The Renegade's Woman (5 page)

"You are mine now, " he said, "and will be for all time. " He pulled his long knife from its sheath at his hip.

A small cry came from her throat. "Please, " she whispered. "Don't--"

He lifted the knife and she closed her eyes, unwilling to watch him spill her lifeblood. But instead of the kiss of cold steel on her neck, she felt a slight tug on a lock of hair at her temple. Her eyes shot open in time to see him curl the lock in a loop and tuck it into a small leather pouch she hadn't noticed before, hanging on his belt.

"Standing Bear?" she said on a breath, hardly believing her eyes.

"We part now, " he said softly, sheathing his knife. "But soon, I will come for you. "

He didn't touch her. She ached for his arms to surround her and soothe her fears. Would he send her away and then have his friend shoot her in the back? But no, he'd just said he would come for her. She shook her head. "I don't understand. You're setting me free?"

He looked at her long and hard. "It is best you stay with the wagons. " He jerked his pursed lips toward the forest behind her. "You will find them just through those trees. Now, go. "

Her mouth dropped open.

Just like that?

With no hug? No kiss good-bye? No Thanks for the roll on the blanket, Miss Hewitt, it's been fun, ' at least? She snapped her mouth shut and ruthlessly cut off her irrational hurt and betrayal. Instead, she sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks for her life and His deliverance from the temptations of the flesh.

As she lifted her skirts and fled through the pines at a dead run, she vowed she'd never touch a man again in her life. She swore to God she wouldn't. Especially not a darkly handsome man with the eyes of the devil himself -- and the touch of a heavenly angel.

Letting out a long sigh, Standing Bear turned to face his companions. He needed a sweat. He needed some of his uncle's Forgetting Herbs. He needed a sing to rid himself of the bewitchment of the woman who had just high-tailed it away from him like a frightened jackrabbit. How fickle women were.

Then again, he should expect no less from a woman of his enemy. He knew firsthand the white man was as changeable as the wind. A man's friend one day, the next his executioner. Why should he believe their women were any more honorable?

He'd made her body feel good, and she'd rewarded him with smiles. He was a fool to believe she'd give him loyalty. Or her heart.

Whistling Hills watched him, sympathy painted on his kindly face. Standing Bear avoided his eyes and swiftly mounted his pony. He didn't need his friend's sympathy. He needed a good kick in the ass for letting himself want this woman enough to spoil the trading mission, ruin his status in the tribe, and haunt his body and spirit to the point of physical pain. For already, he felt the pangs of her absence, deep in his gut.

He had accepted Black Crow's ultimatum, but he didn't have to like it. His only consolation was that, in the end, he'd have this woman back. One way or another, he would have her back. On this he swore his life.

"Indians up ahead!"

The shout came from an outrider galloping along the line of wagons, spreading the wagonmaster's orders. Sally's heart stalled, then beat double-time in her breast. Indians? He just wouldn't give up...

"Stay next to yer wagons and stash all weapons!" the outrider, Jeb, yelled as he continued down the line. "It's a friendly scouting party comin' to organize a trade in a few days, and Mr. Dexter don't want no trouble! Jest act like they ain't even thar!"

Yeah, sure. If it was Standing Bear, she could ignore him like she could ignore a bad case of the hives.

He'd been hunting her for four days now -- or four nights, to be strictly accurate. Ever since he'd let her go.

The first night, it had been her own shameless body that had summoned his memory, dreaming of his touch, endlessly reliving the ecstasy they'd shared that day by the stream. In one erotic dream after another all through the night, he touched her and kissed her and made passionate love to her, until she'd awakened in a haze of sublimely sated frustration.

Lord, she wanted him back.

If he had called then, she would have gone. Like Ulysses to the siren's song, she would have succumbed to the lure of his potent sexual appeal, sacrificing all else -- her judgment, her good reputation, and more than likely her very life -- to the hedonistic pleasures she knew he would gift her with.

Luckily, she'd come to her senses.

She was shameless! And he was a dangerous brute who wanted only to tear her away from her only family and the new life she sought at the end of the trail West.

The next night the birdcalls had started. The ones she knew were really him. Deep in the dead of night they had come. First softly, then more insistent. She'd firmly covered her ears and buried her head under the coat she used as a pillow.

"Oh, Sally, I'm so frightened!"

Alyssa's long fingers painfully clutching her arm brought Sally back to the present with a start. She gathered her wits.

"Don't be silly. Jeb said it was a friendly trading party. "

Her sister had no idea just how friendly. At least, one of them.

"But everyone knows all Indians are bloodthirsty savages!"

Alyssa'd been talking to Ernie again. The man was a terrible influence. Her sister wasn't normally so wrongfully unjust. Not even back on the slave plantations in Virginia had Alyssa had an unkind word for any man, regardless of his color.

"Sis, they're just people like you and me. You'd be mad, too, if they took away Gramma's farm and stampeded buffalo through all the crops. "

Alyssa stared at her as if she'd grown horns. "What are you talking about? We're about to be scalped in our sleep and you're talking about buffalo on Gramma's farm?"

Sally gave her sister a hug. Ernie must have spun some pretty gruesome tales. And heaven knew, they were probably true. But she'd take her chances with the Indians rather than put up with Ernie's brand of self-important swaggering.

"Lys, Mr. Dexter would have had us circle the wagons if there was any danger. "

That seemed to mollify Alyssa. "Still, I think I'll ride in the wagon with the Tompkins' for a while. Come with me? Please?"

"No. I'm not afraid and the poor oxen have enough to pull without adding me to the weight. "

Sally trudged on, keeping her distance of about fifty feet from the trail so she wouldn't be breathing in the dust and odors of the horses, oxen and wagon wheels. There was another seventy feet or so to the edge of the woods on her left, and a spread of prairie grass to the right.

Up ahead, a deathly silence enveloped the wagons. Usually, there was talking and shouting amongst the men and families traveling along together, the clang of pots and the cheerful whoops of children playing as they ran alongside the slow-moving conveyances. Now, though, everything was suddenly still except for the grinding of iron wheel-guards on gravel and the occasional low of an ox. A shudder ran down Sally's spine as she spotted four Indian warriors sitting like statues on their horses at the forest edge far ahead, watching the progress of the wagons roll by.

Lord have mercy, what would he do when he saw her?

There was no doubt in her mind it was Standing Bear and his companions. She'd recognize that meltingly masculine silhouette anywhere. They'd come to organize a day of trading, Jeb had said. She wondered just what Standing Bear had in mind to trade...

Keeping her eyes to the ground, she walked on. As she neared the warriors, she felt four sets of eyes drill into her. She would not look up. He could do nothing to her here. Just as he could do nothing about it for the last three nights when she'd refused to answer his calls.

One of them had to be sensible. If the Indians took her forcibly, there would be trouble. Lots of people would die, probably on both sides.

And how could she even think of going willingly? As much as she felt for Standing Bear, as much as her body ached for him, and as sure as she was that she could love him madly if given but half a chance, how could she ever give herself over to a life as his... whore?

For that's exactly what she'd be. He'd made no promises of marriage. Indeed, she didn't even know if Indians had such a thing. Although he'd mentioned the word 'wife' at one point, so probably they did. But as she recalled, in the next breath, he'd also mentioned selling her to another man.

Surely, he must see that no sane woman would willingly submit to such a life? Regardless of the fact that she'd had no sleep for the past four nights thinking of him and his magical hands and wonderful lovemaking.

She heard a commotion, and looked over to see two of the other braves trying to restrain Standing Bear. He flayed her with a furious look. Breaking away, he wheeled his horse along the forest edge a few yards behind her. She quickly turned forward and resumed walking, deliberately ignoring him. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with the man in front of the whole damned world.

She felt his wrath scorching the back of her neck as he kept pace on his horse behind her. She could hear whispering from behind the canvas flaps of the nearby wagons, and the quietly called advice to run to her wagon and hide from the dangerous renegade who'd taken such an interest in her. Alyssa was weeping audibly inside the Tompkins' wagon, lamenting that Sally was sure to be carried off to a certain, horrible fate.

If only she knew.

Standing Bear trailed her for what seemed like hours. Each minute that dragged by, his angry gaze bored deeper and deeper into her spine, making her itch with its intensity. It was a good thing she'd decided not to go to him -- he'd probably as soon kill her as make love to her at this point.

Finally, she could take no more. She spun to face him. "Stop following me!" she shouted.

Muffled gasps echoed along the line of wagons.

He didn't say a word, but reined his horse and sat staring at her, an inscrutable look on his face.

She stomped over to him. "I will not go with you, " she hissed out under her breath, for his ears only. "And you can't make me. "

A muscle in his jaw worked up and down.

"So, just stop calling me with your stupid bird whistles and let me get some damned sleep! I won't come!"

His eyes narrowed.

She crossed her arms under her breasts, feeling the heavy bear claw hanging under her dress poke into her skin. "I won't let you tempt me with your gorgeous body and your wicked hands. It's wrong, and I won't let myself want you. "

He continued to stare down at her. She could see her words were having no effect on his plans whatsoever. If anything, he looked more determined than ever.

Moisture pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision. "You don't love me. You won't marry me. Why should I throw my life away on a man who--"

"Come to me tonight. If you don't, I'll come and get you. " With that, he turned his horse and trotted back towards his friends.

She squeezed her hands into fists and stamped her foot on the hard ground. "You goddamn stubborn son of a bitch!" she whispered, kicking a nearby clump of weeds soundly. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

"My heavens, who is that man?" Alyssa asked for the tenth time that night.

After supper, they'd all gathered around the campfire inside the circle of wagons -- she and Alyssa, the Tompkins', and the three other families who'd started out with them from Virginia. Sally's sister had been feverishly speculating as to the identity of the new guard standing in the moonlight out at the tree line. Mr. Dexter had apparently heard of the Indians' peculiar interest in Sally and decided to post an extra man by their wagon.

The man did look unusually good in his cavalry-striped trousers, she had to admit. The blue wool rode low on his lean hips and trim thighs. His snug flannel shirt encased a broad chest and muscular arms which carried a Winchester rifle at the ready. He had his collar flipped up against the chill and a cowboy hat covered most of his face and dark hair so it was impossible to tell from this distance who he was. Though, there was something vaguely familiar about the way he moved... Something intense, like a wolf...

Suddenly, she squinted and stood abruptly. No! It couldn't be. He wouldn't dare!

"Is there something wrong, dear?" Mrs. Tompkins asked.

"No! I mean yes. I have to take a walk, " she said, using the polite euphemism they'd all adopted when someone needed to slip into the forest and use the non-existent facilities. She grabbed a tin cup and filled it with coffee from the fire. "Maybe I'll take our new guard some coffee on my way. "

Alyssa's mouth dropped open. "Why, I declare, Sally Ann Hewitt! Whatever has come over you?"

She shot her a grin. "Maybe some of your high-falootin' manners have finally rubbed off. " Alyssa was no doubt peeved she hadn't thought of it herself. Just as well. She'd have gotten a nasty shock when she got close enough to see Standing Bear's bronze face, handsome as it was.

"As I live and breathe, " her sister muttered as Sally strode away from the circle of amused faces.

"Oh, " she halted after a few steps and called over her shoulder as an afterthought, "Don't wait up for me. I really am taking a walk. "

She left the group and marched determinedly across the dark no-man's land to where Standing Bear leaned against a tree in a puddle of moonlight, his Winchester cocked casually over a shoulder.