Warrior's Embrace (26 page)

Hawk was mesmerized by her hips. Their
movement was so fluid, so smooth, they seemed to move separately
from the rest of her body. A haunting, exotic music started from
somewhere in the room, and it was a moment before Hawk realized it
was Elizabeth singing.

He didn’t recognize the song, but the lyrics
were unmistakably erotic. Her lips swayed with the beat of the
music, and she advanced toward him, slowly, ever so slowly. When
she was so close he could smell her perfume but too far away to
touch, she stopped.

“Do you want me, Hawk?”

“Yes.”

“As you have never wanted another woman?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight I am yours... and you are mine.”

She stripped her shirt over her head and
stood before him, with her arms held high. Bending down, she draped
her shirt around his neck.

All thoughts of political battle and lurking
enemies receded as Hawk leaned back to enjoy the sight of Elizabeth
McCade. He loved danger, and right now he was playing the most
dangerous game of all: He was flirting with a fatal attraction, one
that threatened to bind him so tightly, he could never let go.

“Do you hear the music, Hawk?”

There was no music playing, but as Elizabeth
began to move her hips again, he could almost hear the far-off
strains of some mysterious, exotic melody. Holding her arms high,
Elizabeth increased the rhythm of her hips. The buttons on her
skirt worked their way out of their buttonholes, one by one.

The soft suede skirt inched downward with the
release of each button. Elizabeth’s small waist came into view, and
then her navel. She spun and swayed until she had bared her hips.
Finally the last button was free, and the skirt slithered down
Elizabeth’s legs.

In one quick, fluid movement he lifted her
and carried her to his bed.

“Where did you learn your sorcery, Elizabeth
McCade?”

“From another man.”

“I would like to thank him... and then to
kill him.”

“Once long ago so did I.”

The need to know everything about her ripped
through Hawk. He wanted to know who had taught her, where and when
she had learned, and why she had wanted to kill the man. But
overriding all that was his desire, a desire so great, it could no
longer be controlled or contained.

Together they were untamed and untamable. She
brought out the savage in him, and he brought out the beast in her.
It was a game for supremacy and control that lasted far into the
night.

In the end, they lay in each other’s arms,
exhausted.

“I was not going to come to you again,
Elizabeth.”

“I knew that. That’s why I came to you.”

“I don’t want you to come here again. It’s
too dangerous.”

She raised herself on her elbow so she could
see his face. “I will never again do what a man tells me to do,
Hawk. I am my own woman. I am Elizabeth McCade, and I do what
pleases
me.”

“Living in your shuttered house alone pleases
you, Elizabeth?”

“If you think you can drive me away with
anger, Hawk, you’re wrong.”

She got off the bed and found her lingerie
scattered on the floor. Then remembering that it was torn, she
threw it aside and pulled on the rest of her clothes. He lay on the
bed, watchful. She knew better than to think he was relaxed.
Everything about him, from the tight line of his jaw to the
tautness in his body, told Elizabeth that Black Hawk was a warrior
through and through, always ready for battle.

Putting her hands on her hips, she faced
him.

“I was cast aside once. Hawk. I will never be
cast aside again. I’ll take what I want, when I want it... and then
I will walk away.” She pressed her right hand over her heart. “I’ll
walk away, Hawk. Not you. Not any man. I, Elizabeth McCade, will do
the walking.”

Hawk rose from the bed, and she made no bones
about watching him dress, taking pleasure in his body, in the
fluidity of his movements, in his proud and noble bearing. His face
was inscrutable when he turned back to her.

Without a word he held out his hand, and she
came to him. He lifted her into his arms and carried her outside.
He whistled softly, once, twice. Out of the darkness came a
stallion so black, it blended with the night. In one fluid motion
Hawk mounted, taking her with him.

They rode away from his cabin into the thick
woods, and when they reached the opening to the secret passageway,
Hawk dismounted then lifted Elizabeth down.

“Sweet dreams, Elizabeth,” he said. And then
he was gone.

o0o

For the next few days, Hawk and Elizabeth
worked tirelessly, desperately trying to forget each other. But it
was impossible.

On a dark and moonless night, Hawk left his
post high atop the bluff overlooking the city and turned his
stallion toward the secret passageway. With a word, he sent the
stallion home and climbed down into the crumbling tunnel.

Suddenly he heard a noise. Flattening himself
against the wall, he drew his knife from his belt. The sounds came
closer.

He strained his eyes into the darkness, and
finally he saw it—a shadowy figure, making its way toward him. The
figure came closer. It was a woman. Her long dark hair was swinging
loose, and she had an unmistakably sensuous movement to her
hips.

Elizabeth.
His mind shouted her
name, even as he remained pressed against the wall. She had been
coming to him. In spite of his warnings, she had been making her
way back to his cabin.

“Elizabeth.” He said her name before he
stepped into her path, for he had also recognized the gleam of her
deadly Magnum. She ran into his arms, and he buried his face in her
hair.

“You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever
met.” He took the gun from her limp hand and placed it on a stone
jutting out of the wall.

She ran her hands over his face, through his
hair. “I tried to stay away.”

“So did I.”

For a moment they gazed at each other, trying
to read expressions in the darkness. Then their passions unleashed,
and they came together like a summer storm on the mountains. The
sounds of their loving echoed in the dark, damp tunnel.

It was a tumultuous joining that left them
both panting.

He reached out and gently touched her face.
“Don’t come to me, Elizabeth. I will come back to you.”

Before she could reply, he left her.

“Hawk.” She called his name but he didn’t
turn around. “Be careful,” she whispered.

o0o

It was six nights before he came again. Each
night Elizabeth waited anxiously, pacing her floors, wringing her
hands. She had been keeping up with news of him through the media
reports.

Gunshots had been fired at the barricade. No
one was hurt, but reporters were saying that if a settlement was
not reached soon, someone would be.

And that someone would be Hawk. Elizabeth
knew it, for he was always at the front of the lines, always
fearless, always the leader. Hawk would be the target.

The sixth night she was so exhausted from
worry and waiting that she fell asleep in her chair with the lamp
on and the television blaring.

When she woke up, she was sitting on Hawk’s
lap.

“Hawk.” She ran her hands over his face,
memorizing him. “How did you do that?”

“You sleep the sleep of the dead, Elizabeth.
You always have.”

“How long have you been here?”

“An hour.”

“You wasted a whole hour letting me
sleep?”

“It wasn’t wasted.”

He laughed then, and Elizabeth thought it was
the most beautiful sound in the world. Suddenly she knew: In spite
of all her intentions, in spite of her past, in spite of her vows,
she had fallen in love.

“Oh, Hawk,” she whispered. She batted back
her tears so he wouldn’t see them. Hawk was not the marrying kind.
She wasn’t even certain she wanted him to be.

He didn’t see her tears, didn’t hear the pain
in her voice. He was too blinded by passion, a passion that claimed
him as quickly as a brush fire consumes a parched forest.

He reached over, snapped off the lamp, and
then time stood still.

Afterward, he held on to her a long time,
pressing her head against his chest so that she could hear the
slow, steady beat of his heart. Then he kissed her once more and
left.

Elizabeth gathered her wrinkled clothes about
her and sat in the chair, staring into the darkness. Could they
ever have a future together?

Elizabeth was weary and light-headed when she
woke up the next morning. Fortunately, it was Saturday, and she
didn’t have to go to work.

She lay back in her bed and tried to convince
herself that she had not fallen in love with Black Hawk, that it
was merely lust she felt, but it was no use. She was too smart and
too sensitive not to know the difference.

For the first time since she had come home
she longed for a close friend, someone to talk to, someone to
confide in. But her only friend was Hawk, and she could hardly go
up to him and say, “Hawk, I love you.” He had made it perfectly
clear that commitment was not a part of the affair.

“At least I have the cat,” she said.

Sometime during, the cat had come inside and
was now sitting in the basket beside the window, licking his
paws.

He followed her downstairs and watched while
she made herself a meal. Next she picked up her morning paper and
searched it for news of the barricade. The Chickasaws were still
holding the line. Since the gunshots the previous week, Tombigbee
Bluff policemen had joined with the developers. A small sidebar to
the main story told of a group of Chickasaw women printing
pamphlets at the schoolhouse on the tribal lands, hoping to educate
the public to their cause.

Elizabeth believed in the cause. She believed
in protecting Tombigbee Bluff Forest from needless destruction, and
she believed in the rights of the Chickasaw Nation to keep and
protect the property deeded them under treaty laws dating back to
the early 1800s.

A new resolve took hold of her. Without even
doing her dishes, she left the kitchen and got her purse, then
climbed into her car. She was going toward the tribal lands, but
this time it wasn’t Hawk she was seeking: It was a different way of
life. Elizabeth was tired of hiding, she was finished with safety.
Elizabeth McCade was once again joining the mainstream of life.

o0o

The small school was nestled in a beautiful
grove of oak and walnut trees. Three cars were parked outside a
building marked “Administration.” Elizabeth parked her car and
walked inside.

Seven women were bent over a table,
discussing their latest endeavor at influencing public opinion,
their soft voices blending together like music.

Apparently they didn’t hear Elizabeth come
in. They never looked up.

“It lacks something,” a tall, slender woman
said. “There’s no fire in this copy, no passion.”

“We could ask Black Hawk. He speaks with a
tongue of fire.”

The speaker was a young girl of about fifteen
with two dark pigtails hanging down her back.

“No. He has too much to do already. And
besides, he seems preoccupied of late. I sometimes wonder—” The
slender woman broke off her speech as she turned and saw
Elizabeth.

Slowly the rest of the group turned around to
stare. An uneasy silence fell over them.

Elizabeth walked forward, smiling. “Hello.
I’m Elizabeth McCade.”

The women in the group didn’t speak, didn’t
move. Distrust was plainly written on their faces. Elizabeth was
not deterred.

“I’ve come to help,” she said simply, holding
her hands palm up in appeal.

The slender woman, obviously the leader,
moved forward and took her hand. “I’m Susan Mincohouma.” She held
Elizabeth’s hand, studying her. “I’m descended from a Chickasaw
king who knew the value of allies outside our own people. If you’re
sincere, we welcome you.” She released Elizabeth’s hand and stepped
back, her face hardening. “But if you’re a spy sent by the people
trying to take our lands, we curse you.”

“I’m not a spy.”

“How can we be sure?” Susan said. The other
women kept silent. “You are not one of us. I’ve never seen you at
rallies, never heard your name. You are completely unknown to
us.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. There was only
one way she could prove to these women that she could be
trusted.

“I am not unknown to Black Hawk.” There was a
collective gasp. “Black Hawk knows me; he trusts me.” Elizabeth
didn’t say more, but waited, letting the women draw their own
conclusions.

The other women began to whisper among
themselves, but Susan stepped forward and took Elizabeth’s hand
once more.

“If Black Hawk trusts you, then
we
trust you. Welcome. We need all the help we can get.”

“Just tell me what to do, Susan.”

“What’s your background?”

“A degree in English from Yale. I know more
about writing than I do about printing. I have a car, and I have
plenty of spare time. I’m no public speaker, but I’m willing to
learn.”

Susan handed Elizabeth a copy of the material
she and the other women had been studying. “Read that, Elizabeth.
It reads like the back of a cereal box. See if you can create a
little fire.”

Elizabeth thought of Hawk and smiled.
“Creating a fire is what I do best.”

She took the material and set to work.

o0o

Black Hawk left his cabin and stood awhile in
his yard, studying the dark to see if his enemies were watching.
There was no sound, just the hushed movement of night wind among
the pines.

He started through the woods on foot. It
would take him longer to get to the mouth of the secret tunnel, but
he would be less conspicuous that way. He moved quickly, darting
among the trees. Before he plunged into the tunnel, he took one
last look to see if there were watchers.