Savage Conquest (43 page)

"I spoke too hastily and cruelly, Tamaha," he told
her.

Miranda battled to keep her gaze from him as he
spoke a sort of apology. She wanted to scream at him,
to refuseit. He had hurt her, embarrassed her. She did not want to behave childishly or reveal her turmoil,
so she let him know of her anger by ignoring him
completely. How she wished she had something to
occupy her hands and attention! It was alarming to
be alone with him, to know his name and rank.

He saw she was not ready to listen or forgive. "So
be it," he informed her calmly. "When your temper
cools, we will talk."

Her head jerked upward and she glared at him. "I
have no words for you, now or later. I will leave in the
morning."

"Do you run from me or yourself, Tamaha?" he
inquired in a husky tone. "A girl who challenged the
eye and claws of the grizzly to save another's life
showed more courage than I see in you this sun."

"I was not the one who came and went in secrecy,
Blazing Star. I'm leaving because there is no room in
my grandfather's teepee," she explained, trying to
excuse her hasty flight from his closeness.

"I am glad you are here, Tamaha. Bloody Arrow
will not return for two moons. You will sleep on his
mat, unless you wish to stay on mine," he murmured
seductively. "I wish-"

"I wish to share nothing of yours, you arrogant
beast!" she panted at him as he teased her playfully,
cutting off his tender words.

"I did not say share, Tamaha. Sleep where you
will; it matters not to me," he stated flippantly to
goad her.

"It matters to me," she vowed sullenly.

"And to me," he contradicted himself, grinning at her. "It matters, if it is not alone, or with me."

She was about to take his beguiling bait when his
grin alerted her to his ruse. "I have heard you rarely
sleep alone," she sneered before thinking, then
blushed at her shameful boldness.

He warmed to the spark of jealousy in her. "The
speaker of such words is a liar. For many moons, I
have craved but one female, one female I have denied
myself," he stated suggestively, meaningfully.

Miranda did not know how to respond to such a
statement, so she remained silent. She dared not ask
the name of the woman, fearing she was wrong to
think it was she.

He hunkered down before her and said, "Grandfather has gone to council. I must join him. We will
talk later," he stated firmly.

Their gazes locked; neither moved. His hand
reached out to run the back of it over her flushed
cheek. "You are beautiful, Tamaha. I feared you were
another's captive. You should not put such conflict
in me," he murmured mysteriously, his dark eyes
glowing strangely.

"Conflict?" she echoed hoarsely, her anger a thing
of the past.

His thumb rubbed over her lips very gently, noting
her erratic breathing. "You have caused my mind to
war with my body."

"I do not understand," she responded naively.

He was disappointed by her words. "If you do not,
a battle does not rage within you. We will return of ter
the moon passes overhead."

He was gone before she could ask for a clearer
explanation. How she wished he had embraced and
kissed her! Was she a wanton creature? Her mind was
spinning in confusion and her body ached with a
strange ... Conflict? Battle? Did he mean what she
was thinking?

Blazing Star had spoken accurately; it was long
past midnight when the two men returned from the
meeting. She had tossed and turned for hours, trying
to understand this complex man and this new
situation. Their reunion had been most unexpected;
his reaction, most disturbing and distressing. Try as
she did, she could not get this afternoon off her mind.
She was deeply concerned over his chilly and almost
brutal conduct at first sighting her today. Before, he
had not seemed to care that she was white. But in
front of his people, particularly the other warriors, it
had made a vivid difference. Was it so essential, so
significant that she was proven Indian or half
Indian? From what she had heard and witnessed, it
was worse to be half-blooded! She fretted over his
treatment when he had viewed her as white, a slave.
She could not help but wonder how he would feel
and act if she had appeared in his life again as another's "captive whore," white or Indian. If he had
seen her being abused by a cruel master, would he
have done anything to help her? It was the contradictions in his behavior which plagued her. His
affection and desire had been shown only in secret,
and the complete change in him when he understood
her relationship to Sun Cloud confused Miranda
even more. She reflected, too, on his seductive
behavior and stirring words when they had been
alone in this teepee. She cautioned herself to be still
after they entered quietly, hoping they would not
realize she was still awake.

But the moment Blazing Star lay upon his mat, he
smiled into the darkness. Her fragrance still clung to
it, a scent which aroused his body to sensual hunger.
He should have known she would change mats after
learning whose she had been sleeping on for nights.
He could not stop thinking about how close she was
to him; yet she was so far out of his reach.

What he did not know was that she had absently
claimed his mat at bedtime, then quickly gone to her
cousin's. She sighed heavily and rolled to her back,
staring up into darkness. How would she ever get to
sleep knowing Blazing Star was within a few feet of
herl

His senses keen, he knew she was awake and
restless. What was worse was the fact that he also
knew Sun Cloud was deeply entrapped by slumber.
He did not even stir when a violent thunderstorm
attacked the lands. But Miranda jumped and gasped
at several bolts of lightning which struck too close to camp, then shook the earth with rumbling echoes.

"Do not be afraid, Tamaha," he whispered
tenderly across the dark span which separated them,
telling her he was also awake.

She was too unsettled by the turbulent weather to
recall how angry she was with him. And it was easier
to be annoyed when he was not so near. Perhaps he
had responded from jealousy and pride this afternoon. Surely he would be furious to find her the
captive of another, if he truly cared about her. And
surely under those circumstances, he would be
embarrassed by their reaction to each other in public?
When the winds whipped at the teepee and heavy
rain poured upon it, she asked softly, "Are the storms
always this bad?"

"When they come so late," he replied. "The rivers
and lands are thirsty; they require much rain to
refresh them."

Miranda hid her face as another streak. of lightning
seemed to invade the teepee itself. Blazing Star went
to her side and pulled her into his arms. "It will be
this way for a long time. Sleep, Tamaha. I will guard
you from all harm."

When he made no romantic overtures, but simply
offered her the comfort of his arms, she relaxed and
nestled against him. He stretched out on Bloody
Arrow's mat and curled her against his side. He did
not move or talk again. He felt her body going limp
and her respiration becoming steady. Soon she was
asleep in his arms. As if feeling completely safe,
nothing more troubled her.

Just before dawn, he eased from her side and
returned to his mat. He was baffled by the fact that he
had slept next to the most beautiful and desirable
woman he had ever known without making love to
her. There was a strange contentment and great
pleasure in being near her. He had not felt such
emotions before. How could a smile warm him? How
could a touch make him happy? How could a voice
stir his soul? How could a gaze steal his thoughts? If
such was true, what would it be like to make love to
her? How could he lose her? Yet, how could he keep
her here in the face of such death and destruction?

Agony chewed at him. Sun Cloud was right. She
must not remain here. If he enticed her to fall in love
with him, each of them.would be hurt. It would be
easier for both to forget if nothing happened between
them. She was so trusting and innocent, so vulnerable to the feelings he inspired within her. To
reject her would be the fiercest battle he had ever
fought, but he knew it would be wrong to take her to
his mat and to love her wildly and freely, then force
her to leave him. It would be cruel to encourage her
love and desire when there could be no more between
them. She must be sent away.

He slipped from the teepee. He would have to find
the strength and courage to resist her. If he were
right, why did this unselfish act torment him? The
white man was like a mighty eagle, its talons ever
closing around his people, preparing to rip them to
bloody pieces. So many battles and lives had been
lost. The white man's forces and weapons were many and powerful. One by one, they were destroying or
conquering each tribe. No matter how smart or brave
the Indians were, they could not last forever against
such an enemy.

He had never thought to see the sun when his lands
were owned by foes. He had never envisioned such
crushing defeats, such wanton slaughter of his kind.
Never had he dreamed the sun would come when he
doubted the survival of a single Indian. But the white
butchers were slaying women and children to
annihilate the entire race. Why was the Great Spirit
allowing such evil to breed, to grow larger? Why
must he find his true love when it was too late and
dangerous to claim her?

It rained all morning, forcing Miranda to remain
inside the teepee. To pass the time, her grandfather
taught her a game played with small pebbles. Sun
Cloud napped for several hours during the afternoon, and Miranda stood at the teepee entrance,
gazing out at the teepees in the first circle. She
wondered where Blazing Star had gone; she wondered why he had not returned for their talk.

He had confessed he was glad she was here. If she
inspired such "conflict" in him, why didn't he
confront her and discuss his feelings, feelings she
shared? He had not gone hunting, and there was no
council meeting. She remembered again how he had
held her and comforted her. She glanced in all
directions but could find no trace of him. She
instinctively knew he was avoiding her. But why?

The evening meal came and went without Blazing Star's return. She wanted to question his absence but
was too proud to do so. What was he trying to prove?
Was this some joke or test? Why waste such precious
moments? It took her a long time to fall asleep that
night. She realized, as she knew he must, there was
only one day left of her visit.

When he was certain she was asleep, Blazing Star
sneaked into the teepee and slept restlessly. He was
up and slipping out at dawn when she saw him. She
sat up and cleared her throat, the noise drawing his
attention. When he turned, she motioned for him to
come over to her. Concealing his love and turmoil, he
scowled as if annoyed by her and her request, then
shook his head and left.

Miranda stared at the waving flap. Why was he
doing this to her? He was making it clear he did not
want to speak with her or see her. Sadness gripped
her heart, and panic tugged at her mind. She would
be leaving in the morning. Was that why he did not
want to start anything between them? That speculation warmed her.

At rest time that afternoon, Blazing Star was still
keeping his distance. Once when he sighted her
watching him, he began flirting with a lovely Indian
maiden. From her tortured expression, he knew she
understood his message. He could not allow her to
linger here, not after learning of the white war
council.

While her grandfather slept, Miranda left the
teepee to walk near the stream. She found a lovely
spot and sat on a rock studying the newly green foliage. She was about to continue her stroll when
Blazing Star came into sight. She called his name. He
glanced her way then headed in the opposite
direction.

Miranda jumped up and raced after him. They
needed to have a talk. He owed her an explanation.
There was no time for modesty or manners. She
caught up with him, but he quickened his pace to
prevent their confrontation. She ran forward again,
grabbing his arm. She panted breathlessly, "Why
don't you talk to me? I'll be leaving tomorrow, and
we have so much to say to each other. Why are you
avoiding me? Why are you being so distant?"

"There is nothing to say. Return to your people,
Miranda. You do not belong here. You are more
white than Indian," he stated coldly.

"But, why?" she beseeched him. "I thought we
were friends," she murmured in a quavering voice.
He had called her Miranda. He was clearly rejecting
her. He was trying to hurt her. She must know why.

"If you wish to be my friend, do not chase me as a
she-dog with mating lust. When a woman steals my
eye, I will chase her. Why do you trap a man who
wishes to escape?" he asked insultingly, hoping to
encourage her to leave, for this necessary game was
hurting both of them.