Indigo Blue (40 page)

With that parting shot, he walked out. An instant later, the front door slammed. She bowed her head and swayed from side to side, holding her middle. The pain inside her was almost more than she could bear. He was leaving, and she didn’t blame him. He would probably keep going. And why not? She hadn’t given him a single reason to want to stay.

The words he had flung at her played back inside her head, over and over, making more and more sense each time she heard them.
A nothing squaw.
Slowly, painfully, she realized what Jake had been trying to make her see, not that he had that lowly opinion of her, but that she did.

Pictures of him flooded her mind. His lazy smile. The way his eyes warmed when he looked at her. He was probably on his way to the creek to get his boots. Then he’d come back to get his things. And then he’d go because she couldn’t tell him how desperately she wanted him to stay.

THE HOUSE WAS DARK WHEN JAKE RETURNED. After closing the door, he stood until his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. Moonlight spilled through the window, gilding the furniture with splashes of silver. He listened to the silence, then closed his eyes on a wave of regret. Had he really expected her to be here after all the terrible things he had said to her?

Picking his way through the shadows, Jake groped for the settee and collapsed on it. It was surprising how clear a man’s mind could get after sitting outside in the dark for an hour, freezing his ass off. Leaning back his head, he stared at the wash of moonlight on the ceiling. Moonbeams. A girl who walked on moonbeams. Tears filled his eyes. Jesus, what a bastard he was. What right did he have to rip her apart?

Jake propped an elbow on the arm of the settee and covered his eyes with his hand. Every nasty word he had said to her played through his mind. He hadn’t left her a shred of dignity or a single delusion. As if she was the only person on earth who hid behind a mask? A fine one he was to throw stones.

Why? Why in God’s name had he lost his temper like that? He had made it sound as if three weeks without sex was an eternity, as if she had used him for a doormat the entire time. Poor old Jake. He was one mistreated son of a bitch. He thought she had problems seeing the forest for the trees? Where the hell was his own head buried? Up his ass, he guessed. How else could he expect an inexperienced and frightened girl to roll on her back and spread her legs after knowing him less than a month?

Now what? He supposed he could go to her parents’ house and drag her home. After all, he didn’t have to worry anymore about what she thought of him. Tonight, he’d sunk as low as he could go. Or he could do the decent thing and set her free. The marriage could still be annulled. He could get out of her life and leave her with what little dignity he hadn’t destroyed.

A nothing squaw.
Why had he said that to her? Sometimes a person’s deepest feelings were too painful to expose to the light of day. But had he hesitated? Hell, no. All he’d been able to think about was the ache in his groin. May Belle had called it like it was; his brains were between his legs. He’d been a prince, Indigo owed him, and he had been bent on getting his reward.

Something cold and wet touched Jake’s toe. He started, then leaned over to spy Sonny snuffling around his feet. Indigo wouldn’t have left the puppy behind. Afraid to hope, he sat erect and threw a look over his shoulder.

Shivering like a lost child, she stood in the shadows of the hall, a wraith draped in white chenille, her tawny hair ignited by a shaft of moonlight.

“You’re still here,” he said stupidly.

She glided forward a few steps. “I w-waited so I could see you be-before you left.”

Jake’s chest tightened. What did he expect? An invitation to stay? He turned back around and draped his arms over his knees, petting Sonny’s head with one dangling hand. Tears tickled his cheeks. The last time he had cried was at his mother’s grave. That seemed fitting; for the second time in his life, he was losing the most important person in his world. He blinked and prayed that he’d think of something to say that might convince her to give him one more chance. There was no God in heaven. The only word that came to him was her name.

Indigo. A month ago, the word had conjured vague images of blue. Now, he thought of wind songs and daisies, of moonbeams and the howling of wolves, of sweetness and purity. He’d told her to look at the ugliness inside herself. How had he dared?

Intending to beg her forgiveness, Jake said, “Indigo, I—”

She stepped forward. “No, don’t! Please, don’t say it!”

She twisted her hands in the folds of the bedspread. Shaking so badly he was afraid she might fall, she circled the settee and came to stand in front of him. Before he guessed what she meant to do, she sank to her knees and let the chenille slide down her slender arms.

Nearly strangling on a sob, she cried, “I—I’m saying it on my knees. Will you f-forgive me?”

“Oh, Jesus, don’t.” Jake grasped her shoulders. The shudders wracking her body vibrated up his arms.

Her small face contorted, and she held her breath for a moment, trying to stifle the convulsive sobs. “I don’t think you’re like Brandon. I’m sorry for making you ththink that.”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean it. Get up from there. I lost my temper and laced into you when I didn’t have—”

She gave her head a wild shake. “No!” she wailed. “What you said. It’s true. M-most of it’s true. I d-did feel like I was a n- nothing.” She held her breath again, looking up at him with tear- swollen, pleading eyes that shimmered like silver in the moonlight. A sob broke free, the air whistling from her lungs in a tearing rush. “And ththen you came. And you started to make me feel like something.” She lifted quivering hands in wordless appeal. “P-please don’t go away. If you’ll give me one more chance, I’ll ch-change. You’ll see. I truly will. I won’t be afraid anymore. And I won’t think about daisies. And I w-won’t lie. And when I think you’re going to hit me, I w-won’t duck.”

A thousand words crowded into Jake’s throat, but he couldn’t force them out past the lump of shame. Dear God, what had he done to her? She wouldn’t duck. For some reason, her saying that hurt him worse than anything else. She had been afraid, and instead of reassuring her, he had yelled at her.

Since he couldn’t talk, he did the only thing he knew to do and slid off the settee. With trembling arms, he gathered her close and buried his face in her silken hair.

For several seconds, he struggled to say something, anything. When he finally managed, all he could get out was her name and three words, “I love you.” Since groping for words was typical of him and the three he had dredged up weren’t particularly profound, he didn’t expect them to work the kind of magic that they did. Indigo wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, whispering, “Oh, Jake . . . I love you, too.”

There was no mistaking her fear; he could feel it in the rigidity of her body and the wild pounding of her heart. He knew what it had cost her to approach him as she had, naked and on her knees. That she had found the courage to do it made her all the more precious to him. It also told him just how much she did love him. He wished he could find the words to tell her that.

Jake tightened his arms around her, glorying in the feel of her velvety skin beneath his hands. He traced the fragile ladder of her ribs and smiled at the way she seemed to shrink beneath his touch. Courageous as she was, she was still a long way from fearless. But wasn’t that what love was all about, taking risks?

She leaned back. Her huge, luminous eyes sought his through the dimness. “Do you forgive me? I’ll throw the r-rock away.”

Relief made Jake feel almost giddy. With more than a little chagrin, he recalled his behavior and wished he could take it all back. Bless her heart, he’d sleep on a whole bed of rocks if it would make her happy. “I think the question here is whether you can forgive me.” The hurt in her expression made him want to kick himself. “It wasn’t the rock or the daisies or that you were afraid. What set me off was that you still weren’t ready to make love. I can’t even dress it up and say it was stung pride talking. The honest-to-God truth is that I’ve had an ache for you since the moment I set eyes on you, and after three weeks of holding myself in check, knowing you were mine to take—” He broke off and swallowed. “It was pure selfishness. I’m sorry.”

“I’m ready now,” she proclaimed in a tremulous voice. She gave a vehement nod. “Truly, I am.”

Jake laughed under his breath. She wasn’t exactly oozing enthusiasm. The tips of her nipples grazed his chest, and he felt the jolt in his groin. With a strained effort, he said, “Do you have any idea how much I love you? And how awful I feel about the things I said to you?”

She gulped air. “It was mostly true. Practically all of it. Except the part about h-hating you. And thinking you’re like Brandon. I—I’ve known better for a long time.” Her mouth started to quiver and her chin dimpled. “It’s k-kind of like being afraid of something in the dark. You kn- know nothing’s really there, but you can’t stop feeling scared. I can’t think it away.”

The ache in Jake’s chest intensified.

She took a breath and rushed on. “When my father asked me to marry you, I thought maybe you’d—” She squeezed her eyes closed and made a soft sound in her throat. “It’s not the same for men. When they get married, they’re still the boss. But a woman has no control, and whether or not she’s happy depends totally upon her husband.” She strained to swallow. “Some husbands think of wives as possessions only good for serving their wants, and having babies, and taking care of the house.”

Jake knew he had appeared guilty on that count.

“It’s a thousand times worse for squaws if they marry men like that. A million times worse, because they’re nothing people and no one really cares how they’re treated.”

Jake tried to speak, but she cut him off.

“It’s true! I’ve s-seen it. White men marry squaws and treat them worse than dogs. And I was afraid.” Her voice trailed off. “I didn’t know you very well.” She licked at her upper lip and sniffed. “I was scared if I made you angry, that you’d be mean. And—” Her gaze chased off from his. “And I was afraid you wouldn’t be very nice when you—when you—did private things to me.”

Private things? At least it was a step up from awful. Jake leaned over and grabbed the bedspread. Using a corner, he dabbed at her upper lip and her streaming cheeks. He could feel wetness on his chest where her tears had trickled down her breasts.

“The ‘yes, my husband’ part? That wasn’t a lie. It truly is the way of my father’s people. A wife is submissive in all things. It sounds awful, but amongst the People, it isn’t because a husband honors his wife and looks upon her with great regard. It’s only awful when she marries a white man who scorns her.” She rubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes. “I had no way of knowing how you’d treat me.”

“Oh, sweetheart . . .”

A shiver ran over her. “One time we w-went to a fair in J’ville, and a tr-trapper came with his squaw. She spilled the plate of food that he bought her. It was just an accident, but he acted as if she’d done it on purpose. He called her vile names and kicked her for wasting his money. Then he told her she could just get on her hands and knees and eat it out of the dirt. The other people standing around laughed because she did it. They laughed.” A world of heartbreak was reflected in her shimmering eyes. “The trapper bragged that she would do anything he wanted. A stupid squaw, he called her.”

She covered her face with her hands. “I know you’re not like that now. But I couldn’t help feeling scared. Sometimes my father is too trusting. Because he has only goodness in his own heart, he sees only the good in others. I was afraid he had done that with you. I’m sorry.”

He gathered the bedspread around her and drew her back into his arms, shaking as badly as she. He tried to imagine how she saw the world, how she felt, knowing there were men who might mistreat her like that if she gave them an opportunity. He remembered her pallor during their wedding, her tremulous fear after, and he understood her as he never had before. Yet here she was, naked and on her knees, asking him for forgiveness?

“Indigo, I’m the one who’s sorry.” He smoothed a hand over her hair. “So sorry.”

Jake swayed with her. Holding her felt so perfectly right. So incredibly and unbelievably right. He never wanted to let her go. He dried his cheek on her hair. Then he bent his head and nuzzled his way to the sweet curve of her neck. If a trace of skunk was left, he couldn’t smell it. “Can we agree to forgive each other?” he asked huskily. “Or should we fight about it?”

She rewarded him with a wet, strangled laugh. He drew her gently to her feet. Not sure if she was shivering from nerves or cold, he tucked the folds of chenille around her. Looking down at her face, which had become so precious to him, Jake thought of the squaw who’d crawled around eating her food from the dirt. He wanted to drive the fear of that happening from Indigo’s mind forever. Yet he knew words alone would never be enough.

Running his hands up and down her arms, Jake whispered, “I want you to stand right where you are. Don’t move and don’t speak. Will you do that?”

Though she looked both puzzled and apprehensive, she nodded. Jake gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze, then released her. What he was about to do went completely against his nature. Until this instant, in fact, he would have stood his ground and fought to the death before he even considered it. After taking a deep breath, he sank to his knees in front of her.

The first feeling that hit Jake was humiliation, wave after wave of it. Then acute embarrassment. Grand gestures weren’t his way; he didn’t have the eloquence to carry them off. Now that he was down here, he couldn’t think of one damned thing to say. Not a single god-damned thing. She’d think he was crazy.

Which he supposed he was . . . crazy in love. He tipped his head back to look up at her. Her eyes filled with tears again, but, obedient as always, she didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. Jake could see the incredulous expression in her gaze, and that told him all he needed to know. He no longer felt idiotic. Bending low, he curled his hands around her fine-boned ankles and kissed the tops of her small feet.