Defiant Ecstasy

Book 2: Gray Eagle Series

by Janelle Taylor

Genres: Action & Adventure Romance; Historical Romance

Synopsis

The longer Alisha Williams remained at Fort Pierre, the more she hoped her redskinned lover would rescue her from the taunts and tirades of the white pioneers. They would never let her forget she had been the mistress of the infamous savage warrior, Gray Eagle. As if the auburn-haired beauty could forget! Each night, Alisha sweetly remembered Gray Eagle's bold caresses, burning kisses, his blazing passion. Each day, she scanned the vast horizon in hopes her Oglala brave would recapture her. Then one day, Alisha saw hundreds of Indian warriors riding to the gates of Fort Pierre--and at their head was the fierce Gray Eagle. Though her most fervent prayers had been answered, Alisha's heart skipped a beat: Would Gray Eagle destroy her--or make her destiny his own?

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 472

Sample

It had been eighteen days since the daring raid upon Gray Eagle’s camp. Dawn had awakened the Oglala warriors with her breathtaking majesty, seeming to bestow a special blessing upon the fearless Sioux. They had quickly gotten ready and mounted up, riding to join with the other tribes from the surrounding area. They converged upon Fort Pierre, taking their positions in long and threatening lines before the sealed gates of the only fort left in that vast frontier.

Gray Eagle assumed his place of leadership before the braves. He sat proud and erect upon his mottled Appaloosa, appearing awesome and forbidding. He sat like a pagan god of war ready to swoop down and conquer the entire world.

Only small traces of the roseate color which had invaded the early morning sky now remained. As the sun lifted itself into the heavens, the fingers of pink slowly gave way to the rays of gold, outlining the indomitable warrior against a cobalt skyline. Its tawny hues sent shimmering rays to set the buffalo and bunch grass ablaze with golden light. The wind was nearly motionless, failing to do more than slightly sway the dried grasses. The animals and birds were silent, seeming to be momentarily suspended. It was as if all nature recognized the significance of this day and of this gathering, the day when all white intruders would be driven from Indian lands.

Gray Eagle was dressed as a warrior in siennacolored fringed leggins, breechcloth, and high-topped moccasins which were all heavily beaded in rich designs of red and yellow. His leather arm and wrist bands were artistically etched with scenes from his many coups. Two small sections of his ebony hair were secured into braids on either side of his mesmerizing face. The rest of his hair flowed over his powerful shoulders and down his back like a sleek mane. The heavy braids were interwoven and bound with yellow thongs. Numerous yellow feathers were in his hair, symbolizing his many deeds of courage. Around his neck was a small rawhide pouch, a medicine bag, suspended from a slender thong. He was the epitome of the greatest warrior; he was the pinnacle of manhood. And when wronged, he was the ultimate enemy.

The Fort Pierre sentry slowly moved his field glasses up and down the rows of warriors, but always returned his sights to the one man who sat before the others like a king. Hell! he finally decided, it’s got to be him. He sighed and muttered, “We’ll have the devil to pay this day, if I’m right…”

General Galt called up to him, “How many would you say are out there? Can you read the markings of the tribes involved? Any sign of their intentions?”

“About two thousand, maybe more or less, Sir,” came the sentry’s reply. As he scrutinized the warriors once more, he stated, “I’d guess there are five to eight different tribes represented out there. They appear to be waiting for something. Could be for others to join them or …” He halted and gaped at the scene before him, for that was when it happened; Gray Eagle had sent his signal with the lance.

He hastily called down, “There it is, Sir! The parley lance; they want to talk. That warrior out front has thrown the pow-wow lance into the ground and is waiting for an answer,” he nearly babbled in his anxiety. “My God!” he swore excitedly. “It’s him, Sir. The feather is yellow! It’s Gray Eagle himself.”

The long lines of chiefs and warriors were indeed from many different tribes; many were friends, others only allies for this particular day. Each warrior’s face was painted with his own design and color. Most were dressed similarly to Gray Eagle, except for the chiefs; they were attired in full ceremonial dress, wearing their traditional, flowing war bonnets. Their stoical, arrogant faces could instill terror into the heart of the bravest of men. Many of the younger warriors looked fiendishly evil from their chosen designs and colors, which was what they intended; others appeared the epitome of courage and strength. It would be a dauntless, fearsome group of warriors which greeted the inhabitants of Fort Pierre this fateful day.

After Gray Eagle had assumed his position at the head of the tribes, he shifted from side to side upon Chula’s broad back to allow his jetcolored eyes’ to glance up and down the countless lines of Indian allies. His keen eyes detected the presence of several chiefs from other villages. His heart swelled with pride and honor at being chosen their leader and spokesman for this grave meeting. His eyes halted and momentarily lingered on Mahpiya Sapa, chief of the Blackfoot tribe. Strange, Uneasy feelings passed through his mind as his eyes met the expressionless ones of Black Cloud, but he quickly dismissed such groundless warnings. It was evident that nearly all of the surrounding tribes had sent warriors to help in this final purging of the white man and bluecoats from their lands. Afterall, they had all received the same vision from Wakantanka during the council meeting of the Warrior Society.

It was then that the warriors had eaten the sacred peyote buttons to instill endurance and courage for this coming battle and to bring about contact with the Great Spirit. They had all chanted and prayed for his guidance and help. He had sent a vision to all of the warriors present, the same vision. It had revealed the will of Wakantanka to them: Alisha was to be returned to Gray Eagle, and the other whites were to be driven from these lands. That mutually shared vision was powerful magic;

Gray Eagle turned his attention again to the fort, where panic and tension ran rampant. The overwhelming sight of the enormous band of Indians just outside the walls was alarming and intimidating. Terror had broken loose at the implication of the awesome event which might be ready to take place. The soldiers were scurrying about, getting their weapons and preparing to defend their lives and the fort. The few civilians who were present hurried inside their assigned quarters to hide and to shriek in dread. The men began to mill about nervously, anticipating their defeat—or worse, their deaths.

The men who had participated in the raid upon the brave’s village a few weeks before quaked in apprehension. All they had done was to recapture the white girl Alisha Williams. But little did the soldiers then know that Alisha had stolen the heart of the fiercest savage in the West! The realization that the raid on Gray Eagle’s camp had been a foolish and deadly mistake was all too evident all too late!

When the sentry informed General Galt that Gray Eagle himself was outside the fort, Galt swore at the young soldier’s damnable carelessness. How dare the sole sentry of Fort Pierre fall asleep on duty!

Galt nervously wiped the beads of sweat from his upper lip, only to have the moisture instantly reappear. Then he cursed both Gray Eagle and Lieutenant Jeffery Gordon; those two men would be the destruction of his command yet. Neither one of them could be trusted; they were both too proud, too stubborn, and too damn reckless. Both men had been thorns in his side since the first day he had accepted this futile assignment in this godforsaken, savage land. But Gordon threatened his command even more. “Insolent, glory-seeking, young cur!” he fumed just above a whisper. He silently wished that Gray Eagle had been in his village to welcome Jeffery’s arrival then. That way, Galt could have been rid of at least one of his aggravations …

At that moment, Jeffery seized his full attention as he sneered, “Send that insolent scout Powchutu out to see what they want. With any luck, they’ll send his body back rather than a message.”

Galt looked up at Jeffery’s six-foot frame, and sarcastically replied, “After that stupid raid you pulled on his camp, Lieutenant, it should be obvious what Gray Eagle wants. It’ll take some tall talk to get ourselves out of this predicament you’ve gotten us into. If we do, you had better stay the hell away from his camp, or any camp you lack the orders to attack! That’s an order you had better remember.”

General Galt called the half-breed scout over to him. He ordered, “Powchutu, it looks as if they want to parley. I best send you out there to see what he wants. Get back in here as soon as you can.” His apprehension and fear were apparent to both Powchutu and Jeffery, but Powchutu did not revel in it as Jeffery did.

“Yes, Sir,” he replied. He walked to the gates and waited for the guards to lift the bar and to swing the huge, wooden gates open for him to pass through. He fearlessly walked outside. He absently listened as the gates were pushed shut and re-barred. He gazed out at the sight before him, inwardly wishing he was a part of it, and went straight up to the warrior who sat in the place of the leader. He knew that he had nothing to fear at this talk; the Indian was a man of his word and would not attack under the shadow of the talking-lance. Later, perhaps, but now, never!

He halted before the warrior and spoke slowly and evenly, “I am Powchutu, scout and speaker for the cavalry. The general wants to know why you are here. Why do so many braves and chiefs come dressed and painted for war?”

The imposing warrior answered in a deep, steady tone, “I am Wanmdi Hota, son of Chief Running Wolf of the Oglalas.” Gray Eagle alertly noted the effect of his name upon the scout. His face had registered enlightenment, recognition, and respect. But, had it then reflected hatred and anger? As quickly as these emotions had raced across Powchutu’s face, they had been suppressed. Gray Eagle could not help but think this mixture of feelings was strange and meaningful.

Powchutu had thought and felt exactly those things and more. His suspicions of this man’s identity had just been proven accurate. There should not have been any doubt, for his bearing and courage had shouted his name. Powchutu’s heart had been smitten by Alisha as well, and he could not help but be disappointed that Gray Eagle was indeed what his reputation claimed: a man to melt the heart of a woman, a man to strike terror into the heart of an enemy, and a man who obviously stood above all others in many ways. Yet, there was also something else about his physical appearance, something important and intangible which Powchutu failed to discern, something which would have explained Alisha’s reactions to him.

Gray Eagle continued in his language, “I have come to demand an apology for the raid on my village. I seek payment for the ruin and dishonor your bluecoats did there. You will hand over the white girl you stole from my camp; this is your payment. I demand your shame. Through her sacrifice, the white man will make amends for the disgrace and suffering brought upon my people. If you value your lives, she will be sent to me. If you refuse, we will attack the fort and destroy it and all inside. If the white girl survives the raid, she would still become my prisoner once more. A battle would cost the lives of many from both sides. It would be futile and foolish. But, your people must be made to suffer as my people have because of the contempt and hatred of the one with yellow hair. I will teach your people humiliation through the girl. They will see and know the foolishness of their actions. They will be made to know shame by giving the girl to me willingly in order to save their own lives. I will force them to reveal the cowards they truly are.” He spoke these words with great confidence and boldness as he observed the scout’s expression.

Powchutu’s eyes had widened in disbelief and shock. He could not comprehend such cruelty as this man vowed to the woman he loved. He would never turn Alisha over to this madman! Powchutu fired at him, “She is innocent of the raid upon your camp! Demand the lives of the men who did this thing, not hers. The fight is between you and the lieutenant. Do not place her in the middle of your battleground. You have caused her enough pain and dishonor. Why should we give her back to you? Why do you not ask for the life of the other white girl you captured from her fortress, the one called Brown? “ Too late, Powchutu realized he should have said that Alisha had died from the beating Gray Eagle had given her shortly before her arrival at the fort.

Gray Eagle calmly answered, “The life and sacrifice of a whore means nothing to either of us, but the life and sacrifice of the green-eyed girl would bring much dishonor and anguish from all of you. The men responsible for the raid would be tortured and killed quickly if you turned them over to us; the deed would soon be forgotten by your people. But, living with the truth of what they had been forced to give up to save their own lives would live in their hearts for a very long time. It is far easier to die with honor than to live with shame. Their deaths would be too easy for all of you to accept and to forget, but not hers. Is this not true, scout?” he openly challenged.

Powchutu realized just how smart and cunning he was. Just like the angry, starving wolf, he went for the jugular vein of his enemy. Powchutu’s muscles stiffened. His voice was tinged with both sadness and fury as he accused, “So, you have really come back for Alisha! Just as I believed you would one day. Surely even the great Wanmdi Hota realizes her great value. But I will not allow them to send her back to you and to your cruelty. Did you not take enough from her when you killed her people, when you burned her fortress, when you captured her, when you beat her and raped her? Has she not paid enough for being white? Do you not owe her some measure of kindness for saving your life? If she had not gone against her own people that day long ago, they would have killed you. Has she not earned the right to be free and to be happy? Is this too much justice for the great warrior Wanmdi Hota to give?” he sneered in contempt, but his worried expression belied his brave words.

Gray Eagle appeared to ignore all his words. He spoke with an icy, deadly calm, “She will be brought here to me before the sun is straight above my head, or we will attack at that same hour. You will not be able to help her then. I will not be able to spare her life then. If we are forced to attack, no life will be spared.”

Powchutu was desperate to keep Alisha for himself and challenged, “What if she will not come to you?”

Gray Eagle’s eyes narrowed and darkened noticeably. His jawline tightened. His expression warned Powchutu that he had overstepped his bounds in meddling in this warrior’s demands. He glared at Powchutu and stated coldly, “If she will not come willingly, then you will force her to come. Bring the girl to me now.”

“I tell you this, Wanmdi Hota, if you harm her again, I will hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands. Powchutu has spoken and so it shall be!” Powchutu’s threat was choked. Gray Eagle did not miss the look of anguish which flooded his eyes and tinged his voice as he continued, “You have judged the white-eyes well and true. They will return her to you to save themselves. To them, she is no longer white. But, I tell you this, Wanmdi Hota, her return will be by force. She will never return by your words alone.”

Gray Eagle stared at his retreating back, wondering at his many strange words and sincere pleas. How was it possible that a half-breed scout could know her so well in such a short time? Had she dared to befriend an Indian, for that was how Powchutu would be viewed by the white man? Would she not fear and hate him as she did others? Once more, he realized that he had underestimated the green-eyed girl’s strength, courage, and gentleness.

Gray Eagle could not help but worry that this scout had been secretly watching his woman. Desire for Alisha had been evident on his face and in his voice. How was it that he knew her so well? Such knowledge of her and her thoughts could have only come from a close relationship, one that Gray Eagle feared. He determined to learn more about this strange friendship. He feared and mistrusted the look of love the scout had innocently revealed to him; he respected the look of hatred and revenge that had also been reflected in the scout’s features. Gray Eagle knew that such a combination of emotions within an enemy was dangerous; this scout certainly would require close observation in the future.

Gray Eagle’s piercing gaze remained on Powchutu until he had re-entered the fort and the gates had closed. Forbidden thoughts of Alisha’s turning to another man out of her loneliness, pain, and fear would not leave him. He could envision the scout at her side, offering her protection and love. Far worse, he could not blame her for reaching out to another for the happiness and acceptance which he himself had denied her. He could not even comprehend the torment that she must have endured. With shame he recognized his own part in all of her sufferings.

He could not deny that he had been responsible for the destruction of her people’s fortress, that he had led the raid in which her uncle and her friends had been killed. He could not take back the day when she had witnessed that raid or the night when she had watched some of those same men punished for crimes against the Oglala, crimes which she knew nothing about. He could not erase her agonizing memories of other times when he had made her torments unbearable. He could not justify his brutality to her. He could understand her feelings, but could not have altered his treatment of her to have prevented them. He was the son of the chief, himself the next Oglala chief. He could not have behaved toward his white captive, his enemy, any differently than he had done; his pride and rank would not have allowed it. Alisha could not help being white; he, being Indian. But these facts created problems which he could not change.

He almost wished that he could have explained several things to that angry scout. Yet it was impossible to tell him that he was secretly in love with a white girl, for no one except White Arrow shared that incredible fact. One day Gray Eagle would tell Alisha, and she would then understand the necessity of this day’s humiliation. How he hungered to defend the scout’s accusation about her beating! But he could not tell him that tribal law had demanded her punishment or he would have lost face before his people. He could not tell this man that he had personally placed the five lashes upon her tender back, that he had done so to prevent her death, that he had suffered terribly to think that she might die from his cruelty, that he had personally taken care of her injuries after that, that he had remained at her side in prayer until the war council had called him away, or that he could not live without her. He could tell no one these facts, for no one would accept the joining of a white girl with the future chief of the Sioux. He could close his eyes and almost hear the mocking laughter at such a match. Who would fear or respect a warrior who captured, fell in love with, and joined with his sworn enemy? But no matter what, he would have Alisha in some way.

Gray Eagle could only hope that the scout had been wrong when he had spoken of Alisha’s hatred for him. He could only hope that it was wishful thinking upon the scout’s part. He realized that Alisha must fear him greatly, but did she now hate him? “We shall soon see, Little One…” he softly murmured to himself. The handsome warrior prayed that he had convinced the soldiers of his motive for revenge. If the scout had suspected more than this, it was apparent that he did not reveal it. In fact, the scout would probably do all in his power to help Alisha. He would certainly be aware of the power of Gray Eagle’s words. He would surely convince the white men to hand her over without a fight, if only to spare her life. Alisha’s feelings could not be considered at this time. Later, she would be made to understand.

Gray Eagle gazed up at the heavens and he inhaled deeply. He mentally spoke with Alisha. I fear they would kill you, Little One, if they guessed the truth. The scout’s love for you is strong if he would risk a challenge to me to save you. He dares much in his speech! Bird of my heart, fly to me quickly and safely… it has been too long and too lonely without you.

To the Great Spirit he prayed, help me if they reject my bluff and we are forced to attack. Protect her life as you would protect mine.

Powchutu had walked back toward the fort with a heavy heart. He was seething with rage, for he knew what the outcome of this day would cost both him and Alisha. He cursed himself for not taking her away sooner. He had no doubts that the fort would give her up to Gray Eagle. He wondered if she would go back willingly. It would not matter anyway, for they would not give her a choice. He fumed angrily, damning them all.

Powchutu wished that he could read Gray Eagle’s thoughts; he wished that he knew if that fierce warrior truly hated her or if he truly desired her. He could not help but ask himself if Gray Eagle would really attack the fort and kill all inside. He already had his answer: Gray Eagle did not make idle threats. There was no doubt in Powchutu’s mind that he would attack them—but kill Alisha? Powchutu dared not venture an answer to that terrible question.

The same question kept returning to plague him: did Gray Eagle enjoy the suffering and shame of this tender creature in some sadistic way? Powchutu was aware of Gray Eagle’s hatred, though well-deserved, for the white mind: did he only wish to make the others suffer through her, and did he only wish to taunt them with their helplessness, and had he lived with her all those months and never truly known her? There were so many critical questions, but no clear answers.

At that very moment, Powchutu vowed to himself that he would find some way to help Alisha, to free her from this brutal warrior, to take her far away from these cruel people. He could only hope and pray that he could find some way to make her his. He wanted with all his heart to give her back some of the happiness, love, and security that they had all long denied her.

Powchutu had slowly approached the wooden gates, stalling the inevitable for as long as possible. He would not permit himself to dwell on Alisha’s reaction. First, he had to face General Gait with the brave’s ultimatum. The gates had opened to allow him to re-enter. He quickly walked over to the general’s office, ignoring the many questions from those around him.

Once in front of the general’s desk, Powchutu delivered his report. He repeated the warrior’s demands, then lay the leash and thongs down on the desk. The general listened, white-faced and shocked. The other officers glanced from one to the other in surprise and confusion. Powchutu tried to keep his face and voice void of all the emotions as he related the terms of the truce between the red and white man. He was careful not to mention his personal pleas concerning Alisha. He instinctively knew to make Gray Eagle’s demands sound as cold and brutal as possible for Alisha’s sake.

When he had finished, the general exclaimed, “He what? That’s absurd, Powchutu! Surely you misunderstood him, or this is some kind of joke? Why would he want that girl back so badly? My God, man, he almost beat her to death in his camp only a few weeks ago!” As soon as Galt had said this, he thrust it into the far recesses of his mind, knowing it might color his final decision.

“His pride and honor, you say?” he muttered, almost to himself in deep thought. “Strange that he would demand her return rather than the men who raided his encampment… He thinks it’ll make us suffer to hand her over to him? Shame us, you say? Make us look like cowards, huh? Either the man’s a bloody fool, or there’s more to his demand than meets the eye.”

Galt’s beady eyes glanced around the room as he pondered these perplexing demands. It quickly came to his mind that Gray Eagle had attacked her fortress, killing everyone except her. It had never been rumored that Gray Eagle took white female captives before. He wondered what the most feared and awesome warrior ever born would want with this particular girl. Gray Eagle’s feelings for the white man, especially soldiers, were well-known. Was it possible that there was some personal motive behind these ultimatums?

Galt silenced one of the officers who was about to make some comment on this trying situation: he needed more time to sort out his own thoughts. He called to mind every time he had seen Alisha and every word they had spoken between them. He had to admit that she was injured when Jeffery had brought her here, but maybe there was some other explanation for her condition. He told himself that perhaps Gray Eagle was not responsible for her lashing. To him, it certainly did not fit with the image he had of him. No, there was something else going on here, and he was going to damn well find out what it was. So, he wants her back to humiliate us? he sneered. Perhaps she was his woman? …

His face brightened with an idea. “You all remember what the Brown girl said? Of course he doesn’t want that whore back, but she just might be right about Miss Alisha’s being his squaw. If that’s the truth, no wonder he’s demanding her return. That’s all that’ll make any sense. Well, well, well… this puts a different light on things. I’d venture to say that she’s managed to fool all of us. After Lieutenant Gordon brought her here, she didn’t have any choice but to claim she was only his prisoner. Why the little tramp! After all the help we gave her, now she’s about to get us all killed, is she? The Brown girl claimed Miss Williams saved his life and helped him escape their fortress. It sounds like a good reason for sparing her life to me. Plus, she’s a real beauty. Seems he sees that, too. Could be he was enjoying her just a little bit too much to give her up. Wonder how the hell he convinced the other warriors to go along with this farce to get his squaw back?”

Captain Tracy spoke up, “From what I understand, Sir, those Injuns would cut off their right hands for him. Half of ‘em love, and respect him, and the other half are scared to death of defying him. You’re damn right they would help him do anything! No matter why he wants her back, he’ll get her one way or another. You know what shape we’re in right now. We don’t dare call his bluff. ‘Sides, I was one of those with Gordon on that raid. I sure as hell won’t go near his camp again.” He levelled hardened eyes on Jeffery and stated, “Orders or no orders…”

For some unknown reason, Jeffery remained silent for a time. It was Sergeant Percy who spoke up next, “What if it’s just a show of power, Sir? Could it be that he’s afraid we might hold her hostage against his attack? The whole matter sounds odd to me, too. We might try to call his bluff and see what happens.”

“Don’t be a bloody fool, Percy!” shouted Captain Tracy. “He wouldn’t hesitate to take this fort apart to get her back if that’s what he really wants. I should have stopped that raid against his camp.”

Percy taunted, “Why didn’t you, Tracy? You outrank Lieutenant Gordon.”

“I also outrank you, Sergeant Percy, so I suggest you silence your mouth pronto. It’s done and over. We just better make certain that we don’t go near his camp again.”

“Not even to rescue another damsel in distress?” jested Corporal Riley, twinkling eyes challenging Jeffery to speak up. “Whatever would our good Lieutenant do for amusement if we hadna rescued those two young ladies?” Everyone caught the slur on the word “ladies.”

“You wouldn’t know a lady if she bit you on the nose, Riley,” Percy said with laughter filling his barreled chest.

“Would that be a fact now?” Riley challenged. “Could be that I been taking personal lessons from the lieutenant here.”

“Gordon give away any of his secrets? I think not. He wouldn’t allow anyone to get near Miss Alisha, that is, until she turns him down one more time. Of course he shares his harlot, Miss Brown, with everyone.” Bawdy laughter filled the small room. “Have you given up on Miss Alisha yet?”

Jeffery straightened up in his chair as the conversation became too personal for his tastes. His crystal-blue eyes hardened to ice. “Sergeant Percy, Corporal Riley, I suggest that you two men remember your places and your manners. I daresay that I find you both lacking in respect. I do not take kindly to having my personal business bandied about by the likes as you. But just in case you are wondering, I have no claims on either Miss Alisha Williams or Miss Kathy Brown. I merely offered Miss Williams my protection and friendship, which she chose not to accept. If any of you gentlemen can acquire her friendship, by all means feel free to do so,” he sneered, knowing the lift of his orders to leave Alisha alone were coming too late for any of them to take advantage of it. By God, if he couldn’t get anywhere with Alisha, he was certainly not going to give any one of these louts the chance to do so. No one had dared to oppose his strict order to leave Alisha to him.

Riley and Percy reluctantly held their tongues; Tracy did not. “Aw, come on, Gordon. Everyone knows you’ve been after the Williams girl ever since you brought her here, naked and wrapped only in your jacket. Do you plan to send her back to Gray Eagle before you have a chance to win her over? I bet you ain’t never had a woman refuse all that charm and wealth before, have you? Kind of sticks in yore craw, don’t it?”

“Shut your mouth, Tracy,” Jeffery warned through clenched teeth.

“I believe you’re forgetting who you’re talking to, Lieutenant! If memory serves me, captains don’t take orders from lieutenants.”

“Some do, Tracy. Could be that you won’t be a captain any longer than I remain a lieutenant…”

Tracy caught the innuendo concerning Jeffery’s social and political power. He shouldn’t doubt that Jeffery could get anything he wanted with his family’s power. Anything but Miss Alisha Williams in his bed. He grinned as he imagined how that fact must have galled the surly, arrogant lieutenant. He was a man used to getting everything and anything that he desired, until Alisha came along. No doubt she would pay heavily for her public rejection of him.

The general had been nervously pacing the floor as he weighed his options. He had only been half listening to his men argue until they broke into his train of thought. “Silence!” he shouted. “This kind of talk won’t get us anywhere. How about if we discuss our situation instead of Lieutenant Gordon’s love life?”

Galt had been recalling the first time that he had met and had spoken with Alicia. It had been shortly after her arrival at Fort Pierre. She had come to ask his help in returning to the Colonies, and from there back to England. She had shown good breeding with her excellent manners and poise. She had seemed to be unaware of her low status as an ex-captive. Later, she had unconsciously let her desperation show. She had shown concern for her penniless state, knowing that she had no family or possessions. Then, there was that day when she had forced him to reprimand both Jeffery and Powchutu in public. Had she been so blind or so stupid that she could not see that choosing the scout’s company over the lieutenant’s was trouble? He had wished that he could have sent her on her way that very day. This girl was nothing but trouble; her beauty and availability would have the men at each other’s throats. He had seen it coming, but had been unable to prevent it. Now, here she was at the center of this new and deadly conflict.

The general paced the floor and nervously mopped the perspiration from his brow and upper lip, the stubble of his unshaven face rasping loudly in the silence. His choices were clear: he could either turn her over to Gray Eagle and take the chance that he would stick to his truce, or he could keep the girl as a hostage. He would not even consider the choice of protecting her, even if she were. . .