Chapter Ten
"It was good of you to come, Lady Elizabeth." Thomas pressed his lips to the back of her pale hand. "Come in and sit for a moment."
Elizabeth blushed delicately. "My brother, James, escorted me. The Earl won't allow us to travel alone, not even to neighboring plantations, not since . . . " She lowered her gaze, bringing an embroidered handkerchief to her trembling lips.
"Oh, dear, I've upset you, Lady Elizabeth. Come in and do sit." Thomas stuck his head out the front door. "Lord Loglyn." He waved his hand. "Do come in and share in a refreshment."
James lowered himself from his mount with the aid of a black servant. "Have you chocolate, like last time?" The boy swept past Thomas, and into the front hall. He turned to allow a young housemaid to take his cloak. "It's grown chilly outside. I'd not have ventured out on a day like this, but Elizabeth insisted she bring the news to you herself."
"Come in and warm yourself by the fire." Thomas led the Montagues into the parlor. "So you have news, have you, Elizabeth." He frowned. "Might I call you Elizabeth? After all our families have been through, I think the social rules might be bent a bit, don't you?"
Elizabeth smoothed the ruffle of the modesty piece tucked in her décolletage. She had dressed carefully this afternoon in a low-waisted woolen gown the color of harvested corn. It was obvious by the way Thomas looked at her that he had noticed. "I think that would be reasonable, Thomas . . . don't you, James?"
James gave no reply, plopping himself down in the chair closest to the fireplace. He leaned to scratch the head of an old hound bitch resting on the brick hearth. Content to be warm, he paid no attention to his sister and neighbor.
Thomas led Elizabeth to a chair beneath a window and sat down beside her. "So tell the news. It's been nearly three weeks since Deborah was taken."
Elizabeth dabbed at her pale lips with her handkerchief. Poor Thomas, she thought, taking notice of his ashen complexion and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He's worried himself sick over her, and to think she never gave a wink for him. "A message finally came to my father late last night."
"A message? From the savage?"
Elizabeth nodded, her voice grave. "There was a written note and, and"—she took a deep breath—"and a lock of Deborah's hair!"
Thomas gasped. "No!"
She clutched her handkerchief in her fist. "The man who took my sister is quite serious. He says she will not be returned until my father agrees to release the other red man. He's hidden her too well. No matter how far the search parties go, they can find no trace of my sister."
"What is the Earl going to do?" A maid brought in a tray of hot chocolate in tiny porcelain cups and a plate of small iced cakes. "Something warm to drink?" Thomas asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, but James, you know how he loves sweets."
"Peggy, please serve Lord Loglyn. There'll be nothing for us right now."
When the maid walked away, Elizabeth leaned forward, lowering her voice. "I don't know what the Earl's going to do, Thomas," she said desperately. "He's in contact with the authorities, but what can they do? Father says the redskins need to be taught a lesson. They just can't take innocent women from their homes and . . ." She choked on her final words.
"There, there." Thomas took Elizabeth's hand, patting it soothingly. "Don't upset yourself." He studied her plain little face. "Your sister is alive, I'm sure of it. The Earl will get her back, you'll see."
Elizabeth was caught between her genuine concern for her sister and her excitement over the attention Thomas Hogarth was giving her. "I don't doubt Father will bring her home, but . . . " She looked away, staring out the window. "Will she ever recover? "Will . . . will she be able to fulfill her duties as wife to you?" She glanced meaningfully at him, feeling quite bold.
He smiled. "Elizabeth, how good of you to be so concerned for my welfare. You understand how important it is that I have a wife who can be there at my side."
"It's just that after living among those savages for so long, how can she possibly return unscathed?"
Thomas squeezed her hand. "Don't worry your pretty little head anymore. It will all turn out for the best. You'll see."
She blushed, withdrawing her hand for fear of appearing too improper. "I do hope you're right, Thomas."
"I am. Now please, have some refreshment before you return home to Host's Wealth. A little claret perhaps to take away the chill."
Elizabeth smiled, bringing her thumb and finger together. "Just a drop."
James stood up, crumbs clinging to his chin. "Could I have another cup, Tom? It was quite good." He licked his fingers noisily.
"Certainly, Lord Loglyn." He stood, smiling down at Elizabeth. "Peggy!"
An hour later Elizabeth stood in the front hall tying her cloak. "I must be going. James hates the cold." She lifted her hood.
"Do come again if you've any news, Elizabeth. And even if you don't . . . " He shrugged. "I've enjoyed your company. You've been such a comfort in this trying time."
"Elizabeth! Come along or I'll leave you behind!" James shouted from astride his horse.
"Coming, James!" She gave Thomas a quick smile. "And do come by Host's Wealth. We've missed you."
"I'll do that." He nodded, holding the door for her. "Good- bye, Elizabeth."
She blushed, running down the brick steps. "Goodbye!
Deborah tapped her moccasin to the rhythm of the shaman's gourd rattle, watching him beat out an intricate series of steps in a harvest dance. The light of the great fire burned brilliantly, warming the October night air. The shaman's long white braids swung at the side of his face, whipping to and fro as the beat picked up pace, hollow drums echoing in the background.
Bee sat on one side of Deborah, Snow Blanket on the other. Across the community campfire, Tshingee squatted, speaking to one of the elders. When Tshingee looked up, Deborah smiled, but he glanced back at the elder, not seeming to notice her.
Deborah cursed the Lenni Lenape brave beneath her breath. It had been over two weeks since she'd arrived in the village and for two weeks Tshingee had avoided her. He had left her in the care of his mother, warning her that if she tried to escape, he would only capture her again and then she would be forced to remain tied up until she was returned to her father . . . no matter how long that took.
So, she was under a house arrest of sorts. She lived in Snow Blanket's wigwam, she went to the stream, she wandered about the camp, but she remained within its boundaries. Where was she going to go? She was smart enough to know to travel east until she hit the Chesapeake, but how could she travel alone and without provisions? And what of the Mohawks? Tshingee said their raids went well into the fall. This time of year the Lenni Lenape stood watch over their camp twenty-four hours a day.
Deborah watched as Tshingee stood and walked out of the light of the fire. His broad-shouldered shadow was joined by that of a petite feminine one. Even over the din of the drums, rattles, and voices, she could hear Suuklan's bell-like voice.
Anger and resentment rose anew within Deborah. No matter how much she tried to reason with herself, no matter how many times she reminded herself that Tshingee was her enemy, she still cared for him. Deeply. All reason told her she should just stay away from him. In a few weeks John would be set free and she would be returned to her father. Tshingee had been right; she was not with child, her woman's time had come on schedule. She could go back to Host's Wealth, marry Thomas, and fake her virginity on their wedding night. No one need ever know she had made love with the savage.
But she would know. No matter how hard she tried to forget, she could not. Her body betrayed her each time she caught sight of Tshingee's chiseled, masculine features. Her mind betrayed her as she watched him from afar. She found herself searching for Tshingee in the crowd. She watched him swing an axe, cutting firewood across the compound. She watched him squat and demonstrate to Bee how an arrowhead was attached to the shaft. And she watched him laugh and talk with Suuklan. . . .
Suddenly Deborah stood and walked away. She skirted the campfire, her stride long and determined. Ahead she could make out Tshingee's shadow and that of his betrothed.
"I want to speak to you, Tshingee," she said, coming to stand in front of him, her hands resting on her hips.
"Good ev-en-ing," Rain greeted sweetly. "Do you enjoy the dance of the corn?"
Deborah glanced at the young maiden. "Now, Tshingee. Alone."
" I . . . I go." Suuklan took an apologetic step back. N'dellemuske."
"No, you don't have to go, Suuklan. She doesn't mean to be rude."
The young maiden shook her head. "I go." She smiled. "Tomorrow we speak." Taking another step back, she nodded to Deborah and hurried away.
Tshingee's lips curled in fury. "You should have stayed seated with Co-o-nah and Bee. There is no excuse for rudeness. Suuklan has done nothing to harm you."
"I'm sorry if I was rude," Deborah snapped. "I apologize for my crude social graces."
"You are forgiven." He glanced up at the campfire. Other villagers were now rising and joining the shaman in the harvest dance. "Go back and sit."
"What is wrong with you? What have I done?" She caught his hand and his dark eyes met hers. "Tshingee?"
He could barely stand the pain in her voice. The urge to take her in his arms was so great that he had to tense the muscles of his arms to keep them at his sides. "You have done nothing," he responded without emotion.
Feeling him stiffen, she pulled her hand back. "God's teeth! What do you mean I've done nothing? Obviously, it was something or you wouldn't be treating me like I carry the pox!"
"Lower your voice. It is impolite to share disagreements with others."
"Disagreements.! What disagreement?" Her voice grew louder with each word. "I just want to know what the hell—"
Tshingee took her around the waist, propelling her forward out of earshot of the villagers.
"I want to know what has happened between us!" she finished. "You can't deny that you didn't feel something for me back there on the trail. You can't deny that it's been there since we met that day in John's garden." Her voice had reached a desperate peak. "Tshingee, I don't understand!"
He sighed, gazing up at the dark heavens that stretched over them in a canopy of stars. A crisp, northwesterly breeze made his ebony hair flutter on his shoulder. "I have committed a grave error, Red Bird," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No, I cannot deny my feeling for you, but don't you see . . . " He bore down on her with a dark penetrating gaze. "Don't you see I'm protecting you."
"I don't understand. What have you done?" She rested her hands on his shoulders.
Tshingee couldn't resist encircling her waist with his hands. It felt so good to hold her again. Suuklan felt comfortable in his arms, but this white woman, she made him tremble. She made his heart pound. He cupped her Deborah's chin. "I had no right to take you. You were in my care, you were my responsibility. I have stolen what belongs to another man."
"My virginity?" She chuckled. "I have no regrets. I told you, I came to you freely. And I told you why. I never felt anything so wonderful." She stroked the line of his jaw. "I don't think I ever will again."
"It makes no difference. I had no right. Among my people"—He looked away—"I would be expected to marry you."
"Marry?" She pressed her lips to his in a gentle, soothing kiss. "Is that what you're so angry with me about? You think I expect you to marry me?" She couldn't help laughing. "Tshingee, you could no more marry me than I could marry you. I'm not that naive."
Deborah's words eased his mind, but they disturbed his heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had hoped she expected him to marry her. The fact that he couldn't didn't seem to matter.
Their eyes met and he reached out to tug at a thick lock of her hair. It was the lock he had cut at chin level to send to her father. "I regret I did this."
"It will grow back." Her soft voice beckoned him; her lips trembled. "Kiss me."
"I should not. You belong to the man Thomas. I will wed Suuklan in the spring."
"Do you love her?"
He shook his head mutely.
"Will you ever?"
"Perhaps," he answered, mesmerized by her steady gaze.
"Could you love me? A different time? A different place?"
"I could love you."
She smiled sadly. "Then that's all that matters. We both know that John will be released and I will return to the Tidewater to be Thomas's wife. But couldn't we . . . could we just pretend for a little while that we belong to each other?"
"It would not be fair to Suuklan."
"But you said you don't love her. You shouldn't be marrying someone you don't want to."
"Are you in love with your Thomas?"
"Of course not!"
"Then you should not be marrying him."
"It's not the same thing and you know it." She spanned his chest with her palm, relishing the feel of the soft hide beneath her fingertips. "You have a choice. I have none."
"We always have choices, Red Bird." He traced the outline of her lips with his finger and she touched its tip with her tongue.
"Not so. Don't speak of what you don't know." She bit his finger lightly. "Just kiss me. No one can see us. I won't tell," she teased.
Tshingee took her mouth forcefully, his fingers threading through her long, thick hair. His kiss was rough and demanding, full of unfulfilled dreams.
When he finally withdrew, they were both breathless, their hearts pounding. Her groin was pressed against his so that she could feel the hardness beneath his tunic.
"By the heavens, I want you," he murmured in her ear. He held her against his chest, his face buried in her sweet-smelling hair. "I lie awake in my wigwam thinking of you asleep on your mat." He clenched her tightly. "Why must it be this way?"
"It doesn't have to be," she whispered. "Can't we be together, just until John is released?"
He kissed her brow. "You would hate me when it was time that you go."
"I wouldn't."
He smiled in the darkness. "You are young, Red Bird. Trust me."
"Don't do this to me. Please? I need you."
"In time you will forget." He kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the birthmark at the corner of her mouth.
"I won't."
He took her arms from around his shoulders and lowered them to her sides. The light of the half moon shone down in a bright white stream, illuminating her face. Moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes.
"Don't deny me, don't deny yourself," she begged.
He kissed the tip of his finger and brushed it against her trembling lips. "It is the honorable thing to do." Then he walked away.
Deborah stood alone for a moment in the darkness, a sob rising in her throat. Choking it back, she ran into the darkness, around the campfire and toward Snow Blanket's wigwam.
Snow Blanket watched Deborah's retreat and then spotted her son standing on the far side of the circle of villagers. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the burning fire. A single tear trickled down his sun-bronzed cheek.
Slowly Snow Blanket made her way around the circle until she was standing beside her son, watching the dancers. For a long time the two were silent. The dampness dried on his cheek and the pain in his heart became more bearable.
"You are troubled, my son," Snow Blanket said when an appropriate amount of time had passed. She hated to see him in such emotional turmoil. Though she loved her son John fiercely, it was this child who was her heart of hearts. It was Tshingee who had filled in the gaps of time when she could not be with his father. It was he who had lifted her from the depths of despair when her white man had taken sick and died.
"When John is set free, all will be well again," Tshingee answered, lapsing into Algonquian. He did not dare meet his mother's gaze.
She chuckled. "I think not. It will never be the same, nothing ever is."
"You speak in riddles." He continued to stare at the blazing fire. Having Deborah in his arms again brought back the flood of emotions he had been trying so hard to stifle these last two weeks. He loved her so much—how could he give her up?
"I speak of you and the white girl, my son. I speak of Suuklan, of John, of all of us . . . but mostly I speak of you."
"I don't understand."
She removed a clay pipe from a bag around her waist and began to fill it with tobacco. "You are in love with this Deb-or- ah."
Snow Blanket's words echoed in his mind. "What causes you to say that?" he asked carefully.
"The pain in your eyes. The pain in hers."
"After John is released, I will return Deborah to her father. I am a man of honor. My word is my life. She must go.".
"All that you say is true. But the fact remains that you love her." She walked into the circle of the camp and lit her pipe, returning to her son's side.
Tshingee turned to Snow Blanket. "Our love cannot be, my onna," he said with tragic defeat.
"No, it cannot."
"So what is the point of your words?"
"I am concerned for you and for Suuklan. She is in love with you." She exhaled, the sweet smell of tobacco filling the night air.
He sighed. "I still intend to marry her when it is time to plant again. I think it is best."
"But you are not in love with her?"
It was his turn to chuckle. "You are the second person to ask tonight, and she was not one of them." He paused. "But no. I do not love her."
Snow Blanket puffed on her pipe thoughtfully. "I told you when you agreed to the match that she was not for you, Tshingee."
"She is bright; she will make a good wife and mother."
"This is true. But her flame does not burn bright enough for you, my son. Her place is here among her people. But for you, this old woman sees more. You will not always remain at my side."
"I think you have sat too long in the sun, my mother." He drew a pattern in the soft dirt with the toe of his moccasin. "You know I have no desire to live as a poor white farmer like my brother. I am content here."
"You have never been content, my Wildcat of the forest. Not since you were a babe suckling at my breast. You always wanted what you could not have and most often you got it."
"I am no longer a child and you do not have the gift of foretelling what's to come to pass."
"No, I do not claim to know what the gods have in store, but I know you will never be a dirt farmer. I just remind you that there are other possibilities. As many possibilities as there are stars in the heavens."
"I think I will go to my mat. I have the dawn watch." He looked up at the stars and then back at his mother. "These words were between you and I. What is in my heart is mine to guard as I please."
"You mean your Deb-or-ah does not know what is in your heart?" She tapped his chest lightly with the stem of her clay pipe.
"There is no need to tell her. It will only make it harder to part. This way, I spare us both." He nodded slightly. "Good night, mother."
Snow Blanket chuckled, watching her son walk away. It was true, she did not know what the Gods had in store for her younger son, but whatever it was, she was anxious to see it.