Wind Warrior (Historical Romance) (14 page)

It had been a difficult decision for Spotted Flower to decide on attending the rendezvous. Those of the Blood Blackfoot who knew her and knew what she had done shunned her the moment they saw her.

But there was something Spotted Flower needed to do, and to accomplish that, she must endure hatred and rejection. There were several people she hoped to avoid, such as Charging Bull and Tall Woman. She didn’t care if she saw Rain Song; in fact, she hoped she would see her so she could brag that she was no longer a prisoner.

Spotted Flower’s heart had almost stopped when she’d approached Dull Knife earlier. He was the one she had come to see. Her plans wouldn’t work unless she could ensnare him. Failing that, she would be forced to spend the rest of her life with the French trapper, Claude Bernard. Claude wasn’t a bad man, although he was not a young man. But unlike Charging Bull, who had taken what he wanted from her and gave her no pleasure, Claude had taught her many things in his bed, and she liked the things he did to her. He had given her a place to live and most of the time he was in the mountains trapping.

She slowed her footsteps, glancing over her shoulder to see if Dull Knife was following her. Earlier, she had whispered to him that she needed to meet with him in private.

She saw no sign of Dull Knife.

Maybe he wouldn’t come at all.

If her plan failed, if he ignored her, then she would never find her way back to Fort Benton and home.

She didn’t expect to receive a warm welcome back at Fort Benton, but from there she could join a wagon train to California. She wanted a new life, and to live where no one had ever known she had been an Indian prisoner.

Her life had been hard when she was driven out of the Blackfoot village. She was almost dead from hunger and exposure when she happened upon a French trading post. In a land where there were no white women, she became very popular. Then Claude had come into the trading post and she had left with him the very next day.

Reaching the wooded area, Spotted Flower took the left path that led to the place where she had pushed Rain Song over the cliff. It was secluded, and that would suit her purpose.

She heard footsteps behind her and knew Dull Knife had followed her. Staring into angry black eyes, she almost lost her nerve.

“What do you want of me: Speak quickly or I will drive my knife into your heart for the way you betrayed me.”

“How can I make amends?” she asked him. She knew better than to try to convince him she had not
planned Rain Song’s death. “Ask anything of me and I will do it.”

He gripped her arm and twisted it behind her back, causing pain to shoot up her shoulder. “You have nothing I want,” he snarled. “You were of little help to me when you set the prairie on fire. When you allowed yourself to be caught, the shame that was supposed to fall upon my brother fell on you.”

“I know.”

“Did you think I would not remember how you betrayed me? Look for your death.”

“Wait,” Spotted Flower said, holding out her hands. “No one knows you are the one who asked me to set the fire.”

Dull Knife’s eyes narrowed. “But you could still tell my brother, or the council. As long as you live, you are a threat to me.”

He backed her against a tree trunk and the strength went out of her legs. “I would never tell anyone.” She licked her lips, watching one hand move to the handle of his knife, while the other one clamped around her throat.

“The dead cannot speak.”

Spotted Flower knew she had to act quickly; she only had moments to live. Reaching out, she slid her hand down his leg and stroked between his thighs. “I have spent the last two years with a French trapper and he taught me many ways to please a man. Would you like me to show you what I have learned?”

When Dull Knife’s eyes widened, she slid her hand inside his leggings. He was startled, and released his hold on her neck, so she dared to go further, sliding her hand around the swell of him.

When Spotted Flower heard his breath catch in his throat, she became even bolder. Going down on her knees, she slid his leggings aside, exposing him. When he dropped his knife, throwing his head back, she proceeded to show him what Claude had taught her.

Hearing Dull Knife’s breath come out in a hiss, Spotted Flower felt joy—she had him!

Dull Knife gasped, leaning heavily against the tree.

Poor fool,
she thought.
No woman has ever done to him what I am now doing.

It pleased her to watch him shudder in release. His fingers dug into the tree and he clamped his mouth shut to keep from crying out. It didn’t matter that she was no beauty like Rain Song; she could make a man remember her long after the lovemaking had ended, and leave him begging for more.

Claude had taught her well.

When Dull Knife could catch his breath, he jerked her up, shoving her gown past her waist. Spotted Flower wrapped her legs around him and bent to touch her mouth to his. She felt his surprise when she thrust her tongue into his mouth, introducing him to still another new sensation. He was breathing hard as she took his passion beyond where he had ever gone.

When it was over, he could hardly stand, or catch his breath. His hand was trembling as he reached for her. “I despise you for what you are, but I will have you do that to me again.”

“Now?” She could hardly catch her breath. She
had long desired him and she had not been disappointed in the way he had made her feel.

“No. You will go to my tipi and wait for me there.”

Spotted Flower smiled to herself. He had just learned something new, and she would use his growing hunger against him.

He shook her so hard, her head snapped back. “You will stay with me until I send you away.”

“Someone might see me.”

Dull Knife stared at her. “You are clever. Come under cover of night. I will have you do those things to me again.”

She smiled, leaning toward him and pressing her mouth to his. He gasped when she jabbed her tongue inside.

Dull Knife tore his lips from hers. “Leave now. I want no one to see us together.”

At that moment he wanted Spotted Flower more than he had ever wanted any woman. Breathless, he stared at her. “You are the best I have ever had,” he said reluctantly.

She pulled her gown down, smiling. Testing her power over him, she rubbed her tongue along his lips, delighted when he groaned once more. “I will be waiting for you,” she told him.

Spotted Flower found Claude and pulled him aside. “Dull Knife is just where I want him.”

“I discreetly asked around and discovered Dull Knife brought many fine furs into the village. Will he let you near enough to take them?” the Frenchman asked.

“Of course,” she said, swinging her hips. “He said to come to him after dark.” She gazed up at the early afternoon sun. “But I believe I shall go to his tipi now.”

Claude laughed. “You are like no other.”

“And you taught me well.”

He looked at her questioningly. “We will meet as we planned?”

Spotted Flower nodded. “Yes. I give you the skins and you lead me to Fort Benton.”

Spotted Flower had no trouble sneaking into Dull Knife’s tipi. He wasn’t there, but she had not expected him to be with the games going on. She dropped to her knees and ran her hand over a very fine beaver skin. There were two huge stacks of valuable skins. Certainly there were enough to satisfy Claude, and even extra for her to keep for her own needs.

She reached for the bag at her waist, smiling. Peyote, a plant the Blackfoot used in vision quests. It would muddle the mind, and mixed with the wine Claude had given her, it would surely render Dull Knife helpless.

Dull Knife entered a moment later, surprised to find her already there, but his dark eyes immediately filled with anticipation.

“Take your clothing off.”

She dropped her gown, and stood before him naked.

“Take yours off,” she said, swinging her hips and walking slowly toward him.

Spotted Flower did not anticipate any trouble from Dull Knife. Her most immediate problem
would be sneaking the furs out of camp without being discovered.

She would save the wine and peyote mixture until dark because it would be easier to make her escape under cover of night, especially if Dull Knife was unconscious.

There would be so many people wandering about, socializing and listening to stories of the day’s contests, surely no one would notice her.

She hoped.

When Rain Song finally returned to her family’s tipi, she stopped in her tracks. Wind Warrior was standing outside talking to Broken Lance, his expression grim.

With her heart beating faster, she ducked her head and quickly moved inside, fearing Wind Warrior would see how his presence disturbed her.

As Tall Woman watched Rain Song, she noticed the turmoil brewing inside her daughter, and knew the reason for it. Reaching for a stack of sweet cakes, she handed them to Rain Song. “Deliver these to Yellow Bird—she is expecting them.”

Rain Song met Tall Woman’s eyes, and mouthed the words “Thank you.”

To Rain Song’s surprise, Wind Warrior was still speaking to her father when she left the tipi. She moved to step around him, but his words stopped her. “I will walk with you, if you do not mind.”

With her heart accelerating, Rain Song could not find her voice—she glanced at Broken Lance, expecting him to object, but he merely smiled and nodded. She made the mistake of raising her head and looking right into Wind Warrior’s eyes, which were as dark and mysterious as ever.

Just seeing him made her feel that fire was running through her veins. His dark hair hung past his shoulders; two eagle feathers were tied around a thick lock of it. He wore white buckskin leggings and a heavily beaded shirt. Rain Song had never seen him dressed in such finery, and she was dismayed when she realized that he must be clothed in his wedding garments.

Wind Warrior’s gaze slid to her face and lingered there for a moment. “Do you object if I walk with you?” he asked, frowning.

Rain Song could not find her voice, and apprehension tightened her stomach.

“My daughter is shy and unaccustomed to speaking with a warrior,” Tall Woman said, coming to her rescue and taking the sweet cakes from Rain Song’s hand. “I will deliver these for you.”

Broken Lance nodded his head. “Walk beside the river. It is cooler there.”

Rain Song drew an uneasy breath, more confused than ever. Why would Wind Warrior want to speak with her on his wedding day, when he had ignored her for so long?

“Yes,” Wind Warrior agreed, smiling down at her. “It is cooler by the river.”

Rain Song looked down at her worn gown, wishing she had not insisted on wearing it when she had a new white doeskin Tall Woman had helped her make for the rendezvous.

She moved away from the tipi, and Wind Warrior joined her, slowing his long stride to walk beside her.

“You are a woman, now,” he said, his voice deep, his gaze on the swell of her breasts before he looked into her eyes.

“I…am.”

“And I am a man.”

“A warrior, yes,” she said, wondering why he should make such a statement to her.

“Are you happy with your life here?”

“I…love my family.”

“But you miss your old life?”

She looked at him. “I rarely think of the past, although I sometimes wonder about my aunt and uncle,” she admitted.

“What if I asked you to change your life?”

She frowned up at him. “Why would you do that? I do not understand.”

Wind Warrior stared at her, wondering if she knew her voice was low and sultry, or what effect it was having on him. His chest rose and fell when he took a steadying breath. “I do not suppose you do.”

He trembled inside, anticipating how she would react to what he was about to ask her. There was always the chance she would say no.

Realizing that Chinook was racing to catch up with her, Rain Song stopped to wait for the wolf. Going down on her knees, she planted a kiss on the shaggy head. Burying her fingers in Chinook’s rough coat, she glanced up at Wind Warrior to find him watching her with that intense look she had come to expect from him.

She was suddenly shy because neither of them had spoken in some time, and the silence lay heavy between them.

“Rain Song,” Wind Warrior said ruefully, “I believe we have become the center of everyone’s attention.”

She glanced about her, noticing for the first time
that a crowd of people had gathered and were watching them with curiosity.

And who could blame them?

Rain Song was somewhat shocked and amazed to find herself with Wind Warrior on the day he should be with the woman he was to marry.

She stood up and started walking toward the river, with Wind Warrior on one side of her and Chinook on the other.

He was watching her carefully, and she felt his presence in every fiber of her body. She was also aware of every sound around her—cheering from those who participated in the games and laughter from the women who watched the contests. In a nearby pine tree a mockingbird trilled its sweet song and the wind rustled the branches. Everything was more acute, her senses more in tune, when he was nearby.

When they had gone beyond sight of the crowd, Wind Warrior took Rain Song’s hand and turned her toward him. His gaze swept her face. “It pains me that you are uncomfortable with me,” he said, “especially since I have something to ask you.”

Rain Song gave a heavy sigh. “I know what you want to ask, and I want to say how sorry I am.”

Now Wind Warrior was the one to look puzzled. “What do you think I want to know?”

They began walking again. “You were in the mountains when your father died,” Rain Song said. “It must have been difficult for you because you could not be with him at such a time. Let me assure you he did not suffer. I sang to him, at his request, and he had a smile on his face when he died.”

Wind Warrior studied her for a long while. “I am
grateful that you made my father’s last moments peaceful, but that is not what I want to speak to you about.”

She stopped to look at him. “There is something else?” She wished he would go away and leave her alone. Being with him, when she knew he had chosen another, was painful.

“Do you not suspect what I want to say to you?”

“No,” she admitted. “I do not. I do not understand you at all.”

“Ask me any question and I will answer it.”

“Do you not realize that walking with you today will cause me trouble?”

“In what way?”

Rain Song compressed her mouth because he did not comprehend anything. “Many of the other maidens will resent me because you are walking with me.”

He gave her an enigmatic smile. “Think not of them. Rather think about how alike we are. Our spirits speak to each other. Have you not realized this?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “We are nothing alike. Besides my father, you are the most important man in the tribe. I am merely a white captive.”

“You are much more than that. Come,” he said encouragingly, “we will walk this way.” Wind Warrior fell silent as he guided her down the path that led toward the forest.

Wind Warrior turned to her, lightly touching her arm, and withdrawing his hand when he saw her drop her gaze.

“Why do you fear me?” he asked.

Rain Song had seen the dangerous side of Wind
Warrior when he had fought his brother. But she had also seen gentleness in him. “I do not fear you.” She could not tell him she was afraid of her own feelings for him, of the deep yearning that filled her at his touch.

“What do you want to say to me? I must soon return to my mother. She needs my help.”

Wind Warrior looked at her with frustration before he spoke. “If you are willing to listen to what I have to say, it may take some time.”

If she had not known better, Rain Song would have thought he was nervous. But that could not be true; Wind Warrior was never unsure of himself. Still, he couldn’t seem to find a comfortable place for his hands. At last he folded them across his chest and regarded her with a serious expression.

“No matter how you may deny it, we are much alike,” he insisted. “Surely you have sensed that.”

She looked deeply into his warm brown eyes: Before, they had been piercing and seeking, but now they held a light of uncertainty in their dark depths. Rain Song knew her answer was important to him, although she did not know why.

“You are Blackfoot; I am from the white race. I see nothing similar about us.”

“Rain Song, I have touched your spirit many times. I have felt your confusion, your restlessness, and even your fear. I have not had this connection with any other maiden.”

She was more perplexed than ever. “Wind Warrior,” she said hurriedly, fearing she would lose her nerve. “You must not say these things to me.”

He smiled. “At last you say my name.” He leaned
against the rough bark of a pine tree, watching her carefully. “I felt an affinity with you almost from the first.”

Swallowing deep, Rain Song fought against the raw emotions that swamped her. “We were both young when we first met, hardly more than children. For a long time we did not speak the same language, so it was impossible for us to communicate.”

His smile seemed patient. “But we are not children now.” He was quiet for a moment as if he were weighing his words. “I have been waiting for you to come of age.”

Chinook pressed against Rain Song’s leg and she touched the wolf’s head, needing comfort. Her stomach tightened in knots and her heart thundered inside her. She thought she saw where he was leading, or was she mistaken? “Wind Warrior, you never seem to notice me, and you have hardly spoken to me in two years.”

He smiled as if her words amused him. “When you are near, I never take my eyes off you. I am just clever at hiding my interest.”

Rain Song looked at him with dawning comprehension. Could he be telling her that she was the maiden he had chosen to take for his woman? Now she understood why he had spoken to her father. Although Rain Song had wanted to be with Wind Warrior more than anything, now that the moment was near, she was afraid. “We should not speak of such things.”

Wind Warrior took Rain Song’s arm, leading her to a wide stone, where he seated her. “I have your father’s permission to speak to you, remember.” He
gazed at a hummingbird that buzzed about his head, and paused as if he were listening to something Rain Song could not hear.

“I need to tell you that Dull Knife will make an offer for you very soon. He has brought many horses to present to your father. We both knew he would come for you someday. That day has come.”

Rain Song clamped her hands over her ears as if that would protect her from his words. The blood ran cold in her veins. “No!”

“It is so.”

Jumping to her feet, Rain Song felt gut-wrenching terror grip her—she clamped her hand over her mouth, feeling that she was going to be ill. “I will never accept him as my husband. You do not know what he did to my friend Susan after we were captured.”

“I know my brother has done bad things, and I know you fear him.”

“He is a monster and I will never allow him to come near me.” Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly as she fought to breathe past the fear that threatened to choke her. “I will never be a wife to him.”

He spoke in a soft voice to calm her. “Dull Knife knows how you feel about him. But he is determined to have you anyway.”

Anger freed Rain Song to speak her mind. “You are his brother—are you so different from him?” The moment she said the words, she wanted to call them back. Wind Warrior and Dull Knife were nothing alike.

He compressed his lips. “We have the same mother
and father, but beyond that, our similarity ends. There was a time when I admired him and wished I could be more like him. I have not admired him for many years.”

Letting out her breath, Rain Song studied the tip of her moccasin. “I am sorry I made the comparison. In the past, Dull Knife has asked my father if I could be his wife. Broken Lance refused him then, and he will refuse him now.”

“I spoke with your father, and he will not refuse my brother’s offer this time…unless another makes an offer for you. He believes you have reached an age to be a wife.”

Wild terror tore at Rain Song’s mind. “It cannot be true! My father would not make me marry Dull Knife.”

Seeing how pale she was, Wind Warrior took her arm and eased her back upon the flat rock. Then he bent down so he could look into her eyes. “There is no reason for you to fear becoming Dull Knife’s woman. Someone else has made an offer for you.”

Rain Song’s eyes were swimming with tears, and it shamed her that Wind Warrior should witness her crying. The Blackfoot looked upon tears as a weakness. Catching her breath, she spoke slowly and distinctly, wishing her body would stop trembling. She no longer thought Wind Warrior would ask her to be his woman. It seemed he was merely trying to warn her about his brother and urge her to accept this other warrior’s offer. “Do you know who he is? If you do, please tell me. Anyone would be better than Dull Knife.”

Wind Warrior studied her broodingly, attempting
to gauge what her reaction would be when he told her the truth. Since he had always envisioned them together, he had thought all he would have to do was make the offer, and Rain Song would accept. This was proving more difficult than he had expected. What if she said she would not have him?

Nothing had gone the way he had imagined. He stood, full of uncertainty. “I am the one who made the offer.”

Jerking to her feet, Rain Song stared at him. “Why would you do that, when you have not even been courting me? Do you think you need to rescue me again?”

Wind Warrior glanced down at her, knowing he had gone about this all wrong. “It is not like that, Rain Song. Someday I will tell you my reason. For now, you must decide, and do it quickly. I would have given you more time, but Dull Knife has forced me to act.”

Unguarded tears washed down Rain Song’s face. “My mother would never make me marry Dull Knife.”

“Tall Woman has no say in this. Broken Lance has already decided you will marry today.”

Rain Song looked at him pleadingly. “Why must this be?”

“Little one, you are of an age to be a wife. As much as you may wish it, you cannot remain forever with Tall Woman.”

“I…I…“

There was sudden urgency in his voice. “Decide, Rain Song. Choose me.”

Clutching her hands in desperation, she glanced around for some means of escape. Slowly she turned
back to Wind Warrior. “You could have any woman you want.”