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Even after living among so many soldiers, Leonida had never become infatuated with any of them. None had touched her heart, nor had they caused strange sensations within her. Not until now had she known how it felt to be attracted to a man—and this was not a soldier, or an ordinary man.
He was an Indian.
Her heart pounding, Leonida turned her back on the handsome warrior. Yet she had been so taken with him, she had noticed every detail about him.
He was a tall man with jet-black hair that he wore long and loose over his shoulders, with a red silk headband to keep it in place at his brow. He had flashing dark eyes, and a smooth bronze face with sculpted features.
Broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, he was breathtakingly, ruggedly handsome, dressed in a shirt of handwoven woolen cloth with a V-neck. His dyed buckskin trousers had silver buttons down the sides and were tied with woven garters. He wore silver-buttoned moccasins, a concha belt of round silver disks on leather, and a ketoh, a leather wrist guard with silver ornaments.
Leonida felt a sudden hush at her side that roused her from her trance. She blushed when she saw Harold’s jaw tighten and anger flash in his eyes as his gaze slowly turned from her to the warrior. Leonida realized that Harold had seen her interest in the Navaho warrior and had become instantly jealous.
She smiled wanly as he again looked her way, glad that his attention was drawn back to the business at hand. But she could tell that he was rushing things along now to get her away from the Indian.
“You will weave the blanket for many pesos, money?” Harold asked, smiling smugly when Pure Blossom accepted the beautiful yarn and draped it across her arms.
“Yes, Pure Blossom will do this for you,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement as she gazed down at the yarn. “It delights Pure Blossom to have the ready-made yarns. The yarn is so fine and even. The result will be a magnificent blanket for the lovely white woman’s wedding. Pure Blossom will weave the yarn into a pattern of stripes and zigzags, and even some in the shape of diamonds.”
She looked from Harold to Leonida. “I promise to have the blanket ready for you . . . when did you say?” she asked.
“In three months,” Harold said stiffly, unnerved by the Navaho warrior’s cold gaze. Harold had had few dealings with Sage, the young Navaho chief, but enough to know that he was the most stubborn of all the Indians in the area and that he had too much control. Harold had thought long ago that something had to be done about this powerful chief. He smiled to himself, knowing that things were in the works even now to make changes that would affect Sage.
“Uke-he, thank you,” Pure Blossom said humbly, feeling the heat of her brother’s eyes on her and knowing why. The Navaho rarely said thank you to anyone. Normally when a thank you was necessary, thanks were given by other means than humbling themselves by saying it.
Glad to be on their way, Harold placed a firm hand on Leonida’s elbow. She eased away from him, though, and knelt down on a knee to admire a striking necklace among those laid out on a colorful blanket. He nervously moved his finger around his tight collar and shifted his feet. Then he did a slow bur
n as Sage knelt down opposite Leonida, his eyes intent on her.
“You see one that you especially like?” he asked, smiling.
Leonida’s pulse raced. The Indian’s deep, smooth voice reached into her heart like warm splashes of sunshine. To keep from making a fool of herself, she looked away from him, and again down at the beautiful necklace that had caught her eye.
“This one,” she said, pointing to a string of hollow silver beads with a large crescent-shaped pendant ornament called a Naja. “It’s so very pretty, unlike anything I have ever seen before.”
Her face became hot with a blush, and she was embarrassed by the strange huskiness of her voice. This Indian had affected her much more deeply than she had realized. And she knew that she must hide her feelings. Not only from Harold, but also from the warrior. It was forbidden to have feelings for an Indian, especially the sort of sensations now troubling her.
Sage picked up the necklace and spread it out between his large, callused hands. “This is called a squash blossom necklace,” he explained. “The floral design represents pomegranates, and the crescent at the bottom is to ward off the evil eye.”
He paused to sweep his eyes slowly over Leonida. He was quite taken by the color of her hair, where wisps of her golden curls were revealed at the sides of her straw bonnet. He also admired the azure of her eyes, having seen such a beautiful color of blue only in the sky on the clearest of days.
Where her low-cut bodice revealed her porcelainlike skin, the swell of her breasts was smooth and creamy. While she had been standing with calm dignity, he had noticed how tall and willowy she was, a blond beauty.
If he allowed himself, he could have many feelings for this woman, most sensual.
“It is so beautiful,” Leonida said, trying to draw the Navaho warrior’s attention back to the necklace. She could hear Harold’s hastened breathing, a sure sign that he was growing angry.
“Yes, it is a thing of beauty,” Sage said thickly. “The Navaho call the crescent ‘big snake,’ the Navaho’s name for the constellation Draco.”
Before Leonida could rise, the Navaho warrior moved quickly behind her, placing the necklace around her neck. Having already been mesmerized by his smooth voice and dark eyes, she felt almost swallowed whole by her heartbeats when he touched the flesh of her neck with his fingers while fastening the necklace around it.
“It is yours,” Sage said, placing a hand on her elbow and helping her to her feet. “Wear it as a token of gratitude for coming to my sister with your lovely yarns.”
Red-faced, Harold stepped between them. Glaring at Sage, he yanked the necklace from Leonida’s neck and flicked it onto the ground. “She needs no gifts from you,” he growled. “The blanket is the only reason we have come here today, and your sister will get paid well for her services.”
Leonida was stunned by Harold’s sudden burst of jealousy. She half stumbled when he grabbed her hand and pulled her from the tent. Awkwardly she looked over her shoulder, feeling that an apology was needed. When she saw the warrior’s cold contempt, she was stung to the core.
Then she turned away, ashamed and angry. The more Harold jerked her along beside him, the angrier she became. Suddenly she yanked herself free and stopped to glare at him. “Why did you have to behave so—so terribly about that necklace?” she said, her gloved hands doubled into tight fists at her sides. “You humiliated not only the Indian but also me. Was that necessary? Did you feel that threatened by the Indian’s attentions toward me? You don’t own me, Harold. Please quit acting as though you do.”
Harold’s eyebrows narrowed together into one line as he leaned down close to her face. “Don’t you appreciate anything?” he snarled. “I’m paying a lot of money for that blanket. Would you rather I go back and get the yarn and forget it? Would you rather I didn’t get you anything for your wedding gift?”
