Night Thunder's Bride: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 3 (5 page)

“Humph,” he said. “Tricks?
Saa
, no. Within my family runs the ability to sense things that will happen in the future, to predict the weather, to heal the sick. These are no tricks.” He snickered. “Leave it to the white man to believe that all things he cannot see with the eye are magic.”

She drew in her breath. What was this? More prejudice? Rebecca felt taken aback. She had often heard the traders and others call the Indians as a whole a bunch of savages, rotten scoundrels, and many other, worse things. But not until now had she given such degrading statements any serious thought. Nor had it occurred to her that the Indian might also hold the white man in disregard. And although she longed to hear more about this…medicine of which he spoke, she held her tongue.

Silence reigned between them until at last Rebecca said, “To answer your earlier question, the white man does not bathe every day, to tell God’s truth, because he does not depend on the hunt for his food.”

Night Thunder sent a glance in her direction. “He does not?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Pens his animals up, he does, so that when the winter does come, there will be food.”

“
Aa,
yes.” It appeared to her that Night Thunder almost grinned. “That explains it.”

Once again, silence stretched out between them. After a short while, however, she could stand the quiet no more.

With a deep breath, she asked, “Do you regret now the day that you gave your promise to your friend, saying to him that you would keep me safe until he and my mistress, Katrina, returned?”

“
Saa,
no,” Night Thunder replied at once, rolling over and turning toward her, propping his head up on his hand. That this action pulled the covering of buffalo robe down toward his waist appeared to cause him no concern, if he even noticed. He asked, “Why would you think such a thing of me? Have I done something to give you reason to believe this?”

“No,” she was quick to respond. “But I have brought trouble upon you.” She sent a glance toward him. His chest lay bare and exposed to her view. And she
did
look.

A cascade of shock waves flew over her, shaking her reserve, and she almost groaned. She drew her own covering more fully around her, as though in defense.

But in truth, he appeared oblivious to her. She admired him for that discretion, and yet there was also within her a desire to make him notice her—really
notice
her as a woman.

She looked at him and gulped, drawing her blanket of buffalo robe even more fully toward her neck, ashamed that she would have such thoughts. She said, “Truly, you have done nothing wrong. It is only that I am afeard of all the inconvenience that I have caused to you.”

“Humph,” he grunted. “It cannot to be helped. It is the way of things. Perhaps we should both get some more sleep.”

“Yes,” she said, “perhaps.”

But neither one did. Though they both lay back down, each one seemed restless.

At last, Night Thunder was the one to break the silence. He said, a hint of intimacy in his voice, “I will never forget the first time that I saw you. Do you remember it?”

She hesitated. “Aye.” she sent him a startled glance. “You won’t?”

“
Saa
, no. It had been the night of the dance within my camp, as my people were crowded around that white man’s fort where you and your friend were staying. We had finished a good trade with the white man that day and were celebrating with many dances.”

“Aye,” responded Rebecca, “my mistress, Katrina, had gone to your camp to speak with your friend, White Eagle. And I had followed her, afeard for her.”

“You looked as scared as a jackrabbit that night.”

“Did I?”

He nodded. “And I felt like a wolf on the hunt.”

Rebecca chuckled, just a little. “A wolf?”

“
Aa,
yes. Do you not remember that I gave you the feather from my hair?”

“Aye,” she said, “and I also recall that by doing so, you made me dance that dance…”

“Of the Sioux,
Sina-paskan.
It is a good dance, do you not think so?”

Again she gave a small laugh. “Aye, it is that, now. But neither Katrina nor I knew that it was a kiss you and your friend White Eagle would be wanting from us.”

“See now why I felt much as a wolf that night?”

She grinned. “I do. But I gave you only a quick peck and ran quickly away. You must have thought I was a silly girl.”

“
Saa,
no.” He shifted his head to glance toward her. “I did not.”

She drew a deep breath and made her gaze meet his. “What had you been thinking of me, then?”

He didn’t answer for quite a while. If anything, his expression grew more serious, and he continued to look at her, his eyes darkening with a disturbing emotion.

“It is not important what I thought then.”

“I think that it is.”

“Do you?” he countered. “And what was your impression of me that first night?”

“I…” she hesitated. She couldn’t very well tell him that at that time, she had thought him unusually handsome. What would he think of her? “I…I thought that you were…Indian.”

He laughed. “We should get a little more sleep,” he said, “before my brothers from the Blood tribe return with presents for us. We will need our wits about us, I think.”

He turned over, his buffalo hide covering slipping farther down, admitting to her perusal the smooth length of his bare back.

A shudder fell over her spine at the sight of all that handsome flesh and she gulped, the sound of it seeming loud against the silence.

“Aye,” agreed Rebecca. “I believe you are correct.” And she, too, turned her back on him.

But she couldn’t help wondering. What
had
he thought of her?

She didn’t know why, but she felt it important that she know. She would ask him again when they awakened, she decided. And this time, she wouldn’t be put off by him directing the same question to her.

This she promised herself.

Chapter Four

A scratch on the tepee flap awakened them.

“
Ikkamssit,
”
Night Thunder’s word had barely been over a whisper as he spoke to Rebecca, “be quick.” He motioned her over toward him, telling her with gestures to lie next to him beneath his sleeping robe.

She didn’t hesitate, either, and she hurriedly scooted toward him, more afeard of what would happen if she didn’t than if she did.

“
Piit,
”
he called out, no sooner than she had settled herself down beside him. “Enter.”

She pulled the robe over her head and kept it there, as Night Thunder spoke to whomever had entered their lodge.

She listened to the foreign conversation, comforted by the fact that the voice of the visitor did not belong to her previous captor.

She began to relax. Night Thunder, however, sat up, the robe falling down around his waist, barely enough to cover that part of him which declared him male. And Rebecca instantly became aware of one startling fact. Night Thunder sat beside her, naked. Utterly, completely naked.

She tried to look elsewhere, to think of something besides him.

She couldn’t.

And despite there being little light beneath the robe, despite her inability to see as well as she might, there were some things one simply couldn’t ignore. The sight of him surrounded her; the musky scent of him teased her. He smelled good…alluring.

She drew a deep breath, but instead of the action calming her, his scent tantalized her and she felt her stomach turn over.

But it wasn’t pain she felt. It was…what? Excitement? No, it couldn’t be. Yet…

She spun onto her stomach and turned her head away, any concern she had for their guest, what he might think of what she did, evaporating in her effort to hold onto her reserve.

She heard a chuckle, more foreign words, then the sound of the tepee flap opening and closing.

A quiet moment passed. Another.

“Come out now.”

What was it she heard in his voice? Humor?

Still, she didn’t move.

“Do you like it beneath there?”

What could she say? Rebecca had never felt more embarrassed in her life. Not only had she witnessed a naked man, she had responded to the sight of him as though she might like him to hold her.

She held her breath and without budging, without in the least moving her head, replied, “Why did you not tell me that you were naked?”

He paused and when he spoke, he said the words slowly, as though he were picking each one carefully, “There was not time. Besides, how else would you have me sleep?”

“In night clothing.”

Night Thunder gave a short laugh. “Night clothing? What is this night clothing? Do you expect to make me believe that the white man wears clothing in which to sleep?”

“Aye.”

Another chuckle. “Isn’t is enough that the white man hides his body from Sun during the day? Does he also cower from Old Woman, the moon, at night?”

“Cowering has nothing to do with it. It would be only proper, I’m thinking, that since I am also within this lodge, you would sleep with some sort of clothing to cover yourself.”

He gave her a low grunt that sounded more like disdain than acknowledgement. He said, “Sleeping in clothing is not something that I have known any of the men in our tribe to do. Why would you expect it of me?”

“Out of deference to me. Out of modesty.”

“Humph!” She felt him scoot further under the sleeping robe. Scowling, she at last felt safe in turning her head toward him, and as she glanced at him, he gave her a lopsided grin. He said, “Sleep you in your clothes?”

“Of course.”

“Do you not realize that they might smell bad and will look bad when you arise? Do you care?”

“Of course I care. But I couldn’t take them off…not here with you. I wouldn’t…I only have this one dress to wear, now.”

“Then do you not think you should take better care of it?”

She drew in a shocked breath. “I would not sleep unclothed.”

He turned over onto his back, a smile upon his face. “That is your choice, then.” He paused for a moment while he appeared to be thinking. After a time he said, “I would rather save my dignity for when I am around the others. What does it matter, after all? We are not sleeping within the same robes.”

“Am I not here right now?”

He chuckled before he sat up, and throwing the robe off, stood to his feet. “Come, it is time to arise. The others have prepared a feast for us. Ceremony and dignity are a great part of the customs of my people. It would not be right if we do not join them and appreciate all they have done for us.”

Rebecca knew she shouldn’t be looking at him. She knew it was a sinful thing to do. Yet she couldn’t help herself. How could she ignore all that hard flesh and masculinity? Especially when it was the sort of thing she had never had the chance to glimpse?

Well, she couldn’t.

Not when the way he stood emphasized the strength of his legs, she realized, as her gaze roamed upward toward his thighs. The powerful muscles she spied there seemed to accentuate his buttocks, and how male he looked in front…

She inwardly groaned at what she was doing, what she was seeing, at that part of his body she was now scrutinizing. But she didn’t glance away.

He reached down to pick up an article of clothing and her gaze followed him. His hands were brown, she noted, firm and strong, although his skin appeared to be smooth rather than rough-edged. His fingers were long, his nails seemingly white against the darker shade of his skin. Without being able to stop herself, she remembered how those hands had felt against her last night as they had massaged her, his touch soothing her, sending her to sleep.

But she certainly wasn’t feeling sleepy now.

He drew on his breechcloth and she knew that this action should have ended her perusal of his body. It didn’t, however.

He stood before her, handsome beyond belief, and her gaze went to his bare chest…his well-muscled and powerful bare chest… She wondered what those muscles would feel like beneath her touch, what would be the texture of his skin? Hard and tough, or soft? She felt her fingers itch, as though if she didn’t control them, they would reach out and discover all that luxury themselves.

She did control herself nonetheless, and she drew her hands together in front of her, almost wishing they were tied.

She wasn’t finished with her inspection, however.

Long, straight black hair fell down over his shoulders almost to his waist, reminding her that this was no civilized man. The top of it was tied back with a strip of buckskin which gave him an incredibly handsome appeal. His face had been browned by the sun, his lips full, his cheekbones high, his face almost a perfect oval, his nose long and straight. He would have been considered handsome in anyone’s culture, she came to realize, even if he did wear earrings: round shell-like earrings.

But the jewelry detracted not the least from his masculine appeal. He was a warrior, proud and dangerous looking. And she was certain that there was not a white man alive who would want to meet this red man upon the trail, unless it was in friendship.