tender and juicy. Her jaw hurt, and so did her temple each time she chewed, but Serena ignored the pain.
Wolf entered the tepee. He glared at Deer Woman, who was kneeling at Serena’s side, feeding her.
“Look, Black Wolf, she eats!” Deer Woman announced proudly. Now he would be pleased with her.
Disgruntled, Wolf sat down, several dried roots in hand. “You finally decided to return to your duties,” he rasped. He spread one root across a large flat stone. Taking a larger stone that fit his hand, he exerted all his strength and began to crush and grind the root into a powder.
“I was down gathering fresh willow for a basket I intend to make,” Deer Woman whispered, hurt by his censure.
“Yes, and you left my niece behind. I have things to do, girl! I cannot tend Dawn Sky and this red-haired cougar plus all my other duties!” Wolf glanced up into Deer Woman’s wounded features. “I do not intend to have Little Swallow care for my niece just because you ignore your womanly duties. Next time, you take Dawn Sky with you.”
“But it is hard to watch her and hunt for willow,” Deer Woman whined. “You were all sleeping well when I left. I saw no reason to awaken your niece.”
Each grinding movement with the stone bled away some of his frustration and anger. Wolf glanced over at Cante Tinza. She’d stopped eating the moment he’d entered the tepee. Her eyes were shadowed, wary of his every moment. Curse the day he’d come upon her! And yet the urge to make contact with her as a woman, not as a frightened wild horse, was eating him alive. She hovered in every waking thought of his like fog lingering above a river. At night, he dreamed of her in his arms. In his arms, of all things! If anyone knew of his torrid dreams, they would poke fun at him. Only young braves were smitten thus. Not him. Not men of his age or of his importance to the tribe.
Serena saw tears gather in the woman’s eyes after the harsh words Black Wolf had hurled at her. She didn’t understand what they had said, only that he’d been sharp and wounding. It was easy to erect a wall of hatred toward him because of his treatment of his wife. He probably beat her, too. Just as Kingston had beaten her on numerous occasions. Yet Serena was mystified by how her heart reacted to the warrior. She remembered his songs of healing and how they had moved through her, assuaging her pain and fear. And she couldn’t ignore the liquid kindness burning in his eyes and the low, dark tone of his voice as he’d tried to establish peace between them.
“No more,” she told the woman. “Thank you.”
Deer Woman nodded shyly, taking the rabbit off the skewer and placing it in a nearby pot for stew that she would fix later. The red-haired one was tired, revealed by the darkness beneath each of her glorious green eyes.
“Asnikiya,” she coaxed, patting the robe.
Tilting her head, Serena whispered, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you say.”
“She said ‘rest’!” Wolf snarled in English.
Tensing at the snapping tone in his voice, Serena glared at Black Wolf. Her Irish temper welled up within her. But the warrior could come over and knock her silly, or rape her if she foolishly made the scathing retort that she wanted to. Without a word, Serena slowly stretched out and lay down. Deer Woman patted her shoulder awkwardly, tears streaming down her cheeks. Serena wanted to comfort the woman, but didn’t know how. Instead, she whispered, “Thank you.”
Jealousy ate at Wolf. In that moment, he hated Deer Woman’s ability to gain Cante Tinza’s trust. Her words had come out in a husky breathiness that stirred his loins. What would it be like to tame all that fire and spirit and have her give the gift of herself to him? Pushing down brutally upon the stone, he crushed the root, the powder spilling off the sides and onto the skin that would collect it.
Nothing could erase the haunting, husky quality of Cante Tinza’s voice within him. Wolf heard the emotion in it, wanting it for himself. Somehow, someway, he would gain her trust. He would tame her with the intent of making her his wife. This was the woman he wanted to carry his children. Despite her torture at the hands of the wasicun, her spirit moved him powerfully. It didn’t matter if she was already married or had a family. He understood real love because of his sisters and their husbands. But could he really keep Serena selfishly for himself if she was truly in love with her wasicun husband? Wolf’s conscience chafed at him, and yet he was unwilling to look too closely at the questions—and the possible answers.
Stealing a glance at Cante Tinza he saw that she had closed her eyes. Her thick red lashes caressed her almost translucent flesh. She walked in beauty in his eyes. Her abundant red hair was a brilliant halo of fire framing her thin face. Wolf ached to brush her hair as she sat with her back to him, to run the strands through the elk-bone comb and watch them curl and slide cleanly through his fingers. And she would enjoy his worship of her, too. There were many ways for a man to love his woman. He would teach her that not all men hurt. Not all men brutally took without asking or giving something of beauty in return.
No, Wolf thought, the grinding becoming less angry now, I will show her that a man can be her friend as well as her lover. She won’t want to leave our tribe. I will make her stay. Somehow, I will convince her to stay and be my wife….
Chapter Four
Serena moaned and moved restlessly, the nightmare of Blackjack raping her now invading her dreams. With a cry, she jerked upright. Perspiration clung to her skin. The tepee was empty, save for the baby in the cradleboard, who was softly whimpering. She had no idea what time it was, but she could still see soft sunlight touching the pine poles that came to a point far above her.
Heart still pounding, Serena discovered she felt a bit stronger, perhaps because of Deer Woman’s kindness in giving her something to eat last night. She focused all of her attention on the baby, who was now beginning to sputter in earnest. The child’s cry forced Serena to stir. Why did the wife of the warrior leave her baby behind? The fire was near the cradleboard, and Serena worried that the end of the long-haired buffalo robe might ignite.
Pushing off the heavy, thick robe, Serena slowly moved into a kneeling position. She brushed her hair away from her face, realizing it desperately needed washing. The baby’s cries strengthened, so Serena crawled on her hands and knees the necessary ten feet to reach the cradle.
“Ohhh,” she cooed softly as she turned the cradleboard toward her. The Indian child was snugly wrapped in several rabbit furs, her tiny round face and huge brown eyes visible. A lock of black hair had escaped and curled across her forehead. A slight smile tugged at Serena’s mouth as she carefully removed the furs and set them aside. “Why are you crying?“ she asked as she explored the baby’s fawnskin diaper, which was filled with the soft down of cattails. Her fingers detected that the material within the diaper was very damp.
“Ah, I see. You’re wet.“ Serena was amazed that the Indians used nature’s material, and it worked just as well as a cotton diaper! Looking around, she saw a number of square and rectangular rawhide parfleches, all colorfully painted with individual designs in reds, blues and yellows. Sliding her hands beneath the baby, she eased her into her arms. Serena examined the fawnskin diaper and discovered it was held in place by two knots. Cooing to the child, who had stopped crying, she laid her in her lap. Serena smiled down at the infant, who stared up at her in fascination. In no time, she had taken off the diaper.
“I’m different, am I not?“ she asked the infant quietly as she held her against her bosom. Her breasts were still sore and swollen, but Serena fought to ignore the pain because she intuitively understood that an infant
