A Sweet Surrender Page 4

  Siara didn’t want to leave him, but it was getting late and she had stayed away far too long. His wound was completely healed now and didn’t require her attention any longer. If anything, he was now capable of tending to it himself, which he had been. He didn’t need her anymore.

  Heavy hearted, Siara rose to her feet. He followed suit.

  “We leave tomorrow at first light,” she said quietly.

  He gave her a curt nod. “I need my pistols, love.”

  “Yes. Tomorrow.”

  “No. Tonight.”

  She sighed in frustration. She hadn’t forgotten, but she hadn’t had the time to unearth his weapons and carry them back to him. With darkness also coming soon, there was no way she could get them now. When she explained that to him, he finally relented.

  “I am once again completely at your mercy,” he muttered. “Go then. I’ll wait for you tomorrow at dawn.”

  She nodded and gathered her items. She started toward the opening, but he reached out and took her hand in his.

  “Siara.”

  She turned to him, a warm feeling passing through her at the sound of her name coming so affectionately from his low, deep voice.

  “Thank you,” he said simply.

  Something softened inside her and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You are much welcome.” Instead of releasing her, he pulled her closer. She read the longing in his eyes and wanted nothing more than to be with him. Moving without thought, she took another step toward him.

  Suddenly they both froze at the sound of a horse approaching.

  “Siara!”

  Her heart sank as she recognized the voice. Akando. She glanced behind her, toward the opening of the shelter, then back at James.

  “Stay here,” she whispered fiercely before rushing out to meet Akando.

  “Siara?” Akando rode up to her, his glare sharp and unwavering. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you. Why are you out here alone? You should be preparing with the others for the journey tomorrow.”

  “I am already prepared,” she replied coolly, hoping he couldn’t see her nervousness. “I just wanted some time alone.”

  He frowned, glancing around them. “Here? This is not a safe place for you. Come. Let’s—” He glanced behind her and gestured toward the shelter. “What is in there?”

  “Nothing,” she said, walking toward him. “Just a place for me to rest.” She managed to control the anxious quiver in her voice, but there was a suspicious glint in his gaze as he stared hard at the crude shelter.

  “I see something in there…” He slid down from his horse and her anxiety increased tenfold as he headed toward the shelter. When he walked past her, she grabbed for his arm.

  “Akando, it’s nothing,” she said earnestly. “Please. I would like to return to the longhouse now.”

  But he ignored her, shaking her hand away. She stood there frozen, unsure what to do. If she called out a warning, what then? She didn’t want either man hurt.

  After a brief, internal struggle, she followed him. Maybe if she explained, tried to convince him the rightness in what she’d done, he wouldn’t harm the injured man lurking inside.

  But James wasn’t lurking.

  He rushed out, wrapping Akando with the blanket that had been kept inside. Akando let out a shout and fell back. James pulled out the flint knife, looking ready to charge toward the fallen man.

  Akando quickly swept the blanket from his body and bounded to his feet. He was as tall as James and lean with muscle. She caught a glimpse of the tomahawk in his hand and the bottom of her stomach dropped. She ran toward them, her arms stretched out between the two men to keep them from advancing toward each other.

  “Please stop this,” she shouted at James in English.

  “Damn it, Siara,” James said fiercely. “Step away.”

  She shook her head. “James, I will explain for him why. There will be no need for fight.” She turned to Akando and switched to their language. Though Akando’s English was superior to hers, it would be easier and quicker for her to explain. “Please don’t hurt him. He was wounded and I cared for him. That is all. He is not strong enough to do you any harm.”

  Akando didn’t take his eyes off of James when he asked sharply in English, “You brought this white man here?”

  She swallowed then nodded, well aware that admitting to such a crime would result in a severe punishment. Possibly even exile.

  “Yes, but only because he was terribly hurt.”

  “He appears quite fit to me,” Akando snapped.

  “He has only just gotten better,” she said frantically. “He is preparing to leave here and return to his people.”

  “Only to bring them back here to raid our village,” he spat, advancing toward James, his grip tight on the tomahawk.

  Siara pushed against his chest with all her might. “No!”

  Akando jerked away from her, his face twisted with rage. “Treacherous whore!”

  She wasn’t prepared for the blow that came next. His fist connected with her jaw with such force, she tasted blood. A low snarl rumbled above her and in a blur, the two men landed with a loud thud on the ground beside her. She lay sprawled on the ground, dazed and her ear ringing. She vaguely realized she had bit her tongue.

  James straddled Akando and landed blow after blow onto his face and chest. She scrambled to her feet and rushed to the struggling men. As James prepared to bring his fist down again, Siara rushed behind him and grabbed his raised arm.

  “James!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “Please, no!”

  He stopped and looked up at her. His eyes burned with a steely rage that took her breath.

  Akando used that brief moment of distraction to slam his fist into James chest. Surprised by the sudden attack, James flew back against her with a loud grunt. She had no time to move away. Struggling to maintain her footing, she tripped over a raised tree root and went flying to the ground.

  Akando released an ear piercing battle cry and the last thing she witnessed, before her head struck something smooth and hard, was James trapped beneath the warrior and his raised tomahawk.

  ****

  James watched as the spiked-end of the tomahawk started down between his eyes. He kicked out at the warrior’s hand, knocking the vicious looking ax from the man’s grip. A second longer and it would have found a home in his skull.

  James swung his other leg behind the man, forcing him back to the ground. He came over the man again and began landing blow after blow, beating him mindlessly, determined to finish him.

  He’d struck Siara. He deserved to die.

  But the warrior was strong. He managed to roll away from under James and crawl toward the tomahawk. James reached for him, but was too late. Akando clutched the tomahawk in his fists. James fell over him and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, keeping him on his stomach. The man gurgled and strained beneath him as James increased the pressure and held him in the fierce grip. With his free hand, he wrenched the tomahawk from Akando’s hands. For a moment, James debated whether he should slam the blade into the man’s skull or simply snap his neck and be done with it.

  I have no intention of causing anyone harm.

  His words echoed in his head, jarring him out of his murderous rage. He’d made that promise to Siara—a promise he was seconds away from breaking. And she would hate him forever.

  Suddenly, he remembered her sharp cry and fear flooded him.

  Siara!

  He turned to find her lying on the ground, unmoving. He released the unconscious warrior and pushed away from him. A moment longer and he could have strangled the warrior to death. He wasn’t all that convinced that he shouldn’t.

  Instead, James rushed to Siara’s side. She was still breathing and he experienced a relief so great, he shuddered with it.

  “Wake up for me, love,” he prompted hoarsely, brushing the loose strands of hair from her face. “Come on.”

  She moaned softly, wincing as her eyes flu
ttered open. He scanned her body, to see if there were any obvious injuries. “Tell me where it hurts, love.”

  Siara lifted her hand to her head. James ran his fingers gently through her hair until he brushed against the knot beginning to form. She winced again and moaned. He withdrew his hand.

  “My head,” she croaked. “It’s hurt.”

  “I know, love. Can you stand?” They couldn’t linger there much longer. The warrior was bound to wake up soon—if his battle cry hadn’t already alerted others.

  When she struggled to her feet, James swooped her into his arms, bracing his weight on his good leg. He would not leave her here. Not to face retribution at the hands of her people just because she had saved his life. He carried her to the warrior’s horse and placed her atop it. “Wait for me,” he said. He grabbed the flint knife and the tomahawk and headed into the crude shelter that had been his dwelling for the past few weeks. He quickly gathered the supplies Siara had prepared for him and headed back to her. The warrior began to stir just as James climbed up on the horse behind her.

  Without another look back, he veered west and rode off through the heavy forest. The warrior’s faint shout faded behind them, but he continued his neck breaking speed, holding on tight to Siara. He rode for a good distance before it was safe enough for them to slow. Siara’s arms remained wrapped around him and he looked down at her. Her eyes were closed. He would have thought she’d fallen asleep if she hadn’t been holding on to him as if she were afraid to let go.

  He would soon need to find a place for them to take shelter for the night, but apprehension prevented him from stopping. The warrior may very well be on their trail. James planned to circle their tracks to throw off any scouts who may possibly follow them. He didn’t like to be without his pistols and would have to hope they didn’t run into any hostile natives or militiamen.

  James wasn’t familiar with the land and couldn’t be certain they were on friendly native grounds. If he took her with him to a British encampment, they would have to venture into other native lands to do so, some who may be welcoming, some who could be downright hostile.

  He hadn’t planned to have her with him during his journey back, and taking her only increased the possibility that her tribe would come after him to get her back. His arms reflexively tightened around her.

  She was his now.

  It had been tough thinking about never seeing her again or having to leave her behind. If that bastard who’d struck her was her betrothed, James thought with disgust, then he didn’t deserve her.

  But having her with him meant James would have to change his plans. If he remembered correctly, Albany was only a two day ride from where they were. There, it was about another two to Saratoga. He didn’t dare continue to Saratoga. Instead, he would take them to Albany and send out a missive. He’d lost over two weeks during his recovery and didn’t want to risk walking into enemy territory. With his Yankee clothing, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to mask himself as a simple farmer if they happened to run into trouble.

  With one horse, it would take them maybe another day to get to Albany. By then they would surely run out of food and supplies. If that happened, he would have to scavenge to get what they needed. The horse would soon need to rest, as would they.

  “How’s your head, love?” he asked quietly.

  She opened her eyes and stared up at him. “Better some.” But her brows were pulled together in agitation and worry. “James, you must take me back.”

  He looked down at her. In his contentment of having her with him, he hadn’t factored in that she may not want to leave. He lightly touched the swollen bruise on the side of her face and frowned. “Why? He will only hurt you again.”

  She glanced away. “But… I just cannot leave my people.”

  He gave her a gentle squeeze, understanding what she was feeling. Loyalty and duty tended to come with their own heavy shackles.

  “We can’t go back, love. I’ve already escaped death twice. I’m not prepared to test fate a third time.”

  Chapter 5

  They rode in silence for what seemed like forever.

  Siara was being torn apart by her guilt and regret. Regret for the trouble she had caused and the worry her absence would surely bring Etu. Guilt for leaving her home, her people yet wanting nothing more than to be with James.

  She leaned against him, seeking out his heat. The winds had picked up and there was a distinct chill in the air. Tightening her arms around him, she buried her face in his chest and breathed in his scent. He leaned down and kissed her gently on the top of her head. It was a subconscious action, one she didn’t think he realized he’d done, but it made her smile.

  Her headache was now reduced to a dull throb, though her cheek still stung. It was the new pain from sitting on the horse in such a position, however, that were now starting to bother her.

  By the time they stopped, the sun had completely fallen from the sky and they were shrouded in darkness. James found a small clearing deep in the forest for them to camp for the night. Because he didn’t want to risk drawing unwanted attention, they prepared their small camp under the guidance of the moonlight.

  She hesitated when she realized they would have to share the single blanket.

  “Come, love,” he said, his hands held out to her. “We’re both exhausted.”

  She slid her hand into his and he pulled her down on the blanket where he held her close. Held her as if he had no intentions of letting her go.

  Yet she woke the next morning to find that he had.

  She rose from the blanket and found him readying the horse. She freshened up at a small pond nearby then gathered their supplies and came up to him.

  “Here,” he said, handing her some of their provisions. “Eat.”

  She reached for the berries and corn bread. “Now it’s you who care for me,” she teased him at their now reversed roles.

  He didn’t return her humor. “Yes, I do,” he said quietly staring at her in a way that made her heart quiver and her face flush.

  Shortly after they finished their simple breakfast, they climbed on the horse and started their journey through the dense forest. There was a distinct chill in the air, however, that said a storm was coming. The sun had yet to peek through the clouds, and though she suspected rain had begun to fill them, the many trees above them prevented her from knowing for sure.

  “Where do we go?” she eventually asked, breaking the silence that had seemed to follow them since they’d left her village. Though she understood the need for him to remain vigilant of their surroundings as they traveled the rough terrain, there was a new stoic alertness about him that she wasn’t accustomed to.

  “We’re going north,” he explained. “To Albany. There I’m hoping to get news of the current state of the conflict and find out what happened to my men.”

  “Then what after?”

  He looked down at her, silent for a moment. “I don’t know. What would you want?”

  She stared at him, puzzled. She didn’t know either. All she knew for certain was that she loved him and wanted to be with him.

  But that could never be. Not when they lived in two separate worlds.

  Before she could respond, a fat raindrop landed on her face. Suddenly the clouds broke open and released a deluge of water. James tried to shield her from the pounding rain with his large body, but it was no use. By the time they found refuge in a shallow cavern at the base of a bluff, they were both drenched.

  “Wait here,” James shouted over the thunderous rain. He went back to find a place to tether the horse.

  Laying their blanket and supplies down, Siara stood at the wide opening of the rock shelter. Her wet, wavy hair hung down around her like a dark curtain and she watched as sheets of rain pounded the earth. She shivered from the cold wind whipping through her wet clothes and stepped further back into the cavern. She kicked off her wet moccasins, undid her wrap skirt, and wrung out the excess water. She found a dry spot to spread o
ut the damp material then grabbed the hem of her tunic and wrung out as much of the water as she could. The wet overdress still clung to her hips and breasts despite her efforts. But she didn’t dare remove it and risk James finding her stark naked.

  A shadow fell over their small rock shelter and Siara spun around to find a soaked James standing at the mouth of the entrance. He shook himself like a feral animal and began to pull off his clothes. When his hands went to his trousers, Siara turned away.

  Did he mean to get fully naked now!

  It was ridiculous of her to feel appalled by the idea. She had already seen him naked more than a few times, but things had been different between them then. He’d been either too sick to do anything or had immediately changed into clothes. But now…how was she to ignore him when her body throbbed just from the sight of him?

  She tried, nonetheless. Oh, did she try.

  Fully naked, he looked out at the still raging storm. At the first glimpse of his strong, muscular back, she couldn’t look away. Her eyes slowly moved down his broad back and down to his firm, muscular backside. The gray glow of the overcast skies created an impressive silhouette of his imposing, virile form.

  He truly was magnificent.

  “We’ll wait here until the storm passes before we start again,” he said over his shoulder.

  She didn’t respond to him. She couldn’t. Her voice was trapped in the back of her throat, and her legs trembled from the tightly clenched muscles of her thighs. She wanted to touch him, but didn’t dare. It would only make it that much harder when they eventually parted.

  Akando had cursed her “whore” and maybe he was right. Her body lusted for a man that wasn’t her husband, yet no amount of self-rebuke—or thigh clenching—could ease her ache.

  When he turned to her, naked desire pulsed through her. Plain for him to see.

  They stood facing each other in silent yearning. She stared down at his member, which jutted from his body, broad and rigid. Her breath caught and her lips parted slightly as the pulsing between her thighs grew stronger.