Page 60 of Red Hawk's Woman

He nodded. “I am falling in love with you. Although, if I am to be truthful, perhaps I have loved you since the moment I first saw you.”

Such simple words, and yet so stunned was she by his honest confession, she was speechless. She wondered, was she falling in love with him?

Involuntarily, one image after another filled her mind.

A young boy playing with her in the water, teasing her, yet keeping her lonely self company. A soulful wish from the bottom of her heart to see the same boy again. That this man had recently come to her aid, when no one else would, endeared him to her.

Interrupting her thoughts, he said, “Now you must dress. I will not be able to help you with your clothes any further, however. I must prepare for our journey. Do you think you can manage it on your own?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “But I would like you to stay.”

He sighed. “I cannot. You know I cannot. If I stay, it is natural for me to try to urge more passion from you, and I fear, because we both are aware of our desire for each other, you might let me succeed.”

“Is it so very bad? I have some friends who often indulge⁠—”

“Without marriage, I would disgrace you. As it is, I fear I may have already pushed you too far.”

“Too far?”

“It is well known that a woman, when she desires a man, can lose concept of where she is and who she is with, if a man takes her too far into passion. ’Tis why a girl, after a certain age, is guarded so greatly by her parents and her aunts. When a man truly loves a woman, it is up to him to stop the love making, if he can. Sometimes, though, he too goes too far and cannot pull back. For now, I can walk away.”

For the second time this evening, Effie was astonished by this man’s wisdom. Not knowing what to say or how to respond, she remained silent.

“I will meet you at the river as soon as you are dressed in my clothes.”

She dipped her head in agreement, then whispered, “Very well.”

No sooner had the words been uttered than he was gone.

Chapter

Fourteen

Red Hawk took pains to make her invisible to the environment because even at night, a scout must take no risks. So to this end, he had applied mud to her face, her clothes and every inch of her skin.

“It stings,” she complained softly, as she followed Red Hawk in an unchartered path across the prairie. That they traveled beneath shrubs, crawling through and over prairie grass, using it as a cover when it was long enough; this, she would never have expected. Had she thought about it, she would have reckoned they would have ridden horses. How wrong she was.

Apparently, scouts did not do their work mounted. Nor did they keep to well-known and useable trails.

“You will become accustomed to the sting of the mud.” His voice was low, barely audible.

“Will I? Somehow this seems almost impossible.”

“I cannot wash it off you. ’Tis your defense when you are entering a country you do not know well. You must blend into your environment.”

“Oh, very well. How much farther have we to go?”

He turned to face her. He, too, was a sight to behold. He wore nothing more than breechcloth, leggings and moccasins. Every other inch of his skin was covered in mud, with grass and twigs sticking out at random places. His ever-present quiver full of arrows was strung over his back, and his bow was flung over his arm. Bags hung around his neck and his shoulders.

His breast was wide, his arms were strong and those leggings fit him quite tightly. His hair was in braids, two at the side of his face and one braided lock of hair straight down his back. Though most Indian men of her acquaintance commonly wore an incredible amount of jewelry, there was little to be seen on this man except for her chain around his neck and a string of blue and white beads dangling from a lock of his hair. Yet, odd or not, mud or not, the man exuded a provocative quality that was as stimulating as it was endearing.

Grinning at her, he said, “You remind me of a young child. Know that a good scout does not complain, for we have an entire night ahead of us.”

“Have you considered the fact that I am not a scout?”

“Saa, so you are not. Do you wish to rest here for a little while?”

“Yes.” She jumped at the chance. “I don’t think my knees will ever be the same again. I am glad the leather of these leggings is tough, for I fear that were I dressed in any of my own clothes, they would have given out long ago.”