LeClerc 01 - Autumn Ecstasy Page 9

  As the day grew on, Linsey’s thoughts of imminent torture faded. She began to wonder if he were not known to Bear. No man, Indian or white, would give a stranger the kind of care the Indian was giving Bear.

  “Do you speak English?” Maybe, if he was a friend, Bear had taught him a few basic words.

  When there was no reply, she tried again. “Who are you? You must have a name.”

  Except to occasionally check on her whereabouts — which was simple for him to do since she hadn’t moved in hours — the Indian ignored her and concentrated on nursing Bear.

  “Divil take ye, mon, be ye not going to torture me?” Her agitation showed in the brogue she unknowingly used.

  The Indian turned slowly, his eyes glittering brightly. “Do you wish for me to do so?” he asked in perfect English. “You will have to forgive me that in my concern for my brother I neglected to begin your torture. What did you have in mind, Summer Eyes?” He crossed his arms over his chest, an amused smile showing straight white teeth.

  “Why, you … you… Linsey’s rage made it impossible for her to speak or to form a clear thought.

  “If I may make a few suggestions as to the type and method of your torture?” he offered. “My forefathers spent years refining their techniques.”

  Linsey slowly stood, her building anger noting and magnifying his enjoyment. “Ye bloody whoreson savage,” she yelled, her brogue so thick that he could understand only a few words. “Ya dinna intend torture! I hae spent the day long waiting for something that wasna to happen!”

  It was fortunate that the Indian could not understand her as she paced toward him, speaking in a brogue so thick it would have pleased any Highlander while she cursed his ancestors, his future generations and even the ground he stood on.

  They stood face to face, the tall majestic warrior and the small, furiously angry woman. One smiled, one raged. He was fascinated by her fiery hair but in awe of her summer leaf eyes. Her size was little more than a half-grown child, and yet he could detect the womanly curves beneath the dress of his tribe. Never had he encountered such a violent temper in a woman, a temper capable of wiping any other emotion from her mind. If she were not the woman of his brother, he would take her for his own. Except for the man on the bed, he had no love for the white race, but he would enjoy the challenge of channelling her temper in another direction — a direction that would make him the envy of many warriors when they heard her screams and moans of passion through the darkness of night. That he already had a wife mattered little. His people accepted multiple marriages as a fact of life. Many hands made the work lighter. That he loved his wife and had chosen her from many others because of that love did not enter his mind.

  Linsey would never know the thoughts that raced through his mind as she cursed at him. Nor would she be aware that the thoughts were discarded as quickly as they came. In the mind of the Indian, she was the woman of his brother. He would accept her as a sister-in-law. As she ranted and raved at him, she did not know that his trust, respect and protection were extended to her as a sister. Nor did she realize the extent of affection she would one day feel toward him.

  At a feeble sound from the bed, the Indian turned his attention from Linsey. “You are healing,” he said quietly when he saw that Bear’s eyes were open and the delirium was gone.

  “It’s easy with all the noise in here,” Bear mumbled. “I see you’ve met my woman.”

  “Summer Eyes is a woman to walk the trails with.” Bear nodded in quiet agreement. He already knew that Linsey was a woman who would enrich the life of any man fortunate enough to spend it with her. That she had survived her captivity showed her strength. He knew she would protect those she loved as fiercely as she now ranted at the Indian warrior. With the passing of time, she would grow into the woman she was meant to be, and lucky would be the man who could claim her as his own.

  When her angry tirade continued unabated, Bear couldn’t prevent a grin. “Could never take her hunting; … her screeching would scare all the game away. You seem to have upset her, N’tha thdh, my brother.”

  “Summer Eyes is angry.”

  “Obviously. Would you know why?”

  “I did not torture her,” he explained with a shrug. “Not the usual reason for such anger; most people would be relieved to discover they weren’t to suffer such a fate.”

  “Not a usual woman.” He turned and looked down at Bear. “I think my brother, Bear Who Walks Alone, has found a mate worthy of him.”

  Bear could understand most of Linsey’s thick brogue, and his eyebrow rose in amusement. He was glad his brother did not realize exactly what she was saying. His relationship with Limping Wolf might not be able to survive the abuse Linsey was heaping on it.

  “She is beginning to repeat herself, Limping Wolf,” Bear said as both men listened to the ranting woman.

  “You will find much pleasure in taming her, I think.”

  “My days — and nights — will not be boring!”

  Bear began to cough, the sound penetrating through Linsey’s red haze of rage. She suddenly felt drained of all emotion. Even the fact that she was standing face to face with the fierce warrior did not rouse her fear. She turned toward the bed and the man who seemed unable to draw a breath.

  Perspiration ran down his face, a sign that the fever had broken once again. Linsey wondered if he would become feverish as night drew nearer or if, this time, the fever would stay down.

  Without a word to either man, she turned and picked up one of the rags she had used for sponging him down. Wetting it, she began to run it soothingly over his face. She kept her eyes turned from his. There was a noticeable difference between sponging a man who was delirious with fever and one who was aware of every move she made.

  “We need to get the wet bedding from beneath him.” She motioned to the Indian, who stood quietly observing her. “If you’ll help him to stand, I’ll change it.”

  “I don’t need help to stand!” Bear stated as firmly as his weakened voice would allow.

  Linsey moved away and waited. After several attempts, Bear admitted he needed help, finding he was so weak he could barely sit up by himself. As he slid his legs off the side, he realized he was nude. He sat on the edge, regaining his breath and trying to decide how to stand without offending Linsey. He knew Wolf would think nothing of his nudity and wouldn’t understand Linsey’s reaction to it.

  “My brother, I seem to have lost my pants,” Bear said in the Shawnee language, “and unless you want to start Summer Eyes up again, I think we had better find a way to keep me covered.”

  Wolf looked puzzled and questioned Bear. His look turned to one of utter amazement, and he shook his head in disbelief. He would never understand the way of the white man — or woman!

  As Linsey watched them wrap a blanket around Bear’s waist, she remembered Wolf cutting off his pants, and her face flamed scarlet. When Wolf put Bear’s arm around his shoulders and started to pull him off the bed, Linsey turned her back.

  “It is safe to look now, little one,” Bear said, trying to hide his grin. Wolf helped him cross the room, stopping frequently when Bear began to cough helplessly. As she replaced the wet bedding, she tried to ignore the sounds from across the cabin, sounds that told her ail too clearly that she should be grateful for the help of the Indian.

  When Linsey heard the shuffling sounds of them returning, she quickly finished smoothing the bedding. Turning, she carefully kept her eyes lowered until a pair of bare feet and ones covered by moccasins came into view.

  Slowly raising her eyes, she studied the two men. Their coloring was similar with blue-black hair and eyes so dark brown they appeared black. Wolf’s skin was a deep copper shade while a dark tan attested to Bear’s preference of doing without clothing. They were nearly the same height, with Bear perhaps an inch or two taller, but that was where the similarities ended. Bear’s massive size would have dwarfed a smaller man and made even the muscular Indian appear insignificant. The muscles of his
arms and shoulders rippled with each movement, and Linsey knew his upper arm was as big as her waist. She realized she had been staring only when her gaze met Bear’s amused eyes.

  Hastily backing away, she stumbled over the discarded pants. A strong arm came out to grab her when she started to fall, and she found herself staring into the eyes of the Shawnee brave. Years of terror could not be eradicated in a few short hours, and without her emotions submerged beneath a cloak of rage, Linsey’s deep-rooted fear returned full force. She pulled away from Wolf, once more seeing only the savage Indian.

  Bear lowered himself to the bed and lay back with a sigh, unaware of the tension until he turned his head in her direction. Her fear was easy to read but difficult to accept. This was the woman who had stood face to face with Wolf and used her sharp tongue as her only weapon. Now she stood immobile at the foot of the bed, her eyes dilated with fear.

  “Little one, there is nothing here to cause you such fear.” Bear offered her his hand, motioning for her to come to him. “You are safe. Wolf will not harm you. He would protect you with his life.”

  The men exchanged glances, Wolf’s questioning, Bear’s without answers. Finally Wolf turned and walked back to the fireplace. Linsey kept her eyes on him as she edged around the bed and grabbed at Bear’s hand.

  Aware of the trembling hand in his, Bear pulled her to the bed, closing his eyes as she sat down. He wanted to reassure her, but his excursion across the room and back had left him exhausted. Holding her cold hand tightly in his, he drifted back to sleep.

  Linsey felt ridiculously secure holding Bear’s hand. Common sense told her he was too weak to provide any kind of protection. It also told her that Wolf offered no threat, but common sense held little value in the face of deeply ingrained fear.

  Sitting beside Bear, her hand tightly clenching his, she watched Wolf as he knelt to add wood to the fire. He stirred the kettle of soup he had made and turned his attention to the pot of broth whose sweet fragrance now drifted through the cabin.

  Wolf stirred it with a wooden spoon, bent and inhaled deeply. His wide brow furled as he tried to identify the contents. Dipping the spoon back into the liquid, he raised it to his lips, blew gently to cool it and tasted.

  Revenge! It was unintended and unplanned. Her mouth tingled with remembered revulsion. It was unsubtle torture!

  “Pfftt!” Wolf spat the offensive broth back into the pot. He slowly turned his head, his fierce gaze meeting the twinkle of amusement she could not hide in her own.

  “You fed my brother this?”

  Linsey nodded.

  Wolf stood, crossing his arms over his chest, and a proud expression lit his sculptured countenance. “My son’s sons will sing of his strength. Until now even I did not know how truly strong he was.”

  Bear twined his fingers together beneath his head and stretched his big body. He could feel his strength slowly returning with each passing day, but he had begun to chafe at the inactivity. For now he felt content as he watched Linsey across the room. Using the ornately decorated silver brush and comb that had belonged to his mother, she carefully worked the tangles from her hair. Each stroke of the brush through the glorious mane was as soothing to him as it was to her. The silver brush and comb were the only things he had that had been his mother’s. It seemed to him that his earliest memories were of them flowing rhythmically through her long, dark hair.

  He closed his eyes as a remembered pain flashed through his mind. For a moment he let his thoughts dwell on the spring he had turned fourteen. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his face as he rode beside his father on their return from town. The snow had melted sufficiently for them to take the trip, the dwindling of their supplies making it necessary. In a few weeks game would again be plentiful, but until then they had purchased enough to restock their depleted larder.

  The smell of smoke drifted on the wind long before their cabin came into sight. For as long as he lived, Bear would never forget the horror of seeing the smoldering structure and finding the violated bodies of his beloved mother and sisters. There were many signs around the ruins telling that it had been the handiwork of Iroquois braves raiding at the first spring thaw.

  Three lonely graves were dug in the frozen earth beneath the spreading branches of a giant elm. Only a few yellow crocuses had ventured above the ground, their blossoms vibrant against the backdrop of the glittering snow, promising that spring was near. They were the only flowers he could find to decorate their graves. Almost a man, his body showing signs of his future size, he bowed his head and let his tears drop onto the flowers in his hand.

  Broken-hearted at the loss of his beloved wife and daughters, Bear’s father salvaged what he could from the ruin of his home. When he found the silver brush and comb beneath a smoldering down mattress, he had at first cradled them in his work-roughened hands. Then, in anger at his loss, he threw them violently into the woods surrounding them. Bear carefully searched out the treasured items, hiding them in his pack when they left the clearing. It was years later before his father became aware that he had them.

  Now as he watched Linsey smooth her hair with his mother’s brush he wondered why it seemed so right. He had never given them to his wife. Snow had known of their existence and had admired their ornate silvering. She never asked about them, respecting his privacy and seeming to know of their value to him.

  But now, without hesitation, he had offered them to Linsey. When she had washed her hair earlier and sat combing her fingers through the tangled strands, Bear had dug them out of their place of safe keeping and given them to her. It had been years since he’d packed them away, and rarely did he think of them; yet it seemed as if they had been waiting for this moment in time.

  It was not dark hair they caressed, but hair with the warmth of flames, golden strands mingling with sunset red. The motions were the same as those from his memories, totally feminine, but now instead of maternally soothing, they were sensuously arousing.

  Each time she lifted her arms, her unbound breasts bounced gently, the beaded bodice clearly showing the rounded fullness it should have concealed. Bear found himself staring at the enticing movements until he finally forced his eyes away. His gaze then traveled down her slender body to where the hem of her skirt rested at the tops of her knees. Having quickly grown accustomed to bare legs, Linsey had neglected to ask him how to wear the leggings. Now he lay in the bed, appreciating the sight of her shapely legs demurely crossed at the ankle.

  Bear felt his blood begin to heat when he thought of those slender legs wrapped around his body, his hand shaping her tender breasts while his tongue teased a soft peak into pebble hardness.

  He closed his eyes, trying to capture a picture from the past, but it merged with the reality of the present. With a low moan, Bear rolled to his stomach, fighting the urge to leave the bed, only to return with her in his arms.

  “Are you all right?” Linsey stopped brushing her hair when she heard the sound from the bed. Bear’s fever had not returned since Wolf had left two days earlier. He seemed to be improving rapidly, but perhaps it had only been wishful thinking. Perhaps the fever had come back.

  Carefully setting the brush and comb on the table, Linsey walked to the bed and laid a hand against his cheek. His skin was cool.

  When she touched him, Bear had to bite back another moan, his hand clenching and unclenching the fur beneath it. His body felt out of control, his thoughts only on satisfying the need his body demanded.

  “Are you in pain?” Linsey watched his hand open and close on the fur. She lightly ran her hand down his buckskin-covered back. “Can I help?”

  Bear’s knuckles turned white from the force of his grip. He wanted to laugh — or cry — with frustration. She was the only one who could help, but he knew she’d be horrified and frightened if he were to tell her exactly what kind of help he needed.

  Since Snow’s death almost five years before, Bear had been celibate. It was by choice that he took no other woman to his
bed. He had loved his gentle wife and had met no other woman who made his blood burn with desire … until now.

  “I’m tired of being in this bed.” He forced his hand to ease its hold and rolled over, sitting up. He rested his elbows on his knees and supported his head in his hands.

  Linsey understood his restlessness. Her father had been a terrible patient the few times she could remember him being sick. After a couple of days in bed, he became extremely irritable, complaining about the simplest thing.

  “I need to start dinner.” Linsey stood and nonchalantly smoothed her dress, repressing a smile at the nearly muffled moan from him. “Why don’t you come sit at the table? Maybe you can make some suggestions that will improve my cooking.”

  Bear watched her walk away and shuddered. He’d do more than make suggestions. He’d watch like a hawk surveying its dinner and make sure of each ingredient she put into the pot. His tongue nearly curled at the remembered taste of her last attempt.

  An hour later a large kettle boiled, filled with carrots and potatoes. Bear sat at the table, carefully sharpening his knife.

  “Do you have any idea how long it takes to sharpen a knife?” he asked, sending accusing looks in her direction.

  “Not nearly as long as it took to dull it,” she replied sassily. “How was I supposed to know that scraping it across the salt would dull it?”

  “You could have asked.”

  “Who? You?” Her eyes began to glow with building temper. “You certainly didn’t complain when it spent three days stuck in the wall!”

  “I’m surprised it didn’t just bounce off!”

  Linsey picked up a log to add to the fire and momentarily considered hitting him with it. Wouldn’t be fair to the log, she decided, placing it in the blazing coals.

  “We need more firewood,” she stated, looking at the depleted pile.

  “‘Round the side of the cabin.” Bear carefully tested the blade, then returned to sharpening it. He had several other knives, one of which he decided to give to her. It would be for her sole use. She could scrape all the salt or sand or anything else she wanted to scrape with it, just as long as she left this knife alone.