Warrior's Embrace (42 page)

Not that she wanted to be either one of them.
Juanita was stuck-up and Cassandra was silly.

“Are you in some kind of trouble, Hal?”

“Cool it, Deborah. Go to bed.”

“You’d tell me if you were in trouble,
wouldn’t you?”

He looked down at the toe of the shoe he was
scuffing on the floor, then shrugged his shoulders and grinned at
her. It was a heart-melting smile that made her forget he’d been
uncooperative and sullen only seconds earlier.

“Of course I’d tell you, Miss Deborah
Fixitfoot.” He held his hand out, palm up, and she placed hers over
it, the way they used to when they were kids and made their pact,
two against the world, Hal and Deborah, inseparable and
unconquerable.

“’Night, Hal.” She kissed his cheek.

He jerked back, then gave her a sheepish
grin. “I’ve outgrown that sissy stuff.”

“Nobody ever outgrows the need for a
good-night kiss.”

“Sleep tight, sis,” he said when she got to
his door. But she knew she wouldn’t. Deborah crawled under the
covers feeling ninety instead of nineteen.

Hal was keeping secrets, and she had nobody
to tell.

o0o

The scream that ripped the air was pure
rage.

Eagle’s head came up as the sound tore
through the morning once more. It was a woman’s voice ...coming
from the direction of the clinic.

With water dripping from his face and
shoulders, Eagle rose from the river’s edge and raced toward his
campsite, whistling for his stallion. His mount thundered toward
him, and Eagle vaulted onto his back while the horse was still in
motion.

Wind dried the river water from his skin and
ruffled his hair as he tore across the plains toward the clinic. He
came upon it suddenly—the wanton devastation. What had once been a
wall was now a heap of junk lumber, splintered and broken, with the
sharp ends of nails glinting in the sun.

Kate Malone stood in the midst of the rubble,
slinging broken boards with the force of a woman twice her size.
Spots of anger rouged her cheeks.

“No ...dammit ...no! I won’t quit!”

“Kate. What happened?” Eagle bolted from his
horse.

“Look at this. The cowards!” She prowled
through the debris like an angry lioness, kicking at everything in
her path. Her hair was loose and disheveled, as if she’d just
arisen from bed. “They came in the night and did this.”

She hefted a board, and a nail tore her
tender skin from wrist to elbow. She was so mad, she didn’t even
notice.

Anger seared through Eagle. Not only had his
people reduced Kate’s dreams to a pile of rubble, but they had
caused her harm. He reached for the board, but Kate pulled
away.

“I want to help,”

“I can do this myself. I don’t need you.”

“You’re in shock. Let me see about your
wound.”

“I don’t need you or any of your people.”

With the swiftness of his namesake, Eagle
captured her wrists and moved in on her, moved so close, their
thighs touched, touched and retreated, then touched once more,
trembling.

Long-held codes crumbled and resolve went
spinning away like a tumbleweed before the wind. The temptation
he’d avoided for twelve years was standing before him ...and he had
no place to run.

Nor did he want to. Kate was like new wine in
his blood: He was drunk with her.

In one easy movement he wrested the board
from her hand and cupped her face.

“You need me, Kate.”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t need you.”

“Yes . . .” He tangled his hands in her hair
and with great deliberation pulled her close, so close he could see
the tiny bursts of gold in the center of her eyes. Green eyes.
Green eyes and clear skin that would burn easily in the sun, pale
skin that would never have the rich copper tint of the
Chickasaw.

None of it mattered now. Fate had sent her to
him, and fate would not be denied.

He leaned down so that their lips were almost
touching.

“You need me as much as I need you,” he
said.

And Kate knew he spoke the truth.

How much longer could she be brave with her
dreams in rubble and this magnificent man seducing her in a voice
that would make angels abandon their halos? He shone, golden and
delicious, with the sun caught in droplets of moisture clinging to
his bare chest.

Kate longed to lick them away one by one. She
knew how his skin would taste, warm and musky as sin.

Her bones melted, and she leaned toward him,
her vision forgotten in her quest to merge with the mighty Eagle,
to be folded under him, to soar with him in swift splendor toward
the heavens. A small sigh escaped her lips, and she breathed
deeply.

Even the air was sweeter because he was a
part of it.

“No,” she said again, but she knew her
protest was weak.

His laughter was pure seduction, wicked and
knowing.

“Another time, another place,
Wictonaye
, and all your denials will vanish like wisps of
smoke in a firestorm.” He took her hand and led her to a clearing.
“Come. I will tend your wounds.”

She would have followed him to the gates of
hell. No, through the very gates and into the inferno itself.

Even the suggestion that he tend her wounds
was somehow erotic.

“I’m a doctor. I can tend my own wounds.”

His eyes trapped hers as he traced the
reddened path of the nail from elbow to wrist.

“To see such perfection marred is a
desecration.”

“You have a great bedside manner.”

“You protest too much, Kate. Are you afraid
of me?”

“No.” She lied with her eyes sparking fire,
and her chin jutted out. She was afraid of him, all right. Not
afraid that he would cause pain, but that he would cause ecstasy,
so much ecstasy, she would lose her purpose.

“Even the brave are sometimes scared,
Wictonaye
.”

Water touched her skin, and she realized that
he’d found the thermos and a paper towel and was now washing her
wounds. So powerful was her attraction that even when he left, she
knew she’d still felt his presence.

The water was soothing ...and so was the
touch of his hand upon her skin.

“In the ancient customs of my people, the
eagle is invoked for healing.” His voice flowed through her like
warm honey. “They solicit him as he soars through the heavens to
bring down refreshing things, to dart down quickly on wings of
lightning and provide succor for the wounded.”

He set aside the makeshift sponge without
relinquishing his hold on her. Dark and deep with mysteries, he
held her with his eyes as his hands continued their erotic
massage.

“The eagle is the king of birds, prodigious
in strength, swift of wing, majestic in stature ...and so full of
passion that he teaches all he loves to fly.”

His eyes never left hers as he lifted her arm
to his lips.

“
Waka ahina uno, iskunosi Wictonaye.
Waka
.”

Heat seared her, but it wasn’t the heat of
skin against skin: It was the heat of desire burst full flower in a
strange land with a man who spoke in a poetic and mesmerizing
tongue.

“In English, please,” she whispered.

“Fly with me, little wildcat. Fly.”

His lips burned against her skin once more,
and she trembled. It was not mere wanting that shook her, but
something much more complex. He set off silent explosions under her
skin, just where his fingers touched— and deeper, in secret places
that had never known such primitive longing.

Already she was flying, flying irrevocably
toward the golden Eagle who had risen from the river and forever
captured her soul.

“Eagle,” she whispered.

The passion that shimmered between them was
almost palpable. Their senses were heightened so that even the air
burned their skin.

Holding her captive with his dark eyes, Eagle
cupped her face, then splayed his fingers through her hair.

“What magic do you possess, Kate ...what
witchcraft that makes me burn with the wanting of you?”

‘Do you burn, Eagle?

“Yes ...as you do. I feel the passion in your
skin.”

“It’s the heat.”

“No,
Wictonaye
. Your blood is hot
with the same fever that rages through mine.”

“I have a remedy for fever ...in my black
bag.”

“There is only one remedy for this fever,
Kate. Only one.”

Eagle leaned closer so that their bodies were
partially joined—his legs pressed against hers, her shoulders
bracketed by his arms, her chest barely grazing his. And in that
moment the whole world rearranged itself, ripped itself from
familiar moorings, and came together in fresh configuration,
reborn.

Kate knew the remedy ...and longed for it
with the single-minded greed of a newborn seeking its mother’s
milk.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and
was actually pulling him toward her lips when she heard echoes of
her father’s voice:
You’d do well to learn to make
soup.

She backed away from Eagle and scrambled to
her feet.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove by
riding around on that stallion, seducing women.”

“Do I seduce you, Kate?”

“Yes, you seduce me, running around without
your shirt.” She shoved her hair back from her overheated face.
“Don’t you ever wear clothes?”

“I have no need of clothes,
Wictonaye
. I have nothing to hide.” He was toying with
her.

“You’re a dangerous man, Eagle Mingo. I
should have let you drown.”

Even his laughter was seductive.

“But you didn’t, Kate. You came to me in the
river ...as you will always come to me.” He held out his hand.
“Come, we have work to do.”

To her surprise, she took joined hands. Would
have fought anybody who told her to do otherwise.

They didn’t speak again, but worked side by
side, cleaning up the debris. Words weren’t necessary between them:
They communicated on a different level. And when the work was
finished, Eagle mounted his stallion.

“The ones who did this will be punished,
Kate.”

“You’re damned right. If I can ever find
them, I’ll see to it personally.”

“If you are to be a medicine woman who serves
my people, you will not engage yourself in this battle.”

“You expect me to roll over and play
dead?”

“Rolling over might be nice.” His grin was
pure sin. Then he sobered. “
I
will find them, Kate.”

“How?”

“I am Eagle.”

Without another word he wheeled his horse
away and thundered across the plains. Kate felt as if she’d been
snatched out of time and spun backward into a Wild West movie.
Emotionally and physically drained, she leaned against the
sawhorse, shading her eyes so she could catch one last fleeting
glimpse of Eagle.

Even the sun conspired against her; it
polished his bare skin so that he gleamed like a museum bronze. He
was Eagle, commanding everything in his sight, including her.

“Kate Malone, you’re in serious trouble.”

She strained her eyes into the sunset until
there was nothing left of Eagle to see except a pillar of dust
blooming on the horizon.

o0o

He’d taken the coward’s way out, not going to
the clinic with her. Mild exhaustion, he’d said. Nothing to worry
about.

If only she knew.

Clayton stood at the kitchen window and
watched her coming. He’d watched out the window all day, watched
them
.

Already Eagle was in her blood; Clayton could
tell by the way she walked, the spring in her steps, and the tight,
seductive roll of her hips. Any minute now she’d be in the house,
warm from the sun and hard work, ripe with lust. His nostrils
quivered at the thought of the rich female smell of her.

When he heard the front door open, he beat a
hasty retreat from the window and poured two cups of tea.

“I’m glad you weren’t there today,” she said,
her voice preceding her into the room. “It was awful.” Her hand
brushed his when she reached for her tea. “Thanks. This is just
what I need.”

“What happened?” he asked, as if he didn’t
already know

“Somebody destroyed the clinic.” She
tightened her grip on the teacup and jutted out her chin. “I’d like
to find out who did it and beat the hell out of them.”

Clayton’s laughter provided the release he
needed. He sat in the chair next to hers and took a sip of tea. He
might be able to survive the summer after all.

“Aren’t you going to tell me to have
patience?” Kate grinned at him.

“Would it do any good?”

“No. I just hope you have some influence with
the authorities. I’d hate to be burned at the stake.”

“I don’t think that’s done anymore, Kate,
even in Witch Dance.”

They chuckled together, then Kate lifted her
arm and raked her hair off her grimy forehead. That’s when Clayton
saw the scratch. When his fingers closed on her soft skin he almost
lost control. Only years of medical training saved him.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing to worry about. Just a scratch from
a nail.”

“Tetanus?”

“Up-to-date, Doctor.”

“It needs cleansing and antibiotics.”

“Eagle cleaned it.”

Clayton stiffened. Eagle. Always Eagle.

“Well, I’m going to take care of it properly,
then I’m prescribing a long hot bath, a good dinner, and bed for
you, young lady. You’ve been working much too hard.”

“Is it all right if I take the time to write
a letter home, Doctor Dictator, sir?”

“The letter is okay, but no beating the hell
out of anybody, no matter how much they deserve it.”

“Aw, shucks. Foiled again.” She grinned at
him, stretching her long, tan legs.

He clenched his hands and balled them in his
pockets.

“Promise me, Kate?”

“I promise.”

He figured she had her fingers crossed behind
her back when she said it. Kate was not the kind of woman to take
adversity lying down.