Savage Winter (24 page)

Windhawk was a man in love who was being denied the fulfillment that his body craved. He knew he could easily find a willing woman to share his mat, but that thought was distasteful to him. No matter what Joanna thought of him, he was a man of principle, and he wouldn’t take another woman while he felt he was still Joanna’s husband.

Windhawk turned over on his side and stared into the glowing fire. He had only returned to the village today, but he knew that he had to get away again. He would give Joanna more time to think. Perhaps, when she found out that Red Bird had moved out of his lodge, she would be more inclined to listen to him.

Windhawk realized that the whole village was wondering what was going on between him and Joanna. He knew many of his people thought that Red Bird had replaced Joanna as his woman. His mistake had been in allowing the Piegan woman to move into his lodge in the first place. He couldn’t very well go around announcing to the whole tribe that he had never taken Red Bird to his mat.

He thought of his little son and smiled…Little Hawk was a son to be proud of. He hoped Little Hawk would inherit Joanna’s kindness and loving nature. Windhawk remembered his boyhood and how safely and securely he had grown up because he had had a loving mother and father. He wanted that same feeling of security for his own son.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, knowing his dreams would be of Joanna and when they had laughed and loved in a happier time.

Joanna was dreaming. Her dream was taking her back to the time Windhawk had found her after the raid on the wagon train. At that time, she had thought that Windhawk had executed the raid and was responsible for the death of so many people. She hadn’t known then that he was in fact her savior and had rescued her. She was frightened of him and of the devastating effect he had on her…she didn’t want to love him, but, against her will, she had been drawn to him.

Joanna’s dream was so real she could almost feel the touch of his long, sensitive fingers against her skin.

There was a sensation like pain when she felt his hand on her shoulder, and she tried to back away. She wanted to cry out as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the buffalo robe and laid her down. Her heart was pounding with
fear as she tried to scramble to her feet, but Windhawk forced her back against the soft buffalo robe. She was making whimpering sounds as he lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms.

Joanna realized she was still dreaming of the time Windhawk had first taken her body, making her his woman. She had been young and innocent then and hadn’t known about the feelings a woman could have for the man she loved.

“There is nothing to fear, Joanna. I will not harm you.” Windhawk spoke to her in her dream just as he had on the night he had made her a woman.

Her slight body was trembling, so he ran a soothing hand down her back, while pulling her tighter against him.

For long moments he caressed her, until, at last, her trembling ceased. His hand slid up her back to her glorious hair.

Joanna could feel her fear being replaced by a sensation of contentment. She began to feel safe. This man was not of her kind. Again, Joanna realized she was dreaming, and she didn’t want to wake up.

In the dream, Windhawk drew her head toward him, and she did not resist, but rested her face against his smooth, bare chest. He was filling her whole being with his presence.

In her dream, Joanna could feel his breath stirring her hair, and suddenly she felt neither safe nor contented. She knew she must flee or she would be lost forever. She could only think of the strong, sensitive hand that traced the outline of her face.

“Windhawk, please, I don’t want—” Joanna pleaded in her dream state.

His finger touched her mouth, silencing her plea. “Joanna,” he whispered in a pain-filled voice. “Joanna, you spoke my name.”

It was as if a thousand bright lights exploded in her head as his lips touched hers reverently.

His hand drifted down the front of her gown, and before she was aware of what he was doing Windhawk had unfastened
it. Slowly he pushed it off her shoulders as his lips brushed the lobe of her ear, then moved down to nuzzle her neck.

“No, please, no,” she moaned, twisting and turning in her sleep, feeling the same wild abandonment that she had that night so long ago.

Windhawk covered her lips with his, closing off her protest. He kissed and caressed her, all the while pushing her clothing downward. That night her virgin body had been no match for his experience. Her body had been ready to obey his slightest command. And now, in her dream, she could feel her heart drumming in her head, and she was unaware of anything but Windhawk and his gentle stroking hands, which caused new and unexplored feelings of delight to course through her body. When his hand slid down her throat to rest against her breast, she wanted to protest, but her body betrayed her. Joanna felt momentary relief when he withdrew his hand, until she realized he was pushing her gown and undergarments downward.

Joanna gasped when she felt his lips on her stomach, tying her insides into tight knots.

“No,” she cried, pushing against him with all her strength. She hit out at Windhawk, catching him with a loud slap across the face. She froze, thinking that he would strike her back. Seconds passed and she could feel his intense stare even through the darkened tipi.

“Joanna, do not fight me. You know you want to feel the oneness with me. It will do no good to fight those feelings. Would it not be better if you would…submit?” he asked in his halting English.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “These hands were not meant to bring pain to a man…only joy.” He then slid his body forward and drew her into his arms once more. She had not been aware that he had removed his breechcloth until he pressed his hot body against her.

In her dream Joanna closed her eyes at the unfamiliar feel of a man’s body—which was hard and firm in all the places where she was soft. Her breasts were flattened against the
wide wall of his chest, and she wanted to deny the pleasure that coursed through her veins. He slid his body against hers, and Joanna didn’t even realize that she inched closer to him. She could feel his pulsing manhood pressed against her inner thigh and felt frightened again.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.

His lips nuzzled her ear. “I would sooner die than cause you pain, Joanna.” His hot breath fanned her cheek, and suddenly Joanna had no more desire to fight him. He would win in the end, she vaguely reasoned, knowing that she was beyond resisting. She had no idea what he would do to her body, but his mouth sought hers, forcing her lips apart to receive his kiss. Where his kiss had been gentle before, he now plundered her mouth, and she groaned, surprised that he had so easily overcome her resistance. She might hate herself tomorrow, but tonight she would give him all he demanded of her…!

Joanna could feel herself waking up, and she fought to return to the dream. When she opened her eyes, she saw that she was back in the present. Her face was wet with tears, and she felt so empty inside. She wished she could lose herself in her dream and live in the world of the past when Windhawk had loved her!

Joanna buried her face in the buffalo robe, losing herself in total misery. The dream had seemed so real, and she felt such a sense of loss, knowing they could never recapture the love they had experienced that autumn night…it was gone forever. It was no longer autumn, but the middle of winter. Their love had not endured, as Windhawk had promised her it would.

Closing her eyes, she wished she could recapture the dream and feel the oneness with Windhawk once more.

I love him—I will always love him, she thought, facing the truth with bitter regret. No matter what happened between them now, or how Windhawk shamed her by flaunting Red Bird in her face, she would never stop loving him. It was a hopeless feeling to know that she had no control over whom
she would love. If she had her choice, she surely wouldn’t have chosen Windhawk…yes, she would have. She would choose him over any living man. He would always be her only love, and nothing on this earth would ever change that!

Windhawk awoke and cried out. He sat up quickly, looking about as if in a daze. His body was trembling and wet from perspiration. He had been having a nightmare, and even though he was now fully awake, he still couldn’t shake his feeling of foreboding.

In his dream, he had seen Joanna being stabbed over and over by someone who was no more than a dark shadow. He had struggled to get to her, but hadn’t been able to reach her in time!

Covering his face with his hands, he tried to wipe the vision of Joanna, bloody and dying, out of his mind. It had been no more than a dream, he told himself. Joanna was safe in his mother’s tipi.

Standing up, he pulled a warm buffalo robe about him, knowing he must see for himself that Joanna was safe.

When he entered his mother’s tipi, he walked silently to where Joanna was sleeping. He could clearly see her face in the flickering firelight.

Turning away, he left as silently as he had come, thinking how foolish he had been for allowing a dream to upset him, glad no one was aware that he had entered his mother’s tipi, and not knowing that his mother had watched him from her mat.

Sun Woman shook her head sadly at her son’s torment. She had wanted to cry out at the tears she had seen on Windhawk’s face!

Farley had assured Joanna that Fosset was recovering nicely; he was gaining back the weight he had lost, and the scratches were all but healed. Although Joanna took Farley’s word that Fosset was mending, she wanted to see for herself.

Little Hawk had been fed, and Morning Song had readily agreed to watch him while Joanna rode to the pasture where Fosset ran with Windhawk’s horses.

Joanna kissed Little Hawk on his soft, chubby cheek and waved to Morning Song before leaving. She thought how nice it would be to get out in the fresh air. The weather had been so bad that she had been forced to stay near the village for too long, and her young spirit yearned for the outdoors.

The sun was shining, and although it was lightly snowing the weather was not too cold. She mounted Tag’s horse, Navaron, and headed through the village.

Joanna hadn’t seen Windhawk for three weeks. Sun Woman had told her that he and several of his warriors had gone hunting. She tried not to think of him, but he was never far from her thoughts. She couldn’t help but dwell on the happiness they had once shared, and her body remembered too well the touch of his hand. Many nights she would dream of the time when Windhawk had held her in his arms. In her dreams she could almost feel his caressing hands moving over her body; when she awoke, she would feel sadly empty inside.

Windhawk had made her a woman, and her heart cried out for what they had once shared but had now lost. She wondered how long it would take her to put these disturbing feelings aside. Joanna realized that her life was going nowhere until she could make a decision about her future.

When she drew even with Windhawk’s lodge, her eyes
picked up movement there, and she turned to see Windhawk talking to Gray Fox. She hadn’t been aware that Windhawk had returned, and she felt a weakness wash over her.

Windhawk’s back was to her, and she hoped she could get past him without his seeing her, but that was not to be the case. Gray Fox raised his hand and called out to her, causing Windhawk to turn around to look at her.

“It is good to see that you are getting out in the fresh air, Flaming Hair,” Gray Fox said, smiling. “How is that son of yours?”

Unless Joanna wanted to be rude, she had no choice but to stop and speak to Gray Fox. Drawing rein on Navaron, she smiled slightly at him, while she avoided looking at Windhawk.

“It is nice to see you, Gray Fox. You have been away and have not yet seen my son. I would be proud to show him off to you.”

He walked toward her and rested his hand on her horse’s neck. “You are mistaken. I have seen Little Hawk several times. Windhawk is such a proud father, he takes me to see him every chance he gets. I saw him yesterday, as well as today.”

Joanna’s eyes shifted to Windhawk, who was staring at her with dark, blazing eyes. So Windhawk had been home since yesterday. She felt anger when she realized he must have chosen the times she was away from the tipi to visit Little Hawk. Did he dislike her so much that he wanted to avoid her at all cost?

Her anger must have shown in her face, because Windhawk’s eyes darkened and narrowed.

“If you will excuse me, I am on my way to check on my horse, Fosset. I will wish you a good day, Gray Fox,” she said, nudging Navaron forward. When she rode away she could feel Windhawk’s eyes burning into her back. When at last she was free of the village, she urged the horse into a gallop, wanting to put as much distance as she could between herself and Windhawk’s disturbing presence.

Joanna was seething on the inside. What right did Windhawk have to treat her like some stranger? She felt she was trapped in the life she was now forced to live. If only she had a way, she would leave this place and never look back. She didn’t know how Windhawk felt about his son. The fact that he had paid any attention to him at all had come as a complete surprise to her.

Windhawk watched Joanna ride away, then he turned to Gray Fox. “I can see you are still drawn to Joanna,” he said to his friend in a biting tone.

Gray Fox caught the anger and jealousy in Windhawk’s voice. “Is it your wish that I not speak to Joanna? I admire your wife, and as her friend as well as yours, I feel hurt in my heart at what she has been through. It cannot be easy for her to watch her husband take another woman to his lodge. If she were my woman, I would not treat her so. I think she is worth more than Red Bird.”

“She is neither your woman, nor is she your concern. You yourself have two wives. You would do well to look to your own wives and leave Joanna to me.”

“It is time someone thought of your wife. She was captured by the Cree, and we may never know the hardships she and Morning Song endured; yet when she returned to you it was to find another woman had taken her place. She almost died giving you a son, and still you treat her as if she were the dirt you walk upon. You can get angry with me if you wish, but it is time someone spoke up for Joanna.”

Windhawk’s eyes held a murderous light as he turned his back and walked away from Gray Fox. He would have spoken to Joanna if she had spoken to him first, but she still treated him like some stranger. He didn’t like that Joanna had been so friendly to Gray Fox while ignoring him. He also resented the fact that his friend felt he needed to defend Joanna to him. He knew he was being jealous and unreasonable, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Windhawk walked to his mother’s tipi. Seeing Little Hawk was asleep in
Morning Song’s arms, he left abruptly. Walking to his horse, he mounted and rode off at a gallop.

He was some distance from the village before he realized he was riding toward the pasture where Joanna had said she was going.

Joanna followed the winding river until she came to the pasture where Windhawk kept his horses. She smiled brightly and waved at the young boy, Crooked Nose, who tended Windhawk’s herd. Dismounting, she tied Navaron’s reins to the branch of a pine tree.

“I have come to see Fosset, Crooked Nose. I am told he is doing well.”

“That is so, Flaming Hair. His wounds are all healed, and he is eating well. Windhawk has asked me to take extra care of him. Would you like me to bring him to you?”

“Yes, I would like that.”

She watched as the young boy mounted his pony and rode away.

When he returned, he was leading the reluctant Fosset. Joanna moved her hand over Fosset’s smooth coat, noticing that he was indeed recovered. Bending down, she examined his legs and found his wounds were all healed.

“You have done well, Crooked Nose. Thank you for tending Fosset so well.”

The young boy basked in her praise. “I used the healing herbs that She Who Heals always used on sores, and it took no time for Fosset to heal.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

At that moment, Joanna and Crooked Nose heard a rider approach from the direction of the village, and they saw Windhawk emerge from the pine forest. Joanna’s first instinct was to mount her horse and ride away. She was not ready to face Windhawk. Her anger and hurt were too deep, and her heart pounded fiercely when she remembered what had happened the last time they had been together.

But somehow she could do nothing but wait for him to
approach. She refused to look at him, however. Bending down, she pretended to be examining Fosset’s hooves. She could hear Windhawk’s horse pawing the ground. Feeling the heat rising in her body, she knew Windhawk was watching her. Standing up, she patted Fosset’s hind quarters and turned to Crooked Nose.

“I must return to the village now, my son will be waking up. Thank you again for taking such good care of Fosset for me, Crooked Nose.”

The young boy looked from his chief to the Flaming Hair. Everyone in the village knew there was trouble between the two of them, and he could see that for himself. Flaming Hair had not spoken to Windhawk, and he was staring at her in a most peculiar way.

“Take Fosset back to the herd, Crooked Nose,” Windhawk said in a commanding voice.

The young boy didn’t hesitate to obey. He gathered up the horse’s reins and led him over to his pony. Mounting his horse, he rode away and was soon lost from sight.

Joanna turned away and walked toward Navaron. She held her head high and didn’t look back at Windhawk. When she had almost reached her goal, she felt Windhawk’s hand on her shoulder, and he whirled her around to face him.

“I will speak to you, Joanna—now!” he said in a raspy voice, while his eyes blazed his displeasure.

She looked down at his hand, which was still on her shoulder, refusing to look into his face. “I believe we have said everything that needs to be said. Take your hand off me, if you do not mind,” she whispered.

Instead of removing his hand, his grip tightened, and she looked into his face. Oh Lord, she thought as her eyes locked with his. He still has the power to make me fall apart inside. I cannot allow him to see how much I still love him, she thought in a panic. His eyes seemed to draw her to him, and she felt his hand glide down to her back in an almost caress. Not again, she thought to herself, please, not again!

“I do not believe we ever settled anything. We will talk,
Joanna. You can come with me now, or I will carry you. It is up to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you, and you could say nothing that I would want to hear,” she said, knowing she was telling only a half-truth. Joanna didn’t want to talk to him; she wanted him to take her in his arms and say the things to her that she so wanted to hear. She wanted to hear him tell her that Red Bird meant nothing to him, and that he loved her.

Fool, she called herself. All he has to do is touch you, and you are willing to overlook everything.

“You will have to force me, Windhawk, because I can imagine nothing that we have not already said to one another.”

His dark brows came together in a frown, and before she could react he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his horse. She struggled as he mounted, and his arms tightened about her like iron bands.

“We will have our talk, Joanna. Had you acted like an adult instead of a child, I would not have to force you to come with me. Do not put the blame on me if you are making it hard on yourself.”

Joanna was seething on the inside. What could they possibly have to talk about? She didn’t answer him but set her jaw stubbornly. Let Windhawk talk, she thought, she wouldn’t have to listen to him, and she had no intention of carrying on a conversation with him. She resented his high-handed treatment of her. She had no notion where he was taking her, but she hoped it would be back to the village.

Joanna looked down at his strong hands and remembered how gentle they could be when they had caressed her body. She felt a tremor shake her as his warm breath fanned the red-gold hair near her ear. His lean, hard legs brushed against hers, and she felt a weakness wash over her. She had the urge to lean back and rest her head on his shoulder, but she didn’t dare. She was raging on the inside because he caused this weakness deep inside her.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked in a whisper.

He leaned his head forward and his ebony hair brushed
against her cheek. “I am taking you where we can talk undisturbed by anyone.”

“I need to get back to the baby, he will be waking soon,” she said, reaching for an excuse—any excuse.

“I looked in on my son before I left, and he was sleeping soundly. If he awakens, my sister will know how to care for him.”

“So,” she said, jerking forward and turning her head to look at him. “Do you often go to see Little Hawk when I am not around?” She was unaware that she had spoken in English. “When will you learn, Windhawk, my son and I don’t need you. Take me back to the village this instant!”

She began to struggle, and he held her loosely, knowing he was of superior strength and she would soon tire of her childish antics.

Joanna saw his jaw tighten and knew that he was angry, but she was, too. He was nothing more than a brute imposing his will on her, she thought. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

Finally, she stopped struggling and held herself rigid so she wouldn’t touch him. She decided she would act with dignity and make the best of a bad situation.

Joanna held her temper as he entered the river, and she didn’t protest when he rode up the bank and into the forest. She tried to act indifferent when he rode on deep into the woods, nor did she react when he pulled up his horse, placed her on the ground, and then dismounted himself.

He took her arm and led her over to a fallen log and set her down. She looked up at him, expecting to see a startled expression on his face because he had gotten his way, but she saw only sadness in his eyes.

“Why have you brought me here?” she asked.

His eyes moved down her face to rest on her swollen breast, and she thought she detected pain on his face. “I told you…I wanted to talk to you without being interrupted.”

She raised her head defiantly. “I am listening.”

His eyes traveled over her red-gold hair, and he watched
as the soft snowflakes drifted down to settle on the flaming mass of curls. He felt uncertainty now that they were alone. What would he say to her? He remembered a time when he could have told her anything. He thought of the nights she had lain in his arms, and he had talked to her for hours while she had listened to him. This was the woman he had loved above all else…she had shared his deepest secrets. They had laughed and loved together. When had things begun to go wrong between them?

He looked past her and watched the snow drift down to land on the limb of the pine tree, which seemed to bow down with the added weight of the snow. “I do not like this bad feeling that is between us, Joanna. I want to be able to see my son anytime I want.”

“Have I ever said you couldn’t see him? I did not think you cared about him.”

He glanced back to her. “I care.”

“We do not need you, Windhawk. Go back to Red Bird—perhaps she will give you a son. She told me she would.”

He reached forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her to her feet. His face was a mask of fury as she squirmed to get free. She wedged her hands against his chest as he brought her closer to him.