Angelia rolled her eyes. “Please, will you take me to him?”
“Yes, my wife,” said Swift Hawk seriously, though she could have sworn that a corner of his mouth lifted upward in a smile. “Truly, my wife, I will do anything you say.”
“Please, if you must say that, say it softly.”
“Very well.” Leaning up onto his elbows, Swift Hawk spoke quietly, for her ears alone, “Yes, my wife. I am yours to command, my wife.”
Angelia raised an eyebrow. “You are mine to command?”
“It is so.”
“Good. Then I command you not to speak to me of this again.”
Smiling, Swift Hawk inclined his head. “Very well. I will show you instead how eager I am to please you.” He held out a hand toward her.
Angelia rolled away. “Swift Hawk!” she uttered sharply, under her breath. “Stop this at once. Just…just take me to my brother.”
“Yes, my wife. Anything you say, my wife.”
Angelia frowned at him, but this time she didn’t say a word. Arising, she found Swift Hawk doing the same, coming easily onto his feet, and with a gesture of his hand, he made her to understand that she was to follow him.
Terrific.
He intended to lead her across a field, one that stretched out in front of the wagons, where every eye within the caravan could see them.
Angelia blew out a breath. This was not good. No, this was not good, at all.
But somehow, in some way, she would think up something to explain away why she was with Swift Hawk.
What that might be she didn’t know, but she would think of something. And Lord knows, it had better be good.
Chapter
Sixteen
We believed that two who love should be united in secret, before the public acknowledgment of their union, and should taste their apotheosis (raising a person to a godlike status) alone with nature.
—CHARLES A. EASTMAN,THE SOUL OF THE INDIAN
He walked her through the tall grasses, not keeping to the easier buffalo paths but rather progressing through and over the pea-vines, buffalo grass and other growth. No trees surrounded them to mark their progress, but looking back, Angelia could discern the white-topped wagons in the distance, which gave her a small sense of direction.
Hopefully the grass would hide her and Swift Hawk from any watchful eyes that might be looking out from the caravan, but she doubted it very much. The growth wasn’t that tall—only a little higher than her waist.
After a mere fifteen-minute walk, Swift Hawk led her to a bluff overlooking a small stream that lay before them, perhaps a quarter of a mile away. Cottonwood and a few willows lined its bed, while its shoreline rose to a steep rise.
On that bluff squatted a man, who, with a field glass in hand, examined the surrounding area, as if scrutinizing it.
Next to him reposed his horse, peacefully grazing on the lush grass as its feet.
It was her brother and his mount.
“Swift Hawk, I hardly think that?—”
Putting his finger to his lips, Swift Hawk turned toward her.Watch.He mouthed the words and, pulling on her arm, brought her to the ground, both of them resting on their stomachs.
Parting the grass, she looked outward. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Julian carefully examined the area all around him. Then, as if satisfied, he began his descent. Backward, Julian retraced his path, stepping in his own footprints and wiping them away from the land as he went.
Ingenious. To rub away one’s own prints. No one would be able to follow.
