Warrior Moon Read online

  She glared at him as he straightened up and stood over her. Then he bent down and picked her up, easing her onto the sorrel. She raised her chin, staring ahead, knowing that she would have to watch for a chance to escape. She decided to forget her anger and try to plan logically.

  Muaahap mounted and Lone Wolf lifted White Bird in front of her. He swung into the saddle as if he had never been injured, and they moved off. Vanessa looked at the sun, now on her left, and knew they were going due north. She glanced over her shoulder. Lone Wolf held the reins to the sorrel, and Muaahap and White Bird brought up the rear.

  Vanessa’s anger smoldered as she rode, and she began to devise ways to escape, determining what she should try to take. Her pistol was in his saddlebag and would be impossible to get. Her portmanteau, however, filled with the gold so essential to her mission, was loaded on a packhorse. She needed the gold for their stagecoach tickets to California.

  Phoebe planned to bring some money; but she had saved only a small amount through the years, and it would not be enough to get them to California. Vanessa stared at Lone Wolf’s back. It would be difficult to get away from him, but she would bide her time until the moment when he let down his guard.

  And now she would have to escape Muaahap’s watchful eyes as well. Since the old woman agreed with him, she would let him know if Vanessa tried to get away.

  When they stopped for the night, he lifted her down from the horse, his hands lingering on her waist. He took her wrists in his hand. “I’ll free you and you may stay free much of the time as long as you don’t try to escape. The moment you try to get away, then I’ll keep you tied all the time.”

  “You’ll never know how much you’re hurting me.”

  “Then you are too softhearted and too impractical.”

  Anger filled her again, and she stared down at him coldly. “Untie me. I won’t run,” she lied. She would have only one good chance at freedom, and she had to be very sure before she took it.

  His large fingers loosened the rawhide and pulled it free. He massaged her wrists where the cord had dug into them. “Come here, Vanessa,” he said, holding her hand and leading her to his horse. He removed a leather pouch from his saddlebag. She had seen many such pouches in the Comanche camp and suspected it came from there.

  “The medicine man gave me this to rub on my wounds as they healed. It might help your wrists.” His blunt fingers massaged the thick salve over her slender wrists, and she looked up to find him watching her, desire evident in his gaze. She lifted her chin and looked away from him.

  “You can kiss me until I yield to you, but my feelings for you will gradually change and die.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. I can take you back to my people and give you to another man.”

  She looked up at him and drew a deep breath, wondering if he threatened her. “I don’t think I’ll care.”

  He tilted up her chin. “I think you will. You fight for what you want, Vanessa.”

  He replaced the pouch in the saddlebag and she moved away from him, helping with supper in silence, trying to talk to White Bird, but leaving her to Muaahap’s care most of the time.

  They ate in silence and soon were all stretched on the ground to rest for the night. Lone Wolf’s hides were beside her quilt and he took her wrist.

  “You said you wouldn’t tie me.”

  “I said I wouldn’t most of the time. You’ve been untied since we stopped. Now I have to make certain you’re still here in the morning,” he said, lashing their wrists together.

  Surprised, she watched him and yanked against the leather that wasn’t knotted yet and slipped free. He pulled her wrist back against his own and tied them together. “Now we sleep.”

  “Unless I can reach your knife during the night,” she snapped.

  “Don’t try, Vanessa,” he cautioned. He stretched out and she glared at him frustrated and betrayed.

  “I hate what you’re doing. If you knew my sister—”

  She bit off the words because he knew a harsher world than she did and he would not change his mind because Phoebe was a gentle person and easily frightened.

  Vanessa lay down, staring at the stars overhead, knowing she would have to cooperate with him and try to get away when she wasn’t bound. She thought about the reticule with the gold that he now carried with his things, packed on his horse. And she seethed because she had to get away within the next few days. Every hour, they put more miles between her and Fort McKavett; soon she would have an impossible journey back. Time was running out. Phoebe was to marry at the end of December. Vanessa had to get back before then.

  Her best chance of escape would have been after dark, but because she would be bound to him while he slept, she would have to try when they were awake.

  The next day she rode in silence; and when no one else spoke either, she suspected Lone Wolf welcomed the quiet.

  By the fourth day of their northward trek, her calm deliberation had turned to panic. She had had no chance to get her gold. The land was flat, stretching away to the horizon with mesquite and prickly pear, and she felt the distance widening between Phoebe and herself.

  That night, as they made camp, Lone Wolf unsaddled the horses and turned his back to her. The portmanteau lay on the ground beside his saddle, a quilt tossed over it.

  Lone Wolf led the black horse to a narrow stream of water. Muaahap and White Bird piled up sticks they had gathered along the way for a fire.

  Deciding this might be her only opportunity, Vanessa rushed to the portmanteau. She pushed aside the quilt and rummaged through the suitcase. Her fingers closed around the box that was heavy with gold, and her pulse jumped as she lifted it, feeling its reassuring solid weight. A shadow fell across her.

  Thirteen

  Lone Wolf’s hand closed over hers. “What do you want, Vanessa? What’s in your hand?”

  “Let me go!” She stood up and faced him, secreting the box behind her back. “I’ll help Muaahap.”

  She started to pass him, but he caught her, his hand sliding around her waist to hold her. He took the gold from her, his dark fingers closing around the box.

  “You have my money. It’s mine and I want it!”

  “I’ll keep it until you need it,” he answered with a maddening calm, his hand still on her waist.

  “When next month comes, if I am still with you, part of me will die because my sister will die,” she said in a low voice, shaking with anger, her fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to leap at him and try to grab the box, but recognized that the action would have been futile.

  “No one dies from marriage,” he snapped.

  “Phoebe will from marriage to this major. The man is a beast, and my sister is as innocent and childlike as White Bird.”

  “Your sister is a woman on the verge of wedlock.”

  “No, she isn’t. You don’t know Phoebe. I’ve sheltered her, and our father has sheltered both of us. He has kept us from society and from men. You of all people know I was innocent.”

  Lone Wolf studied her and she eyed him defiantly, aware of the increase in the tension between them. His dark eyes were implacable and her hopes sank because nothing she had said had affected him.

  “When she doesn’t have you to rely on, she may become strong. We’re far from McKavett now.”

  Defeated, she turned away, wanting to lash out at him even though she knew it was useless.

  He placed the gold in his saddlebag and carried the saddle farther away as she watched. Removing another saddle, he took the paint to water. Still saddled and munching on mesquite beans, the bay stood near her. Lone Wolf was only yards away, but she was within a few feet of the bay, the last horse with a saddle. The bay was the best horse. If she tried to get away now, she would have a few yards head start.

  In desperation, she flung herself into the saddle and wheeled the horse around, kicking its sides and leaning low over its neck as the bay sprang forward. She raced away, wind whipping against her, knowing without looking
that Lone Wolf would give chase and continue without stopping.

  And she intended to ride until he caught her or the horse couldn’t go any longer. The bay’s long legs stretched out and pounded over the flat ground. She clung to the horse, her gaze scanning the horizon for any break in the land that might give her an advantage.

  The animal became covered with lather, its dark mane flowing while wind whipped her hair. Finally, she glanced over her shoulder and felt a stab of fear because Lone Wolf was only yards behind her. He rode easily, his face set grimly, his black hair flowing behind him.

  Tears of frustration filled her eyes, but she ignored them as she urged the bay to go faster. Lone Wolf was on the black horse that had been given to him as a gift by Puhihwi Wehki. She didn’t know the speed or stamina of the horse, but she knew Lone Wolf’s determination.

  Within minutes, Lone Wolf pulled alongside her and reached over to yank the reins from her hands. As soon as the horse slowed, Lone Wolf grabbed her, pulling her onto the saddle in front of him, his arm around her so tightly that it cut her breath.

  “No!” Vanessa cried, beating against his solid chest, her hopes crumbling. She could not escape from him.

  He pulled her more tightly against him, pinning her arms and scowling at her. She felt their clash of wills, their determination. And she felt the wild attraction that blazed steadily whether they were at cross-purposes or in harmony.

  “I wish I could beat you into submission, Vanessa.”

  She stared at him, surprised that he hadn’t since he came from a world that would accept such treatment. “I’m surprised you haven’t,” she admitted, her breathing as ragged as his and her heartbeat fluttering because, in spite of the anger in his expression, her desire ran rampant.

  She felt a need for him that was too strong to be destroyed by their arguments. His arms had not been around her since their clash the first day he had turned north. Now he held her pressed against him, his desire obvious in his hungry gaze, and her pulse raced.

  With a growl in his throat, he yanked on the reins. The horses stopped and her heart thudded wildly as he swung his leg over and jumped to the ground with her in his arms. He stood her on her feet to face him, holding her upper arms. His dark eyes were filled with a desire that burned through her.

  She placed her hands on his forearms, feeling the strong muscles, knowing she was no match for his strength. The wind blew against her, catching long red locks and drawing them across her cheek. She tossed her head, swinging her hair away from her face as he shook her slightly.

  “We’re not safe out here and we have to get back because Muaahap and White Bird are not safe alone.” His voice was low and intense. “I should beat you, but all I want to do is hold you in my arms and kiss you. You’re brave, Vanessa, too brave, too obstinate, and as wild as that red hair of yours!” He ground out the words and pushed up the skirt of the buckskin and yanked down the drawers she wore. The thin cotton slid over her hips; falling around her ankles; the night air cooled her heated skin.

  She wanted to fight him, but at the same time she longed to be in his arms. Her primitive need for him was as strong as her urge to run from him.

  “I want you to let me go!”

  “No, I’m not going to let you ride across this land alone.” He pushed away his buckskins, yanking off his shirt and pulling her down. The tiny rocks and pebbles on the ground were rough against her skin. The wind tangled his black hair; his shaft was dark against his powerful body, and her heart thudded with a searing longing. Suddenly, she wanted him as desperately as he seemed to want her. He spread her legs and moved between them. As he leaned down to kiss her, his dark eyes bored to her soul.

  “You are a red-haired wildcat, Vanessa, as brave as any lioness fighting for her cubs. I want your fire and your warmth.”

  Excitement shot through her from his words and the need in his eyes, a longing that burned away the clash of opposing wills, leaving only the bond she had felt with him for so long now.

  The moment his mouth came down on hers, desire rocked her, washing up in hot waves from the depths of her being. She wound her arms around his neck, sliding her hands across his wide shoulders and arching her hips to meet him.

  He slid his shaft into her softness, and Vanessa’s cry was muffled by his mouth as they both moved frantically with a need that consumed them like wildfire.

  His body was heavy, his thrusts deep and swift as he drove her to a blinding ecstasy.

  “Vanessa, Vanessa!”

  Dimly hearing his deep voice cry her name, she climaxed swiftly, rapture washing over her.

  Her heart thudded and she felt torn between wanting him and hating him for keeping her from Phoebe. She held him tightly as their movements gradually slowed.

  Her awareness changed as her mind began functioning again. When he moved away, he reached down to pull her up. He tilted her face, his fingers holding her chin tightly. “Don’t fight me.”

  The wind whipped against her with a chilling blast as she pulled on her clothes. Her problems returned swiftly, along with her anger. As soon as she was dressed, she stepped in front of him.

  “Let me go back to her,” she said, her voice filled with determination. “If you don’t, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “You will in time,” he said flatly in a tone that indicated the end of the conversation.

  She moved away from him, watching him obliquely as he dressed. He had recovered from the gunshots. The scars were still fresh and red, but otherwise, his body was strong and fit. Why did she succumb so easily to him? Was she that deeply in love with him? Was he right that she would forgive him in time? She didn’t think so because she loved Phoebe and Belva and she had promised to go back.

  She mounted the bay and rode silently beside him back to camp. Muaahap merely stared at her impassively and continued cleaning utensils while White Bird played with her rag dolls. Later, Muaahap patted Vanessa’s shoulder. Helpless, Vanessa wiped away her tears and helped with supper.

  That night Lone Wolf bound her wrist to his, moving his bedding close to her quilt, covering her with a hide. He lay only inches away, his dark eyes on her. “She will get along better than you think.”

  “You don’t know my sister at all. She isn’t able to cope with problems. And I promised her I’d come.”

  “You did all you could, Vanessa.” He turned away and she stared at his broad back, remembering the moments of wild passion earlier, wishing she could resist him.

  The next day they rode northeast, and her hopes dwindled for escape. At night, Lone Wolf slept like a cat, waking at the slightest sound, occasionally opening only one eye as he looked to see what she was doing.

  She knew there was no chance to get to Fort McKavett, and something seemed to wither and die inside her. She rode quietly, her thoughts on Phoebe and Belva.

  One evening four days later, Lone Wolf studied Vanessa as she shoved away her plate with only a few bites eaten. She had stopped fighting him. He had realized that two days earlier. After her mad dash for freedom, she had seemed to finally accept what lay ahead. Only she had changed, and he didn’t think she was sulking.

  She seemed to have lost all interest in life. She left White Bird to Muaahap’s care. She did the chores to help with meals and with White Bird, but she moved about in silence, totally submissive and docile.

  The joy had gone out of her green eyes, and her lifelessness worried him. Each day she grew thinner, the buckskin dress hanging on her slender frame. She was kind to Muaahap and to White Bird, but she was unreceptive to him. He knew he could overcome her lack of physical response because her body would react to his touch, but he felt that Vanessa’s heart was locked away and he would never have the warm woman he had known before he had turned north and taken her captive.

  He studied Muaahap, who looked up and then quietly turned her back on him. She, too, was worrying about Vanessa, yet she would agree that Vanessa should not go alone across the plains. He knew what Muaahap wanted him
to do. Even White Bird seemed unhappy and restless, whining in an uncharacteristic manner.

  His gaze roamed over Vanessa as she unfolded her quilt.

  He repaired the cinch to one of the saddles. As he worked, his thoughts were on Vanessa. If he rode south to McKavett, he would risk all their lives. How could she expect to whisk away her sisters from a fort of soldiers? If he helped, he would bring down the wrath of the U.S. Army on the Kiowa and jeopardize their safety, and he didn’t see how he could succeed because he would be alone, pitted against the fort of soldiers. And if by some miracle they escaped from McKavett, three young women would be easy to find.

  He eyed her over his shoulder. Vanessa was stretched on the quilt, her hands behind her head as she stared at the sky. She was important to him—how she had become so important, he didn’t know. He still loved Eyes That Smile and he did not want to love or wed a white woman, but he felt as if he had plunged a knife into Vanessa and was slowly turning it each day. He swore softly under his breath, wanting to shake her, wanting even more to see the light back in her eyes.

  He looked toward the south, wondering if he had become soft in the head and soft in the heart. With a swift motion, he tossed aside the cinch and stood up, striding to Vanessa. Was he sealing his own fate and committing himself to an act he couldn’t survive?

  He grasped her wrist and pulled her to her feet.

  For one startled moment her eyes flew wide, and then she stood, following him, rushing to keep up.

  Anger and determination filled him as he strode from camp. He clamped his jaw closed, traveling far enough away that they would have privacy. Vanessa followed docilely. At one time he would have been overjoyed to have had her so obedient to him, but he wasn’t now.

  When they were alone, he faced her, placing his hands on his hips. She stared at him with little curiosity. Her hair was a tangle, and he knew she had stopped combing it. Her skin was pale in spite of hours in the winter sun.