White Flame (22 page)

“Do not make yourself sick worrying over what is not.” He tipped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Let it go.”

Emma knew he was right. What had happened couldn’t be changed. If Renny resented her, she’d just have to deal with it as best as she could. But what about him and his determination to lure her father into a trap?

“And you, Striking Thunder, can you let it go?”

His eyes darkened. “It is not the same. You did not kill anyone.”

Emma drew a deep, shuddering breath, recalling the soldiers. “That’s a matter of perspective. And if Renny had died out here, her death would have been my fault.”

Striking Thunder was saved from having to respond by a child’s shout.

“Emma!”

With a joyful cry, Emma whirled around. “Renny!”

She held out her arms and caught her sister in a bear hug. Laughing and crying, she stood, holding Renny close. “Oh, God, I’ve missed you. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Emma sobbed, overcome by relief and love. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I promise to make it up to you.”

Renny leaned back, her dark blue eyes alight with mischief. “I missed you, too, Em. Guess what, I have two horses of my very own! Can I take them back with me?”

Laughing out of sheer relief, Emma would have promised her the moon. “Absolutely.” Setting Renny down, Emma knelt and ran her fingers down her sister’s untidy braids. “Some things haven’t changed.”

Renny frowned, then looked worried. “I ruined my dress, Em. That’s why I’m wearing this one. You’re not angry are you?”

Emma grinned. “Guess what. I ruined mine, too.”

Giggling, Renny glanced up at Striking Thunder. “He is very nice, Em. And he has lots of horses.”

“Yes, he is. He saved me from Yellow Dog. You’ll get to know him when we go back to his village.”

Dancing on her toes, Renny looked puzzled. “But I already know him. He paid Night Hunter three horses for me, then gave Red Rock, that’s Night Hunter’s wife, a horse of her very own to take good care of me until he came to take me to you. Imagine, Em,
four horses!
”

“Are you sure?” Emma frowned. What Renny said made no sense. If her sister had seen him three times, then he—She lifted her eyes to Striking Thunder. He met her questioning gaze briefly, then his gaze skittered away. The truth slammed into her.

He’d known.
For two months, she’d nearly worried herself sick, wondering and worrying about Renny and he’d known all along where her sister was. Keeping her features schooled, she spoke to Renny. “Are you ready to go?”

Unaware of the mounting tension, Renny nodded. “Almost. I’ll go get my things.” She started to run off, then turned back. “You won’t leave, will you?”

Emma reached out and pulled her back into her arms for another reassuring hug. “Never. I’ll never leave you. Now hurry.”

As soon as Renny ran off, Emma stood with her hands on her hips and faced Striking Thunder. “You low-down slimy snake. You knew! You knew all along where my sister was and you never said a word.”

Striking Thunder had expected Emma’s anger. He didn’t deny her accusation. “I had my
reasons.” He didn’t elaborate. A warrior had no need to explain himself.

“Reasons! You let me worry myself sick. Even in the cave, when you knew how I felt, you didn’t say a word.”

Keeping his features impassive, he stared straight ahead. “I do not have to explain myself to you.”

Tears of fury beaded in Emma’s eyes. “You tricked me. You tricked me into agreeing to share your tipi.”

Striking Thunder glared at her. “No. I made a bargain. I said I’d bring you here and I did. You will keep your part of that bargain and move into my tipi when we return.”

Emma drew herself up. “Yes. I will keep it. But listen well, Striking Thunder. I agreed to share you tipi. Not your mat. I won’t come to you willingly. You will have to force me.” Renny returned leading two horses. Emma stalked off to help her.

Night Hunter, who’d returned, stared after Emma with an appreciative smile. “Your woman is very angry. She challenges you.”

Striking Thunder smiled. The fire in Emma’s eyes fascinated and drew him. His blood sang and every nerve in his body felt alive. “It is good for a warrior to have challenges.”

Riding across the barren prairie in search of game a month later, his words continued to mock him. True to her word, Emma had moved into his tipi upon their return. Renny had not. The girl stayed with Star Dreamer. Emma hadn’t felt it proper for the girl to witness what went on between a man and woman—not that anything had happened between them, a fact that sat sorely with him.

Except for sharing his mat, Emma did everything a woman did for her warrior. When he hunted, she cooked, preserving or sharing what they didn’t consume. With the harshness of the cold and wet weather, she repaired his clothing and even made him a new shirt and moccasins. But there was no joy in what she did. It was done in an unemotional, methodical, controlled manner. The laughter and spirited arguments between them were gone.

The warmth and passion she’d ignited in his heart had been cruelly snuffed, all because he’d kept her sister’s whereabouts from her. Pulling back on the reins, he stopped. Fisting his right hand, he lay it over his heart. His heart beat, gave him life, yet inside, there was a cold, dark void that left him aching with sorrow.

He’d tried to make amends, tried to talk to her but she refused to listen. When he brought up the sensitive subject of her sister and his duty to his tribe, she walked away from him. No one else dared to treat him so. He was chief. A courageous, smart, cunning warrior. He’d counted numerous coups, led successful raids and won the admiration and respect of his people. He didn’t need hers, yet he pursued, tried to win her back. All because he
wanted
her approval, needed to see her smile and gaze at him with love in her eyes.

He spent his days hunting far and wide to bring back all manner of game, sat around the fire at night fashioning tools to ease her workload and went to neighboring tribes, traded for small treasures, including a nice short-handled knife, but still, she withheld her forgiveness. His fist tightened against his aching chest. Not even a gift of three bags of powdered paint, a whole range of painting implements he’d made, and hard-to-come-by squares of hide and smooth bark had softened her. He’d thought those supplies would bring a smile to her eyes but, no, she refused to touch them.

He scowled. He’d been so sure that, given time, she’d come to her senses. She felt betrayed, hurt and angry, and he understood that. But his people came first. He didn’t have to explain himself—yet he’d tried to explain that things had been different before they’d become lovers. Before she’d run off, he hadn’t realized that to Emma, her need to find Renny was as vital to her as breathing. If he’d believed she’d have risked her life to go to her sister, he’d have brought them together sooner. By not telling Emma, he’d put her life in danger and had nearly lost her.

An ache rose deep inside him. He wanted Emma, longed for what they’d shared in the cave, needed those carefree moments where they could act like children and run wild across the prairie, but most of all, he wanted her in his arms each night. But he stubbornly refused to force the issue. He wanted her to come to him. He wanted forgiveness and understanding.

Many hours later, he returned to his village, his horse loaded with enough meat to feed three families but his heart still empty. Sitting on his horse at the edge of a ring of tipis, his hungry gaze searched for Emma. Frustrated, nearing the end of his patience, he felt tempted to go to her and say,
enough!
The white woman should be grateful he’d found Renny and purchased her from Night Hunter. Was the girl not happy and healthy and robust as any other child in his village?

Though the air remained brisk and cold, most of his people preferred to be outdoors. His
gut clenched when he still saw no sign of Emma. Where was she? He urged his horse forward, scanning quickly. Had she run off again? Whenever his duties as chief took him away from his tribe for days at a time, he feared he would return and find her gone.

This time, he’d led a raiding party to take back some horses stolen from them by some Cheyenne. He smiled, his dark thoughts momentarily lifted. Raiding in the winter had become a way to pass the time, enhance skills and prove greatness. Seldom was there bloodshed. The object was to move in and out without the other tribe knowing until it was too late.

Across the way, Renny and Morning Moon rounded a tipi and ran over to him. “You’re back!” Renny shouted. “I’ll take care of
Zuya Yanka.
” She reached for the reins of his war horse. It amused him to see how much she loved horses. His brother White Wolf, who raised and trained horses, would have appreciated the girl’s shared obsession with the beasts.

Seeing the child reassured him somewhat. Emma had not run off. She would never leave her sister behind. Striking Thunder spent a few minutes answering Renny’s questions and talking to Morning Moon.

He dismounted, unloaded his weapons and game, then allowed Renny and his niece to lead the animal away. Staring after Morning Moon, he knew he had to talk to her about her visions. If she had the gift as he suspected, then their people had once again been honored by the spirits and there would be much celebrating. Frowning, he worried about Star’s reaction to it. Soon, he would have to broach the subject but not yet, not while she still grieved.

Juggling his shield, lance and bow in one hand, he lifted the carcasses of two rabbits and a scrawny prairie chicken in the other and strode into his tipi. A blast of warmth greeted him from the banked fire. Everywhere he looked, he saw evidence of Emma’s hand. He turned in a slow circle. Something was missing.

Emma.
The knowledge that each evening she was here made him eager to return home each night. And on those occasions when duties took him away days at a time, a strange restlessness took hold. She was a special addition to his life and he missed her. His shoulders sagged.

Frowning, Striking Thunder tried to distract himself by putting away his supplies, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the white woman. At first, he’d referred to her as such to distance his emotions. Now, it was with affection. She was his woman. His white woman. His Emma, the flame of his heart.

In a few short months, she’d become his lifeline and without her comforting presence, he felt lost and lonely. The realization did not sit well with him. Reaching out, he stroked his feathered headdress. Each feather cascading down the pole from which it was hung, he had earned. “I am a warrior. I am strong, brave and fearless.” The words he spoke were true, with no conceit. They were plain fact, not that it helped. When it came to the white woman, he was weak in mind and heart.

“What need have you for one white woman who causes you to lose concentration and forget your destiny?” Yet the thought of setting Emma free left him strangely depressed. Could he keep her? Refuse to let her go? No. He’d given her his word to release her once he had no more need of her.

You
have
need of her,
his heart cried. It jumped. Had his father and brother not taken a white woman for their mates? Yes, but it was different. In his father’s case, White Wind’s father was Sioux. And his brother lived among the whites. By marrying Jessie, he had fulfilled the vision their grandmother had foreseen. With Striking Thunder, it was not possible. Pain cleaved his heart in two.

“You have duty to your people,” he told himself, but where those words had once instilled pride, now they left him feeling bereft. Stalking back outside, Striking Thunder headed for the river. A cold dousing would ease not only his heated loins but perhaps numb his heart and soul to this pain.

To his dismay, he found the person responsible for his inner torment sitting near the bank, knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on her fisted hands as she stared out across the fast-moving stream. Coming to a halt well behind her, he hesitated, loath to disturb her. No. That was not true. He was afraid of another rebuff.

The sun dipped low on the horizon and its light fell on her head, lighting the candle of his heart. The sight warmed him from the inside out and just being near her brought him peace and contentment. Closing his eyes, Striking Thunder finally admitted the truth.

He’d fallen hopelessly in love with the white woman. After weeks of denying it, he could no longer ignore the fact that he loved Emma O’Brien.

Why her?
Why did she carry him to the highest level of passion both of the flesh and of the mind? What was it about her that forced him to give up the tight band of control he kept on his emotions? Being around her, talking to her, added something to his life that he’d been missing. He saw his own world with a new understanding through her eyes and when they made love, when he gave her pleasure, it took him to heights never before reached.

“She reminds me of your mother.”

Striking Thunder glanced over at his father who’d joined him. Still reeling from his shocking discovery, he felt vulnerable—something else he’d never experienced. He frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked all these new unfamiliar emotions. A great warrior had to be in control. “She has no Indian blood.” He said the words to convince himself more than his father that what he felt and yearned for was wrong.

Golden Eagle lifted one brow. “Is blood and the color of the skin more important than what is in the heart? Are you less Sioux because of your mother’s white blood? Though your woman’s skin is white, her spirit is Sioux.”

Recalling her drawings, Striking Thunder knew his father spoke truthfully. “She is only here for another few months.”

Nodding, his father folded his hands across his chest. Silence gathered in the dimming light. “I still remember bringing your mother to my village. I had promised her safety but couldn’t keep her for myself as I was committed to marry her younger sister.” He chuckled. “We did not know Wild-Flower was her sister then.” He sighed contentedly. “But I fell in love with a spirited white woman named Sarah. I would have done anything to keep her at my side.”

“Even start a war?” Striking Thunder asked.

Golden Eagle spoke, his voice low and husky with emotion. “No. I would have done my duty. I would have married Wild-Flower to prevent war.”

Striking Thunder nodded. “As I must do mine.” Luckily for his father, Sarah’s father had been none other than White Cloud and as his eldest daughter, she and Golden Eagle were allowed to marry and fulfill the pact between the two tribes. If only it were so simple for him and Emma.

His father spoke. “Time will reveal what is to be.” Then he launched into a story of how he had not revealed the truth of his promise to marry Wild-Flower to Sarah and how she’d run away, refusing to allow him to explain about the marriage agreement. “I finally took her away where we could be alone and made her listen to what was in my heart.” Golden Eagle turned and left.

Striking Thunder considered his father’s words. In keeping with their ways, his father had not told him what to do but had told him a story that made him think. Staring at Emma, he smiled. If his father could swallow his pride and take the woman he loved away to make her see reason, then so could he.

Sitting on the bank of the river, misery and heartache overwhelmed Emma. Why did love have to hurt? Striking Thunder had betrayed her in the worst way. Though she knew she couldn’t stay here with Striking Thunder forever, she’d thought that she’d found something special, wonderful, to carry with her always. But no. He’d allowed her to worry and suffer needlessly. For that, she couldn’t forgive him.

When she thought of all the tears she’d shed, the worry that had made her sick to her stomach and the guilt that had wracked her with each passing day, her anger renewed. How could he have done that to her, to any person? He’d proven he was heartless and didn’t care about anyone or anything except getting what he wanted.

She needed to believe he cared for her, at least a little. But did he? Had it all been an act? She rubbed her eyes and moaned. Oh, what was the point in this torture. She had Renny back. Her sister was safe and happier than she’d ever been. Wasn’t this enough? This was more than a case of simple hurt feelings. She loved Striking Thunder. No matter what. “Fool.” The word came out as a mere breath of air. Emma rose, unable to stand the inactivity any longer. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t help. She needed to keep busy.

Turning, she stopped, her breath hitching in her throat. There he stood, the object of her troubling thoughts. They stared at each other for long moments, then he came toward her and held out a thick robe.

“Put this on.”

Emma put her hands behind her back and eyed him. He also wore a warm fur slung over his shoulders. “Why?”

“We are leaving.”

Glancing over his shoulder toward the camp, Emma frowned. “What do you mean, leaving? Where are we going?”

Striking Thunder draped the fur around her shoulders and tied it so it wouldn’t fall off. “We are going where we will be alone. We will talk.”

Pulling back, Emma shook her head. “No. I’m staying here. I have nothing to say to you.” She feared being alone with him. If he touched or kissed her, her heart and body would override her mind. He didn’t love her, not the way she needed to be loved. Only by keeping her distance, both physically and emotionally, could she guard what was left of her heart.

She walked past him but he swept her up into his arms and strode away from the village.

“Put me down,” she ordered, pushing at the hard wall of his chest.

“No.”

She glanced around wildly, searching for any excuse to stop him. “I can’t leave Renny. She’ll worry.”

“No. I told her we would be gone.”

Tears pricked her eyes. How could she stand firm if they were alone? “You are nothing but a big bully, Striking Thunder. Why can’t you leave me alone? Haven’t you done enough?”

Stopping, but not releasing her, Striking Thunder stared down at her with surprisingly gentle eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. “No. Don’t—” But her words were lost when his lips descended. Though he did little more than brush his lips across hers, it weakened her resolve.

He tightened his hold. “This warrior wishes to tell you what is in his heart.” His gaze grew intense with emotion. “I was wrong to keep news of your sister from you. It was not my intention to cause you pain.”