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Savage Illusions

Page 21

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She was Swe­et Do­ve's da­ug­h­ter.

"I ho­pe you are right," Jole­na sa­id, gi­ving him a swe­et smi­le, then tur­ning her eyes away from him aga­in when she felt him lo­oking at her at tho­ugh she we­re so­met­hing pre­ci­o­us. "And I do thank you for no­tif­ying tho­se at the fort that you sig­h­ted the eup­ha­ed­ra. I enj­oy wat­c­hing and stud­ying the in­te­res­ting li­fe cycle of but­ter­f­li­es. It was my fat­her's de­epest de­si­re long ago to find the ra­re, elu­si­ve but­terfly. I ho­pe to ful­fill his dre­am by ta­king it ho­me to him for his col­lec­ti­on."

"Collection?" Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, dra­wing Jole­na's eyes back to him by the gu­ar­ded way he had sa­id the word. "How do you me­an… col­lec­ti­on? Ralph spo­ke of this at the fort. I did not un­der­s­tand then. I do not un­der­s­tand now. I tho­ught you we­re co­ming only to study the but­terfly, to ta­ke yo­ur know­led­ge back to the whi­te pe­op­le who le­arn and te­ach abo­ut such things as that."

Jolena nod­ded. "I will ta­ke my know­led­ge of this but­terfly back with me, but I will al­so ta­ke a spe­ci­men," she ex­p­la­ined. "My fat­her must see the but­terfly to fully ap­pre­ci­ate its lo­ve­li­ness. One can­not tell so­me­one so­met­hing is lo­vely and ex­p­ress it in a way that this per­son can see it as the one who se­es it fir­s­t­hand. If I find the ra­re but­terfly and catch it, I will be ta­king it to my ailing fat­her. That is my pur­po­se for be­ing he­re."

"Ailing?" Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, ra­ising an eyeb­row. "Yo­ur whi­te fat­her is not well?"

Jolena's pul­se be­gan to ra­ce as she no­ted his re­fe­ren­ce to her whi­te fat­her. Ob­vi­o­usly, he was awa­re that her true fat­her was so­me­one ot­her than Bryce Ed­monds.

She lo­oked away from Spot­ted Eag­le, thin­king this wo­uld be the wrong ti­me to del­ve in­to tho­se qu­es­ti­ons that she so badly wan­ted an­s­we­red.

Later.

Later when they we­re drawn to­get­her with mo­re ease and un­der­s­tan­ding.

"My fat­her is not well at all," she mur­mu­red, te­ars bur­ning the cor­ners of her eyes as she saw her fat­her in her mind's eye. "His legs are pa­ral­y­zed. He is al­so we­ake­ning ge­ne­ral­ly. I fe­ar ter­ribly for him. I must find the ra­re but­terfly be­fo­re… be­fo­re…"

She co­uld not help the de­ep sob that le­apt from her thro­at at the tho­ught of her fat­her dying be­fo­re she co­uld see him aga­in.

Embarrassed for al­lo­wing her emo­ti­ons to get so out of hand so qu­ickly in the pre­sen­ce of this man who­se fa­ce had so of­ten fil­led her mid­night dre­ams, she stum­b­led to her fe­et.

"I must re­turn to my tent," she sa­id, wi­ping the salty te­ars from her lips. "I've sta­yed much too long as it is."

She star­ted to run away but was stop­ped ab­ruptly by a firm grip on her wrist. Her kne­es we­ake­ned, and her he­art se­emed to stand still for a mo­ment. She tur­ned slowly aro­und and ga­zed up in­to Spot­ted Eag­le's dark eyes as they sto­od fa­cing each ot­her in the mo­on­light, her he­art now ra­cing out of con­t­rol.

"Why did you stop me?" Jole­na as­ked, bre­at­h­less from the tu­mul­tu­o­us emo­ti­ons swim­ming thro­ugh her.

"Did I not tell you that I wo­uld es­cort you back to the camp?" Jole­na smi­led softly up at him. "I gu­ess I for­got," she mur­mu­red. She glan­ced down at his fin­gers still cir­c­led aro­und her wrist, then up in­to his mid­nig­ht-dark eyes aga­in. "You can un­hand me now. I don't ne­ed any fur­t­her re­min­ding."

Spotted Eag­le's he­art throb­bed and his eyes ra­ked over her as he still held her by the wrist and drew her slowly to­ward him.

"Stay with me to­night by the ri­ver," he sa­id, the words rus­hing ac­ross his lips wit­ho­ut even any con­s­ci­o­us fo­ret­ho­ught. "You are lo­vely, so very lo­vely. Let me hold you. Let me kiss you."

Stunned and thril­led at the sa­me mo­ment by his sud­den de­ci­si­on to bring mo­re in­to the­ir re­la­ti­on­s­hip than me­re talk of but­ter­f­li­es and stars, Jole­na felt diz­zi­ed from the pas­si­on his sug­ges­ti­on evo­ked wit­hin her. She fol­ded wit­ho­ut he­si­ta­ti­on in­to his arms. They kis­sed da­zedly, his arms nud­ging her clo­ser.

A no­ise from so­mew­he­re clo­se by drew them qu­ickly apart. When a black pan­t­her ap­pe­ared at the ed­ge of the cle­aring, its gre­en eyes glin­ting in the mo­on­light, Jole­na be­ca­me frig­h­te­ned and dar­ted off in the op­po­si­te di­rec­ti­on.

The pan­t­her bo­un­ded af­ter Jole­na, as Spot­ted Eag­le sto­od numb at the sight…

Chapter Nine

Her kne­es too we­ak to run any lon­ger, Jole­na tur­ned aro­und and sta­red with a throb­bing he­art at the pan­t­her, which al­so stop­ped, cro­uc­hing, its eyes gla­ring at her. Too frig­h­te­ned to lo­ok past the pan­t­her to see what Spot­ted Eag­le was do­ing, Jole­na sto­od fro­zen on the spot, her scre­ams se­emingly fro­zen in the depths of her thro­at.

As the pan­t­her be­gan slin­king to­ward Jole­na on its belly and fo­ur paws, Spot­ted Eag­le ac­ted swiftly. He not­c­hed an ar­row on­to his bow, and just as the pan­t­her's gre­at m

o­uth ope­ned with a ro­ar and it le­apt sud­denly at Jole­na, Spot­ted Eag­le sent an ar­row flying thro­ugh the air.

Jolena felt fa­int as she wat­c­hed the pan­t­her le­ap to­ward her, then gas­ped when a whis­t­ling ar­row pi­er­ced the sle­ek fur of the cat's back. She co­ve­red her mo­uth with her hands and sto­od wild-eyed as she wat­c­hed the pan­t­her fall to the gro­und on its si­de, how­ling in ra­ge, then spring to its fe­et and le­ap at her aga­in.

Spotted Eag­le had al­re­ady not­c­hed his ar­row on his bow a se­cond ti­me and this ti­me ma­de a mo­re ac­cu­ra­te aim, sen­ding his ar­row in­to the he­art of the ani­mal.

A mo­men­tary fe­eling of un­re­ality swam thro­ugh Jole­na's diz­zi­ed he­ad, as tho­ugh the who­le thing had ne­ver hap­pe­ned.

Then she se­emed to co­me out of her fro­zen re­ve­rie when she saw Spot­ted Eag­le throw his bow asi­de and be­gin run­ning to­ward her.

Feeling so much mo­re than sim­p­le gra­ti­tu­de for Spot­ted Eag­le, Jole­na be­gan run­ning to­ward him. When she re­ac­hed him, she flung her­self in­to his em­b­ra­ce, clin­ging to him with all of her might, sob­bing.



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