Chapter 20

Kate tucked her newly bathed and gowned daughter into her crib. Shawny popped up and began to fuss for her doll, her constant companion. "Where's your poppet?" Kate asked her. "Where did we leave it?"

Shawny scrambled to the end of the crib, thumb in mouth. The round face puckered. "Dee! Dee!" she demanded.

"Did we leave it in the barn?" The doll would have to be found. Shawny wouldn't go to sleep without it. "Mama will get your baby," Kate soothed. Leaving the toddler in her bed, she hurried outside to hunt for the missing treasure.

Geoffrey had his blanket. Shawny had the doll Rebecca had given her for Christmas. The twins were devoted to their comforters and to each other. It was bad enough trying to get one asleep without the other being in the same room.

A maid was on hands and knees in the hall rubbing beeswax into' the wide pine floor. "Keep an ear out for Shawny," Kate warned. "I left her doll someplace. I've got to go and look for it."

The little girl's cries of anger brought Rebecca from the herb garden. She entered through the French doors. "What's the matter, sweet?" she asked in Shawnee. From the time of their birth, Rebecca had spoken to the twins in her native tongue as well as English, determined that they should learn Shawnee properly. "What's wrong with Grandmother's precious?"

Shawny bounced in the bed, arms up to be taken. "Mama-ma!"

"All right, all right. But you're going to be spoiled rotten and it's all my fault." Rebecca picked her up, and the sobs stopped. A wide toothy grin filled the little face, and she snuggled against her grandmother with squeals of delight. Rebecca looked around. "Kate?" She opened the door to the hall. "Jane!"

"Yes'm?"

"Tell Lady Kathryn I've taken Shawny with me."

"Yes'm." Jane returned to her rubbing. You'd think those two were the only babies in the world the way the two Lady Ashtons fussed over them. And the master too! Jane had two of her own, and half the time they bedeviled the life out of her.

Rebecca tied on her own bonnet and Shawny's and carried basket, knife, and reed-basket outdoors. She had a nice bunch of mint just beyond the garden wall. The baby could play in the soft grass while she cut it. "Then you can come up to my bed and sleep," Rebecca continued. "We'll both have a nap."

She followed the brick path to the wooden door at the end of the garden. The boxwood was growing nicely. Ashton Hall would have a real maze by the time Shawny was old enough to receive gentlemen callers. The Indian woman laughed out loud. She was even beginning to think like an Englishwoman! Regardless of what Kate thought, Rebecca knew that England would be too small to contain the spirit of this small warrior. When she chose a man, red or white, he would be one to match her! She would lead some man a merry chase, through more twists and turns than any garden boxwood maze.

Shawny caught the chuckle and giggled, loving the smell of her grandmother and the escape from the despised nap. She spied a mockingbird on a low branch and waved both hands in excitement. The bird gave off a series of chirping cries, imitating the new-hatched chicks in the barnyard. Shawny's laugh turned to a deep gurgle of delight.

"You think that old bird's up there just to sing for you?" Rebecca teased. "Well, maybe he is." She repeated the mockingbird's name in Shawnee and sat the baby on the grass. An inquisitive ewe wondered over to sniff at her. Shawny crawled after her, and the sheep retreated to sniff and stare in the baby's direction. Rebecca laughed and began to snip choice bits of mint for her medicine chest.

The ewe snorted, and Rebecca glanced that way. A Shawnee brave rose from the shadows of the willow. His moccasined foot crushed a twig, and Rebecca whirled to face him, taking the war club across her head. At the last second she twisted and drove the kitchen knife toward his mid-section. Her stroke fell short, but the movement deflected the blow and softened the impact of the deadly weapon. It struck her head and shoulder, and she slumped soundlessly to the short grass. With a cry of triumph, the man pounced on the wide-eyed toddler.

* * *

Less than a mile from the main house, Pride sat Geoffrey in the shade of a pin-oak and squatted beside a bondman to help drop seeds into the wide, brown furrow. Two half-grown children used bare feet to cover the corn. Almost half of the field was planted. Another day would see the end of it.

The day was warm; the sun beat down on the backs of the workers. Pride removed his linen shirt and laid it beside his son. The sight of the master's broad, bronzed shoulders brought a blush to the women in the next row.

"Mother Mary," Agnes whispered. "Wouldn't I like to have a taste of that?"

"If Devon hears ya speakin' so, he'll blacken yer other eye."

Agnes giggled and spilled a handful of seed in the soft dirt. "Who says it wouldn't be worth it?"

Pride brushed a dark lock of unruly hair out of his eyes and grinned proudly at his son. Geoffrey was gathering acorns and dropping them down a mole hole. "It'll take a while to fill that up," he called.

The baby looked up. His dark blue eyes caught Pride's, sending a shiver through the man's body. God, but he was the spitting image of his mother for an instant! Geoffrey grabbed for another acorn, and Pride dug out another handful of seed.

He hoped Geoffrey would grow to be a man with his mother's courage. He'd have given a year of his life to be there when she'd hit Andre DeSalle with the canoe paddle.

Pride had never hated anyone in his whole life as much as he'd hated the Frenchman. Tschi's perfidy didn't even come a close second. The thoughts of Kate in his hands brought a red haze of fury to his brain even now.

They reached the bottom of the seed bag, and Pride walked back to the trees to refill it.

He should have killed DeSalle years ago, when he'd had the chance, instead of just wounding him. But Pride had been young then and full of noble sentiment. At the time it had seemed a more fitting punishment for what the Frenchman had done. For just a heartbeat, Pride let himself envision that other girl's face. He'd loved her with every fiber of his being. As much as he loved Kate? That question skittered across his brain unbidden. No, he realized. He'd been so damn young then; they'd both been young and what they'd had was something special. Kate was alive; she was his wife... while the almond-eyed girl was long since dust. She and his unborn child. It took nothing away from that dead love to admit that he loved Kate more.

The Shawnee war whoop split the silence of the forest; a dozen painted warriors charged across the open field. A woman screamed above the howling braves, and Pride ran for his son. He unslung the rifle from across his back and raced for the spot where Geoffrey had been playing. Pride heard Geoffrey's cry and pushed aside a pine bough to see an Indian raise a tomahawk over the child's head. Pride dropped to one knee and fired. The shot caught the brave full in the chest, and he tumbled backward, his eyes glazing over in death.

Men with muskets lay in the furrows and fired at the Shawnee. A few yards to the left, a bondman fought hand to hand with a painted savage. Another Indian cut the hair from Agnes's head. Pride scooped up his son and ran back to the safety of the trees. The gray stallion was beyond hope of retrieving. A Shawnee stalked him across the cornfield.

Terrified, Geoffrey lay across his father's shoulder and made not a sound. If he cried, Pride would have to pinch his nose and mouth to quiet him.

Just beyond the woods was an enclosed meadow. Pride peered cautiously out into the clearing. A loud sobbing caught his attention. A boy lay outstretched near a flock of dead and dying sheep. Robin! Pride ran toward him.

Robin raised a tearstained face. "Robin's sheep," he cried. "They hurt Robin's sheep!"

Pride pulled the boy upright. "Are you hurt? No? Good." He thrust Geoffrey into Robin's arms. "This is a game, Robin. A game. Take the baby and hide him. Take him into the greenbriar thicket and keep him there until I come for you. Do you understand?"

The wide eyes struggled to comprehend. "Robin take baby?" he stammered. "Play game?"

"Yes. Take him into the thicket and hide him until I come. You must be very quiet. And you must take good care of Geoffrey. Now! Run!" Pride said a prayer in his heart as the boy hurried across the meadow with his precious burden. The Shawnee would find them if they looked hard enough, but the battle fever would have faded. They'd have a better chance. He turned and ran back toward the fighting, rifle in hand.

Kate had just entered the barn when she heard the first war cry. She looked back through the doorway to see mounted warriors pounding across the farmyard. Gunshots split the air and servants screamed. Leading the attack, on a piebald stallion, was Tschi! His contorted face was streaked with bands of orange and black, and his hands were dripping blood.

Pride? Where were Pride and Geoffrey? She must get to the house! Shawny was in her crib in the bedroom. Her pistol was there too. If she could get her hands on a weapon... Kate flattened herself against a wall and ran deeper into the shadows of the barn.

She heard Jonas's shout and then the explosion of his big-bore musket. There was one less Shawnee, of that she was certain. If Jonas was armed, he was a formidable opponent. There were more shots from the house. Where was Rebecca? Her first thought would be for the baby.

Kate smelled smoke; something was afire. Caution aside, she ran from one stall to another, unfastening the doors. Meshewa would head for the low spot in the pound fence. The other horses would follow him out of the barn if the fire didn't panic them. She slapped the pinto's rump with a leather strap! "Yaaah!" He bolted from the stall, and Rebecca's mare followed. The dun sniffed the air suspiciously and tried to go back into the box stall. Kate smacked him sharply and pulled him out into the passageway. There was one horse left.

Kate approached the black slowly. He belonged to Tarleton. The animal was big, over sixteen hands, with the sleek lines of a thoroughbred. He rolled his eyes and danced nervously as Kate ran a hand over him. She'd never attempted to ride him. George Marehel said the beast had killed one of his stableboys. He was a breeding stud, not a riding horse. Bad treatment on the voyage from England had spoiled his temperament. He shied and the whites of his eyes showed; powerful muscles rippled under the satin hide.

Another war whoop! A bondman and a Shawnee appeared in the open door, locked in mortal combat. Kate backed the big horse into the corner of the stall. He struck at her with a front leg and bared his yellow teeth. "Nice horsey," Kate soothed. "Nice bastard." She leaped and forced the bit between his teeth. He reared, striking the side of the stall with iron hooves. Kate grabbed a handful of black mane, threw one trousered leg over his back, and let out her own war cry!

The stallion lunged against the unlocked gate; then he was down the hall and through the doorway, nearly running down the two struggling men. Kate lashed him with the ends of the leather reins and clung to his neck like a burr. A warrior ran to meet her, a war club raised in one fist. The black left him dying in the dirt with a crushed chest.

Kate reined the animal in the direction of the house. Puffs of smoke came from the windows. Someone was still putting up a fight. She had to get inside. A musket shot whistled past her head; another cut a bloody furrow in the black's rump. Terrified, he reared, pawing the air. Kate leaned into his neck, clutching the streaming mane.

A horseman rode straight at her; the orange-and-black face was grinning. Tschi! His own animal reared. For an instant they were so close Kate could have reached out and touched him. His eyes locked with hers; he lowered his musket to shoot. Kate threw all her weight hard against the left rein. The black crashed into the piebald, and both animals were down in a flurry of hooves and churning limbs.

Kate let out a gasp of pain as something struck her shoulder; then she was rolling free. She scrambled to get to her feet. Tschi grabbed her ankle, and she went sprawling. Kate rolled and kicked. One booted heel caught him in the face, and he released the grip on her ankle. She ran for the house.

"Kate!" It was Jonas's voice from the smokehouse.

She veered, narrowly avoiding a brave on foot, and ran toward Jonas. The big-bore musket spoke and the Shawnee went sprawling. The heavy board and batten door opened a crack, and Kate dived in.

"I've got to get to the house," she gasped, when she could catch her breath. The interior of the log building was dim and smoky. Jonas leveled the weapon, resting the barrel on the edge of the air vent. The gun boomed, nearly deafening the three people inside.

The groom, Tom, fired through the doorway and then ducked back to safety as answering volleys slammed against the logs.

"Have you got another gun?" Kate demanded. She tried to remember how many Indians she had seen in the yard. Too many! "Jonas?"

"Nope." He spat a wad of tobacco on the floor and pulled a wicked-looking throwing knife from his belt. The blade was more than a foot long. "Best I can do fer ya, Kate." He rammed another ball down the smoking barrel. "Wasn't plannin' on makin' a stand here."

"It's Tschi."

"Yep, seen him. Shawnee and Delaware. Seen a fox in my gun sights. Pride shoulda lifted Tschi's scalp a long time ago. Blackhearted since the day he was born." He raised the musket to shoot again. "Three of our people dead, at least. Delaware an' Shawnee don't usually kill women. This is Tschi's doin' fer sure. Spitework again' his brother." Jonas sighted down the barrel with a practiced eye. "Come on, Tschi, cross my sights."

"I've got to get into the house. Shawny's in there. Pride's got Geoffrey. God knows where they are," Kate said hoarsely.

"He ain't here, which means he's got trouble aplenty of his own." Jonas spat and the big gun roared. "Damn! Missed the bugger! There ain't but one way outta here and that's the door. I'd go myself for the little puss, but Tschi fancies you. He may not blow yer head off. You make a break fer it and we'll cover you best we can."

Kate planted a kiss on the sweaty cheek. "I'm sorry about Bill," she whispered.

Jonas grunted. His eyes were on the powder horn as he measured the next charge. "Bill woulda understood."

At Jonas's signal, Tom opened the door and Kate ran. An arrow ripped the back of her shirt; dust flew in small eruptions as bullets plowed into the dirt around her feet. Jonas's musket cracked, and Tschi's piebald skidded and somersaulted. Kate didn't look back to see if his rider was dead or alive. She was only a few yards from the house when a warrior leaped to bar her way. He raised his rifle to strike her with the butt; Kate feinted, then kicked him in the knee. He bent over with a cry of pain and she ducked past him.

Kate's head was yanked back savagely, and a blow struck the side of her face. Tschi pulled her around and held her at arm's length. "Enough!" he commanded. "Will you see them all die?"

Fighting back tears of rage, Kate swung at him with a clenched fist. He laughed, and the salt anguish spilled from her eyes. "Let me go!" she insisted. Her hand went to her waist for the knife. His eyes led her to it. It had fallen in her struggle with the warrior.

"You are beaten, Panther Woman," he hissed. "Know now that Tschi is your master!" His fist descended and the world dissolved in inky blackness.

Kate choked. Smoke stung her eyes. She blinked and gasped for air. Flames shot from the windows of Ashton Hall. A few feet away Pride was tied to a fence post. She staggered up and ran to him. "Pride? Where's Geoffrey?"

Tschi's laugh came from behind her. "Even now my braves search for the boy-child. I do not think they will hunt him long."

"Damn you!" Kate cried. Curses spilled from her lips. "If you hurt my children, I'll follow you to hell!"

Tschi snorted. "You think I will hurt your son? The son of my brother? I will make a Shawnee warrior of him. I told you that I would have sons of you, Panther Woman! You will give me many others."

Pride strained at the ropes. Blood stained his bare chest and legs; a bloody gash ran down his face. The black eyes shot bolts of pure venom. "Why? Why, brother?" he demanded.

"Because you have had what I wanted! Always! Always Pride, the light-skinned son! Our mother... women... and now a son. You are no longer Shawnee, no longer my brother." Tschi spat in Pride's face. "Your house will be ashes, your woman will lie beneath me. Your son will call me Father."

"I have loved you all my life," Pride said softly. "Even when you betrayed us to DeSalle."

Tschi laughed. "I have enough hate for both of us."

Kate looked wildly about. Where was Jonas? A gunshot from the smokehouse answered her unspoken question. Several braves carrying straw moved back out of range of the musket. They were trying to burn him out, but the heavy log walls would take a lot of heat before they would catch. It had rained recently and the wood was still wet.

Tschi motioned and a warrior carried Shawny across the yard. She screamed and kicked. Kate started to run to her, but Tschi shook his head.

"No! Stay where you are, Panther Woman!"

"Shawny!"

"Give her to Kate," Pride said. "This is between the two of us. Leave the baby out of it." He threw himself against the bonds and the gash began to trickle blood.

"How do you know the children are not yours, my son?" Rebecca called. Kate turned to stare at Rebecca, who seemed to materialize from the smoke. The older woman held herself proudly erect despite her head wound. "You held Kate in your wigwam for many nights."

"This is not your affair!" Tschi said harshly. "You have become white. You too are the enemy."

Rebecca continued walking toward her granddaughter. "Give me the child," she ordered. "Yours or Pride's, she is of my clan."

"Stand back, woman," Tschi warned. "Your brains can spill as easily as the panther kit's."

"You would harm your own child? What if she is yours, Tschi? What punishment for a man who sheds the blood of his own daughter?" Rebecca moved still closer to the baby.

"Seize her!" A Delaware brave grabbed Rebecca's arm. "Break it if she moves." Tschi's face darkened. "Do you think me a fool, Mother? Am I a god that I can father children without knowing the woman? I have not taken her yet!"

A triumphant cry escaped Kate's pale lips. She turned the Storm blue eyes on her husband. "I told you," she said. "You didn't believe me."

Blood drained from Pride's face until it was the color of wheat. "You said..."

"As always, Chobeka Illenaqui, I told you what you wanted to hear." Tschi pulled Kate against him and ran a hand over her breast. "She will be mine in every way. Mine alone."

"If all this is over a woman, take her and go!" Rebecca cried in Shawnee. "Do no harm to your brother or his children, or I will call down the wrath of the Supreme Being, Moneto, upon you and all who follow you!" She raised a hand toward heaven.

A baby's cry sounded and Kate whirled around.

A half-dozen braves rode into the yard. One man held Geoffrey before him. Kate ran and took him in her arms, soothing him against her bosom. "Shhh, shhh sweet. Mama's got you." She raised hard eyes to Tschi. "Do you make war on children?" Geoffrey wrapped chubby arms around her neck and held on tight.

"Once we fought, brother," Pride said. "Will you fight me again or have you lost your courage?" He raised his voice and called in Shawnee to the watching warriors. "This is a war chief who admits he lied to his brother! A war chief who threatens helpless babies and women! A war chief who shows no respect for the woman who bore him! Is this the man you follow? A man without honor?"

"Pride, don't," Kate cautioned. "He's not sane."

"Once the Delaware and the Shawnee were men to be reckoned with!" he continued. "Now they become scavengers to prey upon their own blood!"

"You wish to fight me?" Tschi answered. "I need to prove nothing to the warriors who follow me! The scalps that line my lodgepole speak for my bravery." He brought his contorted face close to Pride's. "This time there will be no more tricks. This time you do not escape me."

"Choose your weapons, Tschi!" Pride taunted. "I will fight you bare-handed if you wish. My hands against your scalping knife. You dare not! You are afraid! I beat you last time, and you've lost your nerve!"

"Make the circle," Tschi hissed. "I will prove who is the greater warrior. I will silence your English tongue forever!"

There were low cries of approval from the warriors. A Shawnee marked the hard-packed earth with his tomahawk. Rebecca knelt beside Pride and freed his arms. "Be careful, my son," she warned.

"You're hurt," Kate murmured.

For an instant he drew her into his arms. "I've wronged you," he said hoarsely. "From the first. If we get out of this, I'll make it up to you, I swear." He kissed the soft dark hair on Geoffrey's head. "Take care of the little ones."

A seasoned Shawnee warrior threw him a knife. Pride caught it and stepped into the circle, facing his brother.

Kate handed Geoffrey to Rebecca and edged around the crowd to where Shawny was being held.

"Give her to me," she demanded. The brave's eyes widened. "Are you deaf?" Kate took the baby from his arms. "You are frightening her," she lied. Shawny had been playing happily with his bear-tooth necklace.

The two men circled each other in the ring. Kate could not bear to watch; she could not bear to look away. Pride was wounded. Suppose Tschi did win this time. He would kill Pride. She knew it.

Across the yard, the servants who survived the attack were under heavy guard. Many had died. Kate tried to count the familiar faces. The Indians had taken heavy losses, too. Bodies lay scattered about the once-peaceful farmyard. Several of the braves were badly wounded. She wanted desperately to take the children to a place of safety, but there was none.

Tschi rushed at Pride and slashed his knife at his brother's mid-section. Pride sidestepped and countered with his own blow. Their eyes were locked together. They lunged and grappled together. Tschi's foot hooked around Pride's ankle and they went down and rolled; first Tschi was on top and then Pride.

Rebecca pushed her way forward and took Shawny from Kate. "She should not see this."

"Where's Geoffrey?"

"Maggie's got him." She covered the baby's eyes with her hand and carried her away. Kate's hands gripped into tight fists; she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Tschi was on top. His knife was poised, pressing downward. Pride's hand gripped his wrist. They strained in silence; only their breathing could be heard. Pride twisted and the knife drove down, jamming into the earth. Pride spun away and crouched. Tschi retrieved the knife and rushed in again. Pride met the knife with his own steel. There was a loud crack and Tschi's blade snapped.

He stared at the useless hilt, then hurled it at Pride's head. Pride dodged it easily.

"Come, brother," Pride called. "Where is your bravery now?"

With a cry of fury, Tschi whirled and seized the musket from a Shawnee brave. He dropped the barrel to sight on Pride's heart.

"No!" Kate screamed. She threw herself in front of the gun. A bolt of lightning ripped through her, searing her body with excruciating pain. She put her hand down and touched the spreading wetness. From far off down some echoing valley she heard Pride call her name.

"Kate!"

She staggered and turned toward the man she loved, her breath coming in quick gasps. "Pride..." she murmured. "I..." She knew no more.

He caught her as she fell. The knife dropped from his fingers. "Kate!" he screamed.

Tschi backed away. His eyes were the eyes of a madman. "You tricked me!" he cried. "You tricked me out of my woman again!" He turned to his mother and his eyes narrowed as he saw the child she cradled.

Pride knelt on the ground and laid Kate in the dirt. He picked up the knife and began to stalk his brother. The warriors walked away muttering angrily among themselves.

Tschi grabbed Shawny by one arm and tore her from Rebecca's grasp. He threw her screaming to the ground and lifted the musket butt to crush her head. Pride launched himself across the space. Tschi hesitated; his face took on a puzzled look. He half-turned and stumbled. Rebecca drove Jonas's throwing knife into his back again. Blood trickled from his mouth. "Mother. Why?" he begged. "For that you kill me?"

Rebecca's eyes were as wild as his. "I gave you life," she whispered. "Now I take it away." She threw down the weapon and gathered up the weeping child. "A hair on this baby's head is worth more than your black soul!"

Tschi fell to his knees and held out his arms to her. "Mother."

Rebecca looked down at him with contempt. "May Inu-msi-ila-fe-wanu take pity on you in the land beyond the river. I have none to give." With a terrible finality, she turned away.

Tschi sprawled facedown and the earth soaked up the last of his life's blood. He gave a final gasp and lay still.

"Heed well!" Rebecca shouted. "The man you followed! The war chief you chose! His shame is yours! Go from this place and never return, lest you meet the same fate and your soul wander forever between earth and sky!"

One by one, the warriors gathered their weapons and melted away, carrying their wounded and their dead. The servants let out a cheer and ran toward Pride. Jonas and Tom came cautiously from the smokehouse.

Rebecca handed Shawny to a woman and crouched beside Kate's body. "Does she breathe?"

Pride cradled her head in his lap. He was weeping openly. "She took the ball meant for me," he sobbed. "She offered her life for mine."

"She's no different than she's ever been," Rebecca chastened. "I had two sons; one was a fool and one a mad wolf. If Moneto takes her from you, it will be no more than you deserve." She bent and laid her ear to Kate's chest. "Fetch water and cloth for bandages. She can't be moved until I stop the flow of blood."

Later, when Kate, barely breathing, had been carried to a bed of straw in the barn, Rebecca returned to the barnyard to kneel beside the body of her dead son. Tears dropped from the sorrowful brown eyes to mix with his blood. "The fault is mine, Tschi," she whispered. "I did not love you enough." Then she rose and hurried toward the main house to see if her box of medicines had been saved from the fire. Tschi was dead, and Kate still lived. Her tears could wait.

The kitchen wing was burned out. Damage was done to the floors and furnishings, but the stone and brick had acted as a natural firebreak. Much of the beauty of Ashton Hall was ruined, but the walls stood. Rebecca's chambers and those beyond the main hallway were intact.

It was the medicines that saved Kate's life. Pride would not have believed that a woman could lose so much blood and live. The musket ball had gone completely through her shoulder. It had been a small bore; the wound was bad enough as it was. For days, she hovered between worlds; Pride dripped broth and milk between her lips as she had done for the twins when they were small.

One day she opened her eyes and smiled at him. The next, she spoke his name. By the end of the week, she was sitting up and calling for her babies. Rebecca nodded at her son, and Pride knew that Kate would recover.

She remembered very little about the day of the attack; Pride didn't remind her. "You're better and that's all that matters."

"Tschi? I dreamed..."

"He's dead, Kate. He'll never harm you again."

"Did you kill him? With a knife?" she demanded.

Pride smoothed back her hair and tied it with a crimson ribbon. His lips brushed hers tenderly. "No, I didn't kill him. Now eat your soup and stop asking questions. You've lost a lot of weight. I don't like skinny women." He grinned at her boyishly. "Not too skinny."

"You'd rather have me fat?"

"Only if you were swelling up with another child."

Kate flipped the bowl of soup into his lap. "The next one you carry! Then we'll see how eager you are to have a dozen babies." Her eyes sparkled with merriment. "Ask me next year." Her voice dropped to a husky tremor. "Will we have a next year, Pride?"

He tipped her chin up gently and kissed her lips, "A lifetime of years, Ki-te-hi. If you want them."

Kate pulled his shaggy head down and answered with another kiss, one that promised more than teasing.

"You keep that up, and I'll be in that bed with you," he warned. His hand cupped her breast and caressed a swollen nipple.

Kate lifted the sheet. "I'll let you do all the work," she tempted. "I've nothing to do all day but lie here. A girl gets lonely."

Pride slipped out of his clothes and slid in beside her. She felt like a fragile wild thing; he was afraid of hurting her. "Kate," he said softly, "I've wronged you. I know better now. I know you told the truth about Tschi. Can you forgive me? Ever?"

"No."

"No?" He moved away and leaned on one elbow to look down at her. "You can't?"

"No. But I love you anyway." She nestled against him. "Ask me again in twenty years."

"You little witch. You'd make me wait that long, wouldn't you?" His mouth covered hers and they kissed, a deep kiss of passion. Kate's hand slipped down his taut, muscled thigh to brush against his growing desire.

"Or in the morning," she whispered.

The End

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Want more from Judith E. French?

Here's an excerpt from

DEFINAT LOVE

The Triumphant Hearts Series

Book One

~

Adam Rourke tried to conceal the dislike he felt for these frontier Pennsylvanians. They were a rude lot, and he had no doubt that Rebecca Bradford had been misused. 

The German led the way to a log blockhouse. 

The leather hinges squeaked. The dirt floor gave off a musty smell. The rough log walls would give no solace to a young and frightened woman. Adam found the girl huddled in the darkest corner. "Rebecca, Rebecca Bradford? I'm come to take you home."

There was no sign that she heard.

"Wait outside." The softness in Adam's voice nearly covered the steel. "Now." Blood pounded in his temple as he saw the bruise that ran down the side of the girl's cheek.

Adam squatted on the dirt floor. "Rebecca Bradford? I'm Adam Rourke. I worked for your grandfather at Sheffield. I gave you pony rides. Do you remember the black pony?"

Her voice came clear in the darkness, heavily accented. "Gray."

"Yes." Adam tried to keep the excitement from his voice. "I've come to take you home."

"No." Star Blanket rose. "I not this Beck-ka. I Star Blanket, of the Wolf Clan. Shawnee. I go back to my people." She moved gracefully along the side of the wall, her thick braid hanging over one shoulder. "Beck-ka'bad'ford dead. Iroquois kill. You set me free."

Trickles of sweat began to run down Adam's forehead. 

Her unwillingness was the last thing he'd expected. "You're frightened. Once you're home at Sheffield, you'll feel better." He sighed. "These people have treated you badly. But you can trust me."

How easily they spoke of trust, these English-manake. Star Blanket's green eyes inspected him closely. He was a giant of a man, a head taller than any of the Shawnee warriors in her village. His hair was brown and waving.

His eyes, at least, were the proper color—brown—and full of intelligence. But they showed none of the fierceness that should shine through the windows of the soul. His hands were large and hard.

She searched her mind for memories of A-dam Rourke. The corners of her lips curved upward.

"Will you come with me?" A ray of light, coming through the trapdoor in the ceiling, illuminated her smooth, heart-shaped face. The breath caught in his throat. Once she was washed and dressed in decent clothing, she would be a real beauty.

The ragged gown hung on her, but even the dirty folds could not hide the womanly curves of her high, firm breasts and compact hips. The bare feet that peeked out from under the muddy hem were small and shapely. But it was her eyes that drew him, large and heavy lashed. They glittered in the dark cell like fiery emeralds. Bradford eyes. 

"I will." But I do not promise how far. She lowered her eyes to hide the cunning there. She would not hurt him when she made her escape. But she would take away his horses and perhaps the fine English pistol. 

~

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Defiant Love

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