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Though her skin was darker than Abigail’s had been it still bore the reddish handprints of his earlier spanking. She grunted, struggling to get away. He began spanking her harder than before, lecturing her all the while about displaying modesty and proper respect for him as head of the household.
Even if she couldn’t understand his words, she’d soon learn to behave – or she’d face another session across his knees.
* * *
Asila could tell Gabriel was as angry with himself as he was with her. She knew white men considered Indian women immoral. Cherokee culture did not look upon sex and nudity as evil or wrong. Young unmarried men and women of her tribe often bathed nude together in the river then joined to fulfill their physical desires if they chose. But the European settlers believed engaging in such behavior was wicked. Seeing the sexual freedom of native women created desires their rigid moral code deemed forbidden.
Asila had seen the evidence of Gabriel’s arousal when he caught sight of her naked body. Even now, she could feel his stiff manhood pressing against her mound while his hand pummeled her aching bottom.
The shock and pain of the first spanking had worn off, and, to her surprise, Asila found herself reacting in a different way than she had before. She’d been without release for so long that her body instinctively ground against his erect member. The fire he ignited on her backside awakened another fire deep in her belly. Gabriel’s stern demeanor was like that of a proud Cherokee warrior.
She found herself responding to his forceful ways, the heat building inside her. The powerful arm pinning her in place over his lap, the rigid shaft that rubbed against her throbbing bud every time his hand came down – without warning, wave after wave of intense pleasure engulfed her. Asila cried out, writhing against him.
* * *
Gabriel was on the verge of exploding. Every stern whack from his hand sent her naked body rocking back and forth against his swollen manhood.
Enraged, he spanked harder and heard her moan, a moan of excitement rather than pain. It was more than he could bear. When she cried out aloud, he groaned and pushed her away again.
The wench slid off his lap and knelt between his legs. Before he realized what she was about to do, she’d reached down and freed his stiff member. Taking him in her hands, she began caressing it, long and slow. Raw hunger took over. Instead of stopping her, Gabriel watched, frozen in place, as her hand ran up the shaft of his cock. Her fingers tightened around it, and she stroked faster. He threw his head back, shuddering as she drew his seed from his loins.
She looked up at him, smiling as though she expected him to be pleased at their mutual pleasure. Confused and embarrassed, he turned away and stood up, fastening his trousers. Keeping his back to her, Gabriel walked unsteadily to the doorway.
“Put those clothes on,” he ordered, not caring whether she could understand the words. He was speaking more to himself than to her. “I never want to see you naked again.”
Chapter Four
Over the next few days they settled into an uneasy truce. Gabriel would not allow her to examine his injured leg again or get near enough to touch him in any way.
She put on the calico gown but refused to wear the drawers underneath it. She would not cover herself with the layers and layers of restrictive clothing of a white woman just because his rigid moral standards required it. She hid them instead, tucked deep in her stash of possessions in a corner of the cabin. Gabriel never knew since he barely looked at her.
He hobbled around the cabin for three days, resting often and occasionally limping out to the barn to tend the animals. Asila followed him, afraid he’d collapse from trying to do too much too soon. But Gabriel was stubborn, refusing her silent efforts to help him with the chores. She did fetch water for the next day’s needs after he’d fallen asleep each night, knowing his injured leg couldn’t bear the weight of the heavy bucket.
Occasionally he spoke to her, giving some command. Always in a loud, slow tone of voice. He usually accompanied his comments with vigorous hand waving, as though the combination of increased volume and dramatic gestures would overcome their language barrier. She simply nodded then ignored him and went about her business, preparing their meals and tending to the needs of little Salai.
At night, she and the child curled up in a corner to sleep. He came over the first night and dropped the patchwork quilt on the floor next to her then wordlessly climbed into his bed and turned his back.
* * *
For Gabriel, the emotional pain of having Asila so near was worse than the physical pain from the snakebite. He tried hard not to look at her. Seeing her slender form bustling around the cabin, dressed in the familiar blue calico gown, brought back the grief and loneliness of his loss. He felt like a traitor to Abigail’s memory, ashamed of his moment of weakness when he’d allowed the beautiful naked woman to touch him.
For the most part, he tried to ignore Salai, except when she crawled over to him, yanking on the leg of his pants to pull herself to a standing position. Then he stared down at her, silent and unmoving, until she toddled away.
Being around the little one doubled his grief. He and Abigail had often talked of having a whole brood of children. She’d been raised as an only child and longed for a house full of sturdy sons and daughters, filled with laughter and love. But the fever took her – and their unborn baby – before her dream was ever realized. Gabriel looked into the innocent face of the little Indian girl, watched her take her first steps around the cabin his own child had never lived to see, and raged at the injustice of it all.
* * *
As for Asila, she too was angry with herself. She had allowed the white man to overcome her, to strike her. Then her body had betrayed her, responding with passion to the crude but intimate contact.
Yes, he was handsome, strong, and tall. But being handsome and strong did not make a man a Cherokee warrior, worthy of the affection of a Medicine Woman. If only she’d left him lying on the cabin floor when he stumbled in the door, she and Salai would be far away by now.
Instead, she had nursed him with her Medicine, asked the Spirits to bless him and heal him. In the ways of her people, as Medicine Woman she was now obligated to the Spirits to care for him until he was well. Her sacred code did not allow her to fight a man who was weakened and ill or to cause harm to a person she had saved from death.
She could see his leg still pained him, but he refused to drink any more of her potions. So she secretly added a pinch of healing herbs to the food she served him and tried to take on as much of the physical work as she could. Fear and rage had fueled his strength the first day, but the renewed physical exertion took its toll on his recovery. He was still pale and unsteady on his feet, yet he insisted on walking to the barn, taking on his daily chores.
Asila bided her time, planning to take Salai and steal away as soon as Gabriel was well enough to head out to work in his field. During the day, she foraged in the meadow and woods near the cabin, replenishing her stockpile of healing plants when Gabriel and Salai napped.
One day she took her bow and arrows into the woods and brought home a wild turkey. She stuffed the bird with cornbread and herbs and roasted it on a spit over the open fire in the hearth. Though her heart was heavy, she forced herself to eat heartily, building up her strength for the long journey to come.
