Dancing Fawn Read online

  “Oh yes, the wind…” She tilted her ear up and listened. “It sounds as though it’s gone now; I’m glad.” Fawn held her blanket up to her neck and averted her gaze.

  Amused by her apparent uneasiness, he stood and extended his arms over his head, stretching while he yawned. The tingle disappeared from his fingers and the kinks from sleeping in one position most of the night eased, but leaving her mat exposed him to chilly air and peppered his skin with goose bumps. From the corner of his eye he noticed her staring at his naked form, but when he gazed in her direction, she quickly glanced away. Deciding to spare her further embarrassment and himself from the cold, he pulled on his fringed pants. This wasn’t the first time he had caught her admiring his unclothed frame, and he smiled knowing she found pleasure in watching him. If only she might disrobe for his pleasure.

  He walked to the flap, pushed it aside, and peered out. “The wind may have gone, but it left behind a blanket of snow.”

  “Snow?”

  He turned and smiled at her. The glee in her voice matched the twinkle in her eyes.

  “I love snow.” She scampered from her mat to the doorway, crowded him to the side, and looked out. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

  “But cold.” He studied the profile of her lovely face and knew nothing could compare in beauty. He wanted so much to caress her cheek… to kiss her lips, but instead of fueling his desire, he returned to the fire pit and stoked the waning flames.

  Fawn finally let the flap drop back into place and came to stand next to him. She rubbed her hands back and forth over the fire. “After breakfast, I’m going to bundle up and build a snowman.”

  “A snowman?” He found her child-like quality amusing, but he had no idea what she meant.

  Her eyes widened. “Have you never built one? I don’t believe it. That’s the fun of having snow.”

  “What is the purpose of a man of snow?”

  “There is no purpose, silly. It’s just a fun thing children do.” She squared her shoulders. “Of course, I realize I’m not a child, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy building a snowman. It’s so easy.”

  Despite declaring herself an adult, childlike exhilaration filled her voice. “You just roll the snow until you have three large balls, but all different sizes. The first one is the bottom, then the second, which is a little smaller, sits atop that ball, and lastly, you add the smallest for the head.”

  The tinkle of delight in her voice amused him. “And what then, now that you have stacked these three balls of snow?”

  “You make it come alive by giving it a face! We always used something small and black like charcoal for the eyes and sometimes an empty spool of Mama’s thread for the nose. For the lips, a piece of red yarn served the purpose. Then you add a hat. Of course, we never used Papa’s Sunday hat, but sometimes he did let us use his old one. I even made a snow lady once and used Mama’s bonnet.” Fawn rambled on without a breath.

  “And this makes you happy?” His English was certainly being tested.

  “Well, it did when I was little...” Her enthusiasm waned, and the sparkle left her eyes.

  The look on her face fueled his determination to reignite her excitement. He grasped her by the arms. “Then it will make you happy again. After breakfast I will help you. Perhaps we can ask the children to help build this wonder of snow. But, we will make a snow brave—a proud Lakota warrior with many coup feathers.”

  Fawn giggled. “Your chest swells with pride at your own description. I can’t wait to see this mighty warrior.”

  She turned her attention to preparing his morning meal, humming while she worked. She knelt by the fire and gazed up at him. “When I’m finished, I will gather some turkey feathers. There are plenty left from your last kill.”

  * * *

  Fawn’s fingers had just thawed from her outdoor adventure when she stepped out into the frigid air again. The fire beckoned her back inside, but she had promised Green Eyes she would join her for a quilling lesson today. As she passed a lopsided snow brave, Fawn laughed aloud. Complete with a war bonnet of turkey feathers and a red winterberry smile, the warrior she, Little Elk and the some of the children had built was quite a work of art. The recollection of the fun they’d shared brought a feeling of delicious warmth to her chilled body. As evidenced by the number of other snow people that had cropped up around the village, she knew she had started something new.

  * * *

  Smiling at having pioneered a new trend, Fawn pulled her mantle over her nose and hurried toward the warmth of Little Elk’s lodge. Frigid air stung her forehead and sent vapors of her breath floating in the air. Once inside, she stood shivering by the fire and waited for the chill to subside. Thoughts of being wrapped in his sun-kissed arms presented an appealing image of warmth, but she shook the vision out of her head. How could she ever see him as anything more than her captor?

  She eyed the waning flames and reluctantly removed her buffalo robe. After setting aside the simmering pot of venison stew, she added another log and winced when the rough wood rubbed against fingers sore from quilling. The task was so easy for Green Eyes. All of her finished products were beautiful, but Fawn created more holes in her skin than in the soft doeskin she decorated.

  Heat from the growing fire encompassed her. She hunkered close and gazed at the orange and red flames, still massaging her fingertips. Maybe tomorrow she’d get the knack of quilling and stop hurting herself. A cold blast of air drew her attention to the door.

  Little Elk, dressed in buckskin leggings and a heavy buffalo coat, lumbered through the flap. He stamped his feet, scattering the snowflakes that clung to his knee-high moccasins through the air. Until she recognized his footwear, she thought someone had intruded on her privacy. All fear faded when he pushed back his hood. There was no mistaking his handsome face for anyone else’s.

  He cast a smile in her direction. “Hau.”

  “I bet you’re freezing.” She gestured to the crackling logs. “Come warm yourself.”

  Shedding his outerwear allowed his ebony hair to fall free. He wore only a vest beneath his coat, and although she wondered how he stayed warm, words constricted in her throat and prevented her from asking. The fire reflected in his shiny mane, and even the snow outside was no match for the brightness of his smile.

  Fawn swallowed hard and turned her attention back to the kettle. While she stirred the stew, her gaze wandered back to the clinging fit of his leggings. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to stare, but something kept tugging her thoughts back to his muscular frame. Sweat beaded her brow as a strange warming sensation surged through her body; the core of heat blossomed in the junction between her thighs. What was wrong with her? One of the fevers she’d heard Rain Woman discuss when they searched for herbs? Fawn swiped her furrowed forehead with the back of her hand and fidgeted against her discomfort.

  Leaping flames and sizzling sounds drew her attention back to the pot. She stirred so briskly, the contents splashed out into the fire. She took a deep, calming breath. “Dinner is almost ready.”

  He came and spread his palms above the flames. “The smell makes my stomach cry to be fed.”

  She chuckled at his halting speech, although his English was far better than her Lakota. “You mean your stomach is growling?”

  “Growling? Like a mato?”

  “Yes, like a growling bear.” She placed a bowl of steaming stew in his hands, grinning at having remembered mato’s meaning. “Here, feed your crying stomach.”

  * * *

  Fawn sat by the fire and waited. She thrummed her fingers on her thigh. Winter weather kept her and the other women prisoners inside their homes, and she hungered for company.

  Bundled against the cold, Little Elk and a few friends had left hours ago to hunt in a small valley below the encampment. He hunted almost daily to supplement the dwindling food supply, but the sun would soon set, and his meager leftover stew warmed on the edge of the fire.

  Her bottom numbed from si
tting. Shifting to a more comfortable position, she drew squiggles in the dirt along the edge of the buffalo fur that covered the floor. The wavy lines turned straight as she calculated how long she’d been with the Sioux. Her family began their journey with a small group of westbound wagons in late May. Sometime in July, her family left the train and found a plot of land and settled. It was only a few weeks later that….

  She shook the horrible image from her mind and resumed counting the months. By her estimation it was now December or very close to it. Four whole months had passed; although in some ways she almost believed she’d lived with the Sioux forever.

  Her mind returned to the day of her capture, still fresh in her mind, but she blocked the painful memories of her family’s death. Black Crow, the person she held solely responsible for their slaughter, no longer lived in the village. Everyone shunned him after Tribal Council determined he planned and instigated the raid. His foolish actions had dishonored and shamed him in the eyes of the tribe and jeopardized their safety. Such behavior was inexcusable.

  His mother woke one morning and discovered her son had packed his belongings and left. No longer would Fawn have to see Black Crow’s ugly, pockmarked face and angry eyes. His presence had always been a constant reminder of her loss, and his departure gave her a sense of peace. With each day’s passing, tucking away the painful memories became easier.

  “Ahem!”

  Fawn turned to see Little Elk standing behind her. She smiled up at him. “You certainly walk on silent feet.” She’d been so engrossed she didn’t hear him enter.

  “What is it that you draw?” He stared at the marks in the dirt while removing his parka.

  “I’m counting the days since I came to the village. I didn’t realize it had been so long.” She noticed he stood empty-handed and flashed him a sympathetic look. “Bad day to hunt?”

  “Not so, we slew many deer. Raven Feather took the kill to his wife’s lodge. She will prepare the meat for the communal storehouse.”

  “That’s good news. We need meat.” Fawn edged over to the fire pit and nudged the kettle back over the flames. “Dinner is ready. I used but a small piece of venison for flavor, so the stew is mostly wild onions and turnips, but at least it will warm your belly.”

  Little Elk sat against his willow backrest and eagerly reached for the bowl she offered. “I am starving. If it is only hot water, even that will sooth my gnawing hunger.”

  “It was too cold to bathe at the stream today.” Fawn made small talk while he ate. “I chipped through the ice and filled the skins then came back and warmed the water. I washed myself next to the fire. I could warm some water for you, if you like.”

  He held out his empty bowl. “More please.”

  “You must be awfully hungry. I tasted the stew earlier, and it barely had any flavor.” She smiled and handed him another steaming bowlful.

  “It tastes good to me,” he said, taking his second helping. He quickly lapped up the contents then laid the bowl aside. With a smile on his face, he leaned back and patted his stomach. “Now I am satisfied and ready to wash my body. Warm the water, my woman.”

  His woman? Was she really?

  Chapter Eleven

  Fawn picked up Little Elk’s quill brush and ran it through her long locks, pulling smooth the waves caused by braiding her hair. Although she sat with her back to Little Elk, she recognized the familiar rustling of his leggings. Within moments he’d be undressed and in bed. She allowed time for him to crawl between his blankets then glanced over her shoulder. “You must be very tired. You were gone a long time today.”

  “True, I am weary, and this buffalo fur feels good against my cold skin.” His mouth opened in a wide yawn.

  Fawn put another log on the fire then slid into her own bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. The pleasant smell of burning wood lingered for a moment before spiraling up and out the smoke hole overhead. She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. Sleeping fully clothed remained her preference, despite Little Elk’s explanation that a thick animal pelt against bare skin generated more warmth. He might like sleeping naked, but she refused to shed her doeskin dress. Of course, she still enjoyed secretly admiring his nude form when he wasn’t looking. Her cheeks heated at the thought.

  The hungry flames chewed away at the wood, but sleep evaded her. Her gaze wandered to his masculine profile, outlined by the fire; his strong jaw, broad brow, and slightly bent nose. In sleep, his lips fluttered and synchronized with the rise and fall of his chest. Maybe not fighting with one’s clothing did make a difference. He found sleep quickly enough.

  Watching him sent bothersome thoughts racing through her mind. Why did she keep thinking about sleeping in the comfort of his arms…trying to imagine the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands exploring places only she touched in private. Why did she feel so empty inside?

  For a long while, she listened as his gentle snores blended with the soft crackling of the fire. She peered at his bare back and the muscles cording his exposed arm and felt like the waning flames of the fire roared to life below the surface of her skin. She kicked her blankets aside. Driven by the need to be held, she crawled to Little Elk’s mat. Crouching next to him, she traced the small scar just below his shoulder blade. His musky scent enticed her. Although his skin felt warm and inviting, her rational mind commanded her to move back to her own bed. How would she explain her actions if he woke?

  She reluctantly sat back on her heels and watched him sleep. The fire, now dim, allowed darkness to swallow his features. Cold air embraced her and goose bumps scattered over her skin’s surface. Chilled and forlorn, she dropped back to her hands and knees.

  In a flash, strong fingers locked around her wrist and held tight. He moved with the stealth of a cat, and she hadn’t even heard him roll over. The final flicker of fire reflected in his ebony eyes. His brow arched. “Why do you touch me so?”

  Her cheeks heated like a stone in the sunlight. She chewed her bottom lip. The explanation she considered appropriate lodged in her throat, choked off by her embarrassment.

  “Did you not hear me?” he asked.

  “I want to sleep next to you. My bed is cold and lonely.” Her bold admission spilled out of her mouth and shocked even her. She quivered in anticipation. Surely, he never suspected she would invite herself into his bed—she never intended to ask. When had she stopped considering him as the enemy?

  He propped himself on an elbow, opened his blankets, and then moved over. “Come, let me warm you.”

  Fawn slid in next to him, and he pulled the covers up over her. Warmth radiated from him and immediately chased away the chill. Although she couldn’t bring herself to glance at him, she sensed his gaze on her. His bare leg against her skin sent her pulse racing. She lay on her back, stared into the darkness, and mentally questioned her own actions. What had she been thinking? Now what?

  A sudden change of heart came over her. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I should go back to my own bed.”

  She started to get up, but he grasped her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry. I will not do anything you do not want me to do.”

  How could he know what she wanted him to do…or not do? She didn’t even know. Her mind raced. Sorting through all these strange emotions left her confused.

  “You’re safe with me,” he whispered, sending warm breath across her cheek.

  She released a pent up breath. “All right, I’ll stay.” The timbre of his voice and his hand caressing her arm made the decision easy. The tension in her shoulders abated.

  “Good. Sleep well, then.” Little Elk immediately turned over, adjusted the blankets and left her to stare at his back.

  Maybe he truly was a man of his word. She sighed and snuggled down under the covers, but still sleep wouldn’t claim her. After her vision adjusted to veiled moonlight, she stared through the opening at the top of the lodge for a long time and watched clouds drift in and out of trees.

  He
r eyes grew heavy, and she tried to find a comfortable position by rolling from her side to her stomach and back again, and in one last attempt, turned and faced Little Elk’s back. The repetitive rhythm of his breathing seemed to suck her closer to his body. She inched closer and draped an arm across his waist. All her tossing and turning had hiked her dress up to her waist. The sensation of his bare skin against her own sent excitement shivering through her. She puzzled over her strange feelings. Why did she suddenly want to caress his body, and even more, why did she crave his touch?

  Pleasing warmth radiated from the arm Fawn draped over Little Elk, and her firm breasts jutted against his back. His manhood stiffened at her sudden brazen behavior. He rolled over and faced her. “Why do you tempt me, woman?”

  Fawn gazed into his eyes. Her slender throat vibrated with a hard swallow. “I-I’m not sure. Even I don’t understand my actions. All I know is that I want you to hold me…to kiss me.” She ducked her head beneath his chin, her body trembling.

  “Your behavior is normal,” he assured, “when you have feelings for the one you are with.”

  She pulled back and gazed at him. Confusion clouded her beautiful eyes, and he understood why. How could she possibly feel anything for him? His foolish actions had played a part in robbing her of her family. And, he hadn’t treated her very well in the beginning. Still, his body hungered for her.

  He struggled to restrain himself. “You are still very young and inexperienced. These feelings you have are new to you. Your eyes tell me you are frightened. Don’t be, you have nothing to fear.”

  Fawn’s body relaxed, but he held her at arm’s length and searched her face for any sign of hesitation. “Do you truly wish to stay in my bed?”