“How is it you have come to learn of this tribe?” Red Hawk asked Effie, once he recovered enough to speak. He wasn’t certain why her knowledge of his clan surprised him. He should have expected it—after all, his spirit protector had led him to this woman. Yet, hearing another person speak the name of his clan in the present—aloud, and in his company—was jolting.
Sitting with her legs folded in front of her, she had turned to face him. And she was glorious.
With her red hair framing her face and spilling out over her shoulders, she looked as though she were the stuff of legend. She was a small thing, at least in comparison to the women in his tribe, who were generally bigger boned and taller. But this woman was delicately framed.
Dainty brown spots, which he had once heard referred to as freckles, splattered across her nose. Her eyes, which in color resembled those of a doe, were clear, reflecting a sincerity he suspected was a part of her inner being.
At present, those light brown eyes looked anything but calm. She was on guard.
Nevertheless, she answered his question. “I know of the legend because an old anthropologist named Trent Clark once lived amongst the Indians in that area. He was told this story by a very ancient native. Before Mr. Clark’s death, he related the tale and solicited a promise from my father to search for evidence of the tribe. My father has been looking for signs and information of the tribe ever since.”
“Information?” asked Red Hawk. “Was your father looking for anything in particular?”
She sighed, and her glance fell to the ground. Absentmindedly, she ran her hand over the lush grass. But she didn’t answer.
It was then that he knew. Her father had been looking for something specific, and it was probably this that she, herself, was seeking.
He gently said, “What is it your father hoped to find that you must now pursue?”
She shrugged. Without looking at him, she answered softly, “Artifacts.”
“Artifacts? What are artifacts?”
She stared off into the distance, but went on to explain, “Artifacts may be many things—especially something that man made. Bits of pottery, arrowheads, paintings on caves or shaped bones—these are artifacts. A simple rock, made by nature, no matter how old, would not be an artifact.”
Red Hawk nodded. “And what did your father intend to do with these…artifacts? If he found any?”
“Prove that the tribe existed and learn more about them.”
“And did he?”
She started to rise. “Mr. Hawk, I really must go.”
He reached out a hand to detain her. Her eyes grew wide, as though astonished that he might touch her, and she stared straight at him.
His fingertips tingled at the contact. At once, he broke off his hold on her. “Do not leave yet. Perhaps I go too fast. ’Tis only that I think it best I know as much as possible about your circumstance. You have trouble, I think. I wish to help.”
“Help? Truly? I don’t know. It’s really a matter of trust, isn’t it?” she said. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Is the article you hope to find so valuable that you cannot tell me anything of it?”
She set her lips into a frown. “Mr. Hawk, you didn’t answer my question. How do I know I can trust you?”
He sighed. “You do not,” he answered honestly. “You will have to decide that for yourself…or not. As the old, wise ones in my country would say, you must trust to your heart.”
She hunched over, hands on her forehead, as though her thoughts were heavy. At last, she lifted her head. “I can’t do that. Not only my heart, but my mind must be involved in any decisions I make regarding this project. But I’ll tell you what I will do. I will strike a bargain with you.”
“A bargain?”
“A trade. If you’ll tell me why you are so interested in what it is I seek, I will tell you what it is my father and I hope to find. If we are, in fact, trying to find anything.”
Silence.
“And don’t say again that you wish only to protect me.” She raised her chin. “My father warned me long ago about people who have to proclaim their trustworthiness. Many times he said that if such people were really virtuous, why would they announce it hither and wide? A truly honest man doesn’t have to tell others about his integrity. He simply is honorable, and others recognize it.”
Red Hawk grinned at her. “That is good advice, and it was not in my mind to repeat myself.”
“Good. See that you don’t.”
What could he say? He couldn’t very well accept her challenge without cost to him, to his clan, to the Above Ones.
How could he detail his vision? For it was this that had led him to her. To tell another about it would break with tradition and render the vision worthless. Nor could he delineate the history of his life to her. Who would believe him?
After several moments passed, she at last said, “Check.”
“Check?”
“It is a phrase from a game, called chess. When one has his opponent cornered and unable to move, and yet neither one has won the game, the person says check. It is my belief, Mr. Hawk, that we both hold one another in check.”
He nodded. “I understand. You are saying that we neither one trust the other enough to open our hearts.”
“Yes.”
“Haiya, I must have time to think on your words. ’Tis not a small thing you ask of me.”
“Nor is your request of me. How much time do you require?”
“Until tomorrow night. I will give you my answer then.”
“Fair enough,” she agreed. “Tomorrow night, then. Where shall we meet?”
“I will come to your room.”
“My hotel room?”
“Aa.”
“But how? I don’t think the front desk would allow you up the stairs since you are not a guest.”
“I will be there.”
“Which means you know where my room is. How long have you known?”
“Long enough,” he answered.
“I see.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I thank you for your time.”
Again, she made to rise and leave. Again, a simple touch of his fingers on her arm detained her.
“Tell me one last thing,” he said. “That first time we met, you were with your father?”
“Yes.”
“And was your father there to try to discover clues about the Lost Clan?”
“Yes.”
“Did he find anything?”
She frowned. “Let us adjourn this conversation until tomorrow evening, shall we?”
“I am not asking you to tell me what it is you seek. I am only wondering if your father found something in that long-ago time.”
She hesitated, and he watched as a multitude of thoughts were displayed upon her countenance. At some length, she told him, “My father did find something which made him believe the legend is true. And this is the reason I am here. I seek to learn the truth of the legend. This is why I am going back to the area where you and I first met—myself and my colleagues will look for…things in the hope we will find a clue about the existence of the Lost Clan.”
“These things your father found that you are searching for, are they prized much by the white man?”
“They could be. We are being financially supported in our quest by a museum in the East. Most of the things we find will belong to them.”
“But not all? Aa, now I understand.” He nodded.
“Understand what?” She straightened her spine and sat forward. “Do you think I am some fortune hunter? That I am only here to add to my wealth, not to discover the truth?”
“I did not say this to you.”
“Well, let me tell you, Mr. Hawk, I am an archaeologist, like my father and my mother before me. I do not go on these expeditions to find things, only to collect them. Nor am I a fortune seeker, hoping to locate something I might sell to the highest bidder. My interest is in the truth.”
“I did not accuse you of anything.”
“No, but you inferred it.”
“I do not know this word, inferred.”
“It means to imply something—to say something is so without directly stating it.”
With eyes narrowed, he scrutinized her, from the top of her head to the very tip of her chin, as though looking could probe the secret she carried.
To her credit she said nothing, nor did she flinch under the heat of his gaze.
At last, he spoke. “And so your father’s work is continued through you?”
“Yes.” Her chin lifted into the air.
Again, he stated nothing, but he was aware that his staring at her was hardly comforting. He finally said, “Soka’pii, it is good.”
“I’m so glad you approve,” she stated, though the tone of her voice insinuated the exact opposite.
He wanted to laugh at her, for she looked so stubborn and yet so forlorn. Indeed, at this moment, he thought she resembled a rabbit, staring up into the eyes of a wolf. Unfortunately for him, he was that wolf.
“You are frightened,” he told her, “especially after what happened a few nights ago. And because you do not understand why I am here, asking you these questions, you fear for your safety, even with me. I only hope you will give me a chance to prove myself to you.”
“I hope so too.” She rose to her knees. “Now if you will excuse me, I must get back to my hotel. The others will wonder about me.”
When she made to get to her feet, he did not stop her. Instead, he gave her one quick nod.
“Thank you for combing my hair.” She smiled as if to ease the tension between them. “I could all too easily become accustomed to such things.”
That smile was his undoing. Was she some sort of enchantress that she could ensnare him with an action so simple?
He wanted to get lost in that grin, to bask in it. Moreover he longed to spend more time with her, wanted the rest of the world to go away when he was with her. He swallowed hard. “You are most beautiful when you smile.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but even she seemed at a loss for words, and her lips, now parted, looked inviting.
He cleared his throat, started to say something, but had second thoughts.
She mumbled, “I never forgot you.”
“Nor I, you. I waited for you that day.”
“And I came back to that pool day after day,” she confessed. “You never returned.”
“I was gone from that country by then.”
“Gone? But I thought you lived there.”
What could he say that she might understand? Certainly not the truth.
Not knowing what to tell her and what not to, he simply gazed at her. At length, however, he uttered, “I, too, have my secrets. Perhaps tomorrow evening we will unburden ourselves.”
“Perhaps.”
“I would touch you, if you would let me.”
Shyly, her gaze locked on to his. “Would you? How?”
What was she suggesting? He closed his eyes briefly. Swamped by a craving to know every little thing about her, he tried to speak. Nothing happened.
For lack of knowing what else to do, he brought his hand to her cheek, smoothing the backs of his fingers down toward her neck. With the action, desire, hot and urgent, raced through him. Her skin was soft, delicate, fragrant with femininity. He swallowed. “It’s not enough.”
“What?”
“I thought a simple touch would be plenty—that it would last me…several days. I was wrong. It’s not enough.”
She shut her eyes then slowly drew in toward him. Her lips parted, she swallowed and she whispered, “Then how else would you touch me? That is, if you could?”
Did she, too, want more? The thought sent him quietly out of his mind. “Perhaps I might stroke you like this.” Bending, he brought his cheek to hers. “Or maybe like this,” he mumbled, as he wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. Haiya, he needed to feel her flesh against his.
But it was not to be. It could never be.
He should let her go. He would let her go.
And then from out of nowhere came her words. “Do you kiss?”
“Of course I kiss.” Hardly able to believe he was having this conversation with her, he tried to gulp down the lump that had formed in his throat. “Are you going to let me kiss you?”
She murmured, “You might try it and see.”
He lowered his head; she lifted hers. Gently, his lips sought the silky texture of her mouth, and he thought that pleasure might surely burst within him.
Everything about her was right—the way her lips fit against his, the clean taste of her breath. He hungered to know more of her.
She groaned. The sound excited him, and in reaction to it, he thought he might explode.
He nipped at her lips once, again, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, teasing her, testing her. How much of this could he take before he demanded more?
She leaned in toward him, and he caught her, pulling her closer yet. But he didn’t continue his foray of her. Instead he brought her body in as near as he possibly could—given the fullness of her swimming attire—and hugged her. “I have dreamed of doing this from the moment I first saw you.”
It was her turn to gasp, as though she couldn’t quite breathe in sufficient oxygen. “Now or back then?”
“Both. But neither has been a good time for us. Back then we were too young, and now we have secrets from one another.”
He set her away from him, but he couldn’t let her go completely, and the backs of his fingers came up to smooth over her cheek. Downward he caressed, toward her neck.
He knew what he should do, what he should suggest. He only hoped he had the courage to do it, to say it.
Do not be lured by matters of the flesh.
White Claw’s words echoed in Red Hawk’s mind. But was this a simple matter of the flesh? Red Hawk argued with himself. Or was this more?
Deep within himself, he knew the answer, as surely as he knew his heart. After a few moments, he gulped down air and summoned his nerve. “We should marry.”