Savage Desire (Savage Lagonda 1) (2 page)

Tajarez's mind returned to when his father had finally come home after being absent for so long. There was a great change in him. He seemed much older, and did not laugh as much as he once had, but Tajarez understood his father's sorrow, although he could not understand his father's heavy burden of guilt. Hamez felt he was responsible for the death of his wife and daughter, since it was he who had brought the white man O'Malley into the hidden valley.

"Learn from my mistakes," he told his young son. "One day you will be king in my stead. Be wise and do not trust the white man, for his ways are treachery and death. Our people are gentle and know not the ways of greed. Our valley must remain a secret place where we can live in peace and harmony. I charge you to guard our secret and allow no white man into our cities."

Tajarez had made a sacred oath that he would heed his father's words. And now he was in the white man's world.

His mind returned to the present as he mounted his horse and turned his eyes homeward. He remembered the promise that he had made his father before he left. Hamez had been pressing Tajarez for some time to take a bride, for he was concerned that if his son did not marry and have children his line would die out, and the rule would pass to his brother's family.

Tajarez had no desire to marry, though he knew that many of the maidens of his tribe would be only too eager to be the bride of the future king of the Lagonda. He knew why he did not wish to be married. He carried within his heart a vision of a woman that he loved, and no one he had met so far fit that vision.

Often when he slept at night her face would come to him and he would feel love so strong his arms would ache to hold her, but she was only a fleeting dream. When he awakened after dreaming about her, he could never recall what she looked like. He only knew that he searched for her in every woman he came in contact with, and so far he had not found her. Was it right for a man to love a dream? What if he never found her? He knew it was foolish to believe in a dream like some child. He was a man with responsibilities to his people, and it was time to return home and face those responsibilities. Tajarez frowned. It was distasteful to think of being the husband of any woman other than the one in his dream. Sometimes she was more real to him than anything in his
life, and at other times it made him angry that a phantom,
a dream, could have so much influence over him.

Tajarez was so deep in thought he had not paid attention to where he was riding, until he was brought
back to reality by the barking of a dog. Checking his horse
quickly and looking about him, he saw a cabin that was barely visible through the thick growth of bushes. It stood in a clearing not twenty paces from him. His eyes narrowed. Now his dreaming was affecting his caution. Never before had he ridden into danger unaware. His
usually keen senses always warned him when he was
approaching the unknown. He knew he had to throw off
this feeling. He had to keep his mind on his survival. Great Father, he thought, was the woman now going to haunt his waking hours as well as his sleep?

Dismounting, he watched silently, biding his time
until the daylight faded and night descended. He saw the faint light that came from the open window of the cabin.
It had been his intention to wait until the cover of darkness so he could leave the area undetected, but his curiosity got the better of him. Before he returned home he would see how the white man lived.

He moved silently toward the cabin, knowing the worst
danger would come from the dog, whose barking would
bring someone to investigate the cause. The animal was
larger than he had thought. It came almost to his waist as
it ran toward him baring its teeth and growling deep
within its throat. Tajarez knelt down and soothed the dog
with his hand. The animal looked at him suspiciously at
first, but something about the man caused the animal to
trust him, and the dog responded by wagging its tail and
licking Tajarez's hand. Tajarez watched the door of the
cabin to see if anyone would come to investigate what had
disturbed the dog. Moments passed and nothing happened, so he walked cautiously toward the cabin while the dog ran along beside him, wagging its tail.

A faint light came from the open window, piercing the darkness. As silently as the mountain cat Tajarez moved toward the small opening. Standing to the side where his face was hidden by darkness, he peered into the interior of the cabin. His first reaction was one of nausea, for the odor which came from inside was very offensive to him. It spoke of filth and unwashed bodies.

His eyes scanned the interior, which consisted of only one room. There were several crude beds pushed against one wall. The floor was dirt and had no covering. He noticed the family that was gathered around a crude wooden table. There was a man, a woman, and four children, all dirty and wearing ragged clothing. This was not as O'Malley had told him. These people were living in poverty and squalor. They ate from wooden dishes, and there was barely enough food to go around. All the members of the family had red hair like O'Malley's. Their manner of speech was coarse and grated on Tajarez's ears. His eyes narrowed as he watched the man strike one of the children with a force that knocked the child to the floor. The child whimpered and wiped away the tears with a grimy hand that left dirty streaks on his face. Tajarez had seen enough. He crept away from the cabin as silently as he had come, with renewed hatred in his heart for the cursed white race.

He mounted his horse, anxious to return home. This world was not to his liking. The white man was little better than an animal. No; at least an animal cared for its young.

That night Tajarez slept on his robe beneath a star-studded sky. He felt his body tense and waited in anticipation, knowing where his dream was taking him. It was always the same when he dreamed of her. He was climbing up the stairs of his home. He felt excitement stir within his body as he paused at his bedroom door, knowing she would be waiting for him on the other side.

Opening the door, he searched the room. Then he saw
her on the balcony. Her skin was white and her hair was a beautiful golden color. It spilled down her back in riotous
curls. Her face was the loveliest he had ever seen. She
wore a filmy gown, and with the bright moonlight behind
her, he could see the outline of her perfect body. His
pulse quickened as he walked slowly toward her. He held
out his arms, and when she ran into them he held 'her tightly against him, feeling the silkiness of her skin.

"I have been waiting for you," she said breathlessly.
Her voice was low and seductive. He picked her up in his
arms and carried her to his bed. He then laid her down,
and lying down beside her, pulled her into his arms. His
hands moved over her soft curves as his body trembled with yearning. He buried his face in her golden hair.

"My beloved, my beloved," he whispered.

"Tajarez, my love," she answered.

The dream began to fade as it always did at this point. He struggled, trying to hold on to her. "Do not leave me,
beloved. I need you. Do not go!"

He awoke calling out to her, but the dream was over. It
always ended with his begging her not to leave him.

Tajarez felt such a sadness, and a loneliness so intense,
that he cried out in pain. "Why do you do this to me?" Realizing he had spoken aloud, he sat up quickly. His
heart was racing wildly and his body trembled. It was always the same. Why could he not remember what she
looked like? Why did he feel this loneliness when she disappeared? Why did he search for her face in every
woman he came in contact with? So many unanswered
questions haunted him.

Even when he was with another woman, at the most intimate of times, he would feel himself pulling back,
knowing it was the one who dominated his dreams that
his body craved. It was madness, and it made him angry
that she could reach out to him beyond his dreams to rule
his heart. Tajarez never doubted that he loved her, but
she was not real. He had to rid himself of her dominance.

Searching his mind once more, he tried to remember her face. His heart felt heavy, and his arms so empty.

Lying back on his robe, he stared into the darkness.
Did she really exist? Would he ever find her? He closed
his eyes. Great Father, why does this happen to me? Release me from these dreams so I may be free.

But he knew deep inside he did not really want to be rid of her.

He had never told anyone about his dreams, partly
because they would think him mad, and partly because he
did not want to share her with anyone. She was too close
to him, too much a part of him.

Tajarez remembered the first time he had dreamed of her. He had been about sixteen summers. When he had awakened from the dream his face had been wet with tears. For days afterwards he had been disturbed by the
dream, but time had passed and the dream did not recur.
He soon forgot all about it. Then when he was seventeen
the dream came to him just as before. After that he
dreamed more and more, and lately, he dreamed of her
almost every night.

Tajarez felt the chill of the nightwind and pulled his
robe tightly about his shoulders. If all he could ever have
of her was in his dreams, then he would live to dream.

DESCENDED TO THE MISSISSIPPI AND DOWN
THE RIVER TO ST. LOUIS, AT WHICH PLACE WE
ARRIVED ABOUT 12 O'CLOCK. WE SUFFERED THE
PARTY TO FIRE OFF THEIR PIECES AS A SALUTE
TO THE TOWN. WE WERE MET BY ALL THE
VILLAGE AND RECEIVED A HEARTY WELCOME
FROM ITS INHABITANTS.

—
William Clark

2

Mara Golden was dreaming. She dreamed that she was with her family in the sitting room of her home, which stood high on a hill overlooking the Mississippi River.

The dream was so real Mara could almost smell the delicate rose-scented perfume that her mother always wore. She slipped her hand into her father's strong, comforting hand, and he smiled down at her. Her older brothers, David and Jeffery, were seated on one of the green sofas. A warm fire was glowing in the fireplace, and the room was cozy, safe, and warm. Mara could feel herself beginning to awaken, and she fought to hold on to her dream.

She could no longer feel the warmth of the fire. Instead she began to feel cold and her body trembled. Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she lay for a moment in a daze, wishing she could return to her dream. But dreams are not real, and they fade quickly under the onslaught of reality.

"No," she moaned. "No, please." Terror gripped her so hard she was powerless to move for a moment, or maybe she could not move because she was tied hand and foot and bound to the trunk of a tree. A sob broke from her trembling lips as panic washed over her body like a tidal wave, carrying her away from the safe haven of her dream into stark reality.

She had to get a grip on herself or she would go mad with fright. She closed her eyes and waited for her heart to stop racing and her breathing to return to normal. When she felt she had regained some of her composure, she slowly opened her eyes and looked about her. Her only view was of the dense woods. She must have slept for a long time because it was almost sundown. There was no sign of the two Indians who held her captive. Mara knew they would be uncovering the canoe from where they had hidden it earlier, preparing to take to the river again as had been their habit since they had forced her to accompany them on this terrifying flight.

She was weary, and nothing seemed quite real to her anymore, with the exception of her fear, and that was all too real.

The Indians would travel the river at night and at the first sign of dawn they would pull the canoe over to the bank and hide it in the bushes while they bound her securely to a tree. Then they would lie down on the ground and fall asleep.

Mara tried to calculate how long she had been the prisoner of the two savages, but she seemed to have lost all track of time. The only thing she did know was that they were traveling upriver, since the two Indians had to row against the current.

The Indians had not been unduly cruel to her. At least they had not attempted to harm her physically, with the exception of when they had first abducted her. They were short and heavy-set, and wore leather britches and no shirts. One of them was an older man, perhaps her father's age, and the other was not much older than herself. Neither of them talked very much, and when they did it was in their guttural language, which she did not understand. Their eyes were black, and when they looked at her it would strike terror into her heart. Her sensitive nose reacted to the unpleasant odor of the men when they came near her.

The younger one approached her now and knelt down beside her. She cringed in fear as he picked up a lock of her golden hair and studied it. Then his dark eyes looked
into Mara's green ones, causing her to swallow con
vulsively. Her eyes widened in fear as he reached for his
knife, until she realized he only meant to slash the leather strap that bound her to the tree.

Later, as she was placed in the canoe, she felt tears of
hopelessness and self-pity wash down her face. Where was it all going to end? She doubted that the Indians would kill her, since they had let her live this long, but what could they possibly want with her? She knew nothing about the Indian way of life.

It was much later when Mara awoke. She tried to raise
herself to a sitting position. It was hard to breathe lying face down in the bottom of the canoe, where the air smelled foul, and she felt her stomach react. Afraid she
was going to be sick, she tried once more to sit up. It was almost impossible to move since her hands and feet were
tied. She was so miserable. She tried to think of her family. Would her father and brothers still be searching for her? Yes, they would not give up easily, but the
Indians had been very clever. Mara knew there would be
no possibility of her family's finding her.

How was it possible that she, Mara Golden, was the
captive of two savages? She was beginning to realize how
pampered and protected she had been all of her sixteen years. She thought of her gentle mother, whose health was very fragile. How she would grieve that her only daughter had been kidnapped. Mara thought of her tall, distinguished father. She adored him, and he always referred to her as his sunshine child. His heart must be broken, wondering if she were alive or dead. Then there
were her two brothers, David and Jeffery. David was the oldest. At twenty-two, he was engaged to his childhood
sweetheart, Linda, and they had planned to be married in
the summer. She thought of Jeffery, who, at nineteen, was three years older than herself. She and Jeffery had
always been very close and had shared many of the same
interests. A sob broke from her lips. She would not be
able to attend David's wedding, nor would she ever laugh
and joke with Jeffery again. She was a long way from her home, and her very survival depended on the whim of the
two Indians who held her captive.

Mara tried to force her mind backwards, for the
present was too terrifying to think about, and she knew if
she tried to think about the future, she would panic. Shifting her weight, trying to find a more comfortable
position, she thought of her soft bed at home, and tried to
focus on something pleasant. She remembered the time
four years ago when she and her family had first moved to
St. Louis from Philadelphia. She had been twelve at the
time and so excited at the prospect of moving to what her
mother termed the jumping-off place of civilization.

Mara's father and mother had traveled abroad most of
her life. Her father was an expert on Egyptology, and he
had spent many years in Egypt. He was, in fact, writing a
book on hieroglyphics, which he could easily translate. He was sought after as a speaker by many universities, but since Mara's mother had contracted a fever and they had both returned to the United States, her father spent most of his time in his study compiling all of the
information he had gathered over the years and putting it
into book form. Several publishing companies had written to him wanting to publish his work when it was completed. Mara had been fascinated by the ancient hieroglyphics and her interest had delighted her father. He had patiently taught her their meanings, and she had become very helpful to him. She remembered his laughingly telling her mother that if anything happened to him before the book was completed, Mara would be able to complete it for him. He had been only half-teasing, for Mara was in fact very good with the ancient writings, and even her father was impressed with how quickly she learned.

Most of Mara's childhood had been spent in Philadelphia with her grandparents while her parents lived abroad, and it had not been a bad childhood, either. Her grandfather and grandmother had spoiled her and her two brothers outrageously. They had lived in a huge mansion in the most prominent part of town and had had servants that catered to their every whim.

When Mara was eleven, her parents had returned home from Egypt to stay. Her mother had contracted a fever, which recurred periodically, and her health was not good.

After all of the traveling Mara's father had done, he soon became dissatisfied with the social life of Philadelphia, and had convinced his wife to move to St. Louis. Jenny Golden had always been a dutiful wife and had finally agreed to the move. Her husband had built her a grand house some miles from town, overlooking the Mississippi River, and in the year 1804, the Golden family moved to their new home.

Over the years Jenny Golden's health continued to decline, and lately she had been confined to her bed much of the time. Her spirits were good however, and she never complained, but the rest of the family worried that she would soon be a complete invalid.

Each summer Mara was packed off to her grandparents' home in Philadelphia to attend all of the social functions enjoyed by the upper class. Mara hated these
times when she would have to be away from her family,
but her mother was most insistent that she be exposed to
the social life that she herself had grown up with. Not that Jenny was a snob, but her father was a prominent shipbuilder, and she wanted her daughter to have every advantage.

Mara had always found the people of her grandparents'
acquaintance a bit stuffy, and she much preferred her
friends in St. Louis. But her mother stood firm and would
not be swayed, so Mara, being a dutiful daughter,
complied with her mother's wishes and each April would make the move to Philadelphia and not return home until
late July.

Oh, Mama, how unhappy you must be at this moment,
she thought. If there was only some way to undo the past,
she would never go against her parents' wishes again. There was no one to blame but herself for the predicament she was now in. Mara turned over on her
side, trying to find relief for her aching body. The bottom
of the canoe was most uncomfortable, and her head ached from lying on the hard surface. She tried to raise her arms so she could rest her throbbing head on them,
but was unable to lift them above her shoulders because
the Indians had tied her hands in front of her.

Mara's mind turned to the day of her capture. It had been Jeffery's nineteenth birthday. The day had started out much as any other.

Mara had overslept, so she hurriedly dressed, and went
into her mother's bedroom before going downstairs, to wish her good morning as was her habit. Finding her mother asleep, she kissed her softly, tiptoed from the
room, and rushed down the stairs to catch her father and
brothers before they left for town. She had encountered Tess, the housekeeper, in the hallway.

"No sense in you hurrying, Mara. You already missed
your Pa. He left over an hour ago."

"But I have to go into town today. I was going to buy that leather vest that Jeffery has been admiring. It was to be a surprise for his birthday."

Tess placed her hands on her hips. "You should have thought of that before you overslept. Did your Pa know you wanted to go with him today?"

"No, it was too late to tell him when he came home last night. I was already in bed, but mother said she would tell him for me."

Tess placed her arm around Mara and propelled her toward the dining room. "Your mother had a rough night, and I gave her a sleeping draught so she could rest. I reckon she forgot to tell your Pa."

Mara sat down to the breakfast Tess had placed before her. She bit her lip in exasperation. She and Jeffery were more than brother and sister. They were best friends. They shared everything—the same books, the same feeling of adventure. They could talk for hours and never become bored in each other's company.

After taking a bite of ham, she pushed her plate aside, angry with herself. Jeffery would be disappointed when he discovered that she had not gotten him the leather vest. Goodness knows he had hinted to her often enough that he wanted it.

"There ain't no sense in you getting in a snit, Mara," Tess scolded her, with the familiarity she had become accustomed to over the years. Tess had no family of her own, and the Golden offspring were as dear to her as if they were her own. She had looked after them while their parents were in Egypt, and when they moved to St. Louis, she had packed her meager belongings and followed them, telling Jonathan Golden in no uncertain terms that he had no right to take the children away from her.

Mara studied Tess for a moment. She could be anywhere from her late thirties to her early fifties. Her once brown hair was laced with gray. She wore it wound in a bun and tucked beneath a stiff white cap. She was thin and wiry, and moved with an agility many younger women would envy. Her face was stern at the moment, but the tiny laugh lines around her cornflower blue eyes bore witness that she smiled a lot.

"Did you look in on your mother?"

"Yes, she was sleeping. Tess, she is getting worse, isn't she?"

Tess put a comforting arm around Mara's shoulder. "Don't you fret none, honey. She has her good days and her bad days. It's to be expected."

"I suppose so, but I wish it did not have to be so, Tess."

"You know what?" Tess said, trying to distract her, "George told me he saw some wild strawberries growing in the forest the other day. After he finishes his chores I will ask him to gather some and you can make Jeffery some strawberry tarts. You know how he loves strawberries."