Shawnee Bride (3 page)

His eyes narrowed sharply. Then, with a suddenness that made her gasp, his powerful hands caught her elbows and snatched her out of the water, lifting her up until her gaze was level with his own. His face was a stone-cold mask, devoid of expression. Only his cobalt eyes, striking flinty sparks that turned moonlight to fire, betrayed the heat of his fury. At that moment he looked all savage in his terrible beauty. He looked, she thought, as if he could kill her.

Wolf Heart!
Clarissa’s throat moved, but no sound emerged. She hung suspended between his massive arms, her heart pounding like thunder.

“Don’t, Clarissa,” he said in a low, flat voice. “Don’t—”

“Wolf Heart.” She found her voice, the name emerging in labored syllables. Tears welled in her eyes, one salty drop spilling over to trickle down her scarred cheek. “Please,” she whispered, not even sure of what she wanted from him. “Please…”

A shudder passed through his body as he caught her hard against him. She felt the crush of his enfolding arms. Then his cool, firm lips covered hers, devouring, possessing, sweeping away her resistance as a flooded river sweeps away a child’s dam of twigs.

In an explosion of long-denied hunger, Clarissa’s mouth molded to his. Her jaw slackened, leaving her open to the thrusting ravishment of his tongue. The taste of him was smoke and wild honey, laced with the mossy freshness of the pool. She could not get enough. She licked and nibbled wantonly, needing more, needing all she could take, all he could give her.

He groaned as her arms slid around him, locking their bodies together. His hands ranged over her back, skimming the boundaries of her aching breasts, then moving
downward to cup her buttocks, curling her inward against the thick, sweet hardness of his aroused manhood.

The moon and stars seemed to burst like rockets in Clarissa’s head. Heaven help her, she wanted him! She wanted the unthinkable act her cousin had described to her, wanted his touch in the burning places that had known nothing but her own tentative fingertips, wanted the press of his lean coppery weight upon her and that great swollen hardness filling her with its heat, burning away her innocence, making her, at long last, a woman.

Her skirt floated around her like the petals of a ragged flower, exposing legs that were bare except for the tattered remnants of her muslin drawers. Wolf Heart groaned, only half in protest, as she slid an exploring knee between his thighs. The satin stroke of flesh against flesh rippled through her, stirring a well of molten heat in the depths of her body. She arched against him, head flung back as his feral, nipping kisses moved down the damp slope of her throat.

Take me, Wolf Heart.
Had she spoken the words or only imagined them?
Take me here, now. It’s what I want, all I want…

She was drifting into a long spiral of ecstasy when she felt him tense against her. He froze, head up, listening, then suddenly pushed her away from him. Clarissa reeled with hurt bewilderment. Then she too heard the sound of voices from the path above the ledge—laughing voices, a man’s and a woman’s. She stood gazing toward the sound, only half-comprehending what it might mean.

“Blast—it’s Cat Follower!” Wolf Heart whispered, yanking her into the shadows. “This way!”

“Do you think they saw us?” Clarissa’s cheeks burned as if they’d been painted with fire.

“I’d wager they weren’t looking all that carefully!”
He guided her into the blackness under the mossy lip of a lodge-size boulder. She huddled beside him, teeth chattering, as the voices atop the ledge grew louder, peals of laughter echoing off the cliffs.

Suddenly, amid resounding whoops, two lean bronze bodies clothed only in moonlight plummeted headfirst from the top of the ledge and splashed together into the pool. Cat Follower surfaced first, flashing his familiar grin. An instant later, a pretty young woman, dark and sinewy, broke into the air with a squeal of delight and flung herself on top of him.

“Are they in love?” Clarissa whispered as the two wrestled joyously, giggling and grabbing boldly at any part of each other’s bodies they could get their hands on.

“More likely they’re just having a good time.” Wolf Heart’s wry chuckle sounded forced. “Come on. While they’re busy, we can sneak around behind this rock. The trail goes up to the ledge from there.”

Clarissa trudged after him, the wind biting through her water-soaked gown. The chill, if nothing else, had shocked her back to full reality. Her raw nerves twitched. Her face smarted with shame as she realized how close she had come to utter ruin.

Never, she vowed with each ragged breath. Never again.

Wolf Heart was a renegade savage who could offer her nothing but hardship, privation and danger. To give herself to such a man, as she had so nearly done, would be to abandon any claim to virtue and gentility. True, she might still escape and return to Baltimore, but she would return a tainted woman, an outcast to the end of her days.

Above her on the winding path, Wolf Heart’s looming silhouette blocked out the moon. Clarissa picked her way along in his shadow, the rocky ground bruising her tender
feet. He had not spoken since leaving the pool, and the silence that hung between them now was as dark and heavy as the river.

By the time they neared the top of the long trail, the stars were out. Below the ledges, the lusty whoops and giggles had faded to breathy moans. It didn’t take a vivid imagination to picture what was happening.

Clarissa blotted the forbidden image from her mind, her heart lurching as a new possibility struck. The rocky pool was a natural spot for dalliance. And Wolf Heart seemed to know the place well, perhaps too well. How many young women had
he
taken here for the very same purpose? she wondered. How many before her?

The rage that boiled up in Clarissa was sudden, hot and dangerous. What a silly little fool she had been! He had brought her here with intentions that were no better than a common knave’s, and she had all but succumbed!

Too indignant to hold her tongue, she charged up the path to where he waited, his torso glistening, his arms folded across his broad chest. “You!” She hurled the word at him like an epithet. “You knew exactly what you were doing down there, didn’t you? You arranged it all, from the very beginning!”

His craggy features might as well have been cast in stone. “You were the one who wanted to learn to swim,” he said in a taut voice.

“Oh, but I got more than I bargained for, didn’t I? You had more than a swimming lesson in mind! You were planning to—to have your way with me!”

“Have my way with you?” he echoed her words incredulously. “Have my way with you?” His throat made a little half-choking sound. Then he burst into raw-edged laughter.

“I don’t see what’s so funny!” Clarissa stormed, her
outrage growing by the minute. “Just because I wasn’t inclined to become one more notch on your lodge pole, or however it is you keep track of your conquests-”

“My conquests!” He was struggling for composure now, his long cheek muscles determinedly rigid. “Give yourself some credit, Clarissa Rogers. You wrapped yourself around me like a she-lynx in heat!”

“Oh!” She glowered at him, a vein throbbing in her temple. A freshet of hot tears stung her eyes as she pushed her way around him and veered off the path. “Get out of my way, Wolf Heart or Seth Johnson, or whoever you are! I don’t care how many Shawnee girls you take to that pool or what you do with them there! Just don’t you come near me—not ever again!”

Wolf Heart stood rigid on the crest of the bluff as Clarissa’s stumbling footsteps faded into darkness. She would be safe enough, he told himself. The village was not far, and there was no one in it who had any reason to harm her. All the same, he worried. Clarissa was as unpredictable as a half-grown wildcat. On her own, there was no telling what kind of devilry she might stir up.

A shadowed object at the side of the path caught his eye. Dropping to a crouch, he picked up one of the oversize moccasins Swan Feather had given Clarissa to wear. For the space of a breath he cradled it in his hand, remembering the scent and feel of her in his arms and the taste of her lovely wanton mouth on his. He should have known better than to get so close to her. The sensual explosion had only made things more awkward and painful between them.

Walking back the way they’d come earlier, he found the mate to the moccasin. Clarissa had no other shoes. He would need to find her before she came back looking
for them, or perhaps injured a bare foot on the treacherous ground.

Bracing himself for another confrontation, Wolf Heart strode off in the direction she had gone. The full moon cast the landscape into hues of old silver and tarnished gold. Hickory and alder, their branches fuzzy with newborn leaves, whispered in the night wind. Although Clarissa could not have gotten far in such a short time, the fact that she had left the path would make finding her more difficult. He thought of calling out, then remembered that in her stubborn pique, she would not be likely to answer him.

Guided by instinct, he wound his way among thickets of willow and blackberry. Just ahead, cast into stark light and shadow by the moon, was an outcrop of rocks, some of them half again as high as a man’s head. From the top of the formation, Wolf Heart reasoned, he might be able to look out over the patchy wood and see the way she had gone.

Climbing the rocks, however, proved unnecessary. As he neared the outcrop, Wolf Heart’s ears caught a primitive, wounded sound through the high bushes. For a moment he stood stock-still, listening tensely. Then his shoulders sagged in relief and dismay as he recognized Clarissa’s wrenching, hiccuping sobs.

He approached on stealthy feet, not wanting to startle her into flight. Had she lost her way? Was she frightened? In pain? Or was this just a womanly response to their encounter on the ledge—and if such was the case, would he be wiser to leave well enough alone?

Moments later, still at war with himself, he emerged from the thicket on the near side of the outcrop. He could see Clarissa now, a stone’s throw away, huddled on a low boulder with her back toward him. Her hands were
pressed against her face. Her thin hunched shoulders shook in racking spasms of emotion.

He took a cautious step toward her, then froze in horror when he saw that she was not alone. Flattened above her on the topmost rock, its sleek form gleaming like a spill of molten gold, lay an enormous puma.

Wolf Heart’s stomach clenched as he realized he had brought no weapon with him, not even a club or knife. It was too late to grope for a rock on the ground or snap a limb off a tree. There was nothing in his hands except a pair of limp, worn-out moccasins.

Should he shout? Try to warn her? Not yet, he swiftly resolved. Any sudden move on Clarissa’s part could trigger a lightning attack of fangs and slashing claws. Only when he was close enough to leap in and protect her would he dare to take such a risk.

Eyes never leaving the huge cat, he edged closer to the rocks. The puma was straining forward on its rocky perch, ears pricked in curiosity. In all likelihood, it had never heard anything like the noises this human female was making. Under different conditions, the scene might have been amusing. But there was nothing funny about the danger to Clarissa. Wolf Heart crept closer, praying for enough time to reach her.

The long tawny tail hung down the side of the rock, its dark tip twitching in the moonlight. Watching, Wolf Heart sensed the deliberation in the shadowy feline mind. Would it attack? Would it slink away unseen and unheard? Or would it remain, listening in perplexity to those alien, oddly compelling sounds?

The great head lowered slightly, neck extending. The massive shoulders and hindquarters tensed, tail quivering like a bowstring along its elegant length, and Wolf Heart knew he was out of time.

“Ha!”
He charged across the clearing, hurling one moccasin, then the other, at the lithe golden form. The missiles bounced off the tawny hide, doing no damage, but the distraction was enough to throw the huge cat’s leap off balance. Veering sideways, it lost its footing and slid down the face of the rock, a spitting, clawing ball of fury. By the time it struck the earth, almost at Clarissa’s feet, Wolf Heart was beside her.

“Ha!”
he shouted again, bracing himself, halfcrouched, feet apart, to meet the deadly spring. But there would be no attack. The startled animal had had enough. It wheeled and streaked away to vanish like hghtning into the black night.

Clarissa stood blinking as Wolf Heart exhaled and straightened to his full height. A moment ago she had believed herself alone, free to give vent to the rage, pain and homesickness that was threatening to crush her soul. Then Wolf Heart had shouted in the darkness, and a great yellow ball of fury had crashed at her feet and bounded away.

Still grappling with what had happened, she stared at the huge pug marks on the moonlit ground. Her face stung with the remnants of dried salt and humiliation. It appeared that Wolf Heart had saved her life again. But even for this, she would not have chosen to let him see her private tears.

“I know I should thank you,” she said in a cold trembling voice. “But I didn’t ask you to follow me here. What did you think you were doing?”

In answer, he bent from the waist and picked up two limp objects that lay in the weeds at the base of the rock. Without a word, he thrust the moccasins into her hands.

Only then, as he turned and began to walk away, did
the clear recollection of what had happened strike her like a dash of ice water. She saw him now, pounding into the clearing, yelling like a berserker as he waved those ridiculous shoes above his head. She saw him flinging the moccasins toward the rocks, saw the huge tawny cat come skidding down the sheer face, clawing wildly for a foothold.

Inexplicably, perhaps hysterically, she began to giggle.

Wolf Heart had reached the edge of the clearing. He paused, then glanced back over his shoulder, his face obscured by shadows. The laughter died in her throat as he turned and walked slowly back toward her.

Clarissa stood still and let him come. Suddenly she was tired of games. She was tired of verbal and emotional fencing matches. She wanted only to rest