Gray Hawk's Lady: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 1 (37 page)

She brought her attention back toward the landscape that surrounded the house. The crisp feel of autumn was definitely in the air, and the leaves here in St. Louis were at their peak for the season, the yellows and golds, oranges and reds reminding her that soon she and Gray Hawk would need to leave here.

She drew in a deep breath.

What was wrong with her? Of course she would leave with Gray Hawk. She loved him. She had given him her promise. It was only that…

A breeze blew in through an open window, bringing with it the fresh scents of grass and fallen leaves. She sniffed. It reminded her of the outdoors, of the prairie, of the open space, of freedom. She had loved it there; she missed it, and yet…

A brief gust suddenly scattered the papers on her desk.

She made a grab for her notes and stood up, shuffling the papers together and placing them out of range of the blowing wind.

Sighing, she stepped to the window, intending to close it, but instead of doing so, she watched as a gardener, clippers in hand, strolled past.

Almost a month had elapsed since she had first introduced her father to Gray Hawk—a full month, during which her father had neatly pretended that none of her adventure had happened: not her capture, not her adoption into the Blackfoot tribe and particularly not her union with Gray Hawk.

She might have worried about her father and his mental condition, since he seemed continually absentminded about these things, never quite remembering that she and Gray Hawk were a couple, even to the extent of placing their rooms at completely opposite ends of the house.

But she worried for nothing. In all else, her father appeared to be in full possession of his senses.

She knew what the problem was, of course, and she began to resign herself to the fact that, as far as her father was concerned, her marriage did not exist.

She glanced down toward the notes she was editing.

There was much work that needed to be done on the book, even still, so perhaps it was for the best that her father failed to acknowledge the union. Maybe, for the time being, it saved him needless heartache, allowing him to get on with his work.

And he needed to work, just as he needed Gray Hawk. In truth, the two of them had shut themselves behind locked doors, Gray Hawk graciously answering all the questions and inquiries her father had about his tribe, about his beliefs, his customs.

But there would be an end to it…and soon, maybe in only another few weeks. Genevieve could tell, just from the notes she worked over, that her father was nearing the conclusion of his book.

It was good. She loved the style and flair with which her father imbued his work, making some far-off place come to life. The manuscript was a marvel of information, beauty and historical fact. And…it would be done on time.

But was that enough?

Young Mr. Toddman had already contacted their same publisher and was even now in a race with her father over the publishing date. And worse, Mr. Toddman had made it appear, to those back in England, that her father would not be able to finish his work.

That might have been true at one point, but it was certainly not the case now.

Still, even if they submitted their manuscript on time, their editor could not accept and release two books on the same subject.

Which book would the publisher choose?

It all seemed so chancy…and unfair.

But this, though it concerned her, was far from her real problem. In truth, not a day went by that she didn’t worry about one thing or the other. She felt painfully torn in two directions.

When the book was done, it would be time to leave with Gray Hawk, and she…

Well, was she ready to go? Or more importantly,
could
she go?

She was certain her father would try to stop her, which meant she and Gray Hawk would have to steal away.

Gray Hawk had once mentioned that they might have to do this, and she’d thought nothing of it at the time. But now she wondered.

Could she do that to her father?

She set her lips together. Of course she could; she must.

She had given her vow to Gray Hawk. She wouldn’t break it.

She had tried to tell her father of her promise, in an attempt to appeal to the viscount’s sense of duty; he had merely shrugged and asked if she knew more of the Blackfoot language.

Again she almost hoped it was a matter of absentmindedness on her father’s part. Yet she knew better.

But, oh, how she wished sometimes that Gray Hawk would stay here, that her father would accept him, help him to fit into society, honor their commitment. It would solve so many problems, ease so much heartache, if this could be.

Because there was more.

Jumping back into her life had reminded Genevieve of all the luxuries she enjoyed here: a simple bed, a mattress, chiffon and silk clothing, good and varied food—sugar.

Every day she tried to convince herself these things were not so important that she couldn’t give them all up, yet it became harder and harder to do.

She drew herself up and turned away from the window.

She would not think about it any longer. She knew what she had to do—she would do it and stop this continuous ambivalence. It did nothing but confuse her.

She would honor her word to Gray Hawk. It was that simple.

Or was it?

“You
do not look as though you are working very hard. Perhaps I should bring a deer or two for you to skin.”

Genevieve jumped, swinging her attention back into the room. She put her hand to her chest. “Oh, my, Gray Hawk, you startled me. I didn’t hear you enter.”

“
Aa
,
yes,” he said. “I could see that you were thinking deeply. How is your father’s work coming?” Gray Hawk moved forward, toward her desk and the papers that were scattered there. He stroked his hands through the notes, his attention seemingly caught on them, but then suddenly he looked up at her, his gaze inquisitive, yet…nonchalant. He asked, “Do you worry over something?”

Genevieve stared at him for a moment without answering.

It seemed that Gray Hawk did not wish to adopt the European style of clothing, despite Robert’s attempts to have him do so. And this should have been fine with her, but in a way, it wasn’t. In truth, she found it depressing.

Gray Hawk showed no inclination to want to fit into her world.

She had hoped that he would. She gazed away as she said, “Yes, I worry.”

He nodded. “Is it over your father’s accepting me? I think that—”

“No, yes, I mean, not really. I worry about his book. There is another man who is writing a manuscript on much the same thing.”

“
Aa
,
yes, I know. Your father has told me of this person. Your father has given me to understand that this man was once a member of your household?”

“Yes, he was,” she said. “He was an apprentice and worked with my father. It is odd that this Mr. Toddman has turned on us, for he helped my father on so many other projects. But somehow, on this one, Mr. Toddman changed. He…became angry, though my father and I have still not determined why. And Mr. Toddman became convinced that he could do the same thing as my father…only better. He is seeking now to prove it and to discredit us.”

“
Nitsikksisitsi’tsii’pa
,
I understand. Does this man have with him a Blackfoot Indian to study?”

“Apparently so,” she said. “At least, that is what I have been led to believe.”

Gray Hawk inclined his head. “Then I can understand your worry.” He paused, and when next he spoke, he talked from right behind her. He asked, “And is that all that you worry over?”

“Yes, I…no…mostly.”

“There is something else?”

She glanced down. “No, not really.”

Gray Hawk grunted. “You have yet to tell me, Gen-ee, why the white man lies.”

“Gray Hawk, I don’t see that that has anything to do with this.”

Standing behind her, he bent down to whisper into her ear, “You lie. You also do not do it well. I would advise you, therefore, not to do it at all.”

She smiled. “You know me so well?”

“I know you so well. What is it, Gen-ee?”

“It is nothing, Gray Hawk. I worry over my father. That is all it is.”

Gray Hawk moved out and away from her. He trod on silent feet toward the couch, which was across the room.

But he did not sit.

He paced around it, looking at it, the chairs, the windows, the ceiling, the walls. He stepped to the fireplace and turned back to confront Genevieve. He said, “I do not like these walls. I long for the simple pleasures of the tepee, of my home, where I can feel the wind on my face, taste the sweet air from the mountains. I long to be out on the hunt, on the warpath.”

He gestured toward the paintings on the walls. “The white man’s dwellings, while impressive, make me feel small and hemmed-in. This is not my home. It is not where I belong.” He trod toward her. “But you, Gen-ee, this is your home. Tell me, will you miss it when you leave with me?”

“I don’t think I—”

“Do not do that, Gen-ee. Tell me what is in your heart. Say the truth.”

She jerked her head away from his gaze. She sighed and, at length, she said, “I will miss it.”

Gray Hawk folded his arms over his chest. “It is as I thought. Do you wish me to let you out of your promise to me?”

“No, I…what do you mean?”

He walked back to her desk, hesitating there and flipping through her papers. He said, “A person is always bound by his word unless the one to which he gave his promise releases, him from it. I have the power to allow you to be able to stay here. Do you wish me to release you?”

She didn’t say anything for a long while, and Gray Hawk glanced up to her. He said, “I would have you with me because you want to be, Gen-ee.”

She jerked her gaze back toward the window, glancing outside, though she registered nothing of what she saw. Her stomach twisted, and her heart seemed to be beating in her throat as she said, “Do you try to rid yourself of me?”

“No, Gen-ee. If I wanted you out of my life, I would not do it this way.” He hesitated. “I…feel very deeply for you, my wife. I love you. I would have you happy with me.”

She moaned, briefly shutting her eyes. She said, “I love you too, Gray Hawk. I have never lied about that. But…I…love my father, too, even Robert. And my home. I would not leave them. Yet, when I gave you my promise, I knew then what I did. I was aware that it would not be easy to come back here, only to walk away from the life I have known once more. Still, I was willing to do it in order to save my father and his project.” She turned her attention back into the room, gazing straight at Gray Hawk. “What sort of person would I be if I gave my promise to someone and, at the least sign of hardship, I relented?”

“A very warm and loving person, Gen-ee. You feel things so much. It is a part of your beauty, a part of who you are. I would not take this from you.”

She lifted her chin. “I thank you, Gray Hawk, but I gave you my solemn oath. I will stand by it.”

He leaned away from the desk and strode toward her. “We could live in both worlds.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “My people do very little in the winter. It is always a time of hardship, for not always do the food supplies last. We could winter here with your father.”

“My father lives in England.”

“Then he could come here every winter.”

“No, Gray Hawk, it would not work. He would not do it. Besides, don’t you see? My father will never accept our marriage.”

“Gen-ee, I think that—”

She held up a hand. “But there is more to it than just my father. If I were to come back here every winter, I would never want to leave it. I would become more and more attached to my old way of life, much in the same way I am now, and would eventually become unhappy with the way I would live with you in your camp. No, I must live in either one world or the other, not both.”

Silence filled the room. Gray Hawk sighed, but at length, he said, “Rules are not always so stringent. People, like the willow tree, must sometimes bend with the storm. Some think that love is a matter of fate and should never require that they work at it. This is seldom the case. One must always be willing listen to the other, to bend.

“Yes,”
he said, “it would be difficult to come back here every winter. It would be a sacrifice. But if it is important, then we should do it. Yes, we would have to solicit your father’s cooperation, but have you considered that if you do not do it, if you do not return and visit now and again, you could become unhappy also?”

“He could always come to visit us there. He loves to go among the more…”

“…primitive people?”

“I… Gray Hawk.”

He stepped right up to her, taking a lock of her hair into his fingers and twirling it around and around his finger.

He said, “I know you want to stay here. I have seen that this is on your mind. Is there more to it now that you are back in your home? Do you find me primitive, too? Is this why you do not accept any of my proposals?”