White Eagle's Touch (17 page)

But his thoughts were turned ever toward Shines Like Moonlight and he hoped that somehow she had received his message.

In truth, he prayed for it.

Katrina watched White Eagle with something akin to amazement.

When their hands had met, she was certain her legs would not hold her, so intense had been the sensation between them.

And she’d known then, as she’d touched him, what exactly was happening between them.

She was changing. No longer did she view White Eagle as a savage, nor even as an Indian. He was simply a man, a person, with beliefs and customs, goals and aspirations, the same as anyone else.

Her gaze followed White Eagle as he paraded himself and his accomplishment throughout the Indian village. Never would she have thought it of herself, and yet, there it was.

She admired him.

Never had anyone accomplished such a feat for her.

Never had anyone shown her so much care, so much attention; nor had a man ever come so readily to her defense.

And she could not remember ever wanting anyone more.

There it was: She had admitted it at last. She desired this man; she wanted his touch, his caress, his kisses. She wanted him, and all that went along with him.

In truth, she was infatuated, utterly captivated by him.

She raised her chin against the wind blowing directly in her face, her gaze never once wavering from him, as the veracity of her feelings struck her.

It was that simple. She fancied him. She, who was engaged to marry another; she, who had never believed there was such a thing as passion. She now found herself enthralled, yea, charmed, by this man.

She continued to watch him.

He looked magnificent, as he sat atop his horse, his buffalo robe now thrown over his shoulders.

He was Indian, and yet, at this moment, she simply didn’t see. Her heart yearned for him; it was all that mattered.

And she wondered: How had the reports of these native people, their true nature and disposition, become so distorted, so inaccurate in the East? From the reports she’d read, she had thought to find beggars and thieves amongst these people. Instead she’d found honor, truth and a hero.

She didn’t know what to do, about him, about herself, about her fiancé.

But those things didn’t matter right now. All she could see at this moment was White Eagle, her champion.

And she would remember the way he looked, proud, triumphant, jubilant, the rest of her life.

And so it was that, as she made ready to tread back toward Fort Union, she barely noticed the Marquess of Leicester—a very bald and footsore Marquess of Leicester—chasing behind his horse and finally making his way across the finish line. But in truth, no one else took note of it, either.

Chapter Eleven

Moonbeams filtered in through the glass of her window.

Katrina stood behind that transparent screen, gazing out into the courtyard of the fort. The moon was full and bright this night, painting all the objects, the buildings, the grounds, in unearthly shades of silvery light.

She stared out her window, restless. She couldn’t sleep. She had been trying to do so for hours, tossing and turning, but sleep evaded her. And she knew why. She was too overwrought, too anxious and much too apprehensive.

She couldn’t help wondering: Could she remain engaged to one man when she felt enthralled with another?

She had been debating this with herself ever since the race.

“Mistress”—it was Rebecca who had stolen up behind her—“is something the matter?”

Katrina jumped, so lost had she been in thought. When she had recovered sufficiently, she said, “No, no, Rebecca, I just cannot sleep.”

“I will get you some warm milk. I believe Mr. McKenzie keeps some here.”

“No, thank you.” Katrina turned away from the window to stare at her maid. “It will be all right. I just need some time to think, I suppose I am a bit overwrought.”

Rebecca didn’t respond for some moments, and when at last she did speak, it was to murmur, “It is the Indian, is it not?”

Katrina didn’t say a word, just turned her face back toward the window.

“I saw the way you looked at him today. I saw the way…not that I blame you, mistress. He is a handsome man and so gallant.”

“Yes, he is,” said Katrina. “I think, Rebecca, that maybe I will take that milk after all.”

“Yes, mistress.” Rebecca started to move away, but she turned back before she left, and said, “Do you love him?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“If you did, it would mean that you would have to cancel your engagement to the marquess.”

“I must marry the marquess.”

“Why?”

“Because I have given the Marquess of Leicester my word of honor to do so. Such agreements are not lightly made, nor lightly broken. The value of my word, once pledged, my integrity, are at risk, and I fear that if I go against these things, it will only serve to break me. How could I ever trust myself again?”

“But mistress—”

“Besides, what sort of future would I have with White Eagle? He does not fit into my world. Can you imagine the scandal if I were to return to New York with him? Nor could I remain in his world.

All I can foresee in such a future as that would be great unhappiness.” Katrina remained at her window, her gaze caught by a single moonbeam, and she whispered, so that it was barely audible, “Still, knowing all these things does not detract from the way I feel about him.”

“Oh, mistress…”

“I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Perhaps you should do nothing yet. Sometimes these things have a way of working themselves out.”

“Perhaps.” Katrina turned around slightly so that she faced Rebecca as she said, “I have been thinking that mayhap, in time, I could learn to live with my feelings. Maybe I should just enjoy what time I have here with White Eagle, that I might have the memories of it for the rest of my life. For I cannot foresee changing my life so drastically.”

Rebecca looked down at the floor. “You sound like one in love.”

“Love?” Katrina looked away. “No, Rebecca, I told you once that I do not believe in such an emotion. But, I will tell you this, I do feel…enchanted.”

“Mistress, I—”

“I think I will have that milk now.”

“Yes, mistress,” said Rebecca, and she turned away to go and fetch the needed sleeping remedy.

But Katrina’s mind remained alert.

There was no other solution for her, was there? She could not destroy her honor, nor all that she had established for herself, for a man whom she could never marry, or a way of life she could never encompass.

Such would be the height of folly, would it not?

Still…

She couldn’t help wondering what the morrow would bring.

She breathed in, and with a heavy sigh, she gazed out into the yard, fascinated by the light and shadows that the moon cast over the landscape. The tepees, which stood scattered around the flagpole, looked more welcoming than they did foreign, here under the spell of a midnight moon.

Was he out there even now?

And if he were, was he awake? And did he think of her?

She admonished herself for pondering such a thing. And yet, she truly wished to know.

It did occur to her as she stood here, watching, that she was acting as though she were waiting for something…or someone. She glanced down at her unshapely nightdress of white linen and wondered briefly if she dared to venture out there, into the night. True, she was more than well covered, but would it be seemly for her to step outside in her nightclothes?

Proper or not, she felt compelled to do it.

She glanced briefly toward her vanity, noting her reflection in the mirror and the way her long nightcap covered her head. She was certainly well enough dressed. Still…

She fingered the rich, black riding cap that she held in her hand. It was the same cap that had been given to her earlier today. It was also an article she did not intend to relinquish.

The marquess had more caps and wigs than this. Let him wear another. This one was…her trophy. Given to her by a man who was as gallant as the knights of old.

The Indian. She shook her head as though such action might clear her mind, but it was just not to be.

The Indian was too disturbing by far.

All at once an image of White Eagle materialized in front of her, the one she had been trying to forget, quite unsuccessfully, and she couldn’t help but remember, recalling again how White Eagle had appeared today at the race, standing before them all, nude, all hard muscle and masculinity.

She had never seen anyone look so…so…alluring, and though she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him.

Perhaps a stroll in the balmy night air might calm her nerves and her imagination. Forget about the milk. Mayhap a good walk might allow her the sleep which had so far evaded her.

She glanced at her bed, still perfectly made. There at the foot of it lay her dressing gown. No one would be about at this hour of the night, save the engages who were on watch and Rebecca who would simply leave her milk on her night table.

There was no reason not to go. She would be safe; she would do all she could to remain unnoticed.

The decision made, she stepped to the foot of her bed, there to pick up her nightcoat and, placing it around her, she quietly left the room, slipping out into the moonlit beauty of the soft, Western night.

It must have been just past the hour of midnight, she decided, glancing heavenward at the stars. Not that there were many twinklings to be seen on this night; the moon was too bright, washing out many of the other reflections.

But the position of the stars and of the moon in the sky gave her the impression of the correct time.

The air felt balmy and warm against her face, the wind reaching even to her skin beneath her clothing. It felt refreshing, animated, sensual. The scent of Indian fires, of food cooking and roasted meat were no longer present in the air, though in the far distance, she could still hear the beat of a drum from somewhere within the Indian encampment.

The earth felt solid and firm beneath her feet as her slippered footfalls made little sound over the ground, and the buildings around her faded into anonymity within the shadows of the night.

She took a deep breath, the air smelling fresh, invigorating.

“Does Shines Like Moonlight enjoy the night?” She gasped and turned around swiftly. The Indian stood directly in front of her.

She made a grab for her heart. “You frightened me, sneaking up on me like that.”

White Eagle bent his head in acknowledgment. “It was not intended. I forget sometimes that the white man is not used to and cannot easily perceive the casual movement of the Indian.”

She stared at him. “Yes,” she said, “well…”

“Shines Like Moonlight could not sleep?”

“No, I could not,” she said, huddling into her robe and drawing it more closely around her. “I have not had a restful evening so far this night.”

“Humph,” he said. “Does Shines Like Moonlight worry?”

“Well, yes, I suppose that I do. I…I want to thank you for what you did for me today. I… It was not expected, your coming to my defense as you did, and I just want you to know that your allegiance will not go unrewarded.”

He nodded. Then, after some moments, he said, “And do you intend to…reward me?”

“Certainly.”

“And what sort of…prize are you thinking to give me?”

“I am uncertain, as yet,” she said. “Mayhap, I will find some item of value that I can give you, it is only that I do not know you well enough yet to estimate something of worth to you.”

Again he nodded his head. “I could help you.”

“Could you?”

“Aa,
yes. I could tell you something I would like that you could very well give me.”

She smiled. “That would be fine, I believe,” she said. “And what is it that would you like from me?”

He stared at her for several moments before he said, “A kiss.”

“A kiss?”

“Aa,
yes. It has been a long day, one filled with many trials for me. A kiss from Shines Like Moonlight would be a great reward, I think.”

She stood up straight, pulling her dressing gown so firmly around her that her figure became clearly outlined against the moonlight. She said, “That was not what I had in mind as a reward, I must tell you.”

He grinned at her, so very slightly.
“Aa,
yes, I know, but it is something I would treasure more than any other thing.”

She paused for so long, she wondered if he might tire of her company and leave her. But when he did nothing, said nothing, only gazed steadily at her, she at last said, “Very well. Come here.”

Again he grinned. “Does Shines Like Moonlight wish me to kiss her, or will she honor me with her embrace?”

She glanced up at him. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”