Читать книгу Brave Heart - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 7

Wolf grunted, feeling the razor slash of her fingernails sink deep into his left cheek. Throwing himself backward to avoid her second slash, he fell close to the small altar and fire in the center of the tepee.

Serena dragged herself up to a sitting position, breathing harshly through her mouth. The Indian raised his hand, his large palm pressed against his bloody cheek. His eyes grew thundercloud black as the silence around them became palpable. It was only a matter of minutes before he’d attack her just as Kingston had, she feared. Was there no end to her suffering?

Pain throbbed through his cheek, and Wolf felt his anger soar upward like a mighty golden eagle taking flight. The woman was shaking so badly that he wondered how long she could sustain her own weight. Her emerald eyes were glazed with darkness and fear.

A frantic scratching at the door caused Wolf to look toward the entrance. “Come!” he muttered.

Little Swallow quickly came inside, her square face filled with concern. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at Wolf. Then she looked over at the red-haired woman.

“Wolf,” she called softly, moving toward the wasicun, “do not move. She’s frightened. Can’t you see that?”

Hiding his bruised pride, Wolf leaped to his feet. He savagely rubbed his bloody palm down his left thigh. “I see that she is wilder than any animal.”

Serena’s gaze went between the man and the woman. Despite her fear, she instinctively realized that the younger woman who was now holding her hand out toward her meant protection. Her arms collapsed, and Serena fell back on the robe. Exhausted beyond her last reserve, she sank back, helplessly watching the woman approach her.

“Tiblo, do not be angry. I told you before, she has been hurt by men.“ Little Swallow slowly approached the pallet and then knelt down. Although she had suffered rape, she ignored her own discomfort and turned all her attention to the wasicun. Her hair was unbraided because she had been preparing for bed when she heard the screams coming from Wolf’s tepee. “Let me talk with her. Perhaps I can calm her.”

Rubbing his square jaw, Wolf stalked over to his pallet. “I do not care what you do.“ He opened the medicine parfleche to look for a powder to place upon the four deep scratches on his cheek.

Little Swallow gave her brother an understanding look. “She is like any mistreated animal, tiblo. You must be gentle around her and not cause her more fear. Of all people, you can sense fear around someone. She smells of it. I think I know how she feels. Patience…let me speak with her.”

Serena watched the Indian woman extend her hand as if in friendship. “H-help me,” she rasped. “I must escape. I—I can’t—won’t—allow him to touch me….”

“Sshh,” Little Swallow soothed. “Friends,” she began awkwardly, always finding English an unwieldy tongue. “You, me, friends. Yes?”

Friends. Was the woman telling the truth? “Please, help me. Don’t let him touch me.”

“No one hurt you. Name is Little Swallow. Yours?”

“Serena.”

“Suna?”

Her head ached so badly that she closed her eyes. “Serena. Little Swallow, where am I?”

Picking up the small wooden bowl, Little Swallow slipped it into a larger vessel filled with water. “We are Lakota. Remember river? You helped us?“ She moved slowly so as not to frighten the wasicun. “Thirsty?”

The promise of water made Serena open her eyes. She recalled Little Swallow’s face and the fact that she had been raped. Her heart went out to the Lakota woman. “Yes, I remember the river.“ She reached out for the bowl. “P-please…”

Smiling gently, Little Swallow slipped her arm beneath Serena’s shoulders. “Friends,” she repeated softly, placing the bowl against her trembling lower lip. “Friends.”

Wolf, now holding a cloth against his smarting cheek, watched Little Swallow treat Cante Tinza as if she were one of her own children. The exertion and combat had left the red-haired one fragile, her skin stretched taut against the bones of her face. He smarted with guilt, realizing he’d caused that reaction within her. Wapiya were healers, not destroyers. She tried to hold the bowl, but couldn’t, so his sister held it for her. Patiently, Little Swallow filled the bowl again and again until her thirst was sated.

“Thank you,” Serena whispered, grateful to be laid back down on the robe. The effort to keep her eyes open drained her.

“Sleep now. You with friends.“ Little Swallow pulled the robe across her shoulders, tucking her in. “A warrioress should long rest after hard battle. Wolf is right—you a brave heart.”

Wolf watched Little Swallow hold the woman’s hand until she fell into a deep sleep. Then his sister placed the bowl next to the water gourd and got up, walking to where he sat.

“How badly did she scratch you?“ she asked, removing the cloth from his cheek to examine the injuries.

“She hurt my pride more than anything,” Wolf grumped. “I was playing with Dawn Sky when she awoke.”

Cleaning the wounds, Little Swallow sighed. “And she was confused, no doubt.”

“Fear,” he muttered, “I saw nothing but fear in her eyes. It was as if I were some hated, ugly thing to her. I tried to speak in her language to tell her I was her friend, but she became heyoka, crazy.”

“Well,” Little Swallow replied, making Wolf tip his head to one side while she applied the powder to stop the bleeding, “I don’t think her reaction is to you personally.”

He slid his sister a wry glance. “That makes me feel better.”

Giggling softly, Little Swallow patted his shoulder. “Her fear is of men. All men.”

“Because of the torture she has endured?”

“Exactly.”

Wolf managed a lopsided smile of thanks when Little Swallow completed her task. He motioned toward the woman. “What am I going to do with her, then? How can I treat her wounds if she fears me?”

“Let Deer Woman help Serena. You can see she does not fear her own kind.”

Grimacing, Wolf rubbed his brow. Where was Deer Woman? She ought to be in by now and sleeping. Was she out with Swift Elk, the brave who wanted her hand in marriage? Wolf shifted his thoughts back to his patient. “Is that her name? Suna?”

“Yes. I wonder if it means anything?”

Wolf shook his head. “The traders said their names meant nothing. The names are hollow, like all wasicuns.”

“Most wasicuns,” Little Swallow corrected, “but not her.”

The fire was dying and Wolf got up, moving over to the small stack of wood just inside the tepee door. He placed a few sticks on it and came back to sit down with his sister. “I worry that Deer Woman may become jealous and mistreat Cante Tinza…I mean, Suna.”

“Then I will care for her.”

Placing his arm around Little Swallow, he shook his head. “You do too much for all others, tanksi.” And then Wolf looked at her closely, seeing the ravages of the attack she had suffered hidden in her brown eyes. Little Swallow was just as upset as the red-haired one, yet coping with it better. “And what of you?“ he asked, squeezing her shoulders. “Have you rested this day after the attack? Or did you allow your husband and all your children to make their usual requests upon you?”

She rested her head on Wolf’s shoulder for a moment. “My way of dealing with the attack is to remain busy, tiblo. That way, my head and feelings won’t overwhelm me.“ Little Swallow gestured wearily to Serena. “This one mirrors what I feel inside, only she wears it on the outside. A while ago, my husband came over to hold me, and I shrank from him. I was shocked at my actions, and so was he. I told him how I felt inside, that I feared the touch of any man since the miner had his way with me….”

Wolf wrapped his other arm around his sister. “Do you feel fear now?“ he asked, his voice laden with emotion over her suffering.

Sighing, Little Swallow shook her head. “With you, I only feel peace and protection, tiblo.” And then she laughed. “But I have always felt that with you. Cante Tinza is fortunate.”

Snorting, Wolf muttered, “Why?”

“Because she has you. When she realizes that you are as gentle as a mother with her newborn foal, she will no longer fight you. She will cease to see that you are a man who might hurt her once again and begin to respond to you on a deeper, more important level—from her heart. I know you are a brave warrior who has counted coup many times, but in your heart you are a gentle man. Cante Tinza will sense that. She is a woman, and her heart will eventually outweigh her fear.”

Wolf wasn’t so sure, but his worry right now was Little Swallow. In the dim firelight he could see how washed out her skin had become. He loved his sister fiercely because she embodied all that was good in a woman. Little Swallow was unselfish and generous with others. Sometimes to her own detriment, he thought. Giving her another affectionate hug, he helped her to her feet.

“Come, I will walk you back to your lodge. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Reaching up, Little Swallow pressed a chaste kiss on his uninjured cheek. “You are a healer by simply holding me, tiblo. I feel better already. And no, do not walk with me. Stay with Cante Tinza. She needs you….”

“I must try and find a way to get her to trust me enough to help her.”

Little Swallow rolled her eyes. “Ho, tiblo, you are a great wapiya, but surely you realize your limitations. Give Deer Woman a chance to help Cante Tinza get used to us and our way of life. Deer Woman is a child not given to envy and jealousy.”

“No, just dreams that will never be,” Wolf muttered unhappily.

Patting his hand, Little Swallow moved toward the entrance. “I saw Deer Woman speaking with Swift Elk earlier. Perhaps he courts her more strongly than ever now that she lives with you. Call me if you need help with Cante Tinza.”

“I hope Deer Woman comes to her senses and marries the brave. If Cante Tinza refuses my help, I will call you,” he promised gloomily.

Little Swallow turned, a wistful expression on her face. “She is like a hurt child, Wolf, this red-haired one of yours. Your greatest gift as a wapiya is placing yourself within another person’s moccasins. Understand her fear and pain.“ Her eyes grew misty with love for him. “If anyone can earn her trust, it is you.”

Wolf wasn’t so sure of Little Swallow’s parting words. Getting up, he carried his parfleche across the tepee to where Serena now slept. Kneeling at her side, he carefully moved several strands of clean red hair away from her right temple. The injury was healing well. White Buffalo Calf Woman had answered his prayers.

But what had he prayed for? As he rested his hands on the hard surface of his thighs, he studied her face. The face of a proud woman. Just the angular shape of her features told him she was a spirited warrioress. Her cleft chin did nothing but confirm that even more. But it was the softness of her parted mouth that drew his attention. Wolf felt the heat within his loins stir as he stared in fascination at her lips. Despite the pallor of her flesh, they were the color of ripe red raspberries in season. The brown spots that dotted her skin across her cheeks and nose made her look childlike.

Pulling the robe down to her waist, Wolf took the risk of waking her. The dressings on the burns that scarred her lovely breasts had to be changed three times daily. Thanks to the comfrey root powder the injuries were making miraculous progress, but they needed constant attention.

Serena lay in a cotton gown that Wolf had traded for years before. His gut tightened as he carefully lifted away the dressings. Wolf laughed at himself. A part of him expected her to draw from sleep and explode into the fury of a cornered cougar again. But she slept deeply, unaware of his cautious ministrations.

Halfway through the changing of dressings, Deer Woman slipped into the tepee.

“Where have you been?“ he demanded in a low voice, not wanting to awaken Cante Tinza.

Deer Woman moved to her pallet, taking Dawn Sky from the cradleboard to check the wetness of the dried moss that was used to soak up the baby’s urine.

“I was out for a walk.”

“Little Swallow says that Swift Elk was with you.”

Shaken by Wolf’s growling demeanor, she reached for the soft, dry cattail mixture and placed it within Dawn Sky’s fawnskin diaper. “I—yes, he wanted to see me. I came back when I heard screams.”

Wolf kept his attention on Serena. He didn’t speak again until he’d completed the dressings and moved back to his pallet. Sitting cross-legged, he watched Deer Woman gently care for his niece.

“The screams came from the one called Cante Tinza. Little Swallow came to help me with her because you weren’t here.”

Deer Woman heard the censure in his voice and chose to ignore it. “She screamed because she is with us?”

Wolf stared down at the altar, which contained a golden eagle feather and a bear fetish carved out of red pipestone. “No,” he muttered, “she is afraid of men. All men.”

Giggling, Deer Woman replaced the coverlet over the baby and began unbraiding her hair. “That is silly.”

Snapping his head in her direction, Wolf nailed her with a blazing look. “Foolish child! How can I count on you to help her if you laugh at her fears?”

Hands frozen on her braid, Deer Woman stared hurtfully across the way at him. “Why do you chide me, Black Wolf? Are you angry that I left the tepee for a while? I have been stuck in here all day without rest. I have cooked and sewn. And then I picked up and folded the robes and cleaned the tepee. After all that, I went down to the bank to gather willows for new baskets that you need. Am I not allowed a few moments of rest?”

Grimly, Wolf shook his head. His gut instinct had been correct: Deer Woman could not deal with Cante Tinza. She wasn’t envious or jealous of the wasicun, but simply lacked the experience or skills necessary to deal with her wild, fluctuating emotions. Further, a woman took pride in the work she had to do around a tepee and for others. Little Swallow or Evening Star would never complain over such tasks. Deer Woman was a spoiled and lazy girl, little more. Exhaling forcefully, Wolf lay down and jerked the buffalo robe across him.

“From now on,” he muttered, “you are to care for Dawn Sky only. I will tend to Cante Tinza.”

Blinking, Deer Woman began once again to unbraid her hair. “Well, of course, if that’s what you want, Black Wolf.”

She knew he was angry at her. Why? Was he jealous now that she had told him that Swift Elk had met with her? Hope mushroomed within her heart once again. Spirits lifting, Deer Woman began to hum a lullaby. This was the first inkling she had had that Wolf really cared for her. And what of Serena? Well, he was the wapiya, so naturally, he would want to care for her himself.

* * *

The next time Serena awoke, her vision cleared immediately. She saw sunlight lancing through the opening in the hides of the lodge where she lay. Hearing the gurgle and laughter of a baby, she moved her aching head to the left. Her eyes widened immediately. There he was, the same Indian man. This time, he was dressed in buckskin leggings; his powerful chest was bare except for a claw necklace that hung from his thickly corded neck.

It hurt to breathe as Serena forced herself to watch him. He was playing with the baby once again, his face not harsh but gentle this time. She recalled the anger and hardness in his features after she’d slashed at him. As he turned his face, she saw four deep scratches on his cheek. They were welted, and the side of his face was swollen. And yet he hadn’t beat her as Blackjack had done for the same thing. Why?

How could a man who played so lovingly with a baby hurt her? Serena’s heart asked. But her head was screaming another message. She lay very still, barely breathing because she didn’t want to be discovered awake by him. What of the woman she had seen? Little Swallow? Was that her name? Or was it all a dream fabricated by her fear of him?

Wolf sensed Cante Tinza was awake. He was careful not to let her know that. Instead, he played with Dawn Sky, nuzzling the baby affectionately, listening to her delighted laughter. Taking one of the baby’s tiny hands, he marveled at the beauty of how a woman could create such perfect life within her body. Surely, there was nothing more sacred than a woman.

Wolf feared Cante Tinza’s revulsion from him once again, which caused his heart to beat harder inside his chest. Trying to remember Little Swallow’s observations, he searched for ways to get her to relax with him present in the tepee. He gathered up Dawn Sky, who fit easily within his large hands. Softly, he began to sing her a lullaby. Perhaps his singing, which all in the tribe had said was wonderful to hear, would help Cante Tinza relax.

The deep, slow chant moved through Serena. She closed her eyes, remembering that voice from some lost part of her memory. It was his voice that had given her refuge in the turbulent state of her violent emotions. But he was a man. And capable of hurting her any time he chose. She was now a prisoner of the Sioux. Yet each time a new fear arose, it was neutralized by his chanting.

Unable to fight all her fears, Serena succumbed to the tone of his voice, allowing it to wash across her and cleanse away the tension making her rigid.

Wolf finished the chant, smiling down into the baby’s round features. Dawn Sky broke into a delightful laugh and he chuckled.

The rumbling laughter that filled the tepee made Serena tense. Her eyes flew open and her gaze locked on his.

Wolf was wildly aware that Cante Tinza’s green eyes were upon him. It was one of the few times in his life that he didn’t know what to do, so he followed his heart, his unerring guide. Tucking Dawn Sky in the crook of his right arm, he carefully broke contact with the wasicun’s frightened gaze and returned to caring for his niece.

Throat constricted, Serena gulped. The man was aware of her, but he made no move to attack her or even approach her. Sweat bathed her and she lay there, soaking in her own fear. Taking several gulps of air, Serena lay tensely, waiting. When nothing happened for several minutes, she pried open her eyes, forcing herself to look at him.

“Now, little one,” he told Dawn Sky, drawing the cradleboard to him and placing her into it. “If we can find Deer Woman, perhaps she will take you to the river with her to gather willow for the basket she plans to weave.”

Wolf avoided looking at Cante Tinza as he rose slowly, not wanting to alarm her. One did not move quickly around a wild horse, and that was how he was going to treat her. Slipping out of the tepee, he carried his niece toward the central fires where the cooking for the village was undertaken. The morning was warm, and the sky was a blinding blue color. Birds were singing melodically, telling Wolf that no enemy stalked their camp.

Little Swallow was skinning a rabbit caught by her husband earlier when she saw Wolf approach her tepee.

“Tiblo?”

“I look for Deer Woman,” he answered, halting nearby. Little Swallow looked rested this morning, and for that, he sent a prayer of thanks upward to Wakan Tanka, the Great Mystery.

“She is nearby.”

“I want her to care for Dawn Sky. Cante Tinza is awake and I must try to get her to speak with me.”

Little Swallow’s skilled hand hovered over the partially removed skin from the rabbit. “I have not heard her scream yet.”

“Yet,” Wolf muttered nervously. “I am sure she will. If she does, will you come and help? Deer Woman is going to be of little use to me in this matter.”

Smiling, she nodded, continuing to cut away the skin with sure, short strokes of the knife. “Of course I will. Leave Dawn Sky here. My oldest daughter will care for her until we see Deer Woman.”

Wolf hesitated, knowing that Little Swallow’s duties were many. He was torn between getting back to Serena and finding Deer Woman.

“Leave her, tiblo. She will be fine with us,” Little Swallow chided.

“Very well. I can see why no warrior would want Deer Woman. She acts childish and will not take a woman’s responsibility as she ought to.”

“Stop muttering, Wolf, and go back to your red-haired one. Do not give your power away to such a young woman who has yet to mature into her body.”

Wolf wiped his sweaty hands on his buckskin leggings as he walked back through the busy village. Everywhere he looked, the women were preparing skins, sewing or cooking. Most of the men, the hunters among them, had left hours ago to catch game. The children all played happily down by the river. Some of his nervousness abated as he allowed the peace that pervaded the village to be absorbed within his pounding heart.

Serena’s gaze moved to the entrance when she heard a scratching noise. Her eyes widened considerably when she saw the same warrior come inside. Hands tightening against the robe, she watched as he faced her. There were twenty feet between them. Twenty feet between assault or peace.

Wolf held out his hand to her. “Name Black Wolf. I not hurt you. Understand?”

For once, he wished mightily that he’d worked harder on perfecting his English with the traders who frequented the tribe throughout the summers of his youth. Tensing, he saw the fear and hatred return to her eyes. The silence hung heavily on his shoulders, and he now knew what real helplessness was as he waited those pregnant moments to see what she would do. He tried to prepare himself for her to scream once again.

Serena struggled to sit up. As the robe fell away to reveal the white cotton gown she wore, she stared down at it and then up at him. She wrestled with the harshness and cruelty that were a part of his features compared to the softness of his low voice. What could she believe? His sincerity of tone or his threatening male countenance? And who had undressed her and put her in this gown?

Wolf saw indecision and fear in her emerald eyes. Little Swallow had been right: he must switch to the wapiya side of himself, the one that enabled him to sense and feel. Sensitivity never led him wrong, and he consciously shifted to that compass called his heart. Making each movement slow, as he would with a wild horse to be tamed, Wolf eased back on his heels and crouched, his hand still extended.

“Suna?“ It was a pretty name, a melodic one, he thought.

Her eyes narrowed on his face. “How do you know my name?”

“My sister, Little Swallow. You spoke it to her last night.”

Already her arms were shaking from supporting her weight. Serena felt light-headed and even a little hungry. She sat up straighter, still unsure of him. “Stay away from me!”

Wincing at the anger and plea in her husky voice, Wolf froze. “You are safe here. I—no one will harm you.”

Sweet Mary, how she wanted to believe him! She saw the kindness in his wide, intelligent eyes but could not cling to that one piece of evidence. His mouth was generous, but pursed and thin. Kingston had thick, fleshy lips that always pouted when he was stalking her. Serena rasped, “I do not believe you!”

Grimly, Wolf glared at her, inwardly railing at her stubbornness. “I am Black Wolf. You live here. I want you well.“ He chastised himself for the clipped way his words came out.

His tone didn’t go unnoticed by Serena. She compressed her lips into a stubborn line. “If you so much as lay a hand on me, I’ll fight you until I’m dead. No man is ever going to touch me again! Do you hear me?“ she shrieked.

Wolf leaped to his feet and retreated, his chest heaving with anger and hurt. Stupid woman! Could she not see he was being kind and careful with her? He heard someone enter the tepee, breaking his dazed state. It was Deer Woman with his niece.

“What is wrong?“ she asked, looking quickly from Wolf to Serena.

“Everything!” Wolf roared at her. He stalked to the entrance. “Stay here for once and take care of things as you are supposed to do! I will return later.”

Stunned by his anger, Deer Woman stood holding the baby for a few moments after Wolf’s departure. She placed the cradleboard on his pallet and folded her hands in front of her, then walked over to the wasicun. She knew no English, but wanted somehow to speak with her.

Serena sat there, watching the young woman in a golden buckskin dress beaded on the bodice with brightly colored flowers. There was eagerness and excitement in her eyes as she approached her.

Smiling shyly, Deer Woman leaned down and dipped the wooden ladle into the bowl, offering her the water. “Mni,” Deer Woman said.

Serena stared at the bowl filled with clear water. She was thirsty.

Deer Woman repeated the Lakota word for water, sliding the bowl into Serena’s hands, which rested in her robed lap. “Mni.”

Nodding, Serena gave her a grateful look, shakily lifting the bowl to her cracked lips. The liquid spilled out both corners of her mouth as she gulped down the contents.

Deer Woman smiled encouragingly, taking the bowl and filling it again. “Mni,” she repeated.

Serena nodded. “Mni,” she whispered, taking the bowl.

A dazzling smile of triumph blossomed on Deer Woman’s mouth. “Han, mni.” Yes, water.

Her thirst sated, Serena sat there, looking around. She was in some kind of skin abode. It was large, circular and neatly kept. There was a central fire, from which smoke curled upward to a hole at the top. Fur robes of every imaginable kind covered the dirt floor. The fact that there were three pallets made her feel better. Was this woman the wife of Black Wolf? She must be, for she cared tenderly for the baby in the cradleboard.

Eager to help Serena, Deer Woman went to a skewer that held a cooked rabbit on it. She knelt down and offered the meat to Serena. “Yuta,” she urged. Eat. Making smacking sounds with her lips and pulling a piece of flesh from the rabbit, Deer Woman popped it into her mouth.

Yuta must mean eat, Serena surmised. She was famished and the rabbit looked inviting. Knowing she must regain her strength, she took the offered flesh from the woman. The meat was tender and juicy. Her jaw hurt, and so did her temple each time she chewed, but Serena ignored the pain.

Wolf entered the tepee. He glared at Deer Woman, who was kneeling at Serena’s side, feeding her.

“Look, Black Wolf, she eats!” Deer Woman announced proudly. Now he would be pleased with her.

Disgruntled, Wolf sat down, several dried roots in hand. “You finally decided to return to your duties,” he rasped. He spread one root across a large flat stone. Taking a larger stone that fit his hand, he exerted all his strength and began to crush and grind the root into a powder.

“I was down gathering fresh willow for a basket I intend to make,” Deer Woman whispered, hurt by his censure.

“Yes, and you left my niece behind. I have things to do, girl! I cannot tend Dawn Sky and this red-haired cougar plus all my other duties!” Wolf glanced up into Deer Woman’s wounded features. “I do not intend to have Little Swallow care for my niece just because you ignore your womanly duties. Next time, you take Dawn Sky with you.”

“But it is hard to watch her and hunt for willow,” Deer Woman whined. “You were all sleeping well when I left. I saw no reason to awaken your niece.”

Each grinding movement with the stone bled away some of his frustration and anger. Wolf glanced over at Cante Tinza. She’d stopped eating the moment he’d entered the tepee. Her eyes were shadowed, wary of his every moment. Curse the day he’d come upon her! And yet the urge to make contact with her as a woman, not as a frightened wild horse, was eating him alive. She hovered in every waking thought of his like fog lingering above a river. At night, he dreamed of her in his arms. In his arms, of all things! If anyone knew of his torrid dreams, they would poke fun at him. Only young braves were smitten thus. Not him. Not men of his age or of his importance to the tribe.

Serena saw tears gather in the woman’s eyes after the harsh words Black Wolf had hurled at her. She didn’t understand what they had said, only that he’d been sharp and wounding. It was easy to erect a wall of hatred toward him because of his treatment of his wife. He probably beat her, too. Just as Kingston had beaten her on numerous occasions. Yet Serena was mystified by how her heart reacted to the warrior. She remembered his songs of healing and how they had moved through her, assuaging her pain and fear. And she couldn’t ignore the liquid kindness burning in his eyes and the low, dark tone of his voice as he’d tried to establish peace between them.

“No more,” she told the woman. “Thank you.”

Deer Woman nodded shyly, taking the rabbit off the skewer and placing it in a nearby pot for stew that she would fix later. The red-haired one was tired, revealed by the darkness beneath each of her glorious green eyes.

“Asnikiya,” she coaxed, patting the robe.

Tilting her head, Serena whispered, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you say.”

“She said ‘rest’!” Wolf snarled in English.

Tensing at the snapping tone in his voice, Serena glared at Black Wolf. Her Irish temper welled up within her. But the warrior could come over and knock her silly, or rape her if she foolishly made the scathing retort that she wanted to. Without a word, Serena slowly stretched out and lay down. Deer Woman patted her shoulder awkwardly, tears streaming down her cheeks. Serena wanted to comfort the woman, but didn’t know how. Instead, she whispered, “Thank you.”

Jealousy ate at Wolf. In that moment, he hated Deer Woman’s ability to gain Cante Tinza’s trust. Her words had come out in a husky breathiness that stirred his loins. What would it be like to tame all that fire and spirit and have her give the gift of herself to him? Pushing down brutally upon the stone, he crushed the root, the powder spilling off the sides and onto the skin that would collect it.

Nothing could erase the haunting, husky quality of Cante Tinza’s voice within him. Wolf heard the emotion in it, wanting it for himself. Somehow, someway, he would gain her trust. He would tame her with the intent of making her his wife. This was the woman he wanted to carry his children. Despite her torture at the hands of the wasicun, her spirit moved him powerfully. It didn’t matter if she was already married or had a family. He understood real love because of his sisters and their husbands. But could he really keep Serena selfishly for himself if she was truly in love with her wasicun husband? Wolf’s conscience chafed at him, and yet he was unwilling to look too closely at the questions—and the possible answers.

Stealing a glance at Cante Tinza he saw that she had closed her eyes. Her thick red lashes caressed her almost translucent flesh. She walked in beauty in his eyes. Her abundant red hair was a brilliant halo of fire framing her thin face. Wolf ached to brush her hair as she sat with her back to him, to run the strands through the elk-bone comb and watch them curl and slide cleanly through his fingers. And she would enjoy his worship of her, too. There were many ways for a man to love his woman. He would teach her that not all men hurt. Not all men brutally took without asking or giving something of beauty in return.

No, Wolf thought, the grinding becoming less angry now, I will show her that a man can be her friend as well as her lover. She won’t want to leave our tribe. I will make her stay. Somehow, I will convince her to stay and be my wife….