Wolf Shadow’s Promise (23 page)

W
as it possible that he had heard of her engagement? It might explain his odd behavior and his insistence on taking such daring chances this past week. Still, he couldn't believe that she, his wife, would tie herself to another man.

Or could he?

She'd not had the chance to explain her actions to him. And even if she had, wasn't it possible that he still might think the worst? Wasn't it why she hadn't told him her plans in the beginning?

Still, if he had already heard of it…

She needed to talk to Moon Wolf.

And so it was with great purpose that she stole into the caves at noon, intent upon having a private conversation with her husband. But he was nowhere to be found.

She cut a glance to the ceiling and sighed. She supposed he had already gone to the waterfall. Well, make no mistake, she would find him and get this squared away, no matter the consequences.

 

“Do you know how to handle an arrow?”

These, his first words to her, did not encourage her. She gave him a hesitant glance, saying, “I don't think so, but there is something I would—”

“Come you here, then, and I will teach you.”

They stood outside, in an open meadow, downhill and to the right of the falls. Staked out in front of her were sticks standing straight up in the ground. And before her stood her husband, a hoop in his hand, the wind blowing back his hair.

She took the few steps necessary to close the distance between them, as Moon Wolf tossed her an arrow at the same time.

He continued, “This is the hoop and long arrow game.”

“Oh.” The wind caught her hair and the side of her dress, and she reached down to keep her skirts from blowing.

He pretended to take no notice, however, and went on to explain, “The game comes to us from the Kit Fox society, which is part of the All Comrades society. It is usually played by boys too young to travel or hunt with the men.”

“Wonderful, but I—”

“Come,” he pointed to a place next to him. “Stand here and I will show you how it is done.”

She went. “But Moon Wolf,” she protested, “I would have a few words with you first.”

He gave her a scowl. “If you plan to go on raids with me, then I must first ensure that you can protect yourself.”

“But I—”

“Later we will talk. Now, I want you to hold on to this arrow. Look you here at the wood. It is made from choke cherry and at this end is a deer antler which I have made into a point. If you choose to, you can decorate the other
end of this in any fashion that you might desire. For now I have put a feather on it”

“Moon Wolf,” she said, grasping hold of the arrow, but not giving it so much as a quick glimpse. “Moon Wolf, first I need to talk to you about a plan that I had devised to—”

“Are you to learn these skills or not?” he interrupted her. “If you do not master these, I cannot allow you to go on the raids, no matter your temperament or your arguments with me. If I must, I will tie you to your bed each and every time I go on a raid.”

“Fine, I will do what you want,” she said, “but I would talk to you first, before we start.”

He came up to her then, taking the few steps necessary to place a hand on her shoulders. That the simple gesture sent a feeling of excitement racing over her skin she chose to ignore, at least for the moment.

He said, “I promise you that we will talk, but I would ask that you save whatever it is until after we have practiced. Can you agree to that?”

Put that way, how could she refuse? She nodded. “All right, then. But you must promise me that you will not leave me until we have had a chance to talk.”

“I give you my word.”

She squared her shoulders. “All right. What do I have to do?”

He held up a round hoop in front of her face. It was made of willow sticks pulled into a ring and wrapped in a hide. Colored beads decorated the inside of the thing. He said, “I am going to throw this hoop out in front of you, close at first, but then farther and farther away, and it is your duty to throw that arrow into the hoop.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Once you have mastered this skill, we will go on to the next. Are you ready?”

She nodded, and he rolled the hoop in front of her.

She tossed the arrow, missing the hoop by at least a foot.

“Try again,” he encouraged, collecting up the hoop and rolling it again in front of her.

Once more, she missed it.

Again, he rolled the hoop, over and over. She never made the target, not even once.

Observing her, he said, “I think it is the way you are throwing the arrow. Have you never been taught how to throw?”

“I've not had a reason to learn,” she said.

He came up beside her on the left. “Here, watch me.” He reached over her to take the arrow, his fingers brushing against her hand and her stomach at the same time. A shock of raw feeling burst through her with the simple gesture, but she remained silent, merely changing her stance in reaction. He continued, “This is a long arrow, much like a lance, and must be thrown from over the shoulder. Notice how the hand holds the arrow cocked until the last moment, and then the wrist is flicked. Do you see?” He demonstrated.

She nodded. “I think so. Let me try it again.”

He let go of the arrow, his arm brushing against her stomach, and almost, but not quite, touching her breasts.

Still, she pretended immunity. She put the arrow up over her shoulder, giving him a swift look at the same time. “Are you going to roll the hoop?”

“I think that we will first learn how to throw the arrow.”

“Do you think I will need this skill, when I have a gun that I will be using instead of the arrow?”

“It will not be a waste. Learning how to throw correctly will serve you well, I think. Besides, we cannot practice with a gun, for I do not wish the noise to draw others to us. It is the eye we are training, for the object of the game
is to throw the arrow through the hoop. It is a skill you can use with a gun, too, for it teaches you to hit a moving target.”

She gave him a brief nod. “Okay, if you say so. Here we go.” She threw the arrow, imitating him as best she could.

“That was better,” he said, retrieving the arrow for her. “Try again.”

Over and over she practiced, though still without much success.

He came up to her. “Watch for a moment.” He took the arrow from her. “The arm needs to go back over the shoulder farther.” He demonstrated once before handing over the arrow to her.

She took it from him, poised the arrow over her shoulder, and practically melted into the ground when his arms came around her, his right arm holding hers, imitating the correct motion. His body was close to hers, too close, and she felt herself wanting to merge her body with his.

She let him take her arm through the correct movements, all the while snuggling in as close as possible to him, the evidence of his masculinity, though unaroused, pushing into her side. Timidly, she stole a glance up at him.

He glared back at her, his look tolerant, not in the least erotic, although there was a huskiness in his voice when he asked, “Do you think you have it yet?”

He took a step back.

Now, truth was, she might have had the action down perfectly. But, even if she had, she wouldn't have admitted it.

She sent him a look of what she hoped was innocence, saying, “I'm not certain yet. Could you show me again?” She placed the arrow above her shoulder, and he stepped in toward her, though he sent her a knowing look, one that might have said he wasn't fooled by her in the least.

However, he didn't protest. “Hold it this way.” He took the necessary step to put his arm around her. He held her arm captive. “At the last minute,” he said, “flick your wrist thusly.” He had her release the arrow. “Do you see?” This last was whispered into her ear so huskily, that she actually moaned. Momentarily, she glanced up at him, making a mental note that his eye had not followed the arrow's progress in the least.

She turned in his embrace. “Moon Wolf,” she said, “I have something to say to you.”

“I know.” His lips came to her neck, where he began to nibble.

She threw back her head that he might have better access. “Moon Wolf,” she murmured, “I have missed you.”

“I know,” he uttered again between kisses.

And while she had his attention, she added, “There is no one but you. Surely you must know that. Is your impatience with me because you have somehow heard of my engagement?”

“I have not been impatient with you.”

“I think that you have, almost to the point of antagonism. Is it that you have heard of the engagement?” She put the question to him again.

“It is not important,” he said, though his body stiffened beneath her touch.

Still, she felt heartened. He had exhibited no surprise at her crude delivery of the truth. He must have received word of it. That would explain much.

“No,” she agreed with him after only a moment's hesitation, “it is not important. The engagement is a sham. It is not real. I only did it in order to discourage the lieutenant. Bobby Thompson is in love with another, and I am helping him to get the woman of his dreams. It is how I am returning his favor to me. There is no more to it than that.”

“Humph!” was Moon Wolf's only response, though he had resumed caressing her, bending to her neck as though she were a flower and he, a bee.

“You do believe me, do you not?”

“Why would I not?” His fingers touched the base of her neck, there massaging while he leaned back from her slightly. He raised an eyebrow. “If this was all there was to it, why did you not take me into your confidence or seek to enlighten me in some way?”

“There has not been time. I could not come to the caves and you did not come to me.”

His fingers toyed with the braid in her hair, reaching up to take the pins from it and let the length of it fall into his hands. He gazed steadily into her eyes. “I think,” he said, “that there was a night we spent together when you could have told me.”

She turned her face away from him. It was true. She could have confessed then. But she hadn't. She said, “I was afraid to. I was certain you would not approve.”

“I would not.”

“I did not want to be a prisoner in my own home. Nor did I wish to wait to see you. And I did not want you ordering me not to do what I thought was best.”

“I would have listened to you, patiently, like I am now.”

“And then told me to stop what I had already set into motion.”

He blinked. It was the only hint of emotion on his countenance. He said, “Yet you did not come to me once the plans were set. This you could have done.”

“I could not. You forbid me to come to the caves.”

He sighed, saying after a moment, “Perhaps you are right. Still, I cannot help but think that you might have sent word to me somehow. You must have known that I would discover this.”

“I never thought that you would. You are so disconnected from the fort's society.”

“And yet I saw a man coming and going from your house freely. What did you think I would do?”

“I didn't think. And I guess I was a little afraid to tell you.”

He nodded. “So I understand.”

“And now? What will you do with me now?”

“I think that I will ensure that you know how to throw this arrow through the hoop.” He withdrew his embrace from her and picked up the hoop.

Darn! He was so hard to read. What was he thinking? He hadn't smiled at her, hadn't raised his voice, hadn't even voiced much disagreement.

She trembled and asked, “Are you wishing you hadn't married me?”

He didn't look at her as he admitted, “I have had much time this week in which to ponder the facts of our marriage, and it came to me that you are not truly married to me, I think.”

She gasped.

He must have heard it, too, for he gave her a swift glance, though he looked quickly away. “Do not believe,” he said, “that this makes my commitment to you any less. It is only that we do not have this certificate from your culture that is needed to make you fully mine within the eyes of your own people.”

“But I could care less about such a thing.”

He raised a hand as if to ask her permission to continue. “So,” he said, “I have come to understand that in my society, we are husband and wife. In yours, we have only a short liaison, I fear.”

She snorted. “It doesn't matter if we are married by the customs of my society or not. We are joined together by our hearts, aren't we?”

She looked to him for confirmation. She received none.

She tried again, “It is the only thing that matters, isn't it, that we love one another?”

He raised one eyebrow, saying only, “Is it?”

She didn't answer, the quick flash of her eyes, her defense.

He stepped toward her. “It changes nothing from me to you, but it could leave you free, if you desire it.”

She, too, stepped forward. “But I don't desire it.”

“I would admit that I am glad to hear that the engagement is not real. I had begun to think that you might be one of those women who cannot live without several men.”

Her eyes widened.

“I am glad to discover that you are not. For, even thinking it might be true, it made no difference in my feelings for you.”

She took another delicate step forward. “Didn't it?”

“
Saa
, no, it did not.”

“And now?”

He grinned, the first smile she had seen from him in a very long time. He said, “I think we might never finish this game.” He came up beside her. “Come you here now and let us try to finish.” His arms came around her, to her throwing arm. “Do you see that stick in the ground there, the one with the feathers on top of it?”