As she brushed her bare bottom against him and felt his organ swell, she heard his breathing grow rapid and hard.
“You!” Nira said. “You bred with the Yellow Eyes.”
Bura shook her head. “No!” she said.
“Your opening is wet from them,” he told Bura, pushing her away.
“Nira, they caught me, but I got away. I ran.” She was frightened now. “I have mated with no one,” she begged, dropping to her knees.
Nira swore at her and tried to kick her away, but she clung to him, knowing that if he left her, she would be banished by his family. No one was allowed to mate with outsiders and come back to the tribe.
“No, Nira! No!” she cried, grabbing his waist and pulling herself up. Her fear gave her surprising strength, and when he wrestled her, she fought back. Her naked body, slippery with sweat, made it harder for him to push her away, but then he seized her by the hair and drew the sharp edge of his quartz stone across her breasts, marking her body, branding her as one who had mated with Yellow Eyes.
Enraged, she kicked out, aiming for his organ. He moaned and doubled over. Unable to stop her rage, Bura hit him again, and this time she seized his thick black hair in her fingers and pulled him forward toward the sheer edge of the limestone cliff. He tried to stop her, but she ducked away, and with the strength gained from long days of gathering wood, she pushed him off the edge. Nira screamed as he tried to seize the thin air, and then he dropped into the dark gorge.
Bura fell onto the hard path and cried, reaching out over the edge as if to pull him from the abyss. Now she had no man, and she knew the elders of the tribe would learn what she had done and would take her life.
All was lost. Her life was over. Standing at the rim of the deep gully, she thought briefly of her mother, of how she had disappointed her own, and then she leaped soundlessly into the void, falling endlessly into black space.
!n the morning, word reached the highland huts, and the bodies of Nira and Bura were carried up to the high ground. As the people of the highlands moved away from the limestone cliffs, to better hunting lands farther south, new tribes came into the great meadowland and cut up the earth for planting. The old people remembered the time they left the cliffs, and some talked of the death of the young people. No one remembered their names.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“YOU’RE SAFE NOW,” KATHY DART said, pulling Jennifer into a gentle embrace. She was smiling, but it seemed to Jennifer that she was also close to tears. “You’ve had a long journey,” she said softly, “but now you’re home.”
Kathy led her away from the front door and into the center of the living room. The house had once been a barn, and Kathy had stripped it back to its original log beams. The interior was quite grand, with stark, bare-wood walls that swept up to a cathedral ceiling.
The south end of the long room was filled with windows, and Jennifer glimpsed a lake below the house, and more buildings clustered together by a nearby evergreen grove. But her attention was quickly drawn back to the massive stone fireplace that dominated the room. Soft leather chairs and sofas were grouped around the open fireplace.
“This hour is scheduled as personal time. Everyone is off in meditation or sleeping or skating down on the lake. I’m channeling Habasha after dinner. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” Kathy beamed as she took Jennifer’s hands in hers.
She was much more beautiful than Jennifer had remembered, with a clear, perfect complexion. Kathy Dart must be a very happy woman, Jennifer thought.
“We’ll have lots of time later to talk, Jennifer.” She glanced at Eileen. “I’ve told Simon I wanted you both in the big house with me. That way we can get together easily to talk. So let’s get you settled. You both must be exhausted.” Kathy turned and led them across the room.
“Oh, is there somewhere I can make a call to New York?” Jennifer asked. “I should check in with my office.” When they arrived in St. Paul, she had called and left a message for Tom that she had arrived safely.
Kathy paused at the entrance to the hallway. “Of course, Jennifer. But I should mention that one of our objectives here on the farm is to separate you from all worldly, everyday concerns. I’ve found—Habasha has found—that the channeling sessions go much more smoothly if you can concentrate on what is happening here, rather than thinking about outside problems. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yes, of course,” Jennifer said quickly, embarrassed.
Kathy kept smiling, and added, “When Simon comes in with the luggage, I’ll have him show you to my office.”
“Simon?” Jennifer asked. “Does he work for you?” She felt Eileen nudge her in the small of her back.
Kathy laughed. “Oh, I don’t know if any of us work for each other. Although there are days, as I tell Habasha, when I think I spend my whole life in slave labor for him. No, Simon doesn’t work for me.” She opened the door leading to the east wing of the barn, where their rooms were located. “We’re twin-souls and have been together in previous lifetimes. Now, I guess you’d say we’re lovers.”
Jennifer’s room had a view of the shallow valley that stretched away from the farm. The sun was setting, and its northern light softened the harsh landscape with an orange glow. She stood very still, concentrating on the lovely winter scene.
And then she heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. Without turning her eyes from the scene, she said, “Come in.”
“Your luggage,” a man’s voice replied. Jennifer turned. The man standing in the doorway was silhouetted by the hallway light. She could not see his face, but she knew that he must be Simon.
“Thank you.”
He set the bags aside and came to her, pulling off his leather gloves as he approached. His presence filled the room, and she found herself unaccountably giving way to him.
“I’m Simon,” he said, “Simon McCloud.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “Kathy’s friend.”
He smiled.
“Don’t I know you?” Jennifer asked, staring up at him.
“I don’t know. Do you?” He was still smiling.
“I mean, your face is so familiar.” He looked like a lumberjack, with a full beard, dark brows, and thick hair that curled out from under a wool cap.
“That’s what they all say,” he teased, slowly stuffing his gloves into the pockets of his jacket. “And you’re
who?” he asked politely.
“Jennifer. Jennifer Winters.” She could feel her face flush with embarrassment, but still she couldn’t take her eyes from him. “I’m sorry I’m staring,” she apologized, “but I keep thinking I’m going to remember. Did you go to school in Chicago?” She tried to imagine him on campus.
He laughed then, and his blue eyes sparkled. Jennifer laughed, too. He was so unlike a New Yorker, she thought, immediately friendly and open. So this was the Midwest. No one had a hostile edge.
“I’ve never been to Chicago. I’ve never been anywhere, really, except Duluth and St. Paul.” He shrugged good-naturedly.
“Well, you just look so familiar,” Jennifer replied. Finally able to break her gaze, she glanced out the window. “I was just enjoying the sunset,” she explained.
The orange glow had disappeared from the hillside, and now in the fading light, Minnesota’s winter landscape looked threatening. Simon came over and stood beside her, staring out at the disappearing day. She was acutely conscious of him near her, of his warmth, and as she watched his breath fog the windowpane, she realized how much he was affecting her.