sense of honor and hospitality.
Besides, it was obvious from the out skim of the village that some big
ceremony was going on, and a chief like Nalte didn't usually like blood
on his hands during such an occasion.
And so they were here, and still waiting. Darkness was falling upon the
water. The moon glittered gently upon it, and the easy melody of the
running water was gentle.
It was a beautiful sight, this valley within the beginning of the fierce
mountain ranges.
A beautiful place to die, Jamie thought.
Nalte had promised his decision about Tess as soon as the festivities
for his sister had ended. Jon seemed to believe that the Apache chief
had already determined he would return Tess, at some cost, of course,
but he would return her.
But what if he did not?
Jamie knew he would never leave without her.
If Nalte decided against him, he would have to fight the chief. And if
he won, the Apache would probably slay him in vengeance anyway. He might
well die in this beautiful place, then there would be nothing more that
he could do for Tess.
I'm sorry! he thought. i never should have become so involved. Falling
in love with a beautiful angel has surely been the downfall of many a
man. I couldn't let you go that morning. I had to make you see that the
thing between us was right and that you couldn't turn away from it by
the morning's light.
He hadn't had the edge he had needed, the edge that had kept him alive
through so much.
So now they were here, and their fate rested on the decision of an
Apache chief.
He liked Nalte. He had a keen intelligence, was well- versed in his own
language and in English, well-aware of the world around him. And
fighting to maintain the inheritance of a people despite an encroaching
world. He was not so bad a man, Jamie thought. Rather he die and leave
Tess to Nalte, than leave her to trash like David or Chavez. Nalte would
never hurt her.
He clenched his fists and swore to the night sky. Then his thoughts
raced as he sank on h~s haunches to stare at the rippling, moon-kissed
water once again. I will not die here! Come heaven or hell, I will
fight, and with every edge, and I will bring her home with me!
"Jamie!"
He thought he imagined the voice.
But then, as he stared into the water, her reflection was caught by the
glow of the moon almost magically on the surface before him.
"Jamie ..."
She was there. She was wearing the white buckskin dress he had seen
before.
Her hair was flowing, rich and waving, paler than usual in the water's
reflection. Nor could the water catch the color of her eyes, that violet
that was so extraordinary and so compelling, so quick to flash with
anger, so deep when touched by her emotions. Nothing could catch that.
No words, no mirrored image.
But the water did catch the softness he had glimpsed before, and he knew
then why he had been falling in love with her so swiftly and so
completely. She had great strength, she would never tire, and she would
never cease to fight, for herself, for others, for the glory of all the
great muses that caught her heart. She could not bear injustice, and she
would never falter to overcome it.
But never could she be less than a woman, beautiful, giving, enwrap ping
all with the passion of her soul, and of her life. Once he had wanted
only her smile to touch him. Once he had been enamored of the silk of
her flesh, and the sweeping curves and slim angles of her form. Once.
But now he knew what it meant to love. It was desire, but more than
desire. It was needing the smile as much as the passion. It was wanting
to lie down by the still waters as much as to weather the tempestuous
storm. It was wanting to share a lifetime together.
"Jamie ..."
Once again, she whispered his name. He turned slowly, and saw that she
did stand just behind him--no image, no dream, so much more than a
reflection.
In her bare feet with her bare calves, her dress falling just above her
knees, she seemed exceptionally innocent.
The color of her eyes was true, deep as the night, dark as the desire
that suddenly swept over him. He wanted her in his arms--but he dared
not touch her. Not until Nalte made his decision.
He swallowed hard and came to his feet. He stared at her and hoped that
his scowl was menacing. Yet he didn't even know if it remained upon his
face, for he couldn't deny the moonlight or the strange, mystical
sensation that seemed to touch her. She seemed to be of the
supernatural, too beautiful to touch, an angel, a spirit, the spirit of
life that pervaded the mountain.
"What are you doing out here?" he demanded harshly. She smiled, a slow
cu~rl of her lips that touched her eyes to deep, shimmering radiance.
She took a step toward him, shook her head slightly.
And reached for him.
Her arms came around him, giving, soft. She pressed against him. She was
naked beneath the buckskin, and her breasts were full and flush against
him, the hardened peaks seeming to rake his flesh despite the layers of
clothes between them. Sparks tore into him, igniting great fires,
ripping through his limbs, thundering down to his groin.
And then she kissed him. Her teeth grazed his lips, and the tip of her
tongue encircled his lips, touched the roof of his mouth, swept into his
mouth. There was a pounding so fierce he could not deny it.
He touched her. Touched her almost violently, his arms sweeping around
her, his lips seizing hard upon hers, his tongue returning each sweet
torment she had cast upon him. He swept her from her feet and carried
her to the soft embankment. He pressed her to the earth, his mouth still
covering hers. He felt the soaring temptation of her nails raking
lightly against his back, drawing new, shimmering sensations of deadly
heat within him.
This was madness.
He drew his lips back from hers, and her eyes met his. Violet,
beguiling, with a touch of fire, a touch of innocence.
Sweetly wicked, she smiled again; she touched his cheek. Her lashes fell
demurely, sultry, sensual against the pale marble beauty of her cheek.
She had come to seduce him.
He groaned aloud.
It was madness.
Nalte might well kill them both if he came upon him. But the fire had
spread throughout his limbs. Tension and desire pervaded his heart and
his mind and knotted fiercely at his loin, driving him to madness. How
could she smile so hauntingly, knowing that she invited him to doom. He
swore softly, and he touched her lower lip in the moon glow, meeting the
wild violet beauty of her eyes. "Lead me to death then, if you would,
Miss. Stuart. I cannot leave you now."
And he seized her lips once again with his own. The rich, verdant scent
of the earth and stream surrounded them, and he was lost.
Chapter Twelve.
l_9ie? Tess whispered against his lips. Desperate to be near him that
night, she had hardly believed the good fortune that had let her come to
him, and now, in the magical splendor of the night, he was talking of
dying in her arms.
He was so tense above her. His eyes raked over her with a hard edge, and
his voice was harsh, but still she felt the depth of his longing. It was
luxurious to be so coveted and so desired. And yet she wondered at his
words, her eyes widening to his.
"Nalte," Jamie said, leaning high above her.
"He would kill me in seconds if he found me with you. Is that your plan?
To seduce me to my doom?"
She didn't reply right away. She smiled wickedly and smoothed his hair