Passion's Series (3 page)

'No lies,' the chief had told him, 'not even a half-truth is to be spoken during the passing of the pipe.'

James leaned forward as he passed the pipe back to Cloud. He rested a forearm on his bent knee while resting most of his weight on the other hand. "My king has sent me to take an evil man out from your nation. This will not be an easy thing because he is an honored friend among your people."

James felt the tension slowly leave his body as he watched Cloud draw casually from the pipe. The tobacco was strong. That was good. He needed to relax. Maybe tonight he would sleep...and not dream.

"Who is this evil man?" The chief asked and passed the pipe back to James.

"His name is Christoph DuPrey." James knew he took a huge chance in telling this to Cloud, but he would not dishonor their friendship by telling him a lie. He passed the pipe back to Cloud who took a long draw.

Cloud nodded, "I know this man. I also see the deceit in him. He has gained great power among my people."

Time hung suspended between them as James waited for Cloud to finish speaking, as it was clear to James the chief had more to say.

"It is a good thing that you do." Cloud fiddled with the pipe. "And when you have completed what the Great White Chief has sent you to do, what will you do then, my brother?"

James watched Cloud's expression closely. Clearly he'd missed some nuance in the exchange. "I suppose I will return to the lands of my father. I will find a wife and have children. The usual things that a man does when he is ready to settle down."

"Ha..." the Chief responded. "I hear your words with my ears," Cloud tapped a finger to the center of his chest, "but not with my heart. This is because you speak only of your plans." Cloud's gaze locked with James', a gesture not practiced among Cherokee.

After drawing deeply from the pipe once again he passed it back to James. He waited patiently for James to inhale. Then, as they had discussed the subject many times before, he asked, "Now, my brother, speak to me of your dreams."

Chapter Three

New Moon sat back on her haunches and rubbed the small of her back with one hand as she wiped the other arm across her sweaty brow. Breathing a soft moan she arched backward in an attempt to ease the persistent ache. There were other chores that needed her attention, but she felt safe here in the garden. She was sure she would not run into him here among the vegetables.

Her heart was not happy to think the spirits might actually send such a man to her. Not when the good man that was her husband had been killed by one of his kind.

A shiver of apprehension ran down her spine and she glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze landed on the very one she tried to avoid. She knew she should turn her back and continue with her work. Instead, she twisted herself around so she could watch him better.

He leaned against a nearby tree lazily watching the clouds float above his head. He no longer wore the buckskins he had arrived in, but instead wore the narrow loincloth and short moccasins of the
Ani- Yunuiya,
Principal People.

She grunted in disapproval. Does he think wearing the cloths of a warrior will make him a warrior? If that is what he thinks, he is wrong. She shifted her position slightly as she watched him closely. He didn't even sense her scrutiny. No wonder his party walked into an ambush, she mused with disgust. This man was no warrior.
Surely her vision had come from the Prankster'.

Against her will, New Moon's gaze was drawn to his hair, which hung long and straight to just below his shoulders. She had never seen hair of that color. It shone with the deep rich color of the river clay, just as her dream had shown her.

So his hair is an unusual color, she scolded her inner voice. It could be common in his homeland. Or, she mused uneasily; hair of such a color could be a bad omen. Her spirit did not confirm her musings so she dismissed the thought.

He turned in her direction and raised his arms to rest them on a branch that stretched just above his head. She observed the way his muscles rippled
along his large frame when he moved. Something caught his eye and he turned his face away. Grinning he propped his temple on his forearm.

New Moon tore her gaze away to look toward the playing field. He watched Buffalo, the young half-breed from the post. Her attention returned  to the white man and her heartbeat quickened. His new position gave her an excellent view of his firmly muscled chest and upper arms.

An unwelcome tingling erupted in her belly. A trembling breath filled her lungs as she allowed her gaze to wander lower along the rippled strength of his narrow waist.

Why shouldn't she look? She excused herself and relaxed.. Her eyes were drawn lower still to his powerfully built legs that looked as if they could run forever, and she wondered how it would feel to run at his side. Her senses reeled with the eerie feeling of premonition.
Someday she would know
.

She steeled herself against the flood of anticipation that washed over her body and sent her every fiber of being into chaotic response.

Her gaze began a slow return trip upward, lingering over the rounded muscles of his calves. Her fingers tightly gripped her bent knees as her gaze continued upward to the sleek strength of his thigh and hip that showed on each side of his loincloth. She stiffened as she realized with a start that his loincloth was draped in the most peculiar angle.

Great Spirit!

Her gaze flew to his face and then quickly away, but not before she saw an auburn brow arch and lips quirk in amusement.

New Moon stiffened her posture. How had he spotted her? There were a dozen women in the garden.

She looked about her and saw one hand after another come up to cover smiling lips and hold back giggles. Rising smoothly to her feet, she turned in a huff and walked proudly in the opposite direction.

Being a regular at court made James used to the timid appraisal of women who hid boldness behind a pretense of shyness. Their falseness always left him a little cold. But in that proud Indian woman's eyes he'd seen an honest spark of admiration, and no small amount of attraction. Her appraisal sent a fire through his veins that left his whole body throbbing.

So why did she keep turning her back in a huff? A smile spread across his lips. Women really were all alike. They always play hard to get to the very end.

His mind drifted to Beth, to her porcelain skin and innocent eyes. In the end, he thought cynically, if you are lucky, the truth comes out.

Thomas placed a heavy hand on James' shoulder.

"Bloody everlasting hell, Thomas," James swore quietly, but with much feeling. "Must you sneak up on me?"

Thomas snickered. "I weren't sneakin', boy. Hell! I was even whistlin' when I come walkin' up." Thomas’ humor often drew sparks from James, a fact that obviously made Thomas all the happier.

Dismissing his partner, James looked toward the garden. His thoughts of Beth were dismissed, filed neatly away in his mind with other hard lessons learned.. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the pleasures at hand.

Tantalizing visions of New Moon consumed him, especially those legs.
God, but he’d never seen such legs on a woman.

Thomas gustily cleared his throat and James glanced back over his shoulder. "You've stirred up a lot of attention in the village." The old trader said with a snicker. "I'd say you could prob'ly have your pick of any pretty little Injun squaw you want.”

"These Injuns have a set of rules on such matters, ya know. You break their rules and it won't be no meetin' at sunrise on no field of honor. I feel I got ta tell ya, partner," he nodded in the direction James looked, "that one don't want no part of ya, and if ya go after her you're goin' ta be breakin' one a them  rules."

James' grin was full of confidence. "If you'd gotten here a little sooner, you wouldn't be so sure of that. I've learned the native women are a sight more honest than white women, at least about their physical desires."

"Ha! You're just thinkin' with your pecker. I wasn't so far away that I didn't see tha little princess snub ya like ya was a gutter rat."

Thomas sneered as he leaned against the tree. "There ain't been a squaw born that don't look real hard at what she likes. Hell, boy, it's in their
blood. You're right about their honesty. They're simple honest folks. But when one of them gives ya the snub like that one just done, it's best ta stay away. That, or," he grinned as he pointed at James' lopsided loincloth, "Lose what ya prize tha most."

"I think you've misjudged her, Thomas." James had recognized the desire in her eyes.

Thomas shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "You think you're so smart just 'cause you been around the world and talk fancy. You don't know half what ya think ya know."

He bent down to retrieve a small twig from the ground. As he straightened his gaze locked with James'. "You think ya know so much," he poked the twig in his mouth, "maybe you'd like ta make a wager on New Moon's attraction ta ya?"

Surprise showed in James' eyes. "Now why would I want to do that, Thomas?"

Thomas lowered his voice and squinted his eyes, "Ta try an prove me wrong. Course that won't happen. You don't know nothing' bout Cherokee women."

James' gaze wandered to the spot where he'd last seen New Moon. "I know women, Thomas. Down deep they're all the same. I haven't seen anything yet that would cause me to change my mind." He again thought of Bess.

Thomas made a rude sound as he rubbed his aching shoulder. He let his gaze slide over James and James knew he was remembering their first meeting. Thomas had witnessed his transformation from English Dandy to rugged frontier man. He wondered what Thomas thought of this most recent change.

"I've known a lot of women, Thomas. Handle them just right and any of them will come around. As for this little Cherokee, I'll have her eating out of my hand.."

James looked away but added over his shoulder, "I'll take you up on your bet."

Thomas chuckled. "What I forgot ta tell ya was she's New Moon, Dancin' Cloud's sister, and she's already been wedded ta the best. Before his death her husband was the village's
Most Beloved Warrior."

"New Moon." James let the name slip from between his lips. "A new beginning."

Thomas laughed out right. "I don't know what you're talking' about but let me tell ya again, she's done been had by the best! You ain't never gonna get her under your blanket, much less be having' her ta pant after ya."

He stretched lazily and then scratched vigorously at his crotch. "That crazy horse that follows you around like a pup and me old grand-dad's fine gold watch will be in the pot," he said with a sneer as he gave one last pull at his buck-skins and then extended the same hand in James' direction.

"Your old grand-dad's gold watch, is it? You're one lying sonofabitch, Thomas. That watch isn't old enough to have belonged to your grand-dad."

Actually Thomas’ habit of lying didn't bother him. It was his own weakness at being suckered in by the old trader. He'd never bet on a woman. If she found out, he might very well lose the member Thomas had so cheerfully mentioned.

He cut a jaundiced eye to Thomas’ extended hand. After a brief hesitation he sealed the agreement with a firm shake. "But that don't matter none," he said, easily mocking Thomas frontier accent. He knew Thomas hated it when he did that. "I done had myself a
hankerin'
fer
that watch. It'll look real nice
hangin
' round my neck. Don't you agree?"

Thomas laughed. "You done been with these savages fer too long. You can't even remember what a watch  is for. But that's no never-mind. You ain't never goin' ta know how it looks. But I'll be thinkin' of you ever' time I saddle up."

James released Thomas’ hand. "I can give you some medicine for that itch of yours. I'd suggest you use it before you infect any of the women here." Without further comment James turned and walked toward the garden.

Thomas laughed as he called after him, "I ain't never known no doctor turned trader, turned Injun before. Is that a doctor's or an Injun's cream you'll be agivin' me?"

James ignored Thomas as he stepped through the low-growing vegetables into the cornfield. Just across from him, on the next row, he spotted her.

She stood with her back to him as she pulled back the husks on an ear of corn. He looked at her long black hair and could think of nothing he'd like better at this very moment than to bury his face in it.

This was the closest he'd been to her and his palms itched to reach out and take her. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, he was sure of it. As sure as he'd ever been of anything in his life.

With that thought, he stepped through the row that separated them and slipped his arms around her. "You are beautiful," he whispered into her ear in her own language. "I have wanted to feel you in my arms from the first moment I saw you."

He pulled her tightly into his embrace. She was a head shorter than he, yet taller than most women he knew. Her form molded to his like two pieces of the same puzzle. Her head tilted back to rest against his shoulder and a small sigh escaped from between her lips as she turned her face away from him.

At her lack of resistance all coherent thought fled him. Warmth flooded his body as his head swam with the poignant, purely female scent of her.

Encouraged, he nuzzled his face in her hair and feasted on the heady aroma. With no thought beyond the scent and feel of the woman in his arms, his hands moved hungrily to boldly explore what they held.

So lost was he in his own sensations that he didn't notice what should have been an unmistakable shifting of her stance. Then, without warning, pain exploded in his groin and radiated upward until the bile rose in his throat and a thousand lights went off in his head.

He staggered backward as he drew his arms from around her waist to hug his own. James looked at her through a red haze of pain and thought that he might retch, or worse, faint. Showing him a measure of mercy she turned from him  to disappear into the tall corn.

When he was sure she'd gone James tumbled to the ground. Shamefully twisting in his misery, he squeezed his eyes shut and fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

Slowly the sickness withdrew. Testing it, he carefully opened one eye. Squatting in the dirt in front of him was an old woman. The other eye popped open. He blinked a couple of times to clear them of tears, hoping to bring her face into better focus.

It was useless. Her advanced years had left her face a mass of creases and wrinkles. The skin on her face sagged till her eyes were nearly hidden by the folds. Her mouth was but a slit between the folds and her nose nothing more than a puckered button in the center. Even so, he could see the twinkle of life in the nearly concealed orbs and thought of
Akachee,
the old Choctaw woman for whom he'd hunted during his stay in her village.

He worked his tightened lips into a half grin. Her black gaze darted to his mouth, and she tilted her head sideways much like a mutt looking at a curiosity. The wrinkled face, if it were possible, wrinkled even more in a scowl of disapproval.