Lakota Princess (8 page)

She had no memory of it.

Odd.

She brushed the covers aside, dropped her feet to the Persian rug that covered the floor, her toes finding and curling around her soft slippers.

That’s when she saw him.

He sat on the floor across from her bed, his buffalo robe spread out beneath him. A sliver of light from the pale moon outside fell over his features, and Estrela noted that he was wide awake…and he stared straight back at her.

He presented quite a picture, camped out as he was beneath an enormous tapestry that hung on the wall.

She didn’t gasp at the sight of him; she didn’t cry out. Shock, perhaps, kept her silent. She did nothing, as was proper Indian etiquette. Excitement raced through her, however, and her heartbeat pounded as though laced with fear. But Estrela knew the rapid beating of her heart had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with wonder, exhilaration, soul-stirring love and, Lord help her, blatant sexual appeal. Truly, she felt wicked.

She forced her gaze downward. What was she thinking? She was reacting to him as though she had every right to court him.

And she didn’t.

“
You
slept well?” he asked at last.

Her stomach twisted at the rousing baritone of his voice, at the wanderings of her thoughts. But she merely nodded.

“How do you feel?”

“Well enough,” she answered, her voice soft, high-pitched, and she hoped, reflecting none of her inner turmoil. She glanced up at him. “Have you been here long?”

He nodded. Or at least she thought he did. Against the backdrop of darkness, it was difficult to tell. Silence fell between them until at last he asked, “Your arm? Is it sore?”

“Yes,” she replied, “quite a bit… All night?”

Another nod. “You should not be up yet. With an injury such as this, sleep is more beneficial than any medicine cure, white or Indian.” He paused. “Will you rest again when I leave?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “I should be up and about, seeing to my responsibilities and to you.” She hesitated then, before saying, “I… I…your presence here in my room… I…”

“I am only here to protect you.” He answered her unspoken question, “There is no other reason, except…”

Her gaze flew to his through the darkened room.

“Except,” he continued, “to speak with you privately.”

“Oh.” She knew the sound of her voice conveyed a note of disappointment and Estrela gave herself a silent reprimand. What, after all, had she expected?

She glanced down at the thin nightgown she wore, her only covering, and she wondered if he could see beneath the white lace. True, the murky darkness in the room should have hid her from him, but she knew that he could see as well as the owl in the darkness, knew that if he desired, he could inspect her every feature, survey her every feminine attraction.

The thought was wildly exciting, and she fought with herself to keep her feelings, her thoughts to herself; she could not have him, for her sake, for his. And so she simply asked, “Protect me?” as though she weren’t aware of the potency of his presence in her room.

“
Ho,
yes,” he said, taking his time before he spoke again. “Does Waste Ho wish me to do more than protect her?”

Estrela sputtered. “I…” She had become accustomed to the English fondness for subtlety. She had forgotten that the Indian did not avoid confrontation.

“I have come to this land to see you, Waste Ho,” Black Bear continued. “I have come in the belief that I would bring you back with me. I am not adverse to showing you how glad I am to see you.”

Estrela swooned. More than anything she wished he would. But she couldn’t tell him that, she couldn’t even let him know how she felt about him. “Black Bear…”

“Ho?
Yes?”

“I couldn’t, Black Bear. Things are different between us now. I—”

“Enough!” He sighed. “I understand. You do not need to explain.” He grinned. “But I wonder how things are different between us. Would you respond more to my touch now or would you
—”

“Black Bear!”

He leered at her. “What?”

Her gaze shot to his, catching the capricious grin on his lips before she looked away.

“Black Bear, you flirt with me when you shouldn’t.”

He didn’t answer right away. And Estrela strained forward to see if she had missed something, pulling back when she heard him ask, “Are you married that I cannot court you? Do you belong to another that I cannot have you?”

“Me…married?”

“No,” he carried on as though she hadn’t spoken.
“You
are not. There is no other man here. No one to protect you, to comfort you—to see to your…needs…” He paused for effect. “So,” he continued, “I fail to see why I cannot seek to persuade you into my life, into my sleeping robes.”

Black Bear couldn’t have had more effect on her had he speared her heart with his lance. And Estrela wondered, as her heartbeat picked up speed, if he knew about her, about her secret.

He couldn’t.

And yet…

“Black Bear,” she could barely whisper. “What makes you think I could be married? Why would you ask…?”

He gave her an odd look she could not interpret. And when he said nothing, her stomach plunged.

“I am in your room to protect you.” He changed the subject so quickly, Estrela’s mind reeled. “I believe that you need my protection. But for now I want you to rest. You say you have other duties to attend to; they will have to wait. You need your sleep. Among other things, I am here to see that you rest.”

She had been looking at the woven, patterned rug beneath her feet as he spoke; she raised her gaze to his now. “I appreciate your consideration, Black Bear, yet I must tell you—” She looked away from him. “Does anyone else know you are here?”

“No one,” he said at once, his soft, baritone voice causing spasms of pleasure to run up and down her spine. And unable to help herself, she shivered under the spell of it, glancing back at him.

“Would I leave a trail someone else could follow? Would I have someone else know I have come to you when we are not pledged to one another yet?” A corner of his mouth turned upward. “No, Waste Ho, no one knows I am here. We are quite alone. We could—”

“Black Bear!”

He merely smiled.

And Estrela felt faint.

Was it the dream she’d had earlier? Was it that which was creating such warmth within her, such desire? Or was it simply Black Bear, himself, her love for him?

Whatever it was, Estrela felt suddenly alive with feeling; every nerve, every sense she possessed awakened, cried out to him to touch her, to possess her, to… Estrela pulled her thoughts up short.

She could not have him.

“Does Waste Ho wish me to love her despite her protest?”

Her eyes opened wide. Could he read her thoughts?

“No, Black Bear, I—”

“You confuse me, Waste Ho,” he said. “Your body, your response to me tells me something that your words contradict. And I wonder why.”

Suddenly he rose to his feet with a graceful movement that would have been lost to the staid, English society, he came to her and bending toward her, took her into his arms.

It was a heady sensation—it was naughty, it was sinful, it was—Lord, help her, it was wonderful. And all at once, she was swamped with his overpowering presence, as though the essence of who and what he was merged with and became a part of all that she was.

She shut her eyes, breathing deeply, glorying in the feel of him, in the musky scent of his body, the comfort of his arms and she knew in that moment that she could not let him go.

Yet, she also could not have him.

His fingers grazed her cheek, and Estrela was instantly beyond thinking. She let her body melt into his, knowing that her response begged him to do more than simply hold her.

So it was with no surprise that she felt his fingers threading through her hair, his touch trailing farther down her cheeks, her neck, the soft rise of her shoulders.

At last he whispered, “Holding you like this is sweet torture, Waste Ho, for I feel you will not let me have you. Not completely. And yet when you are like this in my arms, it is all I can do to keep my hands from you.”

He kissed her then, but it was the tender kiss of exploration, not of passion.

And Estrela, unable to draw away, lay pliant in his arms, hoping for more, wishing him to—

He drew back, his gaze touching her everywhere as he said, “What has happened to you in these intervening years? When I hold you like this, I feel the woman I once knew. And I wonder, does Waste Ho wish me to consummate what we now feel for one another? Does she wish to become Black Bear’s bride?”

Estrela died a little, right there in his arms. How she longed to say “yes” and forget England, the Earl, her promise…Sir Connie. She shut her eyes.

“Does Waste Ho wish to answer?”

“Black Bear,” she said, her voice just over a whisper. “I can’t. I—”

“Have a family to find,”
he finished for her. He stared into her eyes. “Has it never occurred to Waste Ho to ask if I might be willing to stay in England?”

“Would you?”

“No,” he answered, and Estrela breathed a sigh of relief. “But you could have asked.”

She smiled.

“So beautiful,” he said, and Estrela gazed back at him in wonder. “Your smile,” he said. “I believe that this is the first time I have seen you smile since I have arrived and I am happy to see it.”

She laughed, just a little, and Black Bear sat back, kneeling beside her, gazing back at her.

She instantly missed his warmth and pushing herself up, she sat forward, following him. She regarded him in silence then, her glance surveying him, her look at him as potent as a caress.

“I am happy to see you,” she said at last. “I have missed you. I have missed our laughter. I have missed our home.”

“Our home?”

“No, I didn’t mean…home… I mean that…”

“I dreamed of you, of danger to you,” he said. “It is one reason why I am here, why I have taken such trouble to find you. I left our home because I became certain that if I did not come after you, you would die. And, Waste Ho.” He grinned at her. “I did not wish you to perish. Not perish—
hiya
, no, something else perhaps—not perish—”

“But I thought you came here to take me back with you.”

He sighed. “What would you have me do?” He was serious all at once. “What would you have me say? I have already asked you to become my bride. You have remained silent. Would you have me now tell you that I have never forgotten you? Never forgotten my vow to you? That my life was a mere shadow of existence without you?”

Estrela melted at his words, but the softness of the bed hid her weakness.

“Would you have me get down on my knees and plead with you to return?”

“I—”

“You seek to know about me, about my feelings for you. I have not kept these from you. Tell me, Waste Ho…” he scrutinized her, “…did you ever think of me in these intervening years? Did you ever intend to keep your vow to me?”

“I…”

She hesitated, all her courage deserting her in an instant.
Tell him,
she demanded of herself.
He deserves to know the truth. He is asking for the truth.
“I… You should not have come here.”

He didn’t say a word. And his gaze turned from mere survey of her to sulking scowl.

“I…I can’t,” she said. “I… The Earl… The ship… I…”
I am married to another,
she finished silently, knowing that she would not say it aloud. She couldn’t. If she told him, he would leave. And more than anything, she wanted him to stay, needed him to stay. It was wrong, so very wrong of her to keep him here, but despite her good intentions; she couldn’t help it. “I have remembered our vow, Black Bear. I have thought of you. How could I ever forget my…?”
love for you,
she admitted to herself. She cleared her throat, saying, “I remember all that was between us, yet it changes nothing,” she said, gazing downward. “I cannot leave this place now. I have responsibilities and a family to find. Black Bear…” she glanced up shyly, “…how did you ever arrange to arrive here in England?”

He shrugged and she held her breath. Would he allow her to change the subject?

She saw the look in his eyes, saw that he understood what she did, observed his frustration. Still, at length, all he said was, “It was not so difficult as it would appear to come here. If the gold bars and powders of the white man are offered to him, and if an Indian has friends, it is easily accomplished.”

She nodded. “I see,” she said. “Then someone helped you to come here?”

“Yes.” He smiled, then voiced, so very gently, “But we leave the subject. Can you tell me, Waste Ho, do you intend to keep your promise to me?”

“I gave the Earl my word that I… Black Bear, did you undress me?”

Anyone else might have snapped at her, at her so obvious evasion of the question. And if Black Bear felt that urge, he certainly suppressed it. For he merely grinned at her. “Yes, I did undress you,” he said. “There was no one else to do it last night.” Then tenderly, he asked, “Did you ever yearn for me these past years?”

“I…yes, maybe, I mean… Black Bear! All of my clothes?”

He nodded, sending her a lopsided grin before asking, “What did you promise the Earl?”

She glanced down. “’Twas between us. The nightgown, too?”

“I had to dress you in something,” he responded. He let his gaze settle in upon her before he finished, “Or risk lying with you—and more.” Again he treated her to a heart-stopping grin, then said, “Tell me, Waste Ho Win, did your heart ever beat faster when your memory brought me to you?”

Estrela shut her eyes; she inhaled sharply. “Black Bear, I…we should not be speaking this way.”

He said nothing in response. Several moments passed before he at last spoke. “This you have said to me many times now. I do not understand it. I have come for you. How else am I to speak to you?” he asked at length, his voice low, revealing none of the tension that she could feel was beginning to enshroud him. “I have come to bring you home. Was I wrong to do this?”

“No. But my life is here now, Black Bear.”