White Owl (5 page)

White Owl saw the girl’s arm reach around the door of the stall to grab the water bucket. He helped her out by handing it to her. He heard her gasp, but she quickly recovered.

“Thanks, Donavan. I’ll owe you.”

“I’ll remember that,” the boy said as he grabbed the bucket and started back out of the barn.

The instant he was out of sight, she twirled around to face White Owl again. “Please, you have to leave here,” she pleaded in a frantic voice.

“Not until you agree to meet me later.”

Her head shook negatively in a frantic gesture. “It’s too dangerous. But please, don’t hurt my fam—”

White Owl refused to listen to her insistent worries that he was going to slaughter her family. He could not think of any way to shut her up, so he let his natural instincts take over.

Any sense of rationality had left Rose. The Ute’s appearance in the barn had rattled her to the point of insanity. But when he grabbed her and pulled her roughly against him, she truly had thought that her end was inevitable. Then she realized it was her warrior, and though she still feared his prowess, she also somehow knew that he wasn’t there to hurt her. The feel of his lips on hers was the most delicious sensation she had ever experienced.

As his kiss continued to engulf her senses, Rose forgot that they were standing in the middle of the barn and her little brother would be returning at any second. The thought that her father and twin brother, or even her mother, could walk in at any moment never even entered her mind. All her attention was focused on imitating his actions by opening her mouth slightly and letting his lips assault hers with a hunger that made her entire body ravenous for something that she could not begin to comprehend.

Rose allowed herself to revel in the feel of his strong embrace. Nothing outside this moment existed. When he finally began to ease his mouth away from hers, she longed for more.

She stared up at the tall brave, and their gazes locked. Her lips still raged with the fire of his kiss. There were no words that could explain the feelings that gripped her body and soul. From the way he was looking at her, Rose could not help but feel that he was as confused as she was.

The sound of footsteps snapped Rose out of her trance. “You’ve got to get out, now!” she demanded as she glanced at the doorway. No one was visible yet, but Rose knew that it was probably Donavan returning with Molly’s water.

“You will meet me later?” the Ute asked.

“No—I can’t,” Rose insisted. She looked at the barn entrance—Donavan was walking toward the doorway. In a matter of seconds he would be in the barn and see them. “I’ll meet you,” she said hastily.

“Where?”

Donavan was nearly to the door. Rose pushed the man back into the shadows of the barn. “I’ll meet you at Milk Creek as soon as I can get away.” Rose spun around on her heels and ran toward the entrance of the barn. Donavan was walking in just as she reached the doorway. She fought the urge to look back over her shoulder to see if the Ute was still in sight.

“I thought you went to help Ma,” Donavan said in an accusing voice.

“I’m going,” Rose yelled more harshly than she planned.

She rushed past her brother, but once she was outside the barn, a terrible fear engulfed her. What if Donavan encountered the Ute in the barn and decided to try to fight him? He was her baby brother, and she could not endure the idea of anything happening to him. He had just turned thirteen years old this summer, and unlike her twin, Tate, she and Donavan had always been very close. Leaving him alone and defenseless with the Indian was not something she could do, even though she did have the feeling the Ute had meant it when he said he didn’t come here to hurt anyone.

Frantically, Rose twirled around and began to run back into the barn. She practically ran smack into her brother as he was heading back out of the barn.

“You still haven’t gone to the house to see what Ma needed?” he said, shaking his head. “Hey, Rosie,
are you all right? You look like you’re sick or some-thin’.”

Rose exhaled heavily. Right now, she was feeling kind of sick. She glanced toward the back of the barn, but luckily, there was no sign of the Ute. How could she be so desperate to see him again already?

“I’m better now,” Rose answered, but she heard the quiver in her voice when she spoke. She just hoped Donavan wouldn’t notice.

“You sure? ’Cause you sound kinda funny, too.”

She turned away as she tried to calm her racing heart. “Come with me to see what Ma needs,” she said. She began running to the house, hoping Donavan would follow.

“Why?” he hollered.

“Because I said so!”

When Rose reached the front stoop, she turned around and sighed with relief to see that her little brother was ambling toward the house. His pout didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was safe. She just wished she could feel safe again.

She ran her tongue along her swollen lips, which still clung to the taste of the Ute’s demanding mouth. The inferno that burned inside her body continued to rage out of control, and her mind was spinning with contradicting thoughts; she could not go meet the Indian at Milk Creek because she could not trust her own emotions around him. Yet for the sake of her family’s safety, she had no choice but to go. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

“Oh, dear Lord above,” Rose whispered to herself. “Please give me the strength to make up for my foolishness.” She gingerly touched her lips with the tips of her fingers, adding, “Whatever I might have to do.”

She was shaking too hard to saddle Molly, so Rose just put a bridle and reins on the mare before she hoisted herself up and galloped away from the barn. It had been easier to get away than she thought it would be. Her mother had only needed her assistance for a few minutes and had seemed distracted when Rose told her that she was taking a short ride.

Donavan had already forgotten about her strange behavior. She saw him heading into the field behind the barn with his shaggy black dog, Pepper.

As she headed for Milk Creek, she realized she would be utterly at the mercy of the Ute warrior. So why did she feel so . . . so excited?

Milk Creek was only half its normal depth at this time of year, but the water that did flow had a steady current. Heavy thickets of willows, an occasional oak tree, and almost impenetrable bushes lined the sides, but there were many places where sandy beaches edged the gently flowing water. Rose had also discovered hidden little areas in the dense trees where she and Molly could relax in
the shade and listen to the lulling sounds of the creek nearby.

Since she had no idea where the Ute would be, she rode to the closest point and figured she would wait until he found her. She had barely halted Molly when she heard him call to her.

“You came—I was not sure you would.”

Rose remained on her horse’s back and glanced over at the bushes where he had just emerged. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. “I didn’t have a choice, did I?”

The Indian shrugged. “Yes, but you chose this one.”

Rose held her breath as he walked toward her with a swagger that she thought was particularity arrogant. As she watched him approach, she could not help noticing once again what a handsome man he was. His raven hair was parted down the middle, and a folded black scarf was tied around his forehead—the ties hung halfway down his back and almost blended in with his thick waist-length hair. His chest was covered by a loose-fitting V-necked white tunic. A black belt hung low on his hips, and a fringed knife sheath hung along one of his thighs. High suede moccasins with long fringe were tied up to his knees, and his tan cloth leggings were tucked inside.

Rose’s gaze moved back to his face when he was only a few steps away from her. She exhaled the breath she had been holding in one big rush. His eyes were the blackest black, and they were
surrounded by thick, long lashes in the same midnight hue. Eyebrows equally as dark were perfectly shaped over his eyes, and his nose had a slightly regal hook, which, along with his high cheekbones and full lips, embodied his Indian ancestry. Her heart thudded wildly in her breast.

“Do you like what you look at?” he said with a smug smile.

Rose was snapped out of her daze immediately. He reached out to help her down from her horse. When she hesitated to take his hand, he grabbed her around the waist and stood her on the ground before him. Rose teetered for a moment and avoided looking up into his eyes again. She was so filled with conflicting emotions regarding this man that she could not trust herself to do anything.

“Did I not just prove to you that I didn’t come here to hurt you or your family?” he asked in an irritated tone.

“Yes, well, I suppose . . .” she said. The idea that he would try to kiss her again was turning her into a blubbering idiot. His hand cupped her chin and lifted her face up so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes again. Rose’s world beyond this moment ceased to exist.

With his hand still gently holding her chin, he said, “I only come to see you. It’s time you start to believe me. I do not lie.”

I do, Rose thought.
Every time I try to tell myself that I don’t want to see you again
. But she did not trust herself to speak. His words seemed so sincere,
and she believed him, in spite of every thing her father constantly said about how evil the Ute Indians were.

“Are you going to say something, or do I scare you so much that you have no voice?”

Rose drew in a slow breath. His touch felt so gentle. How could that be? According to her father, his people were ruthless killers. She could not think straight.

Finally she said the only thing that she could think of, “So why do you speak English so good?” she asked once again.

He dropped his hand, releasing his hold on her chin, and to Rose’s surprise, he tossed his head back and laughed. It was not a cynical laugh, but one that sounded as if he really did find her question funny.

“I think you are truly worried about that since you have asked me that question several times.” He shook his head and smiled down at her. “I will tell you more about me, if you tell me more about you.”

Rose still did not move. She continued to stare up at him. His long, thick hair was hanging over his shoulders on both sides of his face, reminding her that he really was supposed to be a savage. Yet his sparkling eyes and jovial smile made her realize that he was just a man . . . a handsome, intriguing, maybe even tenderhearted man, who made her insides smolder with unknown longings and left her lips yearning for another kiss.

He tilted his head slightly. “As a child, I was taken to Denver to live with a Christian family so
that I could learn the ways of the white man. I went to their school and attended their church, and learned as much as I could so that I could return to my homeland as fast as possible.” His tone grew gruff as he added, “I am a Ute, and no matter how much they tried to make me white, I will never forget who, or what, I am.”

His expression had grown hard, and the glint in his eyes no longer looked happy. Rose swallowed over the heavy lump in her throat. She wished she had not pushed the issue. “I am from Denver,” she said, trying to change the subject. “Before that we lived in New York for a few years, but I was born in Ireland.” She added, “Then we homesteaded here, and I hope I never have to leave. I love it here.”

Unconsciously, her gaze roamed out over the landscape and a smile touched her lips. Her nervousness made her babble on. “My father’s family still lives in Ireland, though. But my mother’s family moved to America with us, and they stayed in Denver when we moved here. My aunt is a school-teacher, and my grandparents own a general store.”

She drew a deep breath and paused. Although she knew the Ute was watching her intently, Rose was unable to decipher his mood.

“Tell me more about you—just you?” he said, obviously not wanting to talk about the people she had just mentioned.

“How many summers—I mean, years—are you?”

“Eighteen,” Rose answered, then added, “I have a twin brother. We’ll be nineteen in December.”

His smile returned. He remembered the two
men he had observed earlier. No wonder the younger one had looked so much like his Wild Rose. “And Donavan, he is your little brother?”

“Yes,” Rose said.

“Are there others here?”

“Just my parents,” she replied. An uneasy flutter developed in the pit of her stomach. Why was he so interested in her family? As if he sensed her thoughts, his next words helped to calm her growing fear.

“I only ask because I want to know more about you, so you can stop worrying—again.”

Rose attempted a weak smile. “Well, you did threaten to kill my father that first day.”

White Owl emitted an aggravated grunt. “Will you remind me of that for the rest of our lives?” he asked.

His question made Rose feel weak-kneed and shaky. The rest of their lives? They had barely met, and he was making reference to the rest of their lives?

“I-I don’t even know your name,” she said in voice that was hoarse.

A smile reclaimed his lips. “I am called White Owl.”