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The way he asked her, and the passion in his eyes, made her want him to kiss her so badly, yet she knew that it was wrong. Her husband had been dead for only a short while. And David. She should be concerned only about David, not her own selfish needs.
Afraid of where even one kiss might lead them, Mary Beth felt that she had no choice but to step away from him. She fought the pounding of her heart, the longing she felt for him, and sat down on the pelts.
She forced her eyes to gaze into the fire, not at him. She knew that if she gazed up at him again, all thoughts but those of being with him would be swept away.
She would go to him.
She would melt into his arms.
There would be such magic in his kiss.
She knew she must fight against this need, against the wondrous feelings that being in his arms had stirred.
She knew, as well, that it was not right at this time to ask him to search for David. It would not be right to deny him one thing and then suddenly ask for another.
For several moments, there was only a strained silence between them.
Oh, surely he heard the throbbing of her heart.
Oh, surely he felt the passion that was flowing between them!
But surely he now also felt a deep rejection.
She scarcely breathed as she waited for him to speak . . . or to leave.
Understanding why a white woman might be afraid to show her true feelings for a red man, knowing that in her world it was forbidden, Brave Wolf gazed at Mary Beth for a moment longer, then left the lodge.
Mary Beth dropped her face into her hands and wept for a man she knew she shouldn’t want; for a son captured by warriors she knew were nothing like Brave Wolf; and for herself. How she missed her husband, even though she had never loved him as a woman should love a husband.
At this moment, she ached for arms around her, to comfort her, and not just any man’s. She ached for Brave Wolfs!
“What have I done?” she sobbed, for she feared her rejection might have turned Brave Wolf into her enemy.
She felt a chill race across her flesh. She looked over her shoulder and saw a robe lying half unrolled on the floor. It looked inviting and warm.
Without much thought she reached for it. She turned it in her hands, recalling the bear that had frightened her earlier. This fur looked like it might have come from a bear.
She remembered how Brave Wolf had allowed the bear that crossed their paths to live. But surely bears were killed for their warm pelts. The winters were long and cold in Montana.
She ran her hand slowly over it, envisioning Brave Wolf wearing the robe. Smiling, she slipped into it, sighing at its warmth and softness.
She yawned sleepily, stretched her arms above her head, then curled up in the robe by the fire stones that circled the lodge fire. Within moments she had drifted off into the welcome void of sleep.
Chapter Twelve
We were taught to believe
that the Great Spirit sees and hears
everything, and that he never forgets;
that hereafter he will give every
man a spirit-home.
—Chief Joseph
When Brave Wolf returned to his tepee, he found Mary Beth asleep by the fire. He smiled when he saw her asleep in his bear robe, so cozy and beautiful.
