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Her sight swept quickly over him, seeing how muscled he was in his clinging buckskin attire, and how tall he was.
Her gaze returned to his face. She was struck speechless by his handsomeness. She had heard that there was such a thing as love at first sight, in which one look weds two souls in everlasting devotion. She wondered if she was now experiencing such a phenomenon.
He was causing strange sensations to flood her insides.
Stunned by her reaction to the Indian and where her thoughts had taken her, Elizabeth remembered the past history of the house. How the Indians had obviously hated it.
She took a quick step away from the Indian, his handsomeness not enough to quell her fear of him.
“Who are you?” she managed to ask. “Why are you here?”
Strong Heart was shocked, having never expected to find a lady in the house. From a nearby high bluff he had watched the activity on the beach. He had seen the moored ship, and several white men erecting some sort of building on the beach. He had thought that all of the white men were there, having not suspected that someone else might be here—in the house.
When he had looked toward the house and had seen the smoke billowing from the windows, his first thought was of his grandfather, and that he may have finally found him. His grandfather could have set fire to the house to keep the intruders on the beach from l
iving in the old house that sat on the hallowed grounds of the Suquamish. Strong Heart knew that many years ago some of his ancestors had tried to burn the house down, but white people had stopped them by slaughtering them.
Since then, none of Strong Heart’s people had tried to rid the land of the house. They had found peace and harmony elsewhere, on land far from this place of death and sadness.
Only recently had Strong Heart become acquainted with the house and grounds, when he had returned to search for his missing grandfather. But the house had been empty the other times Strong Heart had gone through it.
Now it seemed it was lived in again.
And, he thought to himself, the house was now inhabited by someone as entrancing as the roses that grew wild in the forests.
The woman’s hair was as red as the most lovely of the wild roses. Her eyes were as green as the grass that blanketed the earth and the sides of the bluffs. Her cheeks were as pink as the interior of the conch shell that could be found along the shores of the Sound.
He looked down, seeing the swell of her breasts and the way they were heaving. She seemed to fear him. That he regretted, for he had not come to harm her. Nor would he ever.
She was not the sort of woman any man could harm. His gaze lifted and he saw such innocence in her eyes and delicate face.
Then his mind returned to sanity. He must ensure his safety. Fearing that the white men on the beach might also be drawn to the house by the smoke, and not wanting to be seen there, Strong Heart knew that he must leave.
But first he would remove the lovely lady from the smoky house, no matter that her mere presence on this hallowed ground should anger him.
When would the white people ever realize that this land could never belong to anyone but the beloved dead of the Suquamish? When would they ever realize they desecrated this land?
But having fought this battle inside his heart more times than he wanted to count, and never winning, Strong Heart cast the sorrowful thoughts from his mind and whisked Elizabeth up into his arms and carried her outside to the porch.
Breathless, and aghast at what the handsome Indian had done, Elizabeth pushed at his chest. “Let me go,” she cried. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
Strong Heart didn’t set her to her feet right away. Instead, he stood there and stared at her face. Elizabeth swallowed hard, wondering if he was going to carry her away, and hold her captive, perhaps even for ransom.
And then suddenly Strong Heart released her and fled into the deep shadows of the forest.
Elizabeth was breathless from the experience, in wonder at this Indian who had appeared out of nowhere, and who had left just as quickly and mysteriously.
And it was obvious that he had meant her no harm. He had actually carried her from the house. Had he thought that it was on fire, she wondered? Had he thought that he was saving her?
She wanted to run after him and demand that he tell her why he was there, and why he had felt the need to rush away so quickly.
But she did not have the opportunity. Her father was suddenly there, winded from running.
“Good Lord, Elizabeth,” Earl said, gasping for breath. “I saw the smoke. I thought . . . I thought—”
“No, Father, the house isn’t on fire,” Elizabeth said, interrupting him. “I’m sure it’s just a faulty flue. I imagine a bird’s nest. I wouldn’t be surprised if all of the flues aren’t the same.” She laughed softly. “Imagine how Frannie will be fussing over the damage the smoke has done to the parlor.”
“To hell with the parlor,” Earl said, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. “Just as long as you’re all right.”
