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ALTHOUGH EXHAUSTED from her hard labor, anxiety over what would happen next kept Catherine from drifting off to sleep, that and the squirming little bundle she held in her arms. Gazing down into her baby’s sweet face, she knew the time had come to make the most important decision she had ever made in her life. Without a doubt, she loved Phyrahawque and now his precious child with all her heart. And she knew he loved her, and that he’d welcome her and their baby with opened arms. Still, she wasn’t entirely certain she had the courage to leave her own people and go to live amongst the Indians.
Perhaps, said a small voice in her head, Phyrahawque would not come.
No, she thrust the disturbing thought aside. He would come. He was the kindest, most honorable man she had ever known. Their time together and the many long talks they’d shared had given her a deep insight into his character. He was a wise man and an extremely capable leader. His people looked up to him, and every last one respected him. Unlike Noah, Phyrahawque was not a cruel man. With Phyrahawque as her mate, she knew she could have the peaceful life she had always wanted. Many times Phyrahawque had told her their spirits were in harmony, which greatly pleased her. She recalled something else he had said to her, that passion taken together with joy would always give one the courage to take action.
It was the answer she needed. A peaceful life was the dream that had brought her to the New World. She had found her way here, but she had not found the sort of life she wanted in Jamestown because she’d mistakenly believed it would be possible with Noah. She had deceived herself by clinging to the memory of the love she once felt for a fair-haired boy she used to play with in a grassy meadow.
Though she had managed to find a peaceful place in the midst of the tangled woods here, she realized now she must also find a peaceful place to dwell within the tangle of human emotions. The passion for the life she truly wanted was still alive within her. And her love for Phyrahawque, and now for their son, gave her the greatest joy she’d ever thought possible. Her passion and the joy she derived from her love for them would indeed give her the courage she needed to leave her people and go to live with her beloved amongst the Indians.
In addition, she realized now that more than anything she must protect her son. It occurred to her that she had no idea what the whites would do when it became known she had lain with an Indian; it was possible they would kill her child! She could never risk that! In order to protect him and ensure his future wellbeing, she truly had no choice but to be with Phyrahawque. Even if for some reason Phyrahawque rejected her, Lanneika never would. Her child would always be a grandson of the mighty emperor Powhatan and, among the Indians, considered royal. To grow up with his own people he would never have to face the prejudice and ridicule Pamoac and Tonkee did when they first came to her school. Catherine, herself, could teach him, as well as all the other children in Phyrahawque’s tribe . . . in her tribe. And she need have no fear that Noah would ever find her. Phyrahawque and his tribe had eluded all the traders’ efforts to find them. With Phyrahawque, she and their son would be safe forever.
It was not as if she would never see Adam and Abigail, or Nancy and her babies, again. She would do as Mary did, leave her Indian family from time to time to visit with her English kin. One day, if Phyrahawque wished it, she would proudly present him to Adam. She and Phyrahawque and their son would be a happy, loving family. Snuggling her precious child closer to her, she smiled into the pitch-black eyes gazing curiously up into hers.
Enthralled with this precious little person, Catherine carefully studied one miniature feature after another. His smooth, satin skin was indeed a beautiful shade of mocha. His eyes were almond-shaped and as dark as a moonless night. His little nose and mouth were perfect, as were his ears and the tiny fingers and thumb on each hand. Most telling of his parentage was that his perfectly shaped head was covered in thick, straight black hair. To Catherine’s touch, it felt as soft as silk. Just like his father’s.
She lay quietly studying her newborn infant for what seemed like a long while. Then, hearing the front door open and the heavy footfalls of her husband headed across the common room toward the bedchamber, her heart lurched with fear. Terror seized her as she pulled the baby’s blanket down over his head.
The door to her chamber creaked opened and Noah stepped inside. His blue eyes were curious as long strides carried him to her bedside.
She raised an apprehensive gaze to meet his.
“A boy?” he asked, his tone hopeful.
She nodded tightly, a small smile on her lips.
As Noah reached one hand toward the swaddled babe, Catherine inhaled a sharp breath and drew the child closer.
Noah’s brows pulled together. “Am I not allowed to see?”
“O-Of course.” Slowly, carefully, she peeled the blanket away from the baby’s face, clearly revealing the color of his skin and hair.
Noah’s eyes widened with horror. “You lying, whoring bitch!” His upper lip curled with revulsion. “I did not father that!”
“Noah, please!”
He’d already flown from the room, leaving the bedchamber door wide open in his wake.
“I’ll kill that savage!”
She heard him rifling through his things in the common room in search of his musket.
“I’ve been humiliated at every turn today!”
As he tore through the house, she heard things tumbling helter-skelter.
“What have you done with my musket?” he shouted. And a second later: “Where’s my sword?”
She heard him thunder up the steps of the ladder to the loft, then the sounds of crates and barrels being knocked about.
Dear God, she prayed, please do not let him find the musket!
In minutes, she heard him race back down the stairs again. Then, suddenly, as the front door of the house flew open, a gust of cold air swept into the room.
“You bastard!” Noah shouted.
At once, the scuffling sounds of two men fighting in the other room reached Catherine’s ears. Grunts and thuds punctuated the brawl as first one, then the other fell, then sprang up to lunge again at the other. Catherine held her breath, hoping against hope that Noah had not found his musket.
Her heart froze when she heard the one sound she’d feared most, the explosion of gunfire. She next heard what sounded like a chair splintering and one final thud. Then everything fell silent. Catherine lifted her head, her face ashen with fear. What had happened?
She held her breath, then seconds later, let it out when Phyrahawque stepped to her doorway, carrying in his arms a plush white bearskin pelt.
“I heard a shot!”
“I no shoot him.” Phyrahawque moved toward her, the love shining from his black eyes as soft as a caress.
“You fired the shot?”
He nodded assent. “I take fire-stick from him, so he no shoot me.” He stood gazing down upon her and the newborn infant in her arms. “Boy?”
She nodded, and he smiled, his white teeth a striking contrast to his dark skin.
“I take you and boy home.”
Tears of joy streamed down Catherine’s cheeks, flushed with love and relief as her outstretched arms reached for her beloved. “Thank God you came.”
Phyrahawque bent to tuck the warm bearskin rug about her and the baby; then scooped them both up into his arms. As he whisked them through the house, Catherine caught sight of Noah sprawled on the floor in a far corner.
“Is he . . . dead?”
“He sleep.” Phyrahawque’s black eyes directed hers toward the gaping hole in the roof.
“Oh, my!”
“If rain come tonight, he drown.”
A nervous laugh escaped Catherine as she tightened one arm about the tall Indian’s neck, her other clasping their sweet child to her breast. Phyrahawque’s arms tightened about her, making her feel safe and protected.
Outdoors, he gently laid her onto the warm bed of soft skins he’d prepared on the sturdy travois trailing behind his huge white stallion. He settled the plush bearskin rug around them, then expertly secured the load with thick leather straps.
The full moon overhead lit up the trees with a silvery glow as Phyrahawque’s steed flew through the forest carrying his flame-haired woman and their newborn baby home.
Crisp cold air ruffled Catherine’s hair as the sturdy travois skimmed over the forest floor. She could not help wondering what would have been the outcome if she had instead given birth to a pink-skinned, russet-haired babe. But even with Phyrahawque, she could have a flame-haired child one day, a little girl, perhaps. Anything was possible.
For now, she was truly on her way to a New World and the new life she had always dreamed of, one filled not with lies and deception, but with peace, harmony and love, which is exactly what she had come to the New World to find.
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