Through the Fire (The Native American Warrior Series) (8 page)

“
I do not mind cold water. I am well accustomed.”

“
I’m not!” She scrambled to rise in the swift flow.

Snaking an arm around her waist, he pulled her back down.
“I think we will stay.”

The water churned around her as she fought to escape him.
“I’m freezing! I thought you wanted me to live.”

“
The sun is warm. You will not freeze.”

“
I will too! Let me out of here!”

“
Not yet. We will bathe first.”

“
You can’t be serious?”

“
No?” Still gripping her, he scooped handfuls of grit from the bottom and scrubbed his arms, chest, even his head.

“
You’re crazy!”

He let her go and leaned back in the water to rinse.

She staggered to her feet. Her unsteady legs toppled her back down onto her knees.

He surfaced with a grin.
“Your turn now.”

“
I’m used to soap.”

“
None here.” He anointed her head with a handful of the streambed, followed by another.

“
For heaven’s sake—” Sand and tiny pebbles trickled down her face and into her mouth. She spat out the grit and pinched her lips together while he worked the mixture over her scalp, then tilted her backwards repeatedly to rinse. Each dunk left her gasping.

“
Enough!” she howled.

He relented and rose, lifting her in his arms. Her skirts streamed down his legs as he hauled her to a big stone slab and laid her down.

She hugged the rock’s heated surface, trembling so violently she could barely speak. Rivulets of water ran across the stone and collected in puddles beneath her. “I’ll never be warm again.”

“
Not in this gown,” he muttered, rolling her over. “Why do you wear so much cloth?”

“
I wasn’t dressed for bathing.”

“
Or walking.” He bent over her, his powerfully built body glistening in the sun. “Breathing is also difficult,” he added, and unhooked the sodden panel at her bodice.

“
You scolded me for doing this yesterday, sir.”

He smiled slightly.
“It is different now. Your gown must dry.”

“
Only because you gave me a soaking.”

“
Why must I do this?”

“
Because you delight in tormenting me.”

“
No.” He left the stomacher partly attached and peeled the gown from her, spreading it over several wide grey rocks. “Do you still not understand why I must punish you?”

It goaded her to concede anything. She lay shivering in her petticoats and glanced away.

“Must I return you to the water?”

Refusing to look at him, she watched a solitary raven wheeling high overhead.
“You surely are bent on winning this, aren’t you?”

“
I will have your respect.”

She kept her eyes on the bird.
“’Tisn’t easily given. To anyone.”

“
Nor is mine.” He clasped her face in his hand, turning her to meet his stern regard. “When you look at me, your eyes will not hold defiance. Your lips will not speak curses.”

She argued from between his firm palms.
“You require a great deal.”

“
You wish to continue this battle?”

“
Not in its present form. You win. This time,” she added, yelping as he scooped her up and held her out over the water.

“
Not good enough. Speak the words, Rebecca.”

“
You wouldn’t toss me again? Damn it, Shoka!” She halted at her slip-up. “Wait—I respect you!”

He didn
’t drop her into the icy current, but she remained suspended just above the flow. “What more do you want? I’ve surrendered.”

“
For how long?”

“
As long as I must.”

“
Hear me, fair one. You must.”

She didn
’t argue the point, and he drew her trembling back to the safety of the rock.

“
I’m frozen through,” she said between chattering teeth. “My shoes are full of sand, and my fingers too frozen to manage the laces.”

He unlaced her sturdy leather shoes, cut down from boots by a Philadelphian cobbler for her journey on horseback, not a river crossing on foot. Her toes, clad in cream-colored stockings, peeked out from beneath the embroidered roses and knots of her outer petticoats
He emptied the grit, but instead of putting them back on, he tossed her footwear to the bank. Bewildered, she watched them fall.

“
We will get them later. Stay here a while. Such small feet,” he added, smoothing his hand over her toes.

She shrank from him and tucked her feet farther beneath the soggy ruffles.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Do you wish to sit there shaking like a wet cat or will you let me warm you?”

She didn
’t know how to reply. Despite her anger, not allowing him to take any pleasure in her company warred with an incomprehensible desire to enjoy his. Part of her would gladly shove him face first into the water and run for her life, but another less volatile part was tempted to be close to him.

He decided for her. Closing his arms around her, he gathered her against him. Protest rose to her lips and made it no farther. She couldn
’t resist his warmth, his feel,
him
.

As if in response to his nearness, the beauty around her came vibrantly to life. She truly saw the vivid blue spread endlessly across the vaulted sky, and rich green cloaking the trees. Mild breezes tossed her hair, carrying the earthy scent of the woods tinged with the lemony fragrance of some delicious blossom. Myriad smooth pebbles lying on the streambed beneath the water gleamed pearly-white, pink, and gold in the sunlight like precious jewels.

Gradually, her shivering ceased as the day began to feel more like summer than winter. The rigid tension of the earlier morning drained away, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. Catching herself, she lifted her head up then laid it back again. If only she could guard her satisfaction from him somehow.

He smoothed a sun-dried strand at her temple.
“You are warmer now.”

“
A bit,” she said grudgingly, “but I’ll catch my death after that wetting.”

“
No. You have much strength and such beauty.”

She lifted her head and looked into the dark glow of his eyes. The strength he spoke of was there and in every angle of his handsome face and the curve of his mouth, but he
’d have to toss her back into the stream for her to admit it to him.

“
The sun casts a hundred lights in your hair,” he said.

“
You’ll have to cut it to my ears as tangled as it is.”

He ran his fingers over the untamed tumble falling around her.
“I will get you a comb fit for a fine lady.”

“
A brush would be better, to keep my value.”

He lifted his hand to her face. The tips of his fingers stole over her mouth, chasing a tremor through her.
“What must I do to keep your lips colored like the wild rose?”

“
Didn’t you like them blue?”

“
Rose is better.” He lowered his head, inching his inviting lips nearer to hers.

It was impossible to be this close to the sensual force that was Shoka and not be caught up, any more than she could resist a violent current. Perhaps it wouldn
’t hurt to kiss him back just a little as part of her concession. Only a brief peck, she promised herself, closing her eyes and lifting her mouth to his.

Unlike yesterday
’s near assault, he covered her lips with seductive tenderness. She returned the coaxing pressure, slipping her arms around his neck for a completely different reason than before. His arms tightened around her and he kissed her harder, then with the building power of a storm surge. A flaming charge pulsed through her chest and jolted within her beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

She broke away from him as though singed, her traitorous heart beating wildly.
“I can’t—you shouldn’t.”

He seemed to be exerting a powerful effort not to reclaim her mouth. And she fought the urge to let him, battling the need she hadn
’t even realized she possessed for this man.

Cupping his hands at her cheeks, he said,
“I know I should not kiss you, but you are so difficult to resist.”

The resentment of the morning pricked at her like a thorn.
“Not last night. You resisted every plea I made you.”

The fire in his eyes dimmed and an expression of loathing shrouded his sensual glow.
“I despised what I had to do.”

“
You wouldn’t even speak to me. Not a single word.”

“
The agreement I made with Black Knife to preserve your life. He punished us both.”

“
Did it truly torment you to remain silent?”

“
Yes.” His voice was emphatic. “I could give you no comfort.”

She twisted the ring on her middle finger around and around.
“That hurt the most. You were a different man.”

“
No. I am the same man you see before you.”

“
How can I be certain you won’t change into that grim warrior again?”

The corners of his mouth tightened.
“You cannot.”

A tear slid down her cheek.
“Then how can I trust you? I needed you.”

He smoothed her cheeks with his thumbs.
“I was with you every moment.”

“
Not so that I knew.”

“
Yet, I was.” He looked down and nodded at her ring. “This has special meaning for you?”

Blinking at the unwanted moisture in her eyes, she pointed to the initials JNE set in raised letters against a background of black enamel.
“It’s a mourning ring. These letters are the initials of John’s name. John Nathan Elliot.”

Shoka brushed her tears aside.
“Do not weep for him, Rebecca. Call to me. Speak my name.”

“
After all you’ve done? How can you even ask that?”

“
I lay beside you in the night and held you close.”

A strange fluttering stirred inside her, and she eyed him wordlessly.

“You called to your husband. I answered you with my lips. Do you remember this?”

“
That was you? I thought it was a dream.”

“
You thought I was him. So sweet you were in my arms. I wondered how you would be if you knew I kissed you.”

Not daring to look at him, she shifted her stare toward the stream.
“You discovered, both times. Terrified.”

He lowered his hands.
“Fear is only what made you pull from me. You felt far more than this.”

She focused on a blue-green dragonfly skimming over the water.
“Last evening you said we could have no life together. You’re right. I cannot betray John’s memory. I owe him everything.”

“
I owe him nothing, and I want you, Rebecca. I have not words enough to speak my wanting.”

“
You don’t need words,” she whispered.

He stroked his curved knuckles over the tops of her breasts swelling above the corset where her shift had pulled down in the water.
“Do not refuse me, fair one.”

Chills prickled through her.
“Are you allowing me a choice?”

His voice was husky as he said,
“It is not our way to force a woman. I swear to you I will not.”

She met the compelling appeal in his face.
“If I give myself to you, what then?”

“
I will care for you.”

“
Like a mistress? Until you tire of me and take another?”

“
I won’t tire, leaving you with child.”

Sadness sharpened the emotions clashing inside her.
“I may trouble no man with a swollen belly. I fear I am barren.”

“
You said your husband was often away.”

She hesitated, dropping her gaze.
“But when he was with me, he loved me well. You understand what I mean?”

“
Yes. It’s what I long to do.”

She lifted her eyes to the yearning in his.
“You say that now. Once you have me will you still?”

“
Can a stream overflowing its banks be pushed back?”

The wind blew his black hair across her cheek as he clasped her face and tilted her head toward him.