looked down at her, catching her glance, and all at once they both smiled, but whether in humor over her situation or just for the pleasure of sharing a smile, Julia could not be sure.

But of one thing she was certain: It was the first time she’d seen Neeheeowee smile since they had reunited…really smile.

And strangely, the knowledge gave her comfort.

They set up camp beneath a canopy of willow trees, the soft grass beneath them cushioning their sleeping robes while the nearly dry Cimarron River skirted close to their chosen spot, coming right up to them, then going on away, following its long-founded course.

Julia looked up through the long, spiny branches of the trees to gaze at the multitude of stars above her. She breathed deeply. She never ceased to marvel at the extent of the heavens one could see out here on the plains. Before she had come here, she hadn’t known such grandiose beauty existed. Now she wondered how she had ever lived without it.

The wind whistled through the willow branches at that moment, catching her attention, and Julia puzzled at how the thick stand of trees could survive the temperatures of this hot, desolate land. She had thought to question Neeheeowee on the subject, but not being able to work out how to ask him such a complicated question, let alone how to understand his answer, she had chosen to keep her silence, sitting quietly instead, enjoying the shelter of the trees after so long a stretch of barren prairie.

Unable to lie entirely prone, she reclined half on her side, half on her back. Neeheeowee sat across from her, his expression reserved, until all at once, he rose, coming over to sit beside her.

“Ne-toneto-mohta-he?”
he asked.

“I don’t know what you ask me,” she said, his presence overwhelming her, and as he squatted down beside her, Julia gulped, her heartbeat picking up double time. She wondered idly if he could see the beat there, at the base of her neck.

But he paid it little heed, his attention elsewhere.

“Ne-onesehe’onaohtse?”

His gaze met hers.
“Na-nese’se’ona,”
he said, producing a buckskin type of cloth. He wet it with water from a buffalo pouch bag and Julia knew that he meant to wash her.

“I don’t think that you should—”

He had picked up her hand, Julia almost pulling back as a warmth swept up her arm.

He began to wash her hand, her fingers, moving up to her elbow. Then the other hand, all his actions repeated. And Julia tried hard to remember a time when someone had cared for her so well, so patiently.

She couldn’t.

“Ne-oneseohtse?”
he asked, and Julia opened her eyes to look at him. He grinned at her slightly, and Julia almost gasped.

But he didn’t notice. He turned his attention to his parfleche, searching through it quickly before he pulled out some ointment.

He then proceeded to apply the mixture to her cuts, his touch as gentle as a babe’s, as tender as a lover’s, as…

She exhaled swiftly, gazing up at him, noting that his features had softened under the dim light from the stars and moon overhead. And as the willow trees waved their branches in the wind, sending fleeting shadows over his face, over his body, Julia thought she had never seen anyone more handsome, anyone more…

“Who are you really?” she whispered, and Neeheeowee raised his head, his glance catching hers.

Something passed between them, some emotion she couldn’t define.

She almost reached out toward him, but he looked back down to her hand, and, as he continued his ministrations, she took the time to study him.

Yes, he was a handsome man, Neeheeowee. And she recalled now that she had always thought so. Tall, well proportioned, his body appeared as sleek and muscular as a Greek statue she’d once seen back East. His face was more oval than round, his eyes smaller than those of his white contemporaries, his nose slightly aquiline, his lips full and sensuous. Except for a section of bangs cut square on his forehead and centering down upon his brow, his hair hung well below his shoulders, almost to his waist, and he wore it without the usual ornamentation so familiar to the Indian: no feathers to boast of his prowess, no rawhide to tie it back, no oil to tame it into the sleek braids that appealed to so many of the warriors.

But it was more than all these things that gave to Neeheeowee his masculine beauty, more than all of these things that drew her to him. There was a strength about him, a strength tempered with…what?

“Kindness.”

She didn’t realize she had said the word aloud until Neeheeowee looked up to her.

She merely smiled back at him. And he, after seeing that she had nothing more to say, returned to his ministrations.

Kindness? How was that possible?

She looked at him again. Was she being fanciful? She stared. No, there it was. Strength, with a certain benevolence in his attitude that manifested itself in his every feature, an underlying resolve so powerful, yet so gentle, it gave her a feeling of safety with him.

She couldn’t have said exactly how she saw it, it being more personal presence than physical feature. But there was something she could feel about him, some quality within him that set her at ease, and she realized that here before her was a man who would never desert her, a man who would stand his ground for her, a man it was an honor to call friend.

Her eyes widened slightly and she stared…and she stared.

His gaze, in contrast to hers, centered downward, his eyelids hiding his expression from her, especially since he sat bent over her arm.

But she didn’t mind. It gave her ample opportunity to study him more closely, her gaze hungry to learn more. High cheekbones dominated his face while large, coarse brows complemented eyes that slightly slanted. His chin, she noted, was completely bereft of hair.

Her glance fell downward to where her necklace still hung over his chest.

Why do you wear it?
she wondered, wanting to ask him.
Is it possible that you held me close in memory all this time?

“No.” She actually whispered the word aloud.

It couldn’t be; she didn’t want it to be, and she shied away from the thought, barely daring to believe he might have held her in high esteem. She looked up to him, then.

He wore no shirt, his skin bronzed to a copperish tan from years under the sun, and she noted that not only was his chest barren of hair, but so, too, were his arms.

And unwillingly she wondered about other parts of his body, envisioning what they might look like. She glanced downward, toward that area of interest, but realizing at once what she did, she shot her gaze back upward, her stare stopping midway between his shoulders and his waist.

She glanced over to his arms. His fingernails gleamed white, his nails clean, set off as they were against the tan of his skin. His fingers were long and his touch sure, gentle; Julia, watching him, felt quite mesmerized.

As though he suddenly became aware of her scrutiny, he glanced up toward her, the pale moon accentuating his foreign beauty.

Julia breathed deeply, returning his look. He held an allure for her, this man, and she wasn’t sure just what to do about it.

He didn’t smile at her at this moment—he didn’t do anything. He just stared at her, and Julia’s heart tripped over itself as though unable to beat quick enough for the extent of her emotion.

His gaze lowered to her neck, centered on that telltale pulse, and, slowly, so that she didn’t even notice it, he raised his hand to the spot there, a single finger tracing the throbbing outline.

“Ne-mo’ona’e,”
he said softly and Julia knew he complimented her.

At once, sensation swept over her, the enticing sweetness of it seducing her.

But he wasn’t finished. He smoothed out her skin with those fingers, he gazed at the pulse, at her neck, then back up to her face.

Their eyes met, his survey of her searching, cool, controlled.

She held her breath.

What did he intend? Did he intend to make love to her?

She almost stopped breathing at the thought, her body responding with frightening intensity, yet she hesitated. Was it what she wanted? Truly?

She thought back over this past week. Except for a few shy looks and some unusual behavior after he’d been close to her, Neeheeowee gave her little indication as to his mood, keeping his distance from her whenever possible, even during those times, like now, when she wanted his attention. There had been moments this past week when Julia had even wondered if the man regarded her as female, so reserved was he. But the look he sent her now…

Did he want her?

The thought made her feel faint. And while a part of her reacted to the idea in quite a womanly way, a voice within her cautioned her to go slowly, to think this thing through.

She glanced away. Would he attempt to make love to her? Did she want him to?

Yes. No. Maybe. She didn’t know.

Had they been the only two people alive, she would never have hesitated. If there were no one else to consider, no cultural barriers to surmount, she would have already fallen victim to his charms.

But there
were
cultural barriers, there
were
other people who would judge them, especially if a child were made from the union. And Julia couldn’t help but think that a match between them held little future.

He was Indian. She was white. They had nothing in common, not even those things commonly held true within a culture: no alignment of goals, no similarly held ideals. If they ever did make love, where would they go from there?

Julia didn’t know.

An image of her friend, Kristina, suddenly came to mind. Kristina, who, seven years ago, had married an Indian; Kristina, who had gone to live with that man in the Indian world. Was her friend happy in the foreign culture? Had her relationship with her Indian husband worked? Could Julia do the same?

She had no husband now, no family to censure her decisions. Could she leave all she’d ever known and learn to live within an entirely different culture? Would Neeheeowee even ask it of her? Or would he love her now only to discard her later?

Suddenly her heart lurched, her head hurt, and Julia knew she could not think of such things any longer. Whatever her future might be, she could not see it with Neeheeowee; she only knew she could not allow him to love her at this moment. And with sudden intuition Julia knew that Neeheeowee did not intend to keep her with him.

She gazed back at Neeheeowee, and as she did so, she knew, if he asked it of her, what her response would be, what it had to be.

But he just stared back, saying nothing, asking nothing, and Julia, though she tried, could not read a thing from his scrutiny.

She closed her eyes, steeling herself with all the reasons which kept her from him, and unbidden, another thought came to her.

Wasn’t she now a widow…just? Wasn’t she still in mourning? Were she back in her own society, wouldn’t her actions be censured? In truth, how could she even entertain the idea of another man’s touch? How could she even…

She shuddered. Neeheeowee had just run his fingers up and down her arm, albeit briefly, yet the contact, the sensation of his touch over her skin, the feeling it invoked proved almost more than she could bear.

She flung her head back, exposing her neck to his wandering touch. She wanted more. She wanted…

She inhaled, the sound of it more gasp than inspiration. And she realized, she could not allow this. She must make him realize it.

And so, as she lay prone, there on the windswept prairie ground, beneath a thousand stars, twinkling majestically above her, she lifted her gaze to his. They stared, the two of them, communication passing between them without a word being spoken, and slowly, so very, very gradually, she turned away; her cheek, her gaze, her whole body rejecting Neeheeowee, his tenderness, his kindness, his care.

And Neeheeowee, receiving the communication as though she had spoken to him, stood up and quietly slipped away, the sound of his going lost forever amidst the rustlings of a hundred willow branches overhead.

What did she think he wanted?

What did
he
think he wanted?

Neeheeowee stood beneath a large willow near the edge of the river and glanced back to their camp. She still lay on her side though he could see that she had bent over, her hands reaching around behind her, trying to pick out the sand burrs and stickers lodged there in her backside.

He had tried to ask her if she would mind if he did the task for her, but she had misinterpreted his intent.

His intent? He snorted. When had he resorted to lying to himself? He might have originally intended only to care for her cuts, but at first contact with her skin, his best intentions had evaporated as moisture did to dry air. And Neeheeowee, striving to remain honest with himself, knew he’d given her reason to mistrust him.

He’d not been able to resist the temptation of touching her more intimately than simple care and good manners dictated were necessary, and despite himself, he’d almost hoped she might respond to him. It was what his body demanded of him, of her.

Neeheeowee groaned, knowing he had a serious problem. While he remained duty-bound to protect Julia and to treat her as though she were a favored guest, his body demanded of him that he make more of their relationship than mere honored guest.

In truth, his groin had begun to ache in ways he would rather not think about. And though cold baths held good medicine under normal circumstances, Julia was ever in his vicinity, her presence never giving his body a chance to recover fully.

But that wasn’t all.

Since embarking upon this journey, Neeheeowee seemed to have lost sight of his purpose: the hunt for the Pawnee murderers, his wife’s and unborn child’s atonement. These were not things he could put aside. These were not things to be taken lightly.

And yet, something had come over him recently, a welcome change that Neeheeowee knew had everything to do with Julia. He no longer had those terrible nightmares that for so long had haunted his every thought, his every action. With Julia beside him, he felt freer, more happy than he could remember being in a long time. And he wasn’t quite certain he wanted to give it all up.