Celine (29 page)

“Sarah!”

Her friend appeared to be healthy, unhurt. Silently, she signaled Celine to calm herself. Celine drew in a ragged breath and, beginning from Sarah's left, scrutinized the circle of men. She did not recognize any of them. When her survey reached midpoint, however, her gaze met eyes filled with great intensity and an air of aged wisdom.

The elderly man was clearly the chief.

His rank was obvious, not so much by his dress, and the deferential manner of the others around him, but by his essence. A fathomless, timeless knowledge emanated from his chiseled countenance. The aura of dignity surrounding him left no question as to his position. A vague familiarity she could not place tugged at her.

These were strong people, like White Eagle. This man, the chief, held her in place, his keen eyes not moving from hers. It was as though his scrutiny penetrated her soul. He did not take his eyes from hers until she looked away, but she felt it was he who released the hold, not her.

When her gaze fell on the man sitting to the left of the chieftain, her mind went into a twisted buzz.

All clarity ceased.

She grew rigid and with a taut jerk of her head swiveled toward White Eagle in bewilderment.

His face was a mask of stone.

She shuddered, and returned her attention to the man across from her. His visage was a duplicate of White Eagle's stoic mask. His features, his body, held the exact likeness of the man standing next to her.

Twins!

The man sitting in front of her was the one who had captured her, had struck her skull. This man, this duplicate, considered himself to be Celine's rightful owner.

He shouted something at her that felt wicked, and then he spat into the fire. The old man in the center silenced him with a single, firm word she did not understand, and then he spoke for a long while to those assembled.

All eyes remained on the chief until he stopped speaking. Despite her language lessons, Celine could not follow him. She caught words here and there, but couldn't string them together to make any sense. White Eagle remained by her side. He had grown strangely detached, even more aloof.

The men in the circle rose and silently made their way past Celine and White Eagle. Every man's eyes were downcast. They did not acknowledge either of them. The quickening beat of drums began.

The man to Sarah's right rose and helped her to her feet. Celine was struck by the sense of them as a couple, and when they passed by, Sarah cast her eyes downward, her cheeks flushed. Despite Sarah's reserved silence, there was a luminous quality about her.

Celine's mouth gaped when she recognized an ill-concealed blush of satisfaction. The serenity on Sarah's face reminded Celine of the expression on Dianah Morgan's face the morning after she'd bid farewell to her young officer.

Sarah was in love!

In her heart, Celine knew that Sarah-of-little-words had found her home and would never leave here, but what about Celine? What was to become of her and her child?

Chapter Twenty-Three

White Eagle turned and exited with the others, leaving Celine alone in the huge teepee with the chieftain. She regarded his stoic countenance for a moment, and then tilted her head upward. A powerful force swirled in the center of the teepee, rising up to the speck of light shining through the very top. Whether or not the fire blazing in the middle of the space had created a kind of vortex, Celine didn't know, but whatever it was, the potency made her dizzy. She took a step to balance herself.

“Sit.”

Celine flinched, and snapped her head forward, not sure she'd heard him right.

“Sit,” he repeated in English.

She scrambled to the fire and sat across from him in blank amazement.

He flashed a proud smile. “I know plenty words. You listen good. Use them never with my people. Only with whites.” Even in his boyish pride, he maintained his dignity.

“Wh . . . what is the drumming for?” Celine felt stupid. She could get nothing else out of her mouth.

“Fight of honor. Two men, one honor.”

“Between White Eagle and his brother?” she asked, but already knew the answer.

He held his head high with dignity. “Why you ask? You know.”

“There was conflict between the two of them after they took Sarah and me. Now I see hatred in the eyes of the man who sat next to you. I do not know his name, but—”

He silenced her with a raised hand. “Talk slow English.”

She began again slowly. “I think he was the one who took me.”

Parting her hair, she showed him the scar. “He hurt me here. I think White Eagle stopped him from doing more damage. I think White Eagle took me from him. Now the man is angry with White Eagle.” Celine's words flowed from her, sounding much stronger than she felt.

“Other man White Eagle too. No hate. Dishonor.”

Celine frowned. “I do not understand. Are you saying both men are named White Eagle?”

The chief nodded. “Only can be one White Eagle.”

She was utterly confused and exasperated, but the ominous tempo of the drums outside had increased measurably, and with each quickening of the beat, the pounding of her heart quickened as well.

Suddenly she felt there could be more than one reason the chief was detaining her. Perhaps it was for his sake as well as hers. “Please explain. I do not understand. Are you saying they are fighting to the death?”

He nodded. “No can have two chiefs, only one. Name White Eagle only belong to next chief. Come in vision to Gray Wolf, father of White Eagle. My son Gray Wolf. He dead now.”

My God, she'd been captured by the grandsons of a tribal chief! Celine searched frantically for an answer, or a question—either one. “If . . . if they are twins, one had to come first. Wouldn't the one born first be the one to take your place?”

“Yes. But if he dead, other White Eagle become chief. Simple. They fight. One win.”

“What are you saying?” She felt as though a part of her had separated from her body and floated above the scene. Her hand slipped protectively to her belly.

“Law of people when both want to be chief.” His closed fist came to his chest.

The tempo of the drums grew to a fever pitch. It was all Celine could do to keep from running. She practically shouted at the chieftain. “The law of your people? Oh my God, brother killing brother over a title?”

The gray in the chief's eyes turned the color of dark storm clouds. Dignity, honor, majesty—they were all lined in his face. His fierce expression threw terror into Celine's heart.

“The angry man who hurt me was the second born, wasn't he?” She grew dizzy again—and too confused to think. “What made this fight come about now?”

“You.”

“Me? Me?” Celine splayed her fingers across her chest, not understanding, only feeling the despair of impending disaster. The duel between Trevor and Cameron flashed through her mind. Was she destined to forever be the center of a storm?

“One man, one woman. One chief, one wife. One chief, one journey.” He sounded irritated now.

“Me? Wife? Wait ... no—” Ice clogged her veins anew.

A chief's wife, carrying a white man's child? Surely they would kill it.
Her hand slipped to her belly again as she was filled with fresh terror. Then her mind flashed to Sarah and her obvious comfort with these people.

“Why fight over me? Give Sarah to the other White Eagle.” Good Lord, what was she saying? She pressed her hands to her cheeks as though the action would stop their burning. The serenity she thought she'd gained on the trail had evaporated.

“Two White Eagles want same white woman.”

“Well, they can't have me!” Celine shot back. “They cannot simply pick a woman out of nowhere, hit her over the head, and drag her back as a mate!”

The chief eyed her with what appeared to be almost amusement.

“Let me go,” she said, her voice softening as she negotiated. “That will solve the problem. There would be no reason to fight.”

“You not reason for fight. You good excuse.” His eyes flashed black now. “Fight come anyway, soon. Me old man.”

“Oh.” Images of White Eagle blurred with those of Trevor and Cameron, and of many events of the past that she suddenly realized would have come to pass inevitably, one way or another.

She was a catalyst, not a cause.

The old man's pain was clear now. These were his people, his customs. He honored his people by honoring their ways, even if it meant agony and death. Her eyes filled with tears. “I am so sorry.” She wiped the corners of her eyes and spoke with great care. “You most likely know your grandsons better than anyone. Which one is the stronger, or cleverer?”

His proud bearing returned. “Both.”

“Well, what is happening? What is the measure of their strength?”

He thumped his bony finger against his chest. “I teach both sons of Gray Wolf everything to stay alive—with honor. What make victor,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes luminous, glittering, “is one who want woman most.”

The beat of the drums stopped.

Her heart stopped with them.

Someone was dead.

And someone was coming for her.

“One White Eagle come soon when blood of brother washed away.”

“Oh, no!” Nausea rose into her throat.

The chief clapped his hands twice, and two braves stepped inside, along with three women. The party escorted her to a sheltered spot along the river. The braves turned their backs. The three women reached for her clothing.

Panic bit at her again. She backed up. “No, oh no.”

The shirt White Eagle had given her was torn away with one slice of a knife up the center of her back. Her chemise, the fabric nearly rotted from constant wear, gave way with little effort. And then they dragged her into the river.

“Oh, dear God! Keep my baby safe.”

When she realized they were not out to hurt her, but to bathe her, she stopped fighting. The women cleaned her hair and scrubbed her body until it glowed. A shift and leggings made of pale, butter-soft hide replaced her old garment. They appeared to be of a finer caliber than what the other women wore.

But of course, she was supposed to be a chieftain's bride. “This is insanity,” she muttered. “I must find a way out.”

But there was no way out. The braves returned her to the teepee where the old man still sat, stoic and unmoving.

“What now?” Did she have to ask? His failure to respond gave the answer. She waited in silence. Everything had happened so fast, she hadn't had time to think. But now that she did, her thoughts were muddled. Underlying everything was a single primitive response—protect her unborn child.

The flap of the teepee opened, and sheer panic tilted her vision when White Eagle stepped into the teepee and closed the flap behind him. In panic, she cast her eyes to the ground. He moved past her, to the other side of the fire, and stood before her. His cream-colored leggings were fringed on the sides, and they were of the same soft hide and color as her garment. Moccasins, fashioned from a similar hide, covered his feet.

Slowly, her eyes worked their way upward, hot terror rushing through her. How would she know which one he was? When her gaze reached the top of his pants, she stared. His upper body was bare. Silver cuffs encircled each wrist above long fingers and clean, even nails.

Thick, jagged scars, one stretching horizontally on each side of his chest, were the only markings disrupting the smoothness of his powerful, well-muscled form.

Firelight danced in the blue-black sheen of his thick straight hair, hanging soft and full about his broad shoulders. It framed the square set of his jaw, full lips, and high cheekbones. His depthless black eyes shone like lit coals.

In one silent, fluid motion he sat down with a commanding air, cross-legged, ramrod straight, and motionless. The chief rose and without a word or glance their way, left the teepee.

What was she to do now? Terrified, she searched the dimly lit corners of the teepee, looking for a way out.

Currents of blood leapt from her heart, throbbed up through her neck, and pounded in her brain, sending her senses reeling. Briefly, blackly, she wished the blow that had split open her head had been fatal.

From the depths of her being, Celine gathered courage. He waited. Dark eyes drilled into her. A part of her felt this man to be the same one she'd ridden with, spent so much time with. She hoped so, if this was to be her fate. She could not detect any hatred or anger in his visage. But how was she to be sure? Lethal emotions could easily have been assuaged by the battle. And if it was the
other
White Eagle, his anger might be gone because his honor had been won. If only there was something, some sign. She bit her bottom lip, and twisted at her bracelet.

White Eagle rose, walked to the inside edge of the teepee, and returned with a small rawhide bag. He tossed it across the fire so it landed in her lap, then sat back down again.

Her berry bag!

She was too stunned to do more than stare at the small sack. With her head protectively bowed to hide her tears, Celine spoke, a thin thread of hysteria running through her words. “You're watching every little move I make, aren't you? Every little flicker, every little nuance. Nothing escapes you, does it? No wonder you people don't have much to say. You don't need to.”

With a bold tilt of her head, Celine lifted her chin and deliberately met White Eagle's piercing, powerful gaze straight on.

“I am grateful you have survived, but I cannot be your bride. I simply cannot. If you cannot read that in me, then I must find a way to show you. Sarah was taken away from a cruel man, and she has found her home with your people. I walked away from someone who desperately wanted to love me, but I did not know how to help him find his way to loving me. He may be gone, but this child of his I carry needs to be with his people.”

Fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks. She dropped her gaze from his and stared at the berry bag again. She was tired, and so very sad life turned out to be so cruel.

“Other White Eagle want bride. I no want bride. I will take Celine to own people.”

Oh, my God!

“Did . . . did ... did you just speak English, or did I understand your language without realizing it?” She wiped the tears from her eyes.

He smiled at her as though she were a small child. His voice was velvet-edged and strong. “Grandfather not say he teach me all? Not say he teach me white man's tongue?”

Oh, God!

“No . . . no,” she stammered and swiped her hand over her brow, furiously rubbing her temples. “I . . . I remember the exact words. Your grandfather said he taught you everything he knew for you to stay alive, with honor. Oh, dear.”

“I stay alive with honor now. You no kill me with knife like you say for many moons.” He chuckled.

“Oh, my God . . . oh, my God . . . oh, my God!” Celine scrambled to her feet when the full measure of his words hit her, but he was in front of her before she had time to run.

He held her by the shoulders and gazed deep in her eyes. All those months, all those horrible things she had said to him—the baring of her soul. She froze in horror as another thought struck her. Her hand shot to her stomach as terror raged anew.

He brought his closed fist to his chest. “Children know if love in heart. Babe feel love in White Eagle's heart. In hearts of my people.”

A speck of joy bubbled up. Then her child would not be harmed.

Oh, the things she had said to him. Suddenly, she broke into peals of laughter and she pressed her hands to the heat of her cheeks.

White Eagle tilted his head, indicating he did not understand.

“I am so sorry. Things keep popping into my mind, things I said, things I did. Oh, my.” Her face grew hotter as she recalled all her sweet-faced cursing at him. “The things I have said to you. I am absolutely mortified.”

“Speak slow English.”

“Oh, good then.” Celine sighed. “Perhaps you didn't understand all of it. At least I hope not. Most of all, I hope you failed to understand all those terrible words a lady should never repeat.”

Her face prickled. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Please, tell me again my child is safe.”

He nodded. “Children belong to everyone in the village. In our ways, no child is ever without a mother or father. No child is ever harmed.”

Another shock wave of surprise rippled through her. “Oh, my, but how is it your English has suddenly and dramatically improved? You now speak
fast English
as well as I do. And with a clipped accent, I might add.”