Wild Innocence (14 page)

“You can keep me company as I finish up and wait for our last guest.”

“Oh, is Jane coming to supper?” She followed Amelia into the small work kitchen, which must have been an addition to the original cabin. In this room were the cupboards for dishes, the pantry, and a table for preparation, but the cook-stove itself was in the great room within a few feet from the dining table. Amelia opened the pantry and pulled out a loaf of bread, which she proceeded to slice evenly.

“Doesn't it bother you to fix your meals in here and then have to go out into the other room to cook it?”

Amelia smiled. “No, I'm used to it,” she said. She pulled a small bowl from a cupboard and began to spoon jelly from a jar into the serving dish. “I don't mind this arrangement at all,” she continued as she opened a second jar and emptied it into a separate dish. “It keeps the worst of the mess where I can't see it while I'm eating. I find I enjoy my meal more if I don't have to see what I must clean up.”

“Well, I'll clean up this evening,” Rachel said. “I wanted to come over sooner, but I had some young patients.” She smiled as she met her sister's gaze. “The Johnson children and friends.”

Amelia chuckled. “I see.” She handed Rachel a spoon of jam. “Taste this. It's a new recipe.”

“Hmmm,” Rachel said. “It's delicious. What is it?”

Her sister named an unfamiliar type of berry.

Watching her work, Rachel wondered how Amelia's pregnancy was affecting her. She thought her sister looked a little pale. “Are you still feeling well?” she asked.

“I feel wonderful.”

“How far are you along now?”

“Three months.”

“Six months to go. That will take you into what ... March?”

“I think so.”

Rachel frowned. “Does it get terribly cold here?”

“Prepare for the worst, and you might think it's only frigid.”

The thought of winter gave her a chill, and Rachel hugged herself with her arms. “Amelia, I'll come weeks before the baby's birth. You'll need someone with you, and who knows how badly it will snow.”

Amelia agreed that she would feel better knowing her sister was near.

“Amelia?” Daniel stood in the doorway to the great room. He barely spared Rachel a glance before he gazed lovingly at his wife. “Black Hawk is here.”

“Oh, good.” Amelia smiled as she pulled off her apron. “Now that everyone is here, we can visit together a while before we eat.”

Rachel grabbed her sister's arm as Amelia started to leave the room. “You invited Black Hawk?”

Amelia frowned. “Yes, why? Do you have a problem with him?”

“No! No, of course not. I'm just surprised to hear he's come.” Her heart had begun to pound at the mention of his name. How would she react when she entered the next room and saw him?

“I'm glad, Rachel, because Black Hawk is a good friend,” Amelia said. “More like family.”

Rachel's head started to buzz as she nodded, then followed Amelia from the kitchen. She spied the brave immediately, despite the fact that all three men were seated near each other on various chairs and on the sofa before the fireplace. Black Hawk stood as he spied Amelia, and watched her approach with a smile.

Rachel studied the Ojibwa brave as he gazed at her sister, and found herself remembering his time at the infirmary, her attraction to him. His sharp features looked handsome to her. She never thought she would look at an Indian that way, but then Black Hawk was no savage. This night he wore a leather vest with his loincloth leggings. His footwear was pure Ojibwa—moccasins with a puckered center seam. She noted his copper armband, beaded necklace, and bright rings through each ear. She gazed at him, intrigued as she noted every little physical detail about him.

To Rachel's surprise, Amelia and Black Hawk hugged as if they were old friends. Then Black Hawk, seeing Rachel behind her sister, greeted her politely as someone greeted a stranger. Rachel felt a keen sense of disappointment until later, when Black Hawk caught her gaze as they headed toward the dining table. She saw the admiring gleam in his dark eyes before she quickly averted her gaze.

At Amelia's instructions, everyone moved toward their set places at the dining table. As each guest found his chair, Amelia declined Rachel's offer of help and asked instead for Daniel's assistance. To Rachel's surprise, Black Hawk had been assigned the seat directly across from hers.

John Dempsey asked after Black Hawk's injuries, and the brave confirmed that he was all right. Rachel tried to avoid looking at him, which was difficult because the urge to stare at him was strong.

Amelia and Daniel returned from the kitchen area with the bread and fresh fruit; then Daniel went to the stove and removed a turkey from the oven. There was wild rice dressing to go along with it.

Daniel and Amelia good-naturedly argued over who was going to carve the turkey. Daniel insisted that Amelia do it, while Amelia pointed out that she was with child and it was a man's job.

Watching their teasing, Rachel felt a brief sadness for what she'd never have. Jordan had teased her on occasion, and she had loved every minute of it, joking with him in kind.

Rachel managed to smile as her sister and her brother-in-law continued their light bantering. She tried not to feel sad, and she was afraid that her smile appeared strained.

The sense that she was being studied drew her attention to the man who sat across the table from her. Black Hawk was watching her, not Daniel and Amelia, and she had no clue as to his thoughts. She boldly gazed back at him, but his stoic expression and lack of response made her flush and look away.

Dinner was delicious. The turkey was tender and juicy. Amelia had seasoned the dressing to perfection, and her bread was light and airy, served with jelly and jam. As they ate, the conversation centered on the infirmary and John Dempsey's patients. Then, to her embarrassment, her father began to talk about Rachel's assistance and how proud he was of her continued efforts to help.

“She does well with patients,” Black Hawk said, making Rachel's face turn a brighter shade of red.

“You mean she didn't maim or kill you?” Daniel said teasingly.

Rachel, who had been on edge since she'd first entered the house, didn't hear the teasing tone of his remark. She only heard Daniel making light of her work, disapproving of her once again.

“It's a good thing you're not a patient. Right, Daniel? I may accidentally scald you with a bowl of soup or light your bed on fire when I snuff out your bedside candle. Everyone knows how dangerous I am!

“I'm sorry, but I need some air,” she murmured. She rose from her chair, despite the protests of those seated at the dining table.

“Rachel!”

But she ran toward the door, ignoring her sister's cry.

“What's wrong with her?” Daniel asked.

“She knows that you do not like her,” Black Hawk said quietly. He stood. “I will talk with her.”

“You'll frighten her,” Daniel said.

“No,” the Ojibwa brave said. “Rachel and I understand each other.”

It was a clear evening. Outside, under the dusk sky, Rachel felt the tension within her ease. She knew she had overreacted, but Daniel had mocked her just one time too many.

The air temperature was cool, but she wasn't cold as she skirted the house and entered the side yard. She gazed up at the sky, feeling the light breeze that caressed her face. She closed her eyes, lifted her chin higher, and listened to the forest sounds. Such noises no longer frightened her. Neither was she afraid when she sensed that someone stood nearby watching her. She knew without opening her eyes that it was Black Hawk.

“You didn't have to come after me,” she said without turning.

“I wanted to come.”

Her pulse picked up its pace. “Why?”

“I have not spoken with you in a long while.”

She opened her eyes then and faced him. “You want to talk?” she asked with disbelief.

He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “I do not wish to talk with you, Rach-el.”

“What do you want?” She was breathless as he came closer. She glanced toward the house, but everyone else had stayed inside.

“Must I say it?” he said. “Or shall I show you?”

She didn't know how to answer.

“Rach-el?”

“Please—I don't know what you want from me.”

“What I want and what I must not have are one and the same.”

His dark eyes glittered in the dim light. She noted the smoothness of his skin. Dusk had softened his sharp features. Her gaze traced his rugged jaw, before it was drawn to his mouth, and she found herself remembering the excitement of his kiss.

She swayed toward him. “Black Hawk.”

He took her into his arms. He murmured something in Ojibwa, and then he kissed her. Her head spun as the world rocked beneath her feet.

No!
she cried silently as he deepened the kiss, exploring the warm intimacy of her mouth. She made no effort to break away; she clung tightly to his shoulders ... and moaned with pleasure as he pressed her fully against his hard length.

She tried to recall Jordan and her determination to stay away from all men, but her thoughts wouldn't cooperate. She could think only of Black Hawk and how wild and free he made her feel as he held her ... of the rush of heightened pleasure brought by the pressure of his masculine lips against her mouth.

As his head dipped and he nuzzled beneath the collar of her gown, her world was a whirl of color. She felt the pumping of her blood through her veins, felt her lungs draw air. She heard her breath coming in sharp little pants intermingled with gasping shudders and low moans.

He wore only a vest to cover his upper torso. Rachel clutched his shoulders and ran her fingers beneath the sleeve edges to explore the warm firm flesh beneath. She wanted to feel that heated skin pressed against her own. She longed to have his lips nuzzle farther, below her bodice over her bare shoulders, down her throat to her breasts.

From somewhere deep in her mind came the thought that she should be shocked at her cravings. She had never longed for anything this badly ... and that an Indian could incite such lust was beyond logical reasoning.

“Please,” she begged.

He lifted his head and stared at her. She blinked up at him, aware only of the man and the raging desire she felt for him.

Black Hawk released her and stepped back.

“Black Hawk?”

“I did not mean to do this,” he said.

“You didn't?” She experienced a pang of disappointment. He shook his dark head, and she had the strongest urge to touch his hair, to finger the silky ebony strands that fell from the crown of his head to below his shoulder.

She flexed her fingers at her side, before she raised her right hand and gave in to the desire. She trailed her fingers down his hair, over his shoulder, to where the strands ended just above his left nipple. She stared at the nipple, wanting to caress it. She bent instead and placed her lips to the bud. Black Hawk tensed, then groaned as she kissed the area, laving it with her teeth and tongue.

Finally, he grabbed her hair and lifted her face away. “Do not!”

Rachel drew back in hurt. “I'm sorry. I—I don't know what came over me. I've never done that to anyone before.”

Something flashed in Black Hawk's eyes as he cradled her face with his hands. “The same thing that has come over me,” he said huskily. “I must not give into it. I cannot!” He released her and turned away.

She stared at his broad leather-clad back with her heart thundering in her chest. Her mouth was still moist from his kisses.

“You feel it, too?” she asked.

He didn't turn or answer.

“Black Hawk?”

“No!” He spun then, looking angry.

She swallowed and took a step back. “Don't!”

He looked stunned. “Did you think I would hit you? I do not hit females, especially you.”

“You are furious with me,” she said.

“I am angry with myself.”

“Why?” She relaxed and tilted her head slightly.

“Because I must not take a mate.”

A mate?
Rachel thought, and felt another rush of sensation at the images provoked by his words.

“You must not remember this moment. You must not think of us. It is not a wise thing. I have much to do, and my thoughts must be on my people.”

“Did I ask to be your mate?” she cried softly. “We kissed, that is all.”
Liar,
she thought. “Do you think I won't forget a simple kiss? I had lots of admirers in Baltimore, lots of kisses.” His rejection of her stung.

“Rach-el.” He started to reach for her.

She sprang back.

“Rachel! Black Hawk!” Daniel's call accompanied the sound of footsteps across the wooden porch floor. “Is everything all right?”

At the sound of her brother-in-law's voice, she glanced toward the front corner of the house. “Yes, Daniel!” Rachel had been forced to swallow before she could speak. “We were just talking. We'll be right in.”

“Amelia made rice pudding,” he called back.

“Sounds wonderful,” she returned calmly, while inside she felt bleak, as if she was dying. The man who had just stirred her emotions like no other man before him, had just told her that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Rachel looked back at Black Hawk. “We'd better go inside.”

“Will you be all right?” he asked with what sounded like genuine concern.

Tears stung her eyes. “I'll be fine. I'm not some simple, fragile damsel.” She managed a smile for him. “I'm made of sterner stuff than that.” She held out her arm. “Shall we go in?”

He gazed at her a long time before he moved to accept her arm.

He spoke softly in Ojibwa.

Rachel had no idea what he'd said, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

They started toward the house; then Black Hawk stopped her. “You must not be angry with Dan-yel.”

She stiffened. “He hates me.”

The brave's dark gaze glistened as he studied her. “He does not hate you. You remind him of someone who hurt him.”

She frowned. “Who?”

“His dead wife.”

“He was married before?” Rachel didn't know why she felt stunned by the news.

Black Hawk inclined his head. “It was a long time ago, before Little Flower—Sus—sie—was born.”

“I didn't know,” she murmured. Daniel had been married, and his wife had hurt him. How? Suddenly, she wanted to know more about her new brother-in-law.

“My friend Dan-yel is a good man. He loves your sister.”

“I know,” she admitted. “I can't find fault with him for that.”

She stared thoughtfully at the house. “How did his wife hurt him?”

“It is not for me to say.”

His answer annoyed her. “Why not? You've told me enough to arouse my curiosity. Why won't you satisfy it?”

“It was a bad time for Man-with-Big-Head.”

A choked chuckle escaped Rachel's lips. “That is Daniel's Ojibwa name?”

Black Hawk's lips twitched. “Given to him by your sister, Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend.”

“Good name, Amelia,” she breathed softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. The knowledge gave her something to think about. Did Amelia know the truth of Daniel's past? And would she tell her sister if she did?

Black Hawk studied the woman before him, and felt his loins tighten in response. He wanted her, but he couldn't have her. He had to protect his people, and he had to avenge his father. Until he had done both, he would not be free to take a mate.

She sighed and gestured toward the house. “Let's go inside. We've talked long enough.”

Black Hawk inclined his dark head. Rachel seemed disappointed that he didn't take her arm again as they started toward the front porch of the cabin.

 

 

Amelia glanced anxiously toward the door. “Is she coming?”

“She said she was,” her husband said.

“What did Black Hawk mean when he said that you didn't approve of Rachel?” she asked. “Is that true?”

Daniel looked uncomfortable. “Amelia—”

“Tell me the truth, Daniel! Do you or do you not like my sister?”

“It's not a question of whether or not I like her—” He paused when he saw his wife's raised eyebrows. “I want to like her.”

Amelia jerked as if she'd been shot. “You don't like her, do you?” she cried, upset.

Her husband mumbled something beneath his breath.

“What?”

“I said I just don't approve of her!” He softened his voice. “She reminds me of Pamela.”

His wife stared at him a long moment before her expression softened. “Oh, Daniel,” she said. “She's not Pamela. She's Rachel, my sister, and she has a heart of gold.”

“You used to tell me about all of her beaux.”

She frowned. “Yes, of course. But Rachel isn't mean or deliberately cruel. She may have stolen the affections of a few of my admirers, but I should thank her for that. She didn't entice them away on purpose. They just saw her and were smitten. If she hadn't kept me from falling for a man back East, then I wouldn't have come to this territory ... or met you.” Her voice had become husky.

He looked surprised by the knowledge. “You're right. I had no right to make judgment on her when I hardly know her.”

“And so?” Amelia said with a small smile. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Do I have to apologize?”

“That's entirely up to you.”

“I'll have to think about it.”

Amelia scowled with disappointment. “You do that.”

The squeak of the front door drew the attention of everyone in the room.

Rachel entered first, looking refreshed by the night air and quite beautiful. “Hello, everyone,” she said airily as she breezed into the room.

Black Hawk followed more slowly, his expression unreadable as he rejoined the group at the dining room table.

“Did I hear something about dessert?” Rachel asked.

Amelia glanced at the Ojibwa before returning her gaze to Rachel. “Pudding,” she murmured. Then, she managed a bright smile. “Are you still hungry?”

“For pudding,” Rachel said. The note of cheeriness sounded false to her sister's ears. “Absolutely.”

 

 

They came in the night, and Rachel didn't expect them. She heard the noise just moments before she heard her father's sharp shout of surprise. Rachel dressed quickly, then looked for a weapon. The only thing she could find was a brooch that had belonged to her aunt. She opened the backing to release the pin, and held the pin with the sharp point outward between her fingers.

She hesitated before leaving her bedchamber and listened with her ear pressed to the door. Her heart pounded so loudly, she could barely hear anything else. Her mouth had gone suddenly dry, and she had difficulty swallowing.

She pressed her fingers to the doorknob and tried to turn it without sound. Who is it? she wondered. And where is Father?

The door was torn from her grip. And she stood face to face with an Indian.

She stared at him in openmouthed horror.

“Rachel! Daughter, get back inside!”

But she couldn't. The Indian had a firm grip on the door.

“I can't,” she gasped. She found sight of her father. “Who are they? What do they want?”

“They're Sioux. Clouds-at-Morning's men. They've come for you.”

She inhaled sharply. “Me?” She felt a chill. “What do they want with me?”

“Clouds-at-Morning wishes to see you. They've come to bring you to their village.” Her father tried to go to her, but another brave stopped him. “You mustn't go with them, Rachel!”

One warrior spoke sharply to her father, who answered. The brave raised a knife to John Dempsey's throat.

“No!” she cried. She tried to push past the Indian, who laughed and blocked her way.

One of the Indians holding her father spoke to the warrior blocking Rachel. The warrior scowled and moved aside.

Rachel eyed the brave before her, then gazed at the band of warriors in the room. One of them nodded at her, and she ran to her father.

“What shall we do?”

One of the Indians spoke up, in English. “You must come with us in peace.”

“Father?”

“No, Rachel.”

“If you do not come,” the brave said in English, “we must kill your father!”

“No!” she cried.

“Rachel, don't listen to him! If he kills me, then they will be killing a friend of Runs-with-the-Wind.”

Rachel saw the flicker in the Indian's gaze. “You are the one who saved Little Cloud?” he asked.

John Dempsey nodded, relieved that the Indian had heard of the young Sioux he had saved two years past. Because of his deed, he had earned respect within a Sioux village. It was because of this respect that the Sioux had released the surviving captives who had been taken during a raid on the mission that same summer.

“Then we will not kill you, White Medicine Man.” He rubbed the dull edge of the knife against her father's throat. “We will cut you a little.”

Rachel felt a wave of terror. “I'll go with you if you will release my father.”

The brave nodded.

“No!”
her father cried.

“Father, how can I stay and have them harm you!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Rachel!”

“Tell them I'll go with them.”

“No,” John gasped.

“Father, tell them I'll go but I want their word that I'll be released afterward. I imagine a Sioux's word is good as any man's.”

She gazed at the brave who spoke English. “Please,” she pleaded. “I must have your word.” The man nodded.

The warriors holding John released him. The brave at the door nodded, then stepped back to allow Rachel to exit.

“Rachel!” her father cried as she preceded the Indians to the door. She paused at the opening. “Please, don't go,” he added.

“I have to, Father.”

“Come, white woman,” the Indian said.

“You will allow my father to remain? You will leave my father alone?”

The brave nodded, then spoke to his men. The Indians grabbed John, then tied him to a chair.