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Not used to a man flirting with her, and wa
nting never to become enamored of a man again, she changed the direction of their conversation.
“Tell me about yourself, William Joseph,” she said, smiling up at him. “Your mother said that you are a restless soul, seeking adventure wherever you can find it. If I were a man, I would want to live the same sort of life.”
“My wild life has taken me too often from my family,” William Joseph said, glancing over at Abigail, who was busy chatting with several women as she stood at the refreshment table dipping punch into cups and glasses. “But of course my father is too busy to notice, and my mother has other children to take her mind off a wandering son.”
“Tell me about your adventures,” Mariah said, her heart crying out for Echohawk. Above the string quartet’s music she could hear the singing and the thumping of the drums outside, where the Indians had gathered.
Oh, how she wanted to be there!
She wanted to be by Echohawk’s side, sharing the powwow with him.
She forced herself to be attentive to William Joseph’s tales about his adventures with the different Indian tribes while serving as an interpreter.
But when William Joseph spoke sadly of his marriage to a lovely Indian maiden, and how circumstances had torn them apart, that was all it took to break Mariah’s composure.
Sobbing suddenly, she broke away from William Joseph and fled from the ballroom, out onto the terrace, then down several steps which led to a small flower garden behind the stately mansion.
She buried her face in her hands and cried a moment; then, when she heard anxious footsteps approaching, she dried her eyes with the backs of her hands and squared her shoulders, just as William Joseph appeared, his eyes troubled.
“Why did you run away?” he asked, peering down at her through the darkness. “Was it something I said?”
“It was my clumsiness,” Mariah said, forcing the lie across her lips. “I . . . I just couldn’t stay there and continue making a fool of myself while all of the other women were dancing so smoothly. I am sure you understand.”
“The air is damp,” William Joseph said, reaching a hand toward her. “Come back inside with me. I promise I won’t ask you to dance. I will get you some refreshment.”
Finding it impossible to return to the ballroom when her heart ached for Echohawk, Mariah shook her head. “No,” she murmured. “Please go back without me. I . . . I need a breath of fresh air.”
William Joseph removed his green velveteen coat and slipped it around her shoulders. “At least wear this so that you won’t get a chill,” he said softly. “Stay awhile, then come back inside. I will serve you punch and cake.”
“That would be delightful,” Mariah said, snuggling into the coat. “I shall return shortly.”
William Joseph smiled warmly down at her, then began to walk away. As Mariah turned longingly toward the powwow grounds, she pulled up with a start and almost fainted when Echohawk was suddenly there blocking her path.
She composed herself and looked up at him, and thrilled through and through when she could tell by the way he looked at her that he still cared for her, regardless of what she’d done.
“You knew that I was here?” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.
“Ay-uh,” Echohawk said, his gaze taking in the gentleman’s coat on her shoulders. He had watched William Joseph place it there, and jealousy plagued him. “I know this and much more.”
“What else?” Mariah dared to ask, her heart pounding.
“Your reason for having been among those who raided my village,” Echohawk said stiffly. “It was one more thing your evil father forced upon you. Chief Silver Wing told me your father’s name and where he resides. He also told me that your father not only abuses his daughter but also is a liar and a cheat!”
Realizing that the secret was out—who her father was, and where he lived, and his part in the raid—Mariah paled. Although she no longer loved or respected her father, she did not want him to be killed.
And she did not want the man that she loved to be responsible for his death.
But she also knew that she had no control whatsoever over her father’s destiny, nor over Echohawk’s role in it.
“No-din,” Echohawk said, taking her hands in his, “I forgive you your part in the raid. I forgive you everything! I want you back. My heart has been lonely without you. Return with me to my dwelling. Be the ‘flower of my wigwam’ again! You filled my heart with love and happiness. It can be that way again, if you will allow it.”
Hearing the sadness and pain in Echohawk’s voice, and feeling so deeply for him, and feeling free to show her emotions to him, Mariah moved into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Echohawk, I’m so sorry about so many things,” she cried. “Oh, Echohawk, I love you so much. Let me show you how happy we can be!”
Echohawk’s heart thundered wildly. “You will be mine again?” he asked, placing a finger to her chin, tilting her eyes up to his.
“Ay-uh,” she murmured. She smoothed her fingers over the lenses of his eyeglasses. “How is your eyesight? Has it improved at all?”
