Brazen Ecstasy

Book 4: Gray Eagle Series

by Janelle Taylor

Genres: Action & Adventure Romance; Historical Romance

Synopsis

Kiss the night wind. . .Whispered kisses. . .Follow the wind. . . Janelle Taylor creates unforgettable and sweeping historical sagas filled with enthralling passion and exciting adventure, but none so memorable as the enduring love of the Oglala chief Gray Eagle and his beloved white bride Alisha. And their love story continues. . . Brazen Ecstasy For four years, green-eyed Alisha Williams had been Princess Shalee, the cherished wife of the Oglala chief Gray Eagle. But fate envied their perfect love and swept the stunning Alisha down a raging river and out of Gray Eagle's life. There was no way Gray Eagle could know that his love was alive, but the daily torment of his lonely heart and the nightly agony of unfulfilled passion insisted that somehow she had survived destiny's decree. He had rescued Alisha many times before--somehow he would find her once more for their everlasting love could never keep them apart!

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 500

Sample

Black Hills, South Dakota, March, 1782—A gust of icy wind impatiently yanked at the neat braids and doeskin dress of the Indian princess who had pulled aside the buffalo-hide flap to catch a breath of fresh but biting air. Her pert nose and creamy cheeks were instantly chilled by the glacial dampness that heavily laced the fierce breezes swooping down from the nearby mountains like some ravenous bird of prey carrying out his daring attack upon a helpless victim. Even after years in this Plains climate, each winter her tawny flesh stubbornly returned to its natural ivory cast as if subtly reminding the Oglala and other tribes that she was half white.

Yet she was accepted and respected as the half-breed daughter of the powerful Blackfoot chief Mahpiya Sapa and as the wife of the legendary Sioux warrior and future Oglala chief, Gray Eagle. She had long since stopped wishing for her satiny skin to remain a golden caramel shade, for her forest-green eyes loudly proclaimed her white blood to anyone who gazed into them. Thankfully, after five years in her husband’s camp, she was considered an Indian by many tribes. If only their rival and enemy tribes would also ignore her white blood. Hadn’t she proven herself Indian in heart and essence? Perhaps one day all tribes would view her a worthy mate for the formidable and invincible man whose life and heart she shared.

All in all, these past five years had been peaceful. She had long ago stopped thinking of herself as Alisha Williams, the English girl who had entered the domain of the valiant warrior Gray Eagle and challenged all he knew and felt to win his heart. Days of denial and pain had ceased many winters ago; only love and acceptance dwelled within their hearts and tepee. A passionate and powerful love had conquered all differences between them. For the remainder of her days, she would live and love as Princess Shalee.

Shalee’s green eyes studied the leaden sky that hovered ominously above the winter camp at the base of the Paha Sapa, the sacred Black Hills, which offered protection from the harsh winters in the Dakota Territory and sufficient grasses to feed the animals during the lengthy period of waiting until the open plains were once more covered with lush bunch and buffalo grasses. When Mother Nature renewed her face with the coming spring, her people would return to their summer camp near the prairie where the buffalo herds would graze, generously supplying them with the main source of their livelihood.

Yet another snowstorm was threatening to whiten the face of Makakin at least one more time before it finally yielded to the verdant beauty of spring. Shalee’s gaze shifted toward the lofty black mounds to the west, still sleeping beneath a heavy sheet of white. But for the persistent evergreens, the trees were naked, shuddering with cold as if silently pleading with Makakin to place a warm garment of green over them. Without a doubt, the River Spirits had won her ear; although slightly cluttered with hunks of ice and an edging of it, its middle ran freely and swiftly, aided by the melting snows from the majestic Black Hills. But soon it would be warm and inviting outside. Inevitably life would forcefully renew itself.

Shalee lowered the flap and secured it against the frigid fingers that wanted to sneak inside to warm themselves at the price of chilling the tent’s inhabitants. She quietly walked over and knelt beside the child sleeping upon the thick buffalo hides, hides captured by the skill and daring of her husband, hides tanned by her own deft hands. Pride and pleasure flooded her singing heart. She had learned so much since coming west in 1775. She possessed a husband whose virility was envied by all women, whose cunning and coups were envied by all men. Her softened gaze roamed the face of their child. How fortunate could one woman be? How could a heart contain so much happiness and pride without bursting from fullness? She knew. She had defiantly and brazenly challenged all odds to win this once forbidden ecstasy. She would allow no person or force to endanger it.

Without awakening Bright Arrow, Shalee lovingly stroked his shiny hair, which was as sleek and black as the raven’s wing. Even amidst the winter demands, his firm body was a rich coppery shade that she almost envied. His closed lids prevented Shalee from gazing into eyes as dark as precious jet, eyes that frequently sparkled with boyish mischief or glowed with pride at his lineage: a proud heritage of dauntless chiefs, a heritage which he did not fully understand at his tender age of four winters.

The Fates had certainly been kind to Shalee, to Alisha Williams. They had artistically interwoven the threads of her life to present her as a worthy mate, although white, to the indomitable warrior who had stolen her heart at their first meeting, even though they had been avowed enemies. Some day soon, her beloved would follow Chief Running Wolf as leader of the awesome Oglala; some distant moon in their wonderful future, their son would also become a Sioux chief. Such realities thrilled and awed Shalee. So few women were granted these great honors and joys: wife to a chief and mother to a future chief. It made her feel like royalty, like an English queen who had borne the future king of her land and people. Often, such thoughts were even frightening. Each moon, she would pray that no one would ever declare her son unfit to become chief because of the white blood given to him by his mother; such a disgrace and rejection would surely break his heart and hers. His father, her cherished lover, would die in battle over such a loss of face. So far, no one had challenged Bright Arrow’s right to future chiefdom. But would things change when that eventual day arrived? Surely not, for Bright Arrow would match the legend of his father.

Yes, she happily concluded, the Fates were on her side; no trace of the white man’s heritage flawed her son’s visage. Judging by his present appearance, he would become his father’s image. His father’s image….

Shalee’s mind mentally traveled the short distance to the Ceremonial Lodge where the O-zu-ye Wicasta, the famed warrior society, was in deep conference over their imminent plans to return to the open plains as soon as the last snows melted. She was eager to feel the warm sunlight caressing her face and body as she diligently worked beside their tepee. She could close her eyes and envision the seemingly endless grasslands waving in the breeze. She longed to smell the freshness of the reborn lands and forests, to sniff the fragrance of the wildflowers, which grew in abundance, to gather heady herbs to use in her cooking, to stroll leisurely along the riverbank, and to make passionate love among the wondrous offerings of nature. Despite the hardships of living in the wilderness, they led such a peaceful and exciting existence. A frown creased her lovely brow as unbidden worries flickered across her mind.

She couldn’t forget the troubling words of the visiting party of Cheyenne braves three moons past. After nearly two years of peace following the fierce battle and necessary destruction of Fort Pierre, more and more white settlers and soldiers continuously flooded the Indian lands in every direction. As before, with her own group of settlers, new animosities were raging. Only the harsh winter had briefly halted this new uprising of danger and death. Why was peace so impossible? Why must people, Indian and white, be so greedy and evil? A human life was so precious, too short to spend in bloody warfare. How she wished she could experience life as it had been here before the whites invaded this unspoiled land of the mighty Sioux and his brothers.

She had witnessed and learned enough to know that the white man would never cease his advance; nor would the Indian yield what had been his for countless years. Fear and torment knifed her heart as she defensively pushed such agonizing thoughts from her mind. The Cheyenne had always been friendly to the Sioux, as was the Blackfoot tribe. The braves had warned of the close proximity and already budding hostilities of Fort Henry, to the north of the Black Hills, as well as of the persistent building of Fort Meade near the mighty Missouri River, near the summer camp of the Oglala. God, how she prayed history would not repeat itself….

Shalee did not fear for her life and safety, nor for that of her son. How could she be afraid when her husband was alleged the greatest warrior ever to ride the Plains or to battle their aggressive white foes? The Sioux were powerful and brave; she didn’t fear her own fate. But a warrior’s life was open to death’s greedy invitation every day, each time he left camp to intentionally or unsuspectingly confront this deadly foe who demanded both his lands and life. For a long time, she had relaxed in her tranquil surroundings; now, the threat of the white man was rapidly growing like some fatal disease that determined to consume all in its path.

Being white, she could not always agree with the ominous, lethal actions taken by the Indians toward the white pioneers, for many were good people. Many whites had come here in good faith, looking for new beginnings and to revive their hopes and dreams. Many had been led to believe the Indians would indifferently accept their presence and the confiscation of parts of their lands. Many had no other place to go. Many had been driven from other lands or from the now independent America. Poverty, religion, political disagreements, and such had sent many whites hurrying to this so-called promised land. Time hadn’t changed the reasons behind the heavy influx; the victory over England for independence had. Once the English Crown had been conquered, the Americans almost instantly turned their wide gazes to their West, its conquest challenging them now.

Somehow the victory over her fellow Englishmen didn’t trouble Shalee; the threat of victory over her present and chosen people did. “Please, God, don’t let them recall I am white,” she fervently prayed against that disastrous possibility. “Just permit me a few more years and even my color won’t matter to them.” But would that day truly come? she fearfully wondered.

Shalee went to her own sleeping mat to lie down, as was the custom of the Indian during this time of day whether it was winter or summer. She closed her eyes and forced her taut body to relax. His skills honed to perfection, Gray Eagle entered so quietly that Shalee did not note his presence for a few moments as he remained motionless to study her. As he silently knelt beside the mat to prevent disturbing her, his manly scent assailed her senses. Her eyes opened and fused with his obsidian ones. He smiled down at her, his smoldering gaze engulfing her exquisite features and holding her eyes captive as he had once done with her very life.

A radiant smile filled her eyes and teased at her soft lips, inviting him to join her upon the mats before their son awakened. The power and passion of his love had never ceased to enflame her body and to stir her heart. No matter how many times they made love, it was always unique and overpowering. They never grew weary of touching or possessing each other; it was as if they couldn’t have enough of each other. Such had been the pattern of their great love since the beginning many moons ago.

He stretched out his lithe frame beside her sleek one. Propping himself upon his left elbow, Gray Eagle continued his slow scrutiny of his woman. At twenty-five winters, Shalee was more beautiful than any living creature he had set eyes upon during his thirty winters upon the face of Makakin. Her presence and possession enlivened him more than the breath of the Great Spirit that filled his lungs or the food supplied by Wakantanka. She was like the air, the water, the forces of life; she was vital to his happiness and completeness. How had he survived without her? How could he survive if he ever lost her?

He chuckled softly, bringing an inquisitive look to her alluring eyes of leaf green. No power or man existed who could defeat him or steal his love from his side. If necessary, he would challenge the Bird of Death himself before yielding her over to his hands! He had seen her and taken her; she was his for all time. Forever their bloods were joined to exist within their children and their children’s children after them. The line of Gray Eagle would continue as long as Wakantanka existed: forever. But there was only one son to carry on this line; he needed others, for a warrior’s life dangled before the Bird of Death each new sun. He needed more than one powerful son to ride at his side to defeat the white man who threatened all he loved and owned. If Shalee hadn’t borne another son after losing their first child during a tragic accident, he might believe she could not accept his seed. But Bright Arrow had grown within her body. He was healthy and untouched by evil spirits. Surely that meant they could have another child someday.

He grinned at his wife; there was but one way for his seeds to enter her body and to lodge there. He lovingly caressed her cheek, skin as soft as the hide of a newly born fawn. Her eyes burned with the same flames that filled his taut body. He sat up, then gently pulled her to a sitting position. His eyes glowed with merriment as he unlaced the ties upon her heyake and lifted it over her head. He deftly unknotted the strands that held her cehnake in place. He tossed it upon the discarded dress, then quickly divested himself of his own garments and breechcloth.

Shalee eased back to rest upon the plush skins as her husband pulled another buffalo hide over them to guard their privacy and to prevent a chill. No matter how long Shalee lived with him, she would probably always retain her natural air of modesty. Gray Eagle glanced over at their sleeping son and whispered into her ear, “Our son sleeps, Little One. No spark from the fire will touch his mat or from his keen mind to halt our joining,” he teased, nibbling upon her ear between words and chuckles.

Shalee smothered a giggle at his playful remark. “Had I not been so naive, my love, you would have been denied the joys of teaching me so many things,” she seductively jested in return, her teeth painlessly seizing his chin as her laughing eyes met his beguiling ones.

“What things did I teach you, Grass Eyes?” he questioned in feigned innocence.

“To love you more than life itself,” she began, her tone husky with deep emotion. Her hand traced the proud lines of his handsome coppery face as she murmured, “To know every part of you better than I know my own body… to live only for you and our son… to boldly touch you wherever I wish….” At that provocative statement, she allowed her hand to trail over his powerful shoulders, down his strong arms, and across his chest. Such vitality and strength were evinced beneath her exploratory hand. He looked as if some talented artist had melted rich cinnamon, blended it with a clear liquid, then poured it into a sensual mold to produce a frame of hard and sleek perfection.

Her brazen hand drifted down his lean side, over his narrow waist to briefly hesitate on his firm buttocks whose masterful skills could drive his manhood into her and grant such blissful ecstasy. One finger traced the length of the shaft that intoxicated her senses and that instinctively responded to her light and stimulating touch. Her hand gently closed around his erect manhood, and, with agonizing sweetness, leisurely and rhythmically moved up and down its full length, causing his virile body to tense and shudder, drawing a low moan of passion from his wide and sensual lips. Confident in her love and talents upon his mats, she smiled wantonly and vowed, “For training me how to please you… for teaching my body to greedily accept yours whenever you’re near me… for being the one man who stirs my heart and soul to desire no other… for giving me pleasures I never dreamed possible… I love you with all my heart, Wanmdi Hota. For as long as I live and breathe, I will belong to only you.”

Gray Eagle’s mouth closed over hers in a hungry and tantalizing kiss. He tasted the sweetness that was freely offered to him, demanding more and more of its precious nectar. Soon there was no inch upon her face that did not tingle from a fiery kiss. As if blazing a new trail into paradise, his lips began their seeking trek down her throat to wander from one passion-taut breast to the other, discovering the delightful treasures of her pliant body and heated response.

His moist tongue circled and circled each nipple as a voracious vulture over a recent kill, patiently awaiting the right moment to devour his object of interest. Suddenly deciding to land upon the right one, he sucked hungrily as if drawing life-sustaining fluid from it, only to move to the left one and repeat this intoxicating action, which caused her head to roll from side to side as a wildfire raged within her body.

She didn’t know how long he feasted upon her body before his lips sought sweetness from her mouth. His hand slipped over her flat stomach and drifted down into her auburn forest. His actions became a journey for a new quest of exquisite pleasure, seeking out each path and mound and cave there. Mindless with overwhelming need for him, her body arched and moved to assist his deliberate search for sublime ecstasy. Enticingly and purposely, his advance party of skilled fingers probed and prepared the way for his triumphant journey’s end.

Shalee’s hand stimulated the leader of this exploratory expedition, urging him to join the busy members of his search party. The feel of his throbbing, fiery manhood within her hand thrilled and intrigued her, knowing the ultimate job it would perform within her writhing body, wondering when he would loosen its powerful force to do it. When her starving body could no longer withstand its callings for appeasement, she coaxed him to complete his intoxicating quest.

He entered her gently, but the height of their shared passion demanded a fierce and immediate union. The previously slow and tender strokes became strong and swift as their bodies pounded together, almost savagely demanding their brazen ecstasy to come forth instantly. As if ascending the hazardous peaks of the Black Hills, they bravely and vigorously climbed higher and higher to reach their goal.

As if all the snows upon those mountains had melted at once, wave after wave of pleasure washed over them, carrying them along with its potent force. To prevent her outcry of sated passion from awakening their son at this vital moment, his mouth captured hers and ravished it with a heady kiss which seemingly had no beginning or ending. Determined to obtain every treasure of this journey, he worked until every spasm ceased and total fulfillment was their reward.

Drained and breathless, he rolled to his side to avoid placing his entire weight upon Shalee, pulling her along with him. No matter how rushed he was, he never released her before a long time had passed. After sharing such a moment, a too hasty retreat could spoil it. The touching before and after were important; the shared closeness and warmth added to the precious union as their bodies gradually cooled.

Such love and tenderness had never gone unnoticed by Shalee. Her heart surged with love as she snuggled into his protective embrace, savoring the disappearance of a fierce hunger that was now quieted and sated. This lingering at her side during the peaceful aftermath inspired a greater love and need for him. She felt as safe and excited as a new butterfly resting in a warm cocoon after a stormy metamorphosis. During the heat of their desperate struggle to quell their starving senses, only passion ruled their bodies. Before their union, overpowering desire controlled their reasoning. But afterwards, that was the time for love and tenderness to be shared and enjoyed. Sated bodies and love-swollen hearts reached out to touch and to claim the rewards of their preceding trek.

“Do you know how much I love you?” she asked softly, turning her auburn head to meet his tender gaze.

He caressed her cheek and murmured with vivid self-assurance, “Yes, Grass Eyes, I know. No two bodies or hearts are as wisely matched as ours. The Great Spirit surely knows and sees all, for He sent to me the only woman who could ever give me such joy and pleasure. Sometimes I think He rewarded my coups and obedience far more than I deserved.”

“Never. I am the lucky one, the honored one, that He allowed me to win your love. Even as your white captive, I would be happy beyond my wildest dreams. I refuse to even think what my life would be like if I had never met you.

“The Great Spirit guided you to me, Little One. He called your feet from across the great waters and over the lands to rest at my side and to enter my sacred life-circle. If this were not so, the forces of evil would have torn us apart many winters ago.”

When she pulled her haunting gaze from his to stare unseeingly at his broad chest, he astutely knew to where her thoughts had flown. “We endured many pains and separations in past moons, Grass Eyes, but never again. Have we not shared five peaceful winters of love and happiness?” he said, gently scolding her for retreating to times long past when they had tragically resisted this powerful and fated bond between them.

Meeting his gaze, she spoke softly with a strained voice, “It was not the past that cast a shadow over my heart and eyes, Wanmdi Hota. Sometimes I fear we are too happy and too much in love. I fear something or someone will cruelly tear us apart, out of jealousy or for cruel spite. My very soul trembles each time I hear of new whites and their hatred toward us. Their evil victory would be half won with the death of Wanmdi Hota himself; they know this, my love. I fear their hatred of you and their vindictive resolve to defeat the legendary Gray Eagle. Each time you leave camp, I nearly hold my breath until you return. Each time I make love to you, I fear it will be the last. I could not live without you,” she cried out as her mounting anguish and apprehensions poured forth.

He held her tightly and rocked her like a small child who desperately needed comfort. “The words of the Cheyenne caused such feelings,” he concluded aloud. “I should not have told you their childish fears. The white-eyes have never defeated me; they never will, Grass Eyes. The Great Spirit guards my life and honor; He will not permit my enemies to slay me. He has placed the safety of our people, our Indian brothers, and our lands within my hands. His shadow falls over me in battle; I cannot be slain by white dogs who steal our lands and bring their evil here. Do you doubt my courage and honor?” he questioned, knowing she did not, knowing it was a woman’s way to fear for the man she loved above her own life.

“If there was only one man in the world who could not be conquered, it would be you, my love. Yet, each man must join the Great Spirit when He calls to him. Does any warrior know when that voice will speak to him?”

He laughed and replied confidently, “It will be many, many winters before the Great Spirit calls the name of Wanmdi Hota. Until our son is old enough and skilled enough to take my place, I will remain here to lead and protect our people. No man will ever take you from my side and no enemy’s weapon will take me from yours.”

“But what of other powerful forces, those beyond yours or the Great Spirit’s control? Look how the whites flood our lands. Do you not see there is evil as well as good?” she argued his logic.

“Each time, have I not conquered the evil? Each time, have I not been stronger and more cunning? Even the mighty white fort could not withstand my strength or keep you from my side. Each time I have faced danger and defeated it. Until Bright Arrow takes my place, it will also be this way.”

There was no hint of idle boasting or arrogance in his mind or voice. True, there was no warrior who could challenge him and win. True, he had always been victorious over all forces. But the time came when even great men fell beneath the joint forces of many enemies who were determined to defeat him. Gray Eagle’s power could not be ignored or accepted by his white foes; they would press and press to defeat him, knowing the result of his death upon the Indians. He stood before them like an immovable oak tree; they wouldn’t rest until they discovered some way to destroy the legend that inspired more daring and spirit than those of all other warriors combined. Perhaps if he were only a regular warrior… no, if he were, he would not be the man who had claimed her heart and life.

She smiled. “You are right as always, my husband. What have I to fear when I live under the wing of Gray Eagle himself? Perhaps one day I will become as brave as you, my love. Until then, you will have to be brave enough for both of us,” she teased, eyes dancing with love and mischief.

“You are as brave as I am, Shalee. Many times you have proven your great courage and cunning. Gray Eagle chose his woman wisely. You are as gentle as the newborn fawn, as cunning as the fox, as brave as the great bear, as playful as the otter, as mischievous as the raccoon, as…”

As he hesitated to think of another playful comparison, she quickly injected, “And frequently as annoying as the buck who is smart enough to outwit the great hunter Wanmdi Hota?”

“When has any buck denied my arrow’s finding its mark?” he jested.

“Just last moon, you said they were hiding from your keen sight,” she playfully reminded him.

“Only because spring calls them back to the forests. Soon, we must follow them and hunt the buffalo. Before you number twenty-six, we will be camped in our summer village near the great river where Wi awakens.”

Excitement and eagerness filled her. “I can hardly wait.”

“There will be much work to be done, wife. You will be too weary to roll in the newborn grass with me,” he hinted slyly.

“Never will I be that tired. Do you prepare me for excuses of your own?” she laughingly retorted, running her finger over his lips.

“Excuses? I know no such word,” he parried her jest.

“Yes, you do. I taught you all the English words you did not already know. Do you recall what ‘seduction’ means?”

He eyed her curiously, grinning devilishly. “That is one I shall never forget. Why?” he probed, his eyes glowing with intrigue.

“If you become so weary that you call upon some ‘excuse’ to discourage me, I shall teach you what it means, not just tell you,” she saucily warned.

“With a threat like that, I shall certainly feign weariness and think of some ‘excuse’ to use,” he informed her. “So, you would ‘seduce’ your own husband if he fails to feed you properly?”

“Not before warning you first,” she came back between giggles.

“Is this my warning?” he asked, joining her game.

“Your first and last, Noble Eagle of the Sioux. Still, it might be fun to…” Her words were cut off by the voice of their son as he rushed forward to topple between them.

“Our son demands his share of our love and attention, Grass Eyes.”

Amidst laughter and tickles, the three tussled and played upon the sleeping mat for another hour. The sport was ended when Bright Arrow looked at his mother and announced, “I’m hungry.”

Gray Eagle and Shalee quickly exchanged amused glances, recalling only too well how their hungers had been sated. “Patience, Bright Arrow,” he gently reprimanded his growing son. Shalee smiled at him, then at her son before rising to fix their evening meal.

It had been two uneventful weeks since the Cheyennes’ visit to the winter camp of the Oglala when they came again to discuss the new happenings near Fort Henry, spring lending the opportunity for dire events to begin. Shalee tensed the moment she saw them weaving their way between the conical abodes, heading straight for Chief Running Wolf’s tepee, the largest and most colorfully decorated one in the entire camp. She hesitated in midstep to observe them closely, her heart thudding heavily with dread. Why had they returned so soon? What heralds of gloom did they bring upon their tongues?

Running Wolf stepped outside to greet them, confronting the stoic warriors on one of the warmest days since winter had begun. Several daring birds were singing their hearts out as if entreating Mother Nature to make her changes this very day. Audacious shoots of green could be noted in their fierce struggle to pierce the slowly thawing ground. Why did such dark forces shove their unwanted presence into this time of rebirths, spoiling its beauty and tranquility? Peace, must it carry such a heavy price?

Running Wolf invited the warriors to enter his tepee, then turned to motion for the rigid Shalee to come forward. Propelled by the sheer power in his voice and gaze, Shalee hurried over to his side. He asked her to find Leah Winston and to send her to his tepee to prepare food and drink for his guests. She smiled and nodded to her father-in-law, a man who held her affection and respect. He ducked and entered his tepee, leaving Shalee poised there alone for a few moments in deep thought.

Leah Winston… each time she spoke or worked with this particular girl who was the white slave of Running Wolf, strange qualms gnawed at her. Leah had been a gift to the aging Running Wolf from White Arrow, Gray Eagle’s lifelong companion and best friend. Leah was quiet and mysterious. She responded to commands with respect and quickness. She was alert, agile, and smart. Between her obedient attitude and intelligence, she had fared well since her capture last summer. Taken by White Arrow and given to Running Wolf, she had not been subjected to physical abuse or sexual degradation. Perceiving her good fortune, Leah had made certain she retained her lofty and safe position as slave to a wise and tolerant chief.

But at the first moment of Leah’s arrival, Shalee witnessed the dismayed look of disappointment that briefly flickered in Leah’s eyes when she realized the virile and notable son of the chief already possessed his own tepee and a woman. In Leah’s disheveled and dirty state, the resemblance between the two women went unnoticed by all except Leah. There was just a slight shade of difference in their green eyes; their auburn hair matched tints perfectly. Yet Leah’s mussed and grimy locks concealed this similarity, as did Shalee’s natural vitality and freshly scrubbed waves. Both women were the same height and weight, though childbirth granted Shalee the more favorable bosom. If not for her days upon the open plains, Shalee’s skin would also match the creamy coloring of Leah’s. At a distance, and if they were dressed alike, Leah might be mistaken for Princess Shalee! But not on closer inspection. Shalee possessed more beauty, vivacity, and warmth than Leah did; that inner glow and gentleness were blatantly lacking in the reserved and calculating Leah.

As Shalee’s mind reflected upon the ambiguous Leah, the truth suddenly dawned upon her. Why hadn’t she solved this puzzle sooner? The Oglala—especially Running Wolf, her small son, and Gray Eagle—were responding to the similarities between Leah and herself! Of course, that was why they casually accepted her presence! And that conniving and cunning Leah had recognized this point and was using it to her advantage. That explained her ready acceptance of her captivity, her friendly overtures to Bright Arrow, her sickly-sweet treatment of the aging chief, and her nonchalant truce with Gray Eagle himself! She was gradually and unsuspectingly edging her way into their confidence and friendship. To prepare for a future escape? To become an accepted member of their tribe? It was almost as if Leah was striving to become Princess Shalee!

Alarm washed over Shalee and she curiously trembled, not from the chill in the spring air. It was more like some imperceptible warning tingled up and down her spine. How could a mere white captive hope to replace her? What evil mischief danced within Leah’s keen mind?

Shalee walked to the stream where Leah was kneeling, washing clothes in the icy stream, her hands red and chapped from her frosty chore. She watched the white girl for a few moments. That same inexplicable and eerie feeling assailed her again. Only one other time had such a feeling ensnared her: the day when she had discovered Matu’s deception, the ruse that gave life to the lie that she was a half-breed Indian princess. If one could be grateful for the misfortunes in another’s life, Shalee was relieved that only Gray Eagle and White Arrow knew the truth about her—that she was not the daughter of Black Cloud and his white captive Jenny. Odd and frightening, she hadn’t thought of herself as white in over four years. Why did Leah stir up such perilous memories? What harm could this woman who resembled her cause?

Without turning, Leah broke into her thoughts as she acknowledged Shalee’s presence. In a tone as crisp as the morning air, Shalee related Running Wolf’s orders and then turned to leave. Leah stood up and presumptuously called out, “Shalee.”

Shalee halted and turned to face the woman. “Sha?”

Knowing Shalee could speak English, Leah impetuously questioned her in that language. “Why do you so despise me, Shalee? You also carry white blood. Does it mean nothing to you?” Leah reeked of temerity and envy.

Startled by her impertinent words and boldness, Shalee simply stared at her for a time. “My white blood makes me no less an Indian in heart or by choice than if I were born Indian, Leah,” she stated in a clear voice. “My love and loyalty lie with my people, the Oglala. I do not despise you. You are obedient and respectful; you work hard and well for Chief Running Wolf. He is waiting for you to serve his friends,” she remarked, dismissing the alarming subject and brassy girl.

“Your words say you do not hate me, but your eyes and actions speak a different story,” Leah challenged her in a manner Shalee found disturbing.

“You are a captive and I am an Indian, wife to the next chief. How should I treat you? I have not been unkind or abusive to you. Why do you dare to question me in this insolent way?” Shalee’s green eyes were fathomless and her manner rigidly controlled, carefully masking the turmoil and anger that filled her. Why would this boldspirited captive risk all she had to verbally assault an Indian princess?

“Perhaps my people are your enemies, but I am not. Neither am I some unfeeling and mindless animal. I wish to be your friend.” She calmly delivered her unexpected offer. Leah’s smile and voice were entreating, but her eyes revealed emotions that Shalee didn’t wish to read.

“Friendship is something earned, Leah, something special and mutual. A friend is someone to trust. I do not comprehend you or your ways. It is unnatural to so willingly accept enslavement as you do. Yet, I do not hate you. To me, skin color does not determine my feelings.”

“What is there to understand? I simply choose safety over brutality, peaceful submission over dangerous rebellion. I can never return to my people, so I wish to become a part of this tribe. I don’t want to remain a lowly slave forever!” Leah made no attempt to cover the vehemence in her tone or eyes.

“It is impossible for a white slave to become an Indian, Leah. Do not fill your heart with foolish dreams. Running Wolf will become impatient if you tarry much longer. Where will your safety and peace be then?”

“You would like to see me punished and sent away, wouldn’t you? Why? Because I look like you and you don’t want me around to tempt your husband to take me into his tepee when his father dies?” she blatantly added, recklessly enlightening Shalee as to the wanton emotions she harbored toward her love.

Astounded by this baneful girl’s charges, Shalee inhaled shared and glared at her. “Running Wolf will live many more years, Leah. I have never desired the punishment of any helpless white captive, not even a surly and hateful one like you. You present no threat to me where my husband is concerned, whether you favor me or not. No force or woman could halt our love. Even if I died this very day, Gray Eagle would never look upon you with love or lust. You are white; he would die before touching a white woman. In all the years I have known him, not once has he touched or looked upon a white woman with even lust in his eyes or heart. If you try to catch his eye, you will pay dearly for that wicked and unforgivable deed.”

“If you dared to tell him of our talk, he would only think you filled with hatred and jealousy. Would you slay me with your own hand?” she taunted.

“My husband is a warrior, a leader with many matters of great importance upon his mind. I would not trouble him with the foolish rantings of a white slave. But if you dared to openly flirt with him, I wouldn’t have to slay you; he would, after severely punishing you. If Running Wolf even suspected you had cast your lustful eyes upon his son, you would be sold this very day. Have you not noticed Gray Eagle has only one wife? I am the only woman he has ever loved or desired. Ask anyone if you doubt my claims. Even if I ceased to breathe this very moon, he would never replace me. Mark my words well, Leah; to fall in love with Gray Eagle would be a deadly mistake.”

“Did he tell you how he removed a porcupine quill from my hand the other day?” Leah sought to unsettle the confident woman before her.

“Yes, Leah, and how he placed healing salve upon it,” she added to prove there were no secrets between her and her lover.

“Did he also tell you how slowly he did it and how long he held my hand afterwards?” she quickly retorted.

“There is a tiny shaft pointing backwards upon a quill, Leah. If it isn’t removed carefully, a serious injury could occur. From the wound, infection can set in and even fever and death can follow it. Some quills are dipped in poison. Close study after a piercing would reveal if that shaft was harmful since the area quickly turns blue.” Shalee coldly and methodically dispelled each of Leah’s insinuations.

“Then I’m to assume the shudder that shook his body at my touch was from relief?” Leah continued this harassing debate.

“If there was a shudder in that tepee, it was yours, Leah, not his. Your lust and dreams have blinded you to reality. Wake up, Leah, before you push too far and find yourself releasing that lust beneath countless braves,” Shalee ominously warned her. “If you speak of such things again, I will inform Running Wolf of your dangerous game. Do as you’re told, now.”

Although Shalee had spoken her last word calmly, Leah recognized the stern tone that indicated she was saying too much too soon. If she couldn’t get to Shalee through feigned friendship, she must find some other way to discredit her. She was gradually winning over the old man and the child, but Gray Eagle would require more time and cunning. First, Shalee must be dealt with in some disparaging manner. She had to break down Shalee’s confidence and destroy her perfection in the eyes of her people, especially her husband. She must discover Shalee’s weaknesses and use them against her. Somehow, she had to make it appear their roles were reversed! She must make herself more desirable in every way: appearance, manner, intelligence, company, gentleness, and courage. Somehow, she had to worm her way into the tepee of Gray Eagle. Once there, she would find the means to replace Shalee in all ways… even if she had to lethally rid the tepee of Shalee! Shalee had everythi. . .