Tender Taming (7 page)

“I’ll just be a second!” Whitney called, racing around the corner of the cabin. Her BMW had been pulled beneath a rear, partially sheltered overhang. Throwing open the driver’s door, she pulled her keys from the ignition and hurriedly glanced through the car. Retrieving several packs of cigarettes from the glove compartment, she decided there was nothing else she would need—or be allowed to take!

Eagle was waiting impatiently by the rear of the jeep, his fingers drumming a rhythm on the side of the metal door panel. “Move it, Miss Virginia!” he called. “The bog is awaiting you!”

Raising a brow and tilting her nose, Whitney slowed her speed to saunter toward the jeep. Eagle’s jaw was locked when she reached him, but he said nothing. Pulling her bag from her, he tossed it over the side of the jeep. Then he set the large span of his hands around her waist and hoisted her body over with the same ease before vaulting in himself. His arm stretched behind her as he said, “Better drive on, Randy, before she realizes she’s forgotten her Chanel No 5.”

Whitney was shivering even as she glared at him indignantly. She could still feel the imprint of his hands upon her ribs, as if his touch had been indelibly etched into her with searing heat. She could sense his arm, so casually lying behind her back, with every nerve of her flesh.

“Eagle!” Katie turned reproachful eyes to her brother, folding an arm over the rear of her seat so that she might converse with them. “Be nice! You like Chanel N° 5!” Eagle had no response.

As the jeep pulled along the same road Whitney had stumbled upon the night before, Katie and Randy explained the terrain they would be covering. As well as the seemingly endless marshland of tall sawgrass, the Glades were also composed of high pine lands known as hammocks. The two highways that stretched across the swampland of the southern tip of the state, the Trail and Alligator Alley, had made many areas easily accessible, but there were still countless miles of land that could only be navigated by airboat or canoe. “Many independent Miccosukees live right along the Trail,” Katie said, “but the Eagle clan lives deep in the woods.”

Whitney leaned forward eagerly in her seat. Katie was a wonderful source of information, and their journey might end at any time. “Tell me something about your family,” she begged, mindless of Eagle’s stoic expression beside her. “Are your parents living?”

“My father is—” Katie began.

“Katie!” Eagle barked. “I’m sure Miss Latham isn’t interested in our dubious bloodlines.”

“I’m just going to tell her how they met!” Katie retorted, smiling at Whitney. “My mother and grandmother had marvelously romantic marriages! My mother’s father was a businessman who came to the Glades to hunt. He became entranced by the honesty and high moral code of the Miccosukees, and finally the Eagle family grew to respect and trust him in return. Morning Dew fell head over heels in love with him and—at a time when marriage outside the tribe was unheard of—she defied her father and uncles to be with him. But my grandfather loved her very deeply, too. Instead of demanding that she desert her home, he embraced the life of the Miccosukees and gave up his own society.”

“That is romantic!” Whitney chuckled. “What about your mother and father?”

Eagle muttered some sort of expletive beside her, but Whitney ignored him. Katie glanced at him with a wounded, I-know-what-I’m-doing expression and continued.

“My father was a charter pilot. He was en route to the Keys from Tampa when his plane went down in the Everglades. He was lost, delirious and barely conscious when my mother found him. She was a beautiful woman, and Dad says he fell in love as soon as he opened his eyes to find her tenderly nursing his wounds. They were married both by tribal law and in my father’s church.”

Whitney had a dozen more questions to ask, but White Eagle had had enough. Sitting up in the seat, he put his arm around Whitney’s shoulders and forced her attention to the road. “We’re making a left here to get down to the Trail,” he said. “Straight ahead, you would come to North Naples.” Obviously intending that she not have a chance to open her mouth again, he rapidly began pointing out the abundance of birds and foliage surrounding the road, naming things so quickly she was sure she wouldn’t remember a word. Then the jeep turned again, and within minutes they were pulling off the road. They had arrived at a small Indian village. Bright, neatly printed signs announced that visitors were welcome, and on the outskirts of the slatted pine enclosure were two large, modern gas pumps. Whitney started to smile with inner relief. They weren’t going to be so terribly isolated after all!

“This isn’t where we are staying.” The laughing whisper in her ear sent mixed shivers of apprehension and delight tingling along the length of her spine. Eagle had an uncanny habit of reading her thoughts.

“Airboat from here,” Randy said cheerfully, hopping from the jeep. “Katie could take you into the village for a minute, though—”

“She can see the village next week,” Eagle said, vaulting out of the vehicle to join Randy. “You two have to get back.”

“I’d like to see the village now—” Whitney began, determined to voice her opinion.

“No time,” Eagle shouted from the rear, where he was busily disengaging the airboat. “Don’t worry, it won’t go away.”

Whitney suddenly wished that White Eagle would find a quicksand pit and sink into it. He was drawing her into a trap, one she could see clearly, yet she was powerless to stop the bars from closing around her. He wasn’t
forcing
her deeper into the Glades; it was if he had somehow magnetized her. He kept making up the rules, and she kept following them. What else could she do? If she demanded that they see the village now, she would be the one to appear petulant and domineering! Sound reasoning had been given her—there wasn’t time.

But there was more to it than that. She just didn’t know what. Either I have swamp fever or I’ve gone crazy, Whitney told herself with disgust. No, that wasn’t true. She was going into the swamp because she sincerely cared about her job and the people it involved.

Liar! A voice spoke from her heart with an impetus she couldn’t control. She was going because she had never been so fascinated by a man before in her life, and if White Eagle had challenged her to join him for a flight to Pluto, she would have found an excuse to hop right into the rocket …

“Are you with us?”

Startled, Whitney jumped and turned to Eagle with guilty eyes, praying he hadn’t read her thoughts again.

“Are you with us? We’re all set. You weren’t daydreaming about a luxury suite on the beach, were you?” he queried blandly.

“No … no …” Whitney rushed away from him, scampering down the embankment to the canal where the airboat now waited, its propeller beginning to rev.

“Ever been on one of these before?” Randy asked loudly as she picked her way through the weeds and climbed to the flat bed of the airboat.

“I’ve never even seen one before!” Whitney admitted.

“You’re going to love it!”

She did love it. The sensation of racing over the sea of grass was exhilarating. A rush of air whipped around her face and through her clothing as they passed through the canal and over miles of marshland, flushing birds into graceful flight with their noisome coming. Randy slowed the airboat, and Whitney felt that strange current of electricity as White Eagle set an arm around her waist to point out the reason for the delay—her first sight of an in-the-wild alligator.

“’Gator or crocodile?” Eagle quizzed, his voice and breath whistling softly in her ear.

“’Gator!” she responded smugly. “Crocodiles are coastal!”

“Right.” His arm remained around her as they hovered closer to the beast. Whitney shivered involuntarily. The animal was a green color that blended well with the high grass; its jaw, even as it sat motionless, raised several inches so that she could see the open, waiting mouth and its rows of razor-sharp teeth. Black beady eyes observed them in a silent, chilling stare.

The arm around Whitney tightened reassuringly. It was odd; the man teased her mercilessly, yet he intuitively knew when she was really frightened and was there to protect her.

“Next hammock!” Randy said, and in another moment they were pulling up to one of the clumps of earth, pines and cypress.

No one could live here, Whitney decided immediately. They were
nowhere!
Although the region of solid ground seemed to encompass a large enough area of space, she could see no sign of human habitation.

“Ah—home!” Eagle proclaimed, offering Whitney a hand as he jumped off the airboat with a splash. The grin was twitching at his lips at the dismay she was finding difficult to hide. “You can still chicken out, you know,” he told her as they sloshed to the shore, Randy and Katie following behind.

Whitney inched her nose into the air and smiled acidly. “No, thank you.”

“Don’t let him harass you,” Katie warned softly from behind. “You can come back with Randy and me.”

“She can—and she knows it,” Eagle said, his gaze upon her as sharp as blue steel. Taking her hand, he led the way through a path in the trees Whitney would have never noticed. The landscape abruptly made an incredible change as they walked, becoming an exotic subtropical paradise. Strings of wild orchids, blooming in pastel purples and pinks, splashed against the green and brown earth shades with a magical splendor. Vines and moss played upon the trees, giving the woods a mystical beauty that lurked somewhere between a woodsy glen and a jungle in deepest Africa.

The trail broke into a clearing dotted with thatched-roof chickees. A happy, musical sound greeted Whitney’s ears: the warm sound of children’s laughter. The clearing was indeed alive with human habitation. Eagle called something in his native language and a scurry of colorful activity immediately surrounded them, the children with their excited brown eyes, a cluster of women dressed in beautiful long garments that ranged the spectrum of a rainbow.

Whitney hovered in the background while the others were greeted with hugs and affection. Even Randy, she noticed, was welcomed like a long-lost brother. Though faltering in his speech occasionally, he valiantly attempted to keep up with the flying conversation, and his efforts were obviously appreciated.

The growlingly familiar pang of jealousy suddenly assailed Whitney. A number of the Miccosukee women were very pretty, young and as shapely as slender willows. They wore their adoration for White Eagle nakedly in gentle almond eyes.

“Whitney,” he announced, and his crystal eyes came to her as if he had just explained her presence. His hand pulled her into the group, and he repeated her name. “Whitney.”

She was now the center of attraction. Shy and soft-spoken, the women offered her gentle smiles. Whatever White Eagle had said about her, it had been complimentary. Eagle began to rattle off names to her, some as common as “Katie,” some she wondered if she would ever manage to pronounce, much less remember. It did appear, though, that Eagle’s clan intended to accept her into the fold.

“We’d better say hello to Morning Dew and get going,” Randy said to Katie, “if we’re going to make it back in time.”

Eagle and Katie both nodded, and Eagle said something to the group before dragging Whitney along behind him across the clearing. “Where are we going now?” Whitney demanded.

“Deeper into the dome of hell!” Eagle laughed wickedly. “My grandmother prefers to live in solitude. She seeks company on her terms only.”

Whitney wanted to question him further, but he dragged her along at such a pace that she found speech impossible. A number of chickens and pigs shared the clearing with its human inhabitants, and avoiding the clucking and squealing animals gave her mind thorough occupation. Gritting her teeth as they left the melee behind and entered another trail through the wilderness, Whitney felt with a heavily sinking heart that Eagle had been right in his taunts—she was too soft. She would never be able to stick out the week. In about two minutes she was going to turn, duck tail and run helter-skelter for the airboat, her last link with the known world …

“This, my dear, brave Miss Latham, is it.”

Whitney crashed into his back as he halted his rapid stride abruptly. Peering around his shoulder, she saw that they had come to another clearing, one occupied by only three well-spaced chickees. One was floorless, and a large pot issuing steam sat in the middle over a crackling fire. One was far to the left with planking three feet off the ground; the last was to the right and identical, shaded by massive pines. As Whitney blinked, an old Indian woman, wrinkled like a prune from countless years of exposure to the sun and elements but as tall and straight as an iron rod, came to them on a soft and silent tread. Her eyes were as black as coal, and despite her great age it was easy to see that Eagle and Katie had inherited their lustrous hair from her. She was dressed regally in the gaudy calico of her people, and row upon row of beads adorned the entire length of her neck. Her pleasure at the sight of her grandchildren was obvious and yet subdued; she accepted them like a queen receiving homage. Once again Whitney hovered in the background, lost while they conversed in the Miccosukee language. The old woman’s eyes were upon her with unabashed speculation, and Whitney’s ears pricked like a dog’s when she began to hear her own name and that of Jonathan Stewart mentioned.

She was surprised and dismayed when Morning Dew frowned, angered over whatever was being said. It was she who clutched Whitney and pulled her into the group, her gnarled hands amazingly strong and her words vehement although still soft and controlled. Eagle said something impatiently, then as if remembering whom he addressed, he quieted his own tone and went into a lengthy explanation. Whitney caught Randy Harris’s eye and imploringly demanded, “What is going on?”

Suddenly they all went silent.

“Eagle will tell you,” Katie said hastily, kissing her grandmother’s cheek and grabbing Randy’s hand. “We’ve got to go. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Eagle was staring at her with his bright blue eyes full of mockery and challenge. “Well?”

“I—I—yes, but what—”