The Savage

“Don’t be mad at me, Lance,” she pleaded softly. “I should think you would be pleased I persuaded your brother to change his mind.”

Lance recognized her change in tactics immediately and wanted to curse. He had little resistance when Summer went into her “helpless belle” routine. “You trying to work your wiles on me again, princess?”

She gave him a smile that could have lit up a room with its warmth. “To be truthful, I’m trying to charm you out of your sulks.”

“It isn’t going to work,” he declared gruffly.

“No?” Her green eyes skeptical, she eyed him thoughtfully. “You’ve accused me often enough in the past of using feminine wiles to get my way, but in this case I think you should be grateful, for that’s just what I did with your brother. I presented a reasonable argument that appealed to his masculine pride.” Her smile turned wry. “Men are not so different in any culture that they’re immune to flattery.”

Lance grunted. “Yeah, and you’ve always been expert at playing us for fools.”

“Not fools, precisely. Merely targets for persuasion…like wet clay susceptible to molding.” She gave a rueful laugh. “I don’t know why you are so sensitive about my methods. You’ve always been immune to my charms.”

Despite his determination to withstand her assault, Lance found himself struggling to maintain his fury. Her wiles were working, damn her. But it was her success with his brother that had made his relief possible. For the first time since yesterday afternoon, he could breathe again; the jealousy that had clamped like a tight band around his chest had eased.

He hadn’t been able to stick around camp and watch while Summer gave herself to his brother, so he’d stormed off in a jealous rage and gone hunting. But he’d been so clumsy and sick with fury that he’d only hit a single target. And he hadn’t slept a full minute last night, either. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Summer lying beneath his brother’s thrusting body and he’d wanted to kill.

Now all he wanted to do was haul her into his arms and shout for joy. And maybe take his brother’s place.

The thought of having her again, hot and wild like yesterday, made Lance’s mouth go dry. Not that he deserved the privilege. As rough as he’d been yesterday, he could have hurt Summer badly. He’d nearly raped her in his rage—and guilt had been eating him alive ever since. But apparently he hadn’t hurt her too much. She was here now, smiling at him, teasing him out of his temper with her seductive charm. At least she didn’t seem to hold his violence against him. His fierce relief at her forgiving attitude almost matched his gratitude over her deliverance from his brother.

At her playful smile, the corner of his mouth twitched; he couldn’t help himself. “I’m not immune, dammit!”

She gave another ripple of laughter that was pure delight to hear. “Well, that is certainly reassuring! I had begun to think I’d lost my touch entirely.”

Lance shook his head in exasperation, hardly believing he was sitting here joking about Summer’s powers of manipulation, and loving every minute of it. “Your touch must have been working pretty well if you managed to get around my brother. He hates white women.”

“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you. And I’m not certain he’s happy about it. If you are ever in a horse race with Fights Bear again, it wouldn’t hurt to let him win. Bolster his male ego, you know.”

Lance laughed in spite of himself, a gruff chuckle that was rusty with disuse. “Yeah, I know.”

“I am sorry it cost you so many horses.”

“I’m not. I would have paid ten times that amount to keep you away from him.”

“Then you think I am worth a hundred horses?”

His eyes surveyed her with reluctant amusement. “Fishing for compliments again, princess?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted shamelessly. “I don’t believe it would hurt you to feed my feminine vanity once in a while. But I was also curious. Your grandmother suggested I was worthless because you didn’t pay my brother any horses for me when we married.”

His mouth curved in a wicked grin. “You’re not worthless, at least.”

Summer winced in mock pain and wrinkled her nose. Her saucy reply, however, was interrupted when Short Dress ducked beneath the flap of the tepee and entered, chattering urgently in Comanche and clutching Summer’s arm.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What is she saying?” she asked Lance in alarm.

The grimness had returned to his expression. “The emissaries Fights Bear sent out have returned. They’ve found your sister.”

Summer felt her heart lurch. “Amelia? She’s here?”

“No. They weren’t able to ransom her. Fights Bear wants you to attend a council to discuss the matter.”

Chapter 12

The council meeting took place outdoors in the village arena, with all the warriors attending and the peace chief of the band presiding. He opened the proceedings by lighting a pipe made of engraved soapstone, filled with tobacco and crushed sumac leaves.

Allowed to watch, Summer sat behind Lance and war chief Fights Bear, her nerves ragged with fear. By the time a smoke offering had been made to the Great Spirit and the pipe had been passed around the entire group, she wanted to scream with anxiety. Only then did they begin deliberations regarding the sister of Sharp Lance’s wife.