Read Online Shawnee Bride by Elizabeth Lane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Lane
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letting their arms, hands and frantic, eager mouths bridge the chasm that had opened between them.
That, and the fear that she would not welcome him.
“I asked whether you were hungry.” Her voice was low and taut as she knelt beside the basket, her sun-flecked green eyes on a level with his own.
“Swan Feather gave me something before she left,” he said, feeling the tension that crackled between them like the prelude to summer lightning. “You don’t have to stay, Clarissa,” he added softly.
“Did Swan Feather change your poultices?” Her fingers quivered as she sorted the herbs, spreading them in a fan on the packed earth floor.
“The poultices can wait.” He studied her from where he sat, painfully braced by the frame of willows. Her hands had slowed in their motion. When she raised her eyes to look at him, her face was flushed. Beautiful, he thought.
“I can change the poultices,” she ventured impulsively. “I’ve watched Swan Feather do it. I know what she uses. Here, let me—”
She reached out to touch his wrappings, but he checked her motion with a dangerous flash of his eyes. At any other time he might have welcomed her touch, but the idea that she would be repulsed by his filthy condition was more than he could bear.
“What’s the matter?” Her green eyes blazed like a bobcat’s. “You don’t think I can do the job? I’ve a mind to tie you down and show you I can, Seth Johnson!”
The use of Wolf Heart’s Christian name was meant to irritate him, and it did. “Then save one hand to hold your nose,” he snapped, “because that’s what you’ll need!”
She stared at him then, sitting on her haunches, bitingback suppressed laughter. “By heaven, you do smell like a sheep pen on an August afternoon, don’t you? We can’t have that!”
She scrambled to her feet and began rummaging through Swan Feather’s stash of bowls, calabashes and odd scraps of buckskin. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, suddenly uneasy.
Her tangled hair swung as she glanced back over her shoulder. “You need a bath,” she announced, her eyes sparking with determination and mischief. “And I’m going to give you one!”
Chapter Eleven
W hat in heaven’s name had possessed her?
Clarissa shook her head in disbelief as she dropped a heated stone into a large calabash of water to warm it. Offering to give Wolf Heart a bath had been the last thing on her mind when she’d walked into the lodge and found him alone. But his words and manner had challenged her, triggering her calamitous temper. She had blundered into her own trap, and now there was no way out.
He watched her in silence, glowering from under his thick black eyebrows as she selected a soft scrap of tanned buckskin, rough on its inner side, to serve as a washcloth. Scrubbing down a wounded bear would be less daunting, she thought. For all his white blood, there were times when Wolf Heart appeared savage to the core. This was one of them.
“You’ll thank me when this is over,” she said, approaching him with the heavy calabash balanced between her hands. “I hope you’ll have the good sense not to struggle. It wouldn’t take much strain to undo the healing of those ribs.”
He glared at her as the words sank home, but he didnot move. Wolf Heart was no fool. “You don’t have to do this,” he growled.
“Oh?” Clarissa knelt beside him, dipped the buckskin into the calabash and left it for a moment to soak up the warm water. “And what, pray tell, are my other choices? Listen to you grumble all day because you’re so filthy you can’t stand yourself? Put up with the smell of you night after mght until you’re well enough to leave? No, thank you!”
She wrung out the buckskin and started on his face. At the touch of the pleasantly warm water she felt the resistance easing out of him. He closed his eyes as she wiped down his forehead, his temples, his nose and cheeks, tracing each contour of his powerful
That, and the fear that she would not welcome him.
“I asked whether you were hungry.” Her voice was low and taut as she knelt beside the basket, her sun-flecked green eyes on a level with his own.
“Swan Feather gave me something before she left,” he said, feeling the tension that crackled between them like the prelude to summer lightning. “You don’t have to stay, Clarissa,” he added softly.
“Did Swan Feather change your poultices?” Her fingers quivered as she sorted the herbs, spreading them in a fan on the packed earth floor.
“The poultices can wait.” He studied her from where he sat, painfully braced by the frame of willows. Her hands had slowed in their motion. When she raised her eyes to look at him, her face was flushed. Beautiful, he thought.
“I can change the poultices,” she ventured impulsively. “I’ve watched Swan Feather do it. I know what she uses. Here, let me—”
She reached out to touch his wrappings, but he checked her motion with a dangerous flash of his eyes. At any other time he might have welcomed her touch, but the idea that she would be repulsed by his filthy condition was more than he could bear.
“What’s the matter?” Her green eyes blazed like a bobcat’s. “You don’t think I can do the job? I’ve a mind to tie you down and show you I can, Seth Johnson!”
The use of Wolf Heart’s Christian name was meant to irritate him, and it did. “Then save one hand to hold your nose,” he snapped, “because that’s what you’ll need!”
She stared at him then, sitting on her haunches, bitingback suppressed laughter. “By heaven, you do smell like a sheep pen on an August afternoon, don’t you? We can’t have that!”
She scrambled to her feet and began rummaging through Swan Feather’s stash of bowls, calabashes and odd scraps of buckskin. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, suddenly uneasy.
Her tangled hair swung as she glanced back over her shoulder. “You need a bath,” she announced, her eyes sparking with determination and mischief. “And I’m going to give you one!”
Chapter Eleven
W hat in heaven’s name had possessed her?
Clarissa shook her head in disbelief as she dropped a heated stone into a large calabash of water to warm it. Offering to give Wolf Heart a bath had been the last thing on her mind when she’d walked into the lodge and found him alone. But his words and manner had challenged her, triggering her calamitous temper. She had blundered into her own trap, and now there was no way out.
He watched her in silence, glowering from under his thick black eyebrows as she selected a soft scrap of tanned buckskin, rough on its inner side, to serve as a washcloth. Scrubbing down a wounded bear would be less daunting, she thought. For all his white blood, there were times when Wolf Heart appeared savage to the core. This was one of them.
“You’ll thank me when this is over,” she said, approaching him with the heavy calabash balanced between her hands. “I hope you’ll have the good sense not to struggle. It wouldn’t take much strain to undo the healing of those ribs.”
He glared at her as the words sank home, but he didnot move. Wolf Heart was no fool. “You don’t have to do this,” he growled.
“Oh?” Clarissa knelt beside him, dipped the buckskin into the calabash and left it for a moment to soak up the warm water. “And what, pray tell, are my other choices? Listen to you grumble all day because you’re so filthy you can’t stand yourself? Put up with the smell of you night after mght until you’re well enough to leave? No, thank you!”
She wrung out the buckskin and started on his face. At the touch of the pleasantly warm water she felt the resistance easing out of him. He closed his eyes as she wiped down his forehead, his temples, his nose and cheeks, tracing each contour of his powerful
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