Lakota Princess (17 page)

After the attempted assassination, something had happened to her and she didn’t quite understand what it was. Yes, there had been danger there, a threat to her life, but it wasn’t either of those things that plagued her now. Something powerful had taken hold within her, something forbidden. Something…

She moaned. Truth be told, she felt closer to Black Bear now than she had ever felt at any other time. He had stirred something within her, awakened something, something she had thought had died on a sea voyage long ago. And though she knew she mustn’t, that she must fight whatever attraction he held for her, she sensed that from this moment forward, without Black Bear, she would be only half alive, a circumstance, she realized, she must learn to face. She—

The door to the carriage opened and, in response, Estrela’s stomach plummeted.

“Ladies.” Black Bear’s deep voice rang out into the crisp, early-morning air, causing spasms to run along Estrela’s nervous system.

It was a simple word, really. It conveyed nothing but greeting, yet Estrela could not account for its effect upon her, nor for the change it bespoke upon Black Bear. Like the clothing he now wore, the word, the way in which he said it, was reminiscent of nothing of the Black Bear she knew.

Estrela sat, gazing at him. “Mato Sapa,” she said at last, her lapse into Lakota unintentional, yet…

He grinned back at her and Estrela almost swooned.

It was his smile, that lopsided, boyish grin that she knew so well. Its charm, set against the magnificent sight that he made, set her heart to racing, and she suddenly felt life coursing through her.

“I have missed your presence,” he was saying to her, “at breakfast and at dinner this past week.”

“Oh?” It was all she could manage to say at the moment, and even that was said softly.

“Yes.” His eyes twinkled. “We have had so many things to discuss and I have entertained my friends with stories. Stories of hunting, of geese, of love, of—”

Estrela conveniently coughed.

And he laughed, saying after a moment, “Do you two women ride alone in this…carriage?”

Estrela spread her skirts over the seat as though in answer before she glanced up at Black Bear, saying, “I think so, but I do not know for certain. I have only just settled in here myself.”

“Yes,” he said. “I know.”

That last had her squinting her eyes at him. What was he implying?

She saw him glance around the yard. “I will speak to the Duke,” he said. “You must have someone guard your carriage. If he has no one, then I will do it.”

Estrela smiled politely. “Thank you,” she murmured, “but I—”

He shot her a glance, his look alone silencing her.

“I must ensure your safety. Had I time, Estrela, Waste Ho, I would show you why it is I worry over you. I would finish what I had started so many nights ago. Despite your husband, I would—”

She gasped, glancing briefly at Anna, and catching the maid’s gaze, Estrela blushed, she set her glance at once back toward Black Bear, but he merely grinned devilishly.

“Now, please do excuse me,” Black Bear continued. “I must find the Duke of Colchester and see to your safety. I hope both of you are well-seated.” And as though to further startle her, he bowed slightly toward them.

She couldn’t help herself. “Black Bear,” she said, detaining his retreat with her quietly spoken words. “Forgive me, please,” she said. “I know that if we were at home, in Lakota country, I would never think to ask you this, but we are here in England and I…well, you…what I mean is… Black Bear, what has come over you?”

She expected anger, or at least a reminder as to proper Lakota manners. She
had
spoken out of turn. She waited, but nothing happened. She received none of it. No anger. No incriminations. Just a grin, a heart stopping, soul-stirring grin.

She set her gaze away from him, hoping to lessen the effect he had on her.

It didn’t work. Instead, she became much more aware of him, of the clean, male scent of him, a combination of the smells of the buckskin and leather from his English trousers, of soap and water and a musky fragrance that was his, alone. She sighed, inhaling also the crisp aroma of autumn air.

He took his time answering her, too, as though he knew what he did to her. At length, though, he said, “I take it you have noticed the change in me, then?”

“Yes,” she said, turning back to him, “pray believe me, it would be hard to miss.”

He laughed. “I am merely,” he said, a leer in his glance, “trying to show the goose all that she resists. Husband or no. He is not here. I am. And…” he stressed his next words, “…I am available.”

“Oh!” She glanced briefly at Anna, but seeing the maid gazing discreetly out the carriage window, Estrela shifted her glance once more back to Black Bear.

He immediately placed a booted foot against the carriage floor and, leaning forward, brought into her vision exactly what he meant. And, this time, she could not look away.

But he wasn’t finished. He continued talking to her, saying, “I have decided that if the goose is silly enough to entice more than one male to her nest, it would be a foolish gander who would not take advantage of such…whim.”

“Oh!” she said again. And then for good measure, “Oh!”

And she looked exactly where he meant her to, exactly where—

Estrela moaned. But she did not avert her eyes. No, she watched his every move, his every flicker of sensitivity as he stood before her. Was the man flaunting himself at her? Or was it her? Was she irresistibly sensitive to him?

She shut her eyes. She shouldn’t look at him in this manner, she shouldn’t gape at that area of his body. She shouldn’t.

She opened her eyes and stared all the harder. And as though she had forgotten all the teachings of the grandfathers and all the good manners of the English, she gazed at him as though he might suddenly take the view from her.

And while she longed to focus her attention there, she forced herself to look away, glancing back to his face.

What was she to do? Here was Black Bear, the man she loved, the man she worshiped, the man she would just as likely die for, but this man…

Well, this man wore a white, linen shirt with a cravat at his neck, not the beautifully ornamented, white elk-skin shirt that fell well below his thighs. On this man’s legs were tights, a light buckskin that was popular in the more lofty English circles for its snug fit as well as its soothing feel to the skin. This man wore no revealing breechcloth, yet the outfit he sported so exposed his masculine form that her gaze was once more drawn to the juncture between his thighs.

Reluctantly, she looked away from that area, but not before she heard him snicker, the sound not at all pleasant. She met his eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Black Bear was angry. His face, his eyes, the set of his brows, the way he pursed his lips as he stood before her, they all mirrored raw emotion.

What had happened? Only a few minutes ago the man had been teasing her, certainly it had not been a gentle tease, but it had not been this…this…

“You look at me as though you are hungry,” he taunted her, speaking in Lakota.

“Black Bear, I—”

“Does Waste Ho,” he asked, interrupting her, “have so little feelings for her husband that she would so easily…admire me? Have you no respect for him that you would act this way in public?”

She gasped.

“Did you think I would not see it? That I would not respond to such open admiration?”

“Black Bear, I am trying not to—”

“But then, Waste Ho,” he went on in the same language as though she hadn’t spoken, “is much used to seeing…men, though most likely without—”

“You go too far!” This from her in English.

“Do I?” he asked in Lakota, the subject seeming to make him ever angrier. “Why do you admire me like this? You act as though you have never seen a man… Can you say to me now that you have never seen your husband—?”

“Black Bear!”

He straightened away, bringing his booted foot to the ground, and Estrela watched as he visibly strove to bring his temper under control. She allowed him that time, glancing away, and wondering what it was that had come over her.

He was just a man, after all, and men were all endowed with…

She glanced back at him. She moaned.

He was not just any man. This was Black Bear, the man from her past, the man she loved. She could no more ignore him than she could cease her own breathing.

Estrela swallowed, a great effort, and closed her eyes; in truth, she was as scandalized as he was with her behavior. Not only did she admire him in the most exotic way possible, she had done it in such a manner that anyone could watch her.

“Black Bear,” she began softly, speaking in their shared language, “I am truly sorry. I do not understand either what has come over me. You have every right to chastise me, every right to—”

“Halt!” He said it, his hands signed it. He leaned forward again into the coach, resuming his former position and bringing back into her vision all that troubled her. He smiled. “I will not hear you speak of yourself in this way. After all,” he said, taking her gloved hand and placing it on his knee, “it is not so terrible. I—”

He inhaled sharply.

And Estrela, in reaction, glanced at him, herself gasping He was…

He immediately replaced her hand to her lap, though when he looked up to her, he merely grinned. “You,” he said, “have an interesting effect on me. One I intend to examine further in a more…private moment.”

“’Tis the way you dress,” she said.

He peered down at himself. “I fail to see—”

“Before now I never noticed… I mean I was not so… You didn’t… ’Tis the vest and coat,” she said as though with full authority. “See how the vest conforms to your waist? And the coat. See how it tapers down to a long tail in the back? Why the very effect emphasizes all that…that is to say it…”

Black Bear smirked. “Do all men here in England have this same effect on you, then?”

“Of course not, I—”

She chanced a glance up to his face before shutting her eyes. “I didn’t mean that—”

“Did you not?”

Estrela drew a strained, deep breath and opened her eyes. In truth, he looked magnificent.

But she could never tell him that.

She had never seen anyone in England who could compete with Black Bear. His very figure rivaled the perfection of a Greek statue. And the way he was now dressed merely emphasized the fact. No, the only difference in Black Bear’s new clothes from the standard well-to-do outfit of the wealthy was that Black Bear wore no hat, having chosen to ornament his head with two feathers instead. They hung suspended from his hair on the left side of his head, held there with strips of buckskin, and reached well below his neck. He had left his hair free, the long splendor of it boasting the blue-black highlights which, she had noted earlier, gleamed and sparkled under the invigorating, autumn sunlight. And Estrela, gazing at him now, had to still her hand, for it appeared to have a will of its own, itching to reach out and touch his long mane as it fell almost to his waist.

On anyone else the outfit, along with the feathers and long hair would have looked ridiculous. But on Black Bear the clothes appeared handsome, stately, even imposing. And Estrela found the appeal of his masculinity magnetic, daunting, overpowering…

“Black Bear,” she said, gazing back at him, her eyes settling at chest level. “I think it is time for me to tell you about my husband. There is much you don’t know. There is much I must tell you. You see, he—”

“Halt!” He said it loudly, and he signed it with the slash of his hand. And whatever control he had placed over his anger earlier must have been held there by the flimsiest of threads, for his constraint fled in an instant. “When I wish to know about your husband,” he said, “I will ask.” He drew himself up straight, folded his arms over his chest, and thrust out his chin. “But you see, I am not interested in him. I am only interested in how you act with me. It is that which tells me much about him…about you.”

“No, you are wrong. I need to—”

“When I want to know, I will ask.”

“Oh!” She glanced directly up at him then. “I think this has gone far enough,” she said. “You hear only what you want to hear. Listen only to what you wish. And I think you purposely flaunt yourself at me. I think you intentionally entice me with no other purpose in mind but to…to… Well…” She paused. “I think you should know that I am no longer interested.” She, too, tipped her chin up. “You may go now.”

If she had intended to “fob him off”, she had certainly failed miserably. All he did was laugh, a good, hearty sound. One that had her staring at him again.

A mistake. He caught her eye and leaned forward again.

“Humph!” His voice sounded amused, his look angry as he asked, “Has Waste Ho taken to lying?” He still spoke in Lakota, his tone ripe with challenge. “You are no longer interested? In what? Certainly that doesn’t apply to me. I have only to move my leg…”

“Black Bear! Don’t!”

He laughed. “Does Waste Ho wish me to show her what would happen if I move?” He changed his position—only a little. Still her gaze came crashing down to his…

He laughed again. And bringing his head in toward her, he said, “Married or not, husband or not, people watching or not. It does not matter, does it, Waste Ho? You would still look. You would still ache. Tell me,” he taunted her. “How long has it been for you? Many widows would gladly welcome me. Would you do the same? Husband or not?”

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it and self-righteously set her gaze to the mohagony wall of the carriage, ignoring him—or at least it was what she attempted.

Black Bear snorted in response and smiled, a smug, self-satisfied smile.

“Ah, Black Bear, there you are.” The Duke of Colchester approached the carriage. And though Black Bear might have said more, he was cut off by the Duke’s utterance of “Ladies,” as the older gentleman stepped forward, making a slight bow.

And if the Duke noticed anything peculiar about Black Bear, about Estrela, he didn’t say a word, even though Black Bear, with a wicked grin at Estrela, straightened away and turned his back to the Duke. “I say there, Black Bear,” the Duke continued, not at all daunted by talking to the Indian’s back. “I have come to ask you if you would prefer to ride in the carriage with this beautiful lady and her maid, or will you ride in mine? Was hoping you might come and keep us entertained, you know. All your stories and all. Ever been on a fox
hunt? No, I don’t suppose you have. Jolly good fun, my fine, young man. I must tell you all about it.” And as Black Bear faced about to confront the old gentleman, the Duke said, “Well, what do you say?”