“I believe so,” Joylynn said. “And I am so glad that it was not because you hate white women enough to take one captive.”
“I normally do not have any feelings for white women,” High Hawk said, taking her hand and gently holding it. “Not until you.”
“Are you saying that you have . . . special . . . feelings for me?” Joylynn murmured, already knowing that he did.
It was in his every gesture, word and gaze.
“I have from the beginning,” High Hawk said, slowly nodding. “When I first saw you, I knew that destiny had brought me to you, not my father. I have loved you from the moment our eyes met.”
“You love me that much?” she asked, swallowing hard.
“Ho, that much,” he said fervently.
“And I feel the same about you, High Hawk. I do not want to leave you or your village, ever,” Joylynn said. She was feeling so sleepy, she could hardly keep her thoughts straight, yet she knew enough to understand that everything transpiring between them was good.
“Surely it is the drug my shaman gave you that causes you to say such things to me,” he said. His heart was pounding hard at the possibility that she truly had meant her words.
“No,” she murmured. “It is not the drug. I have spoken from my heart. I am oh, so very weary of living alone . . . of hiding, which I was doing because of the child I was carrying.”
“You do not ever have to hide again from anyone. Nor do you have to live alone,” he said. “If you truly wish to stay among my people, they will welcome you here.”
“It is not your people who make me want to stay,” she said, smiling slowly at him. “It is you. Do you not believe me when I say I love you?”
Suddenly she couldn’t fight off sleep any longer.
She wasn’t even aware of him placing his arms beneath her and taking her from the blankets to hold her on his lap.
He wrapped his arms around her and gazed down at her loveliness.
He prayed it was not the medicine she had been given that had caused her confession of love.
He would wait until she was herself again and then see if she still wanted him as much as he wanted her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Joylynn was sitting beside the lodge fire, slowly brushing her hair. She gazed into the dancing flames, smiling, for she had finally regained her full strength after losing the child.
She had thought she would bounce back quickly, because she had never had trouble regaining her strength after being ill.
But it was now four weeks since the miscarriage and only now was she feeling like her old self again. In fact, she wanted to join the search parties that went out almost daily as the hunt for Mole continued.
During her recuperation, Joylynn had not been able to help the women as they harvested the crops, picking everything in the huge garden and storing the crops in cache pits.
She felt guilty about not having helped when she knew how hard a task it had been, especially for someone of Blanket Woman’s age.
The guilt came because Joylynn now felt she was a part of these people’s lives. She hoped to be the wife of their chief, and soon would be using the stored food herself, once she began cooking for High Hawk.
That thought made her grimace a little, for she had only recently learned how to cook after hiding herself from humanity.
She doubted that she was even close to being the sort of cook a powerful chief would want as his wife.
But she did not doubt for a minute that Blanket Woman would take it upon herself to be sure her younger son had healthy meals, for she coddled both her children.
And now Blanket Woman would have more time for coddling them since she no longer had a husband to feed and clothe.
Chief Rising Moon was missed by everyone but Joylynn. She had never known him. But she knew both his sons, loving one herself, and she had thought of Sleeping Wolf often during her recuperation. She knew he was fighting his own battle to regain what strength and pride he’d had before his fall.
Thus far, he had not left his tepee. His mother had joined the women harvesting crops by day, and then sat vigil at her older son’s bedside each night. Two Stars sat with him through the day.