She did.
Reaching out for the bodice of the garment, he tore at her dress with such force that the linen chemise, as well as the petticoats, ripped all the way down the front. That it left her standing in no more than her lacy drawers was more than a little disconcerting to Swift Hawk’s equilibrium, and he found his gaze riveted to her chest.
He stared at her, there, for much longer than a gentleman should, until at last she brought her arms up to cover herself.
Her action caused him to offer, “I did not mean to expose you so completely.”
She glanced away from him. “So you say. But, Mr. Hawk, I fear modesty must take a backseat to the urgency of leaving here. Perhaps you have not noticed how quickly the tree behind you begins to burn.”
He shook his head as if to clear it. Alas, it only went to illustrate how exquisitely a woman could affect a man. Of course Swift Hawk knew the tree was afire, but even so, he had been and was still fighting with himself, trying to take his gaze from her.
“Haa’he,” he said, at some length, staring away from her at last. Getting to his feet, he picked up his knife and her shotgun and hurried toward his pony. “Come, you are right. We must be swiftly away.”
Jumping up and straddling his pony, he settled himself and reached an arm down to help her up as well.
“But my mule…”
Swift Hawk straightened away and glanced over his shoulder. “Haa’he.Yes, your mule. We will try to bring it withus, but if not, I fear we must leave it. For as you can see, we now have not only the Wind Spirit at our backs, but the Fire Spirit, as well. Quickly, jump up behind me.” He pulled her up onto the seating until she too was straddling the pony.
No sooner had she situated herself than Swift Hawk realized his mistake in rushing to free her from that bush. He should have taken his time, no matter if it had required the entire day.
Perhaps burning alive or being beaten to death by a storm would be better than the agony of feeling the imprint of her breasts against his own bare back…and knowing there was not a single earthly thing he could do about it.
Angelia had never felt so exposed,nor so alive.
At present, Swift Hawk was negotiating his pony through the winding buffalo paths. Since the prairie grass accommodated so many vines and growth, going through it was nearly impossible. She was nestled against Swift Hawk’s back, her arms around his waist, her legs against his own. Behind them, to the right, to the left, even in front of them, lightning flashed, boomed and sent a feeling of terror through the air, while the wind roared and howled like some ghostly apparition.
Out of necessity, they had left her mule behind. Swift Hawk had tried to lead it, but after several attempts at budging it, and no success, they had been forced to abandon it.
Luckily, the gusting winds had blown out the fire from the tree before it had become a threat to life and limb. But such strong gales as this had broken many of the tree’s limbs and branches, with the result that sticks and leaves went flying through the air like misguided arrows.
The lightning never ceased, either. Bolts crashed around them, into the ground, shaking the earth and creating thunderous peals. The strikes came from all directions, and if she hadn’t known better, she would have said that the lightning followed them.
Through it all, she clung to Swift Hawk, who appeared to be calm despite the chaos in the heavens.
At one point, Angelia cried out to Swift Hawk, “Why does the lightning follow us? It strikes the ground around us, as though each bolt were meant for us.”
“Itisintended for us,” said Swift Hawk. “The Thunderer and I are long enemies.”
The Thunderer—a force of Nature—Swift Hawk’s enemy? How strange.
And yet, was it strange? This man kept a secret from her. Was it somehow connected with such a magnificent enemy?
They kept on, their pace hindered by the furious waving of the grasses. Because the grass was so long and bent over, it made the paths difficult to see. To add to their difficulties, Angelia glanced behind them and discovered that the tail of a very black, almost greenish-looking cloud had dipped toward the earth.
The storm’s funnel was extending farther and farther down, until all at once it struck the ground. At the impact, dust flew everywhere. The storm’s roar, as it twisted over the prairie, added to the frightening howls of the wind.
She cried, “Behind us! The tornado has hit the earth. It’s coming this way!”
“Hold tight to me and do not let go,” Swift Hawk instructed. “I must force my pony off these buffalo paths, if we are to find shelter in time.”
She nodded against his shoulder. It was a strange thing. Naked though they both might be—at least from the waist up—her attention was not on herself, or even on him. In truth, although she might appreciate the feel of his back against her breasts, his buttocks against her loins, these things were not uppermost in her mind.
Survival, keeping alive. These were important, and upon these principles, she felt aligned with Swift Hawk.
Lightning cracked overhead, followed by a crash ofthunder, causing Swift Hawk’s pony to rear. But Swift Hawk kept his seat as if he were attached to it. Indeed, he reached around behind him and kept Angelia upright as well.
“Easy, girl,” Swift Hawk spoke to his pony. “You’re going to have to bring us to shelter, if we are all to survive. I fear the wind at our back gains on us. But you are a good pony. You can make it.”
