Chapter Seventeen

They knew not care, nor hunger, nor want of any kind.

—James Willard Schultz, My Life as an Indian

 

Victorian-raised Kali Wallace had never gone skinny-dipping in her life. Perhaps that’s why it felt so good. It was scandalous, to be sure, but oh, so lovely.

The water was brisk, cold, and at any other time might have sent her hurrying back to shelter, shivering. But not this morning.

This morning it felt soothing and refreshing—just right.

After Soaring Eagle had delivered his coup de théâtre, Kali had plunged herself into the river with all possible speed. The water had been a shock at first, but then as she had swum from one side of the river to the other and back again, her body had adjusted to the temperature.

Had he really called her his wife?

Kali wrinkled her brow. Did Soaring Eagle truly believe their dream had been a reality? It seemed an impossible concept, at best.

Their dream? Now he had her doing it too.

Kali knew that many of her contemporaries would laugh at the mere concept of their conversation, were she to disclose it. Spirits performing a marriage ceremony? She would be called foolish, no doubt. And perhaps she was.

But out here in Indian country, the idea didn’t seem quite as farfetched. It was as though the land itself were cloaked in mystery; a place where anything could happen; a country where the stuff of one’s secret longings came true.

Kali trembled, but it wasn’t from the temperature of the water. Things she didn’t understand were occurring here. Things were changing. She was changing.

And she wondered, was she awakening as though from a deep sleep? It seemed odd because if Kali were to let herself go—if only for a moment—she felt inclined toward believing the notion herself.

In truth, the dream had been that real.

Or was she losing her sanity? Should she try to remember that none of this had happened when they had been awake? That the most likely story was that Soaring Eagle had seduced her, was merely playing a trick on her?

She pulled a face. Why didn’t that thought make her feel better?

Well, what did it matter? The truth was, she was no one’s fool, and she was no one’s wife, no matter what she—and apparently he, too—chose to believe.

Yet, a part of her protested, she couldn’t deny that it was an unusual thing to have happen…for them both to have shared such similar illusions at the same time…and to have awakened naked…and together.

But enough. It was time she accomplished what she had set out to do. With a firm but gentle stroke, as though to shake off her thoughts, she glided back to the camp side of the river, drifting slowly forward until she was able to set her feet on the pebbly bottom. Reaching down and grabbing a handful of sand, she proceeded to scrub her arms, her legs, as well as a few choice places where she hoped to erase the traces of her departure from innocence.

It was then that it occurred to her. Soaring Eagle hadn’t returned, and she had no clothes, no towel, nothing with which to cover herself.

Had he done this intentionally? Was this his idea of a joke?

She stood for a moment, silently accusing him of the worst and berating herself, all the while her temper beginning to boil. Oh, what she’d do to him as soon as he returned.

Suddenly she squealed. Something caught her by the heel, plunging her headfirst into the water. She came up coughing. But whether she was scared or just plain mad, she wasn’t sure.

She spun around, ready to dive underwater and face her attacker, only to be confronted by Soaring Eagle, who had surfaced and was grinning at her like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh.” She splashed him. He returned the gesture. “Stop that.”

“All right,” he said, still grinning, still splashing, “if you will.”

“Me?” she asked, returning the fight full-fledged. “You started this. Oh, quit it!”

He had submerged to catch her around her legs. He tickled her feet.

She gasped, suppressing a giggle. “Soaring Eagle,” she said, determined that she would not laugh. “This is outrageous. I am without clothing.”

He surfaced once more, beaming at her. “As I am too.”

That was a bit more information than she required at the moment.

She gave him a small splash, one that wouldn’t do too much damage. She said, “Go away and let me bathe in peace.”

“Oh”—he feigned a look of great hurt—“and here I was, hoping to wash your back for you.”

“You were? You mean like a back rub?” Goodness, but the suggestion held great appeal…much too much appeal. Courage, she cautioned herself. She was supposed to be angry with him. She said, “I couldn’t, really.”

“You are sure?”

She winced. He must have heard the wistfulness in her tone. “Just my back?” she asked. “You won’t seduce me again if I give you permission, will you?”

He smiled. “I will not seduce you, even if you attempt to lure me to do so.”

“I did not—”

He held up his hand. “We have already had this argument.”

She blew out her breath. “Fine,” she said once, then again, more harshly, “fine.”

Nevertheless, she turned around, holding her arms over her breasts, even though the water hid them from his view, or at least she hoped so. From over her shoulder, she said, “Very well. You may rub my back.”

She knew the words sounded more like command than capitulation, but if she were lucky, he wouldn’t take offense.

And apparently he hadn’t. He had picked up some sand and was proceeding to rub her with it. It felt marvelous, absolutely wonderful, and she sighed.

After a moment, she asked, “Why are you here? I thought you were going to see if you could get someone to help me with my clothes.”

“It is being done,” he said, his voice a little too close for her comfort.

“Oh.” While staying within arm’s reach, she took a couple of steps forward, saying, “Didn’t you say you were going to set up my tripod?”

“Also done.” He must have moved with her, for again he sounded too close.

She paced forward another few steps. “You left me without a towel and without any clothes too.” She pouted. “What if I had wanted to get out of the water while you were away? I would have been forced to sit on the bank, naked and cold.”

“It was unthinking of me,” he said, his hands coming up to rub her neck. She closed her eyes in acquiescence. “Please accept my apology. I have brought some cloth that you may use for a towel. It is there on the bank. There is also a change of clothes for you.”

“Really?”

“Aa.”

This time his voice was right by her ear, so near that she could feel his warm breath upon her, and she tread forward once more. Only this time, there was nothing beneath her footfalls. She plopped into the water…and came up spluttering.

He was laughing.

“You…you knew that was there, didn’t you?”

He leaned forward and leered. “I have bathed here often.”

“Oh, you!” she uttered, splashing him with a full frontal assault. “You should not be here. It is indecent.”

“Is it? And yet in my experience, a man and wife sometimes bathe together.”

“They do not. And besides, we are not married and well you know it.”

“I know nothing of the kind. I think that we are. And married couples often do.”

“They do not. Now listen, Soaring Eagle, it was a dream. An illusion. Nothing more.”

“Kali,” he said, shaking his head, “my sweet, dear Kali, we were married by the spirits. There is no other way for them to unite us easily—often they must use some intermediate force. But this time, they chose to do it themselves. I do not know why. But I swear to you that we are tied together in marriage. Indeed, there is no more binding tie.”

“I don’t believe you, and I refuse to accept it.” She had been treading water, but now she swam away from him. “Was there a church?” she yelled back to him. “Was there a minister? Because if they were present, I surely missed them.”

“There is no better church than the earth below your feet and the sky above you.” He gestured toward the heavens. “And as for a minister, I think there is none better than the one that we had, for he was the image of Sun.”

He swam toward her.

The image of Sun? How had he known that? Unless… Was it possible that they had not only dreamed of the same occurrence, but had populated the illusion with the same people?

Impossible. She said, “No, I refuse to believe any of this…you,” and she swam even farther away from him in the fastest breast stroke she could manage. But she called over her shoulder, “I reserve the right to decide upon these things myself. And you, sir, are swimming in the women’s quarters of the river.”

“Oh, am I? According to whom?”

“According to me.” She turned suddenly and added a splash for good measure. And then, heaven help her, she grinned.

And he reacted as though she had invited him to a picnic—she being the main feast. He lunged at her, catching her easily around the waist while both of them tread water.

Their legs tangled; she struggled to get free until, as if by accident, their bodies touched full-length. At the contact, liquid fire swept through her, making her wonder if the inner workings of her body might be volcanic in origin. Rocking back, she tried to obtain some distance, but only managed to accomplish the exact opposite. He held her to him, and smoldering sensation erupted through her, so much so it came as a surprise not to see the water around them boiling.

She shut her eyes as a realization took hold of her. The tempest that had started with this man’s kiss earlier in the day—which should have ended in the dream and a most physical romp—had not abated. Not in the least. In truth, it was worse now than it had been before. At present, whether she admitted it or not, she knew what pleasure this man held for her. For, illusion or not, in her own mind, she had experienced it. And she hungered for it. Again…

How was she supposed to cope with this? Nothing in her life had prepared her for any of this.

And so perhaps more in self-defense than anything else, she said the only thing she could think of to say: the truth. “Soaring Eagle,” she began, “you confuse me. I don’t know whether to hate you for last night, or surrender and make love to you for how you make me feel. What’s wrong with me?”

She had stopped treading water to lean against him, letting him do all the work. He didn’t object, merely wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling her chest in toward him.

At her words, he nodded, his lips seeking out the pulse at her neck. “I must confess that you confuse me also.”

The touch of his lips wreaked havoc within her. But she couldn’t very well tell him that, not when she herself was uncertain of what all this meant. And so she said, “It’s wrong to be here with you like this, isn’t it? It must be. All my life, it is what I have been led to believe A godly woman is not supposed to feel such…passion…for anything. And yet…”

“That is silly,” he said, still easily treading water.

“What is?”

“A good woman is not supposed to feel passion? Who told you this?”

“My nannies. My governess.”

He sneered. “Do you not feel passionate about your work? Have you not been willing to give up most anything to have that work? Is that wrong?”

“It is true that many women who do this are frowned upon.”

“How foolish,” he jeered. “What sort of society is it that does not educate their women into the ways of men; that does not acknowledge that a woman experiences the same emotions as a man? It is not as though a woman is a different species, separate from man.”

She knew that. All her friends and associates knew that. He simply didn’t understand the finer points of the Anglo-American culture. That was all. She said, “Aren’t you being a little hypocritical? Indeed, it’s a little like the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a well-known fact that the Blackfeet are a patriarchal society, in that the male is dominant in the government and the family. And if that is true…”

He slanted her a frown. “While it is correct that my people trace their ancestry on their father’s side of the family, that doesn’t mean that one should get silly about it. I know my mother would be shocked to learn that, simply because she is female, she is not supposed to feel emotion.” Gathering Kali into his arms, he set out for the shoreline with a firm stroke, saying, “Come, let’s talk about this some more.”

She glided along with him, in no particular hurry to disentangle herself. She said, “But your men look down on a woman, don’t they? Treating her as though she might be inferior? A mere slave?”

“Who has told you this?”

“Well, I…” Kali thought for a moment. Where had she gleaned that particular information? “I guess these are things I have read from people who were here and lived amongst the Indians.”

He snorted. “Then what you read is what that person himself thought, for it is not true of my people. It is a fact that a woman has a different physical makeup than a man and that she might emphasize different aspects of camp life because of it. But that doesn’t mean she is not the same sort of being as a man, or that her work is less important or less valuable than a man’s. It is simply different.”

“But I thought—”

“Without woman, our tribe would cease to exist. Without a woman’s touch, a man would have little reason to go on living. The Blackfeet have a saying, ‘Mat’-ah-kwi tam-ap-i-ni-po-ke-mi-o-sin. Not found is happiness without woman’.”

“Oh.”

“She is the heart of our tribe and she is our voice. Her arguments are always listened to by he who would be wise.”

“Oh, I see. I didn’t know that. I guess there has been a great deal that I didn’t know about you, about your people.”

“And now you do. Perhaps you can put this into your books.”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I can. I will.”

“Know that I do not tell you these things so that I might convince you to make love with me again, or to influence you to feel passionate with me,” he added as they floated together, back toward the bank. “I tell you this because I believe these things are true.” Reaching a shallower section of the river, he stood, but kept her legs anchored around his waist. Taking her hand in his, he placed her palm over his chest. “Do you feel the beat of my heart?”

She nodded.

“Know that in my heart, I desire you. Not because you are beautiful; not because you are wise; not because you are my wife. But because you are who you are. Know that a man feels the matters of his heart deeply. And it is a wise man who follows these longings. For the mind, like the body, can be a weak thing. But never the heart.”

The heart? She bit her bottom lip, as though the action might hold back a floodgate of emotion. For her own heart suddenly ached. She drew back from him, if only slightly, in order to gaze upon his countenance. “Then you trust your basic urges?”

“I trust my heart, not urges. There is a difference.”

She said, “Is there? I have been taught, and I do believe, that one should use one’s head, and think through matters of the heart. After all, what if one’s deepest longing is bad? What if one’s passions lead him to commit crimes against others? There are, after all, evil things that happen in the world—usually because someone desires something another might have.”

He shook his head. “Then that person has not been taught the difference between greed and an urge to succeed. You are confusing the two. They are only similar in that they can both be passionate. But they are not the same thing.”

Not the same thing?

“A man who is ambitious only goes bad when he does not realize that there is also life around him. Greed takes without giving, without allowing another to live also. But a tribe would be nothing if not for men of ambition. It is they who care for others, who ensure there is food for all, who hunt for all, ensure happiness for all. And so a woman, too, might be ambitious and might rise above those around her. But not by taking does she live well. Only by giving. So my people believe.”

Kali paused. It wasn’t what he’d said. It wasn’t whether or not the things he spoke of were true or false. The fact was, what he had related to her, and the way in which he’d spoken, were beautiful.

She uttered, “I didn’t know.” Raising her hand, she ran her fingertips gently over his cheek, delighting in the smooth texture of his skin beneath her touch. She continued, “I didn’t realize there was such compassion in your culture. The West, the Indian tribes, are not at all as I had expected. In truth, I had been led to believe that Indians were fierce and cruel, with little heart or human decency.”

“You have thought this?” He sounded incredulous. “You, who once told me that a person should not generalize about an entire people?”

“True. How true.”

“Perhaps, in my own defense, I might add that an Indian might show cruelty, as any man might.” He caught hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing first her fingers, then her palm. “If you were fighting for your own, your family’s and your tribe’s way of life, so you, too, might be fierce.”

“Yes,” she said. “I might be.”

“Humph,” was all he said, his attention clearly not on their conversation but upon her, as his lips made a path to the pulse at her wrist.

“Where did you learn these things?” she asked, melting against him. “For you speak like a man who has lived to old age. And yet you are quite young.”

“My father is a very wise man.”

“Ah, yes, your father.” The man she had seen in vision. “Still,” she continued, “I can’t quite abolish the idea that a woman of quality should not be sensual, nor should she experience the more erotic side of life.”

“I would agree with you somewhat, for a woman’s reputation is easier to blemish than a man’s. But her reputation is not in danger when she is with her husband. After all, the pleasure between a man and a woman is not a bad thing.”

“Yet I have been led to believe that a marriage bed is not supposed to be a source of pleasure…not for a woman of quality.”

“Nonsense. Are you telling me that only a man is supposed to have fun?”

She laughed, the reaction one of pure instinct.

“No, sweet Kali. What we are doing is right. From the top of my head to the tip of my feet, I feel it is right. We are meant for each other.”

Meant for each other. Ah, she liked the sound of that.

“And this is, after all, our wedding night,” he said, bringing her hand to his chest and wrapping his fingers through her hair until he could position her face up close to his. “And, my dearest wife, you are my love.”

His love. She breathed out deeply.

“Can you say it back to me?”

“What?”

“Do you love me, too?”

A simple question; one that should have a simple answer. Yet it was far from elementary. At the suggestion, a thousand pulsating explosions swept through her. Did she love him?

Oddly, until this moment, the thought had not occurred to her, not in its entirety. Yes, she thought him handsome, wonderful and intriguing. But love?

“I… I…” She didn’t know what to say. “I barely know you.”

“And yet you know me well enough to stand here before me like this.”

“Yes, I do. I am, although perhaps I shouldn’t be,” she said, pressing her hands to his chest, trying to shove against him. The only thing she accomplished, however, was being pulled in closer. Continuing in the same vein, she said, “But I am only here with you like this because you have tricked me into going swimming with you.”

“Is that the only reason, my wife?”

Of course it wasn’t the only reason, but he assumed too much, asked too much of her too soon, and her barriers were still firmly in place.

“Stop calling me your wife,” she reprimanded softly, even though she had curled herself into his arms. “You know I don’t know whether to believe the things you tell me or not. A part of me wants to hold on to everything you’ve said and keep it dear to my heart. But another, more logical part begs me to remember that our dreams were a coincidence. That this was all it was. A mere coincidence.”

He shrugged. “Believe what you will. You are my wife.” As he held her there, he spread kisses along the length of her neck. “Do you feel it? There is something that binds us together, something spiritual.”

“Spiritual? Binding? What do you mean?”

“When we are like this, it is as though your presence adds to mine, gives me more. It is hard for me to tell you in words, for it is a feeling of space. It is even a little difficult for me to understand. For my wife, you do not take away from that which I am. I become more.”

Kali gulped. She might have said something, too, but she couldn’t. Her breath had caught; her throat constricted.

“And, my sweet, sweet Kali, I want you as a husband wants the one he loves. I promise you that I will give you all there is of me to give, if you will only take what I am offering.”

“I—I…” What did a woman say to a man like this? What did she say and still retain her own sense of identity? For she longed to take him in her arms, hold him, comfort him, unite with him.

She inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes. “I—I…”

Again she couldn’t voice a single word. It was impossible; the moment was too exquisite, too precious, too rare. And she forgot to think.

She breathed out slowly. What was happening to her? Where were all her well-thought-out plans? Because right now, there was nothing in her world, nothing in the whole scheme of things more important than Soaring Eagle, his love for her, her love for him.

Ah, yes, there it was at last. She loved him. Why had it taken her so long to realize it?

She opened her mouth as though she might voice the idea aloud, but the words never left her lips. Bending, he kissed her.

That was all it took to have Kali responding in kind, and as she collapsed against him, she returned his kiss wholeheartedly. His breath filled her lungs, and his being merged with hers.

Was he right? Were they attuned spiritually? It was true that when he was near, she felt as though she somehow gained space. Not that she became him. She was still very much herself…but more so.

She broke off the kiss to gaze up at him. Should she tell him what was in her heart?

His face was so close, so dear, so handsome, and as she stared at him, she knew that she must memorize this instant and keep it with her. Always would she cling to his image, to the tenderness in his eyes, the compassion that was expressed in his every facial feature. Gulping, she whispered, “You are probably the most beautiful man I have ever known.”

He grinned. “I am glad that you think so.”

“Soaring Eagle,” she murmured, her voice low. “I…I think that I do lo-love you. It must be love, for I feel that you are part of me. You see, what you were saying…about being more yourself? I, too, feel this. It is as though what is happening to you happens to me also. Does that sound silly?”

“Saa, no,” he said. “It reminds me of something my father might say…very wise.”

“Oh, Soaring Eagle, what are we to do?”

“Live our lives together.”

She sucked in her breath. “Oh, that I could.”

“You can.”

“No, no, I can’t. Just because I have come to understand my feelings for you doesn’t mean that I have changed my mind about us, about marriage. I might know now that I love you, it’s true, but it changes very little. Our lives are too different, our goals too individually diverse.” And I’m still not sure you won’t hurt me terribly, she said to herself.

“And yet,” he said, “you are my wife. In our dreams you took me easily and gladly.”

“Many things come true in dreams.” Kali’s smile was a melancholy affair as she added, “Tell me, how willing would you be to travel the world with me?”

Looking at him, Kali had her answer without a word being spoken. A sadness had come over Soaring Eagle’s features that was so real, so effusive, it was almost tangible. Nonetheless, he said, “It would be a difficult thing for me to do. My people need me here.”

Kali looked away. “And I would not want to take you from here, from your tribe, your people. It would be as to take away a part of you. I couldn’t do that.”

“Then stay here. You and your father could write more than one book about our people.”

Our people? Had he realized what he’d said?

But Kali shook her head, managing to affect a bland smile. “Do you see? Already you try to persuade me.”

He didn’t respond to this, though his lips thinned perceptibly.

“No,” she continued, “it’s a grand idea, a marriage between us, but that’s all that it is, I think. I’m afraid, Soaring Eagle, that it would be best if we kept our wits about us and realized that our time together is simply that—a splendid intrigue—memories for our old age.”

“Memories?” He brought his cheek next to hers, where he proceeded to nuzzle it against her own. He said, “I am here with you now.”

“Yes, and we should capture this moment for what it is. I will always remember you.”

“I will have no need of memories, my wife, for always will a part of me be with you.”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled her to him and, standing chest to chest, his fingers rummaged through her hair as he said, “When you write your book, there I will be with you. When you read it, when you tell your stories, when you remember this time, there I will be.”

Kali sucked in her breath as shivers of delight, exquisite and delicate, raced up and down her spine. This man, the things he said, the way he said them, were entirely beyond her experience. And his words, him, the beauty of the moment seized hold of her, capturing her as surely as if he’d thrown a net over her head. And the odd thing was, she understood exactly what he meant.

He said, “I think, my sweet Kali, that once you have known love, you will be unhappy without it. Think well on this, my love.”

“Yes, but—”

“I ask you to consider what kind of person would merely exist, when he could live? While our path, yours and mine, might be full of obstacles, would it not be more difficult to try to live without one another?”

She had no argument for that, at least not now. In truth, at present she was finding it more and more difficult to think clearly, particularly when he was holding her so close.

She sighed, realizing what she must do. She said, “Let’s not argue this any further. Though you state your cause well, my mind is set against marriage, and I must remain firm to what I once knew was right. But something must be resolved between us, if only because of the way in which we awakened, the way we are standing here now. I only hope the good Lord will forgive me for what I am about to suggest to you.”

“You have a suggestion?”

“I do.” She gave him a brief nod. “And it is not easily given, but as I see no other solution, it is all I can offer.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

She took a deep breath for courage, and jumped in with both feet. “An affair.”

“An affair?”

“Yes; let us make a pact that we have had only an affair, and that anything else that might happen between us would be only a short liaison. Love without marriage. Love without the ties that would restrict us in accomplishing our dreams. It would leave us both free. No ties, no bonds, no inhibitions.”

He frowned. “I know what an affair is,” he said. “But why? Why would you want this when you could have everything?”

She shrugged.

And he said, “It’s not as though either one of us would keep the other from achieving their heart’s dream.”

Kali shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t certain why this was important to her, but it was. Yes, it was outrageous. Yes, it was most likely shameful. Yet deep within her was the need to remain separate from this man…for reasons she had no way of grasping. Besides, she was, after all, a nineties woman, a woman who was only beginning to test the strength of her wingspan.

She said, “I’m not certain you speak the truth. A man will usually expect a woman to conform, and you are, after all, from a…”

“…patriarchal society,” he finished for her. He scowled, drawing his brows together in an utterly confounded expression. “There is a problem.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t see how I can agree to that since I have vowed—if only to myself—that I will not take you to my sleeping robes without marriage. You must realize that this thing you suggest could ruin your reputation.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Yes, perhaps it could. Yet I know of no other way to settle this. The deed has already been done…the seeds sown, and since we seem to be in a rather compromising situation, even at present…”

“And you think an affair will pacify our…needs?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do.”

He stared down into her eyes with a look that appeared as though he might, with intention alone, likely change her mind. But it was simply not to be, and after a few moments, he said, “I think you might be too innocent in your evaluation of our situation. For once a person has known the pleasures of the flesh, they are not so easily forgotten. But come with me.” He settled her into the crook of his arm and plunged back through the water to the shoreline, where he gently deposited her upon its grassy banks.

She shivered. Her body had adjusted to the temperature of the water, and the combination of wind and the cool morning air seemed frigid.

But he was there beside her, rubbing her arms, her legs, coming close, sharing his body heat. And leaning over her, he said, “Though I desire you, I do not think this is a good idea. First, let me say again that we are married.”

“We are not.”

He held up a hand. “Secondly, there is my vow to consider. I cannot easily take that back.”

“Fine,” she said huffily. “Then you can believe we are married. Will that help ease your mind?”

“Saa, it will not, for you do not believe it, too.”

She sighed. “Do you think this is easy for me? I’m going against a great deal that I hold sacred by even suggesting this. And perhaps I will have to atone for my sins at a later date. But I think, if you will examine the facts calmly, without any added emotional involvement, you will see that there is no other way for us. Besides, as I said before, the deed has already been done. And if we have only an affair, we can keep it secret. There will be no trouble. You won’t have to tell your people, I won’t have to tell mine. It’s a good solution.”

“I disagree.”

“Fine.” She rolled away from him, onto her side. “Soaring Eagle, where are those towels? And the change of clothes?”

“What are you doing?” He touched her shoulder, his voice close to her ear. “You would walk away from me?”

“Yes,” she said, leaning out of his reach. “I must. My future happiness, my father’s and, I think, yours too depends on it.”

Soaring Eagle was silent for several minutes, until at last he said, “All right, we will have this affair.”

She fidgeted. “I don’t know. It seemed a good idea at the time I suggested it. I’m not certain now. Besides, I don’t want you to go against your principles.”

“Ah yes,” he said. “That would be a terrible thing.”

She glanced at him obliquely. Had she detected a note of sarcasm?

He continued, “But I assure you, my principles are firmly intact. Are yours?”

Kali moaned as the double edge of that question hit her square in her center. Nonetheless, she responded with a simple, “Perfectly. Why do you ask?”