War Woman (7 page)

Though she had never used the word, Jonathan felt his earlier description of his situation was apt, though the circumstances were different to what he had initially imagined. He was becoming her willing slave and his feelings scared him. Never had he imagined he would be so completely enthralled by another human being. She held a power over him that was much more effective than any restraints the Cherokee could have used to keep him in the village if they hadn’t wanted him to leave. Every time she laughed or smiled at something he said or did, he could feel his resolve to disregard his feelings becoming weaker. Whenever she touched him, either inadvertently as she brushed past him or purposefully when she guided him in some craft activity or grabbed his hand and encouraged him to run through the surrounding woods and fields for the sheer joy of being alive, his skin ignited. Whenever the connection was broken, he craved for it to be remade.

The fact that he didn’t want to admit what was happening didn’t make it any less true. They were from two completely different worlds and his situation was near hopeless, but it didn’t change the way he felt. He was falling in love with her. 

Atsila stared at the divining crystal in front of her, the sounds of the forest fading as if heard from a distance while she concentrated. Sunlight glinted off the quartz facets as she studied it, seeking guidance. The light breeze ruffled her hair as she examined the crystal for several minutes until, satisfied, she wrapped it up in deerskin and placed it in a pouch which she hung around her neck. She had seen no immediate threat to the safety of her village.

Walking between the trees on her way back to the village, she paused to inhale deeply. She could taste the freshness in the air. Looking around, she grinned. The sunlight fell in slanted columns between the trees, creating a landscape of shadows and light that was beautiful to behold. An idea suddenly popped into her head which pleased her greatly and caused her to resume her walk in a different direction. There was a small waterfall nearby with a pool that was deep enough to swim in. It had been almost three months since she’d last swam there, shortly before Jonathan had come to the village.

Jonathan
… She considered the man as she climbed agilely over a fallen tree trunk and meandered onwards towards the waterfall. She had met her fair share of Western men while carrying out her duties as a peace ambassador but he was unlike any of them. For one thing he seemed to take the equality of Cherokee men and women in his stride, something which the Western men she had met couldn’t come to grips with so easily, if at all for that matter. From their discussions she knew that he was against the removals. He also displayed a genuine interest in the Cherokee culture and made an effort to become part of the village as much as possible while he stayed there, for which she was grateful.

She was a good judge of character and her instincts about him had not let her down. All things considered, he was adapting to the Cherokee way of life very well.
Perhaps he has Cherokee in him after all
. She smiled at the thought. Jonathan had told her briefly about his ancestors and there had been no relationships with any Cherokee. Still, the Great Spirit could have given him the heart of a Cherokee. It was an interesting thought…

Nearing the waterfall she quickened her pace, the sound of the gushing water becoming louder as she approached and caught a glimpse of light reflecting off the edge of the pool. Most of the pool however was obscured by a large rock which she had delighted in jumping off of from time to time. Deciding it had been far too long since she had done so, she walked to the base of the rock and hauled herself up, leaning with the tilt of the rock as she climbed the few feet to the top. Standing up she peered down and was filled with surprise to see Jonathan in the pool below. She knew he had taken to wandering the woods around the edge of the village – by this point the villagers trusted he would return to the village – but she’d never seen him in this part of the woods before.

Pausing where she stood, her gaze remained on him. Though the movement of the water caused slight distortions in visibility, she could tell he wore no clothing and, glancing around the edge of the pool, she spotted a small heap of clothes a few seconds later.

Jonathan, who had had his back to her, swam in a leisurely curve that brought him round to facing the rock. Noticing the shadow she cast on the water, he looked up to the top of the rock while shielding his eyes and immediately swirled round again, attempting to maintain his dignity. “My apologies, I didn’t know you were there…”

His voice carried up to her and she noted the embarrassment in the tone. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve only been here a few seconds. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here.”

“Uh…right…I’ll be quick. Give me a minute and I’ll be out your way.” He began to swim towards the edge and Atsila noted the power in his efficient, quick strokes.

“Don’t leave,” she called down. “I’ll go. I should be getting back to the village anyway.”

“No, wait! Please…I’m almost done.”

She heard his shout as she descended down the rock again, dropping lightly to the ground before making her way around it just in time to catch Jonathan leaving the pool. Water streamed off his body, which was lean and muscled from his activities in the army. She paused unintentionally, watching the way droplets chased each other down his back before following the curve of his buttocks. Realizing she was staring, she chastised herself and disappeared out of sight behind the rock again, trying semi-successfully to fight the smile that tugged at her lips. At least he’d been facing away from her and hadn’t seen her staring. After a while, however, she gave up her struggle and grinned.

She wouldn’t lie to herself. He was a handsome man. The fact that he wasn’t Cherokee didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate his attractive looks. He was weathered and rugged from his time in the army, strong and quick as a warrior should be. However it wasn’t just his looks that attracted her. Jonathan was compassionate and just, despite the toll that war had taken on him – and it had taken its toll; she could tell by the weariness he displayed or the haunted look that sometimes flashed in his eyes when he wasn’t aware that she was watching him. But he had maintained his humanity nonetheless, which wasn’t an easy thing to do in his circumstances.

She pondered the feelings he evoked in her as she waited for him to have sufficient time to pull on his trousers. After a while she stepped out from behind the rock again. “You didn’t need to get out.”

   Jonathan paused, his arms in his shirt sleeves as he held the rest of the shirt in front of his chest self-consciously. “I didn’t know this was your pool. I’m sorry.”

Atsila laughed. “It’s not my pool. I come here to swim occasionally but the pool doesn’t belong to me or anyone else. We are all free to use it if we wish. I just tend to use it more than others as I spend more time in this part of the forest than many of the other villagers.”

“Oh…still, I’ll leave you in peace.” He lifted his arms to draw his shirt over his head and she gazed at his torso, the ridges and dips of muscle shifting with his movement. There was no denying his body was that of a warrior’s, hard and defined through countless hours of exertion. As he stooped to retrieve his shoes, she noted he avoided looking at her.

Curious, she moved forwards and touched him lightly on the arm, causing him to quickly stand up straight again at the unexpected contact. “Jonathan, is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” He looked awkwardly at the shoes he held in his hand.

She continued to stare at him and then it suddenly clicked. “You’re still embarrassed I saw you without clothes on.”

He glanced up at her but neither confirmed nor denied her statement.

“You’ve seen the Cherokee men. Sometimes they wear very little. They are not embarrassed by their bodies. Our bodies are natural and to be respected.”

“I understand that, but where I’m from…well it wouldn’t be considered polite to be seen without a shirt on in front of ladies, let alone have them spot you swimming naked.”

Atsila smiled. She had heard the term ‘Southern gentleman’ before. No doubt Jonathan was a prime example. “I know it can be difficult adjusting to customs and norms that are not your own. You shouldn’t do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. However, I want you to know that it doesn’t offend me or make me uncomfortable when your body is on display.”

Jonathan grimaced slightly. “It’s not the sort of thing I want to display in front of you.”

“Why is that?”

“Well…you tended my wounds…you must have seen the scars…” His voice trailed off.

“Yes. What is it about them that bothers you?”

“Well they don’t bother me as such, but they’re not attractive for women to look at.”

She smiled again and took his free hand. “They may not be deemed attractive for Western women to look at. Do I look like a Western woman to you?”

“No, you’re the furthest thing from a Western woman I’ve ever known.”

What looked like sadness passed briefly over his face and there was an odd note to his voice which caused her smile to falter on its way to a cheeky grin. However, the look was gone so quickly and replaced with a neutral expression that she would have missed it completely had she not been looking directly at him.

Not sure what had made him sad but wanting to offer him comfort, she squeezed his hand gently. “In your army, am I right in thinking that war wounds are a sort of mark of honor?” At his nod, she continued. “It is the same here. Our warriors do not hide their scars. They are signs of experience and survival. They tell a story just as well as any of the elders do when we’re gathered around the fire. You should not hide your story, Jonathan. It has shaped you into the man you are.” Assessing him for a few seconds, she uttered quietly “Will you show me your story, Jonathan?”

He didn’t move and she could see the hesitation in his eyes but after a few moments he sighed in resignation and removed his shirt. While she kept ahold of his hand, she used her other hand to gently trace a long, thin scar that sliced across one half of his chest. “What is this one from?”

He stared down at her fingers as they splayed against his chest. For a few seconds he didn’t say anything but then in a low voice he answered. “It was made by a cavalry saber. It was my first major battle. I still remember the horse charging towards me with the officer leaning slightly to the side, his sword raised in the air to slash down at me. I managed to partially dodge but he still got me.”

Atsila traced her fingers upwards to a scar on his bicep. “And this one?”

“I was shot last year. Luckily the bullet passed through without causing too much damage.”

She moved her hand to skim her fingers over his hip. “This one looks particularly vicious.”

“Stab wound from a bayonet. Went right through me. Hurt like hell – sorry, pardon my language.”

Her lips twitched slightly – his politeness was very endearing – before she trailed her fingers lightly across his stomach to rest on the scar from the arrow wound she had treated. “We both know where this one came from.” She smiled softly and raised her eyes to Jonathan’s face, where she noted a look of pain. As soon as she lifted her gaze to him he tried to conceal the look but he was too slow. She withdrew her fingers quickly. “I’m sorry. I tried to be gentle but I didn’t realize how tender your wound still is.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not that kind of pain.” The words were uttered in a tight, controlled manner, followed by a deep breath which he let out slowly.

“Are you thinking back over your battles? Is it the memories that cause you pain?”

“No.” He let out a short laugh.

“What is it then?”

“Your touch. It’s torture.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, causing him to scowl.

“I don’t understand. You just said your wound was okay. You should tell me if it hurts – ”

“Your name is very fitting, you know.” His words cut her off and he noted the look of confusion in her eyes at the apparent change of topic but he continued nonetheless. “Your touch burns me like fire.”

A dawning understanding lit her eyes as she realized what he was telling her. “Jonathan – ”

“No, you don’t need to say anything. I’ve said too much already.” With a look of self-disgust on his face, he stepped back from her and turned his body away as he bent to put his shoes on. Watching him, she noted his anger at himself for having voiced his thoughts and feelings, apparent from his expression and the way he tugged sharply at his laces. She waited patiently until he had tied both shoes and had stood up again. His body was stiff as he addressed her in a formal tone. “Please forgive me. You have my word that I won’t utter such things again. I hope you enjoy your swim.”

As he turned to walk away she reached out her hand to grab his arm and pull him back. The movement was so quick and unexpected that he was caught off guard and spun back to her. Before he had time to react she closed the distance between them, pressing herself against his body as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

The energy that surged through her was wild and electric, reminding her of how the air felt just before a great storm. His arms encircled her, crushing her to him as he ravaged her mouth. The kiss wasn’t polite, the way she had imagined it might be. It was raw hunger and reckless, fierce need. Opening her lips, she touched her tongue to his, inviting his exploration as he backed her up against the rock on which she had been standing minutes ago. Now its cool surface contrasted with the warmth of his body as primal passion flared up between them, scorching and consuming. As his lips moved down to caress her neck, she let out a sensuous moan and arched against him, driving him insane with desire.