Montana Wildfire (33 page)

"I ask nothing of you. But, as I recall, your brother said those things to
me.
If I am not mad after three year's time, you should not be, either. Also, he brought his woman here to us. Perhaps that is his way of making amends."

Gail shook her head. "First of all, I doubt Miss Lennox is his 'woman.' Secondly, my brother doesn't
make
amends. Jake would have to think he is wrong about something, and Jake
never
thinks he's wrong."

"He was wrong about us," Little Bear said softly.

"Yes, but he doesn't see that."

"Yes, but he will. Give him time."

"Time?" she sneered as, snatching up a dirty spoon from the bucket, she began scouring it furiously. "It's been three years, Little Bear. How much more time does he need?"

"As much time as it takes."

Gail scowled and waved the dripping wet spoon under her husband's nose. "Don't you start talking logic to me, Little Bear. You know how much I hate it when you rationalize."

"Only because you know I am right."

"Is that a fact?"

"It is." He grinned the cocky, insolent grin that had made Gail fall in love with him, even as he snatched the spoon away from her and tossed it aside. The spoon clattered atop the counter as his arm snaked out, wrapping around her waist and dragging her hard against his chest. "Come, woman, give your husband a kiss. It has been four long hours at least."

"And it's going to be at least four more if—" Gail squealed when she felt herself being lifted off the floor. "Brute! Put me down this instant. I mean it, Little Bear! We have a guest. What will Miss Lennox think if she sees you carrying me off to the bedroom now, when the boys aren't even asleep yet?"

Little Bear's gaze strayed to Amanda Lennox. Though she was pretending acute interest in the infant cradled in her arms, he saw a tiny grin tug at the corners of her lips. Ah, he knew he liked that woman for a reason!

Little Bear pinned his wife to his chest and, giving her tempting rump a swat, told her to behave, adding, "As for our guest... I think she has spent enough time in Blackhawk's corruptive company to not be surprised by anything you and I do."

Gail stilled instantly. "You aren't suggesting they...?"

"I know Blackhawk," Little Bear said with a sly wink. Loosening his hold, he let Gail slide down until her feet touched the floor. But he didn't let her go. "That is exactly what I am suggesting."

"But... she's a
lady."

"So were you the first time I met you."

Something in Little Bear's tone caught Amanda's attention. She glanced up in time to see Gail and Little Bear's gazes lock. Like the last time, unspoken words rushed between them. Unlike the last time, their silence spoke volumes.

Amanda averted her gaze to the infant cradled in her arms, and pretended not to notice the sudden tightening in her heart. Their tones of voice, suggested Gail and Little Bear had been arguing before, though their words were strange and unfamiliar. Amanda had recognized Jake's name, and her own, but that was all she understood about what they were saying.

She understood more about what their eyes said to each other. The looks they exchanged fascinated Amanda. Even while they'd been arguing, the love Gail and Little Bear felt for each other still burned brightly in their eyes. It rubbed Amanda raw to know she had never—would never—see that look in a man's eyes. That she would never know that kind of all-consuming love.

Unbidden, her mind flashed her an image that had never really been far from her thoughts for days. It was a picture of Jake rising naked and proud and wet from a river. Amanda sucked in a sharp breath and pinched her eyes closed. It didn't work. In the pitch blackness behind her eyelids she could still see tiny beads of moisture clinging to a firm copper shoulder. Her fingers curled inward, lightly fisting the baby's small, pudgy hand. Even now, days later, she still ached to rub those glistening drops of water into Jake's skin.

The chair creaked as she pushed the dirt floor with her foot, unconsciously urging it to rock faster.

Another image sliced through her. In this one Jake was also naked... only this time he was arched over her, and a part of him was buried inside the most intimate part of her. For the rest of her life, Amanda knew she would remember the wondrous look on his face when he'd made that first breathtaking thrust, and how her body had flowered open to welcome him. She would never forget how, for just a while, it felt to be loved by a man.

No, she corrected silently, not by just any man, by Jacob Blackhawk Chandler. There was a difference.

"Penny for your thoughts, Amanda Lennox."

"Hmmm?" Amanda's lashes flickered up, her dreamy gaze instantly pulling Little Bear into focus. She didn't realize she'd been smiling until she forced herself to stop. "I—What?"

"Penny for your thoughts," Little Bear repeated as he settled himself in the chair he'd drawn up beside hers. "That was the first white-eyes phrase Gail taught me. I use it often. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," she lied. "Nothing at all."

Little Bear sat back in his chair and, crossing one deerskin clad leg over the other, nodded. "Gail has told me it is impolite to call the few guests we have liars, so I will refrain. I will, however, say that the women I know smile in that particular fashion only when they are thinking of a particular man. Were you thinking of a man, Amanda Lennox?" He slanted her a dark, probing glance. "Were you thinking of Blackhawk?"

Amanda glanced guiltily down at the baby. Jacob was sleeping soundly, curled up in her arms. She stroked the tip of her index finger over his thick, dark hair, and said, "Why on earth would I be thinking of Jake? The man deserted me on your doorstep, for heaven's sake. That's a good enough reason not to waste my thoughts on him. As it is, I'm wondering at this point if he plans to come back for me."

"Did he promise you he would?"

"Yes."

"Then he will."

And that, Amanda suspected by the tone of Little Bear's voice, was that. To this man's mind, if Jake had promised to come back for her, he would come back. It was that simple.

It wasn't so simple to Amanda. After all,
she
was the one Jake had said those ugly words to, not Little Bear.
She
was the one he had loved one minute, then cast aside the next. As far as she was concerned, she wouldn't believe Jake was coming back for her until she saw him sitting astride his white in the woods where they'd agreed to meet, and not a second sooner. Until then, she would cling to her doubts; they alone offered protection from the pain that sliced into her heart.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. The fire crackled and popped in the hearth. Kane, sleeping in the straw basket beside Amanda's chair, cooed sleepily. An icy wind rattled the window panes.

"Where's Gail?" Amanda asked finally, feeling a sudden need for conversation. Though she felt Little Bear's contemplative gaze on her, she didn't look up.

"Our mat. The children tire her." His pause was riddled with speculation. "You are good with children, Amanda Lennox."

Amanda thought of Roger Thornton Bannister III.

Her stomach tightened with equal measures of distaste and concern. "I like most children," she answered evasively.

"My sons like you."

She smiled softly. "They seem to, don't they?"

"And you like them."

"Yes, very much."

"Even though they are only half white?"

Ah, she'd wondered where he was leading this conversation. Now she knew. Amanda chided herself for not expecting Little Bear's bluntness. It was one of the first things she'd learned about this man; he was nothing if not direct. The second was that if he liked you, you knew it. Gail was the same way. However, where Little Bear had offered his friendship almost immediately after their rocky meeting had been put behind them, Jake's sister was still withholding hers.

Amanda's chin came up, and she turned her head and met Little Bear's questioning ebony gaze squarely. "You know," she said, her voice low and edgy, "I'm getting tired of everyone demanding I look at the color of their skin before I decide whether or not to like them. And I'm equally as tired of everyone seeing me as 'white' and
then
deciding whether or not to like
me.
I'm not just white, dammit, I'm a human being. I have feelings and emotions just like everyone else. Why won't any of you see that?"

"I see it," Little Bear answered quietly, apparently not at all upset by her outburst.

Well, maybe
he
wasn't, but Amanda was upset by it. And ashamed. Ladies did not yell at one's host. She knew that, and yet... God, she was confused! She softened her tone. "I know you do, Little Bear. And I thank you for it, really I do."

He reached across their chairs and patted the smooth white hand that rested atop his son's stomach. "Gail will see it, too. In time."

"How
much
time? I won't be here forever, you know."

"No. But you will be here until Blackhawk comes for you."

Amanda chuckled derisively and shook her head. "Then I'll be here forever. I really don't think he's coming back."

"You are wrong."

Amanda pursed her lips; wanting with all her heart to believe it, yet not daring to—because of that same, aching heart. "You sound very sure of yourself, my strange new friend."

"I have reason to be."

"Do you? I don't suppose you'd share that reason with me?"

"I know Blackhawk better than you do," Little Bear said with a dismissive shrug.

Amanda heard his sigh, and she watched as he settled more comfortably in the chair, his gaze on the flames crackling in the hearth. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She would have sworn the glow of the fire hadn't put that devilish sparkle in Little Bear's eyes. His next words confirmed it.

"Oh, and there is one other reason I know Blackhawk will return."

She waited for him to continue. It took almost a full minute before she realized he had no intention of doing so. She decided to wait him out, refusing to be baited. Only one arched golden brow spoke of her curiosity. But Little Bear wasn't looking at her, he didn't see it. He said nothing and instead just continued to stare into the flames.

The baby, sensing her anxiety, squirmed in her arms. Amanda crooned and stroked him. When Jacob had settled, and when she didn't think she could stand the suspense a second longer, she speared Little Bear with a sharp glare. "Tell me," she said finally, almost but not quite desperately. "Please. I need to know. How can you be so sure Jake will come back?"

Little Bear's gaze met hers, and he grinned broadly. "Because the wild bird has already flown home. Blackhawk is here, Amanda Lennox. He has been for hours."

Three times Amanda came oh, so close to going outside the cabin and inside the barn. The temptation was there, undeniable and strong. So was the need to see and touch Jake again.

Three times the humiliating words he'd slapped in her face after they'd made love held her back. No, she would not—
could not—go
to him. She refused to humble herself that way.

That didn't mean she didn't want him. She did—physically, mentally, in any way she could have him, for as long as he would stay with her. Amanda wanted that so badly she ached.

Again and again.
The memory of those words were the only thing that kept her sane, that made the pain bearable. His promise burned like fire inside of her.

As she lay in front of Little Bear and Gail's stone hearth, wrapped up in three threadbare blankets, Amanda remembered the passion-dark glances Jake had sent her after they'd made love, and she felt her blood flow hot.

She tossed restlessly onto her back. The dirt floor felt hard and lumpy beneath her. She squirmed, trying to find a comfortable spot. There was none. With a frustrated sigh, she flung the back of one hand over her eyes... and remembered a time when the ground hadn't felt so hard, when the only lumps pressing into her were made up of corded male flesh.

Wind rattled the window panes, sneaking through the cracks in the casing. A chilly rush of air skimmed the floor and whispered over Amanda. She shivered. The blankets and the crackling fire helped warm her. Of course, there'd been a time when Jake Chandler's body had provided all the covering she needed, all the heat she could possibly stand.

Groaning, Amanda tossed onto her side. The fire warmed her cheeks and brow, caressing the golden curls that rested there. It was a peaceful feeling, warm and lulling. It might even have eased her into sleep, if her mind hadn't picked that moment to wonder if Jake had built his own fire in the barn. Had he dared? Or were his problems with his sister so irreconcilable that he'd rather sleep on the hard ground without a fire to keep him warm—just in case Gail spotted the telltale glow and came to investigate?

Surely he wouldn't be so foolish, so stubborn.

Surely she wasn't concerned about him!

Yes, she was. Very concerned. The idea of him curled up and shivering on the hard, cold ground ate at Amanda. It shouldn't have—after all, it was his own mule-headed pride that forbade him from coming to his sister's cabin—but it did.