Chapter 8 #3
“Excuse me; I’ll let you two talk,” said Sabrina, never one to miss an opportunity. She offered Willow her most charming smile—to which he naturally responded—and then she slipped away.
It didn’t matter, Sloan determined. There was really nowhere for her to go.
Yet.
“How are my people?” Willow demanded.
“Well, they’re far across the hills, heading farther north and massing in very large numbers.”
Willow nodded. “My brothers? Sisters? Nephews, nieces?”
“All are well now and send their greetings. Blue Heron has died since I was there last, but he was very old and died in his sleep.”
“He was old when we were children,” Willow said. “His death is a natural one. But I’m very glad to hear that all my family are well, though I do fear for the future. Do my people still understand why Lily and I have chosen to live among the Whites? Am I resented?”
Sloan shook his head. “Each man follows his own quest. Crazy Horse believes deeply in his visions, and he saw in one of them that you were meant to live among the Whites, teaching them that all people are human beings—as his allies, the Cheyenne, say.”
“Does he resent you?”
Sloan shook his head. “Not yet, anyway. He had already heard about the government order for all Indians to report to their agencies and reservations. He says he has no reservation, that he’s never taken government handouts and isn’t answerable to the United States government.”
“Did you think that he will change his mind?”
Sloan shook his head again. “No. I sincerely doubt that he would do so.”
“He will never surrender.” Willow nodded his head very slowly.
“As Crazy Horse saw in his vision, I have chosen my way. I have opted for peace—though in my heart, I envy some of my brothers the fight they will wage. What about you, Cougar-in-the-Night?” he asked, switching to Sioux and using Sloan’s Indian name.
“When the bullets start flying, where will you shoot?”
“I can hardly shoot my own people,” Sloan said quietly.
Willow grinned. “It remains as I have asked: when the bullets start flying, where will you shoot?”
“It is a fight in which I cannot be in the middle.”
“You will wind up forced into the middle.”
Sloan shook his head. “I will not be forced.”
“What if the White men seeking their battle send you out to find the Crazy Horse people?”
“Crazy Horse has already moved since I have seen him—northward, to take his people to camp with Sitting Bull and the Hunkpapas.”
“If you were to choose to track Crazy Horse, you would find him.”
“Maybe not. It’s big country. Very big country.”
“So that is the way the wind blows!” Willow said quietly, then laughed.
“It seems that we must pray a lot.”
“Pray a lot, die a lot. Live hard in between,” Willow said. He gazed across the room, then glanced at Sloan, a sly smile curling his lip. “So...you married Hawk’s sister-in-law.”
“So...yes, I did.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean?” Sloan demanded.
Willow shook his head. “Beautiful woman. All eyes turn when she walks into a room.”
Sloan followed Willow’s gaze. Sabrina was surrounded by soldiers again—all of them keeping a respectful distance, of course.
Yet all of them...
Looking like puppy dogs, ready to trip on their own damned tongues. And she was being charming, talking to each man, laughing, smiling. She had a way, it appeared, of making each man think that he was special, and that what he was saying was either very important or very funny.
Yet she must have sensed him watching her. She looked across the room at him.
She smiled.
Naturally.
She was quite safe. Or so she would assume—here, tonight, in Hawk’s house.
With all this company. And all the women sleeping in certain rooms, and all the men sleeping in other rooms.
“She has the right spirit,” Willow murmured.
“Pardon?” Sloan asked him, realizing that while he had been watching Sabrina, he’d been thinking and planning, and not listening to Willow.
Willow smiled. “She is very strong. Like a little cat, lost in the woods, well aware that predators exist, and ready to face them head-on. She’ll do very well, I think. Very well indeed.”
Sloan gazed at him skeptically, and Willow laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “She hasn’t realized that you aren’t a predator. Just a Cougar—a bigger cat. Maybe that’s best at first. I like your wife. Very much. Not just to look at. One day, you will like her, too.”
“Naturally, I like my wife,” he told Willow. It was his wife who did not like him.
“No, my friend. You lust after her. And maybe you’re falling in love. You haven’t really taken the time to like her yet. That will come.”
“Well, thank you very much for straightening my life out for me, Willow.”
“Someone needs to do it,” Willow said. He smiled, listening to the musicians. “Another waltz. I must find Lily and help prove that we Sioux are trainable,” he said dryly. “And there, ahead of us, is your lovely wife. I didn’t intend to interrupt your dancing.”
“That’s fine—and see, she’s about to dance with—ah, young Harris, I believe.”
“You can cut in.”
“Not this time. I have a few things to do. Go dance, and thank you for the advice.”
Willow nodded. “Keep your head low, Cougar,” he warned.
Sloan nodded and smiled as Willow left him. Then he hurried through the throng of guests as quickly as he could, briefly greeting those who stopped him, until he reached the kitchen and found Meggie, Hawk’s housekeeper.
Ten minutes later, he returned to the room. The musicians were still playing.
Sabrina was dancing with Jimmy Blake again. He smiled as he watched her and went so far as to ask Mrs. Postwaite to dance, since Mr. Postwaite seemed quite winded.
When the dance ended, he escorted Mrs. Postwaite to the punch table, where Sabrina stood with Jimmy.
“Ah, there’s your husband!” Jimmy told Sabrina. “We were looking for you,” he told Sloan.
“Oh?” He arched a brow at Sabrina.
She smiled. Charmingly. As if she meant it. She was still keeping up the charade while she tried to convince him that he wanted an annulment.
“I lost sight of you. Where did you go?” she asked.
“Ah, well, I had a bit of business to attend to. Those fiddlers are really quite good, aren’t they? Lieutenant, if you don’t mind, I will dance with my wife now.”
“I’m a poor stand-in, sir.”
“You’re an excellent stand-in, Lieutenant,” he assured Blake, his hand on Sabrina’s waist.
In minutes, they were sweeping around the room. They danced well together. He was aware that they were being watched.
“You’ve been absolutely charming to all the men,” he told Sabrina. “They seem quite smitten.”
“Well, as I said, I didn’t know your feelings on a number of matters, and I’ve tried very hard to appear to be the perfect cavalry wife until we decide what to do.”
“Oh, indeed.”
“And where were you? Seeing to the entertainment of all the sisters, daughters, and female cousins of the cavalry, Major Trelawny?” she asked very sweetly.
He smiled down at her, shaking his head.
“I am concerned with only one cavalry family at the moment, my love. My own.”
“So...if you’re concerned with me,” she queried, perhaps just a little worriedly, “why on earth did you leave the party for so very long?”
“Was I gone long?”
“Rather.”
“And you noticed, with all that attention being lavished on you! I am flattered.”
“Umm. And you’re not answering me.”
“Well, I had to see to the packing, of course.”
“What packing?” she asked, a definite edge of concern to her voice now.
His smile deepened. “Your things.”
She stopped dead, and they missed a beat. He swept her back into the rhythm of the music.
“We’re not leaving yet, and I can tend to my own things, so you—”
“We are leaving.”
“But not now—”
“Not this minute, no, my love. But we are leaving tonight.”
She faltered completely. They were near the French doors, which were still open. He led her outside. She backed away from him, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Sloan, I thought that we’d agreed to think—”
“I didn’t agree to anything.”
“I’m trying very hard to be completely reasonable and rational—”
“I made my intentions very clear before we married,” he informed her flatly.
She moistened her lips. “Sloan, even if we were to go through with this charade, we—we can’t leave tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” she repeated. “Snow! There’s snow everywhere. And darkness—”
“There’s snow by day or night, Sabrina. And for those of us accustomed to living here, this isn’t just a beautiful winter’s night; it’s damned near a miracle to have weather this good. It won’t last.”
“But there will be a large party going back to the fort tomorrow. We could travel with the others. We’d be safe—”
“You’ll be safe. With me.”
He knew from the way her eyes widened that it was he from whom she thought she needed protection.
“Sloan, I am not going. You’re insane!”
Maybe his decision to leave tonight wasn’t completely rational. If he hadn’t been so irritated...
Damn, but she had a way of getting beneath his skin.
“Tell me, Sabrina. Have I really been so horrible to you?”
“I...” She paused, inhaling, shaking her head. “No, but you don’t understand—”
“Have I ever hurt you intentionally?”
“Truly, how can I know your intentions—”
“Have I?” he insisted.
“No, but—”
“Last question. Can you honestly say that you felt nothing at all when we were together?”
Her cheeks flamed crimson. “You don’t understand—”
“Can you say that there was nothing between us, that you could really walk away from me feeling nothing at all?”
“Sloan, please, don’t force this from me—”
“You married me, Sabrina.”
“I’m trying to tell you that you don’t understand—”
“You don’t understand. There will be no annulment; our marriage is real.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because you are my wife,” he told her. “And I want you.”
She seemed stunned, taken completely off guard. Yet it seemed that she was determined to fight a different battle then and buy herself time. “Sloan, please think. Truly!” she whispered. “We can’t leave tonight!”
“We can,” he assured her. He smiled pleasantly. “The moonlight will allow for some really beautiful riding. We’ll leave in an hour, Sabrina.”
The flush in her cheeks was gone. She was very pale. He wondered if he wasn’t the world’s greatest fool, determined to keep her when she was so desperate to be free. Why was he so obsessed?
He drew her to him suddenly. “Once upon a time, Sabrina, I touched pure fire within you. I will find it again. And we will leave tonight.”
“I won’t—”
“Trust me, my love. You will,” he told her, and he turned around, reentering the house before she could argue further.