‘Kimani, that isn’t true.’ He reaches out tipping her head up and stares into her green eyes surprised by the heat reflected in them.
‘Why are you pushing me?’ She stands up and hisses in pain when she attempts to put weight on her damaged foot.
Harris reaches out to steady her, before gently pulling her to his body. ‘Don’t you know?’ When his head moves towards her, she is too stunned to pull away. His lips touch hers softly, exploring and tasting her. The second his tongue touches hers, Kimani’s entire body reacts with a rush of heat.
She leans into his body and slips a hand up the back of his neck holding him close. Kimani gives without reservation. How long has she imagined the way his touch would feel?
Harris groans when she nips his tongue and smiles against his mouth. He pushes away, releasing her and runs a trembling hand through his hair.
‘Kimani, I want you to come home with me. Marry me? Let me take care of you?’ he asks.
‘Why?’ she demands not bothering to deny the attraction between them.
‘We could be good together, and you need a safe place to live.’ Harris snaps back.
‘I see. So, you want a wife to warm your bed?’ Her arms wrap around herself.
‘Yes, no… it would be the easiest solution for you.’ He replies in frustration, ‘I’ve already spoken to your father.”
‘No.’ Kimani interrupts him and turns to hide the pain in her heart.
‘That’s it. Just no?” His steel blue eyes narrow with anger.
‘I owe you nothing more, Doctor Harris.’ Kimani starts to move away and the beads on her dress click.
‘You owe it to yourself, Kimani. I’m offering you a chance at a future free of pain and humiliation’ Harris explains slowly.
‘No, you are offering me a lonely, loveless existence, Harris. Thank you for your… offer, but I deserve more than you can give me. You still love your wife,’ she says softly.
Harris flinches, knowing she speaks the truth. ‘That has nothing to do with this…’
‘It has everything to do with it.” Fury and hurt push her to leave. “I deserve no less than you had. Let me live my life. You are not responsible for me.” She turns and walks away, allowing the tears to fall once she is safely in her tepee.
“Fire, Kimani, make a fire.” Her head throbs when she moves, and she can’t decide what hurts worse. Her ribs or her head? The kicks they had landed were vicious.
One buffalo hide has the provisions for a fire, a small tomahawk, wood, and dried meat rolled up inside of it. “Thank you, Yuma,” she smiles thinking of her brother and tears threaten. Just once, she wanted to stay and be part of the celebration. Maybe she should have accepted Harris’s offer of marriage? The past few years, Ahote did not come to the spring tribal. He was training and raiding with his tribe. Rumors had spread of the massacres by both parties, white man and Indian.
Efficiently, she starts a small fire and shudders from her wet clothes that cause her to groan. The grotto is quiet, save for the crackling of the small fire. A sound from the water warns her. She reaches for the tomahawk and stands facing the pool of water. Bubbles appear, popping and the water ripples as the top of his head breaks through the surface followed by his dark eyes. He blows out softly as he lets his eyes adjust to the light from the fire. Water rains down his red streaked face and black hair onto his muscular chest as he stands from the still water.
Kimani steps backward and raises the tomahawk in front of her. “No,” she whispers. Fear has her scanning the cavern, desperate for a way to escape. The girls who attacked her were from his tribe. As he climbs from the water, she backs away clutching at her ribs with one hand and tightening her grip on the smooth wood of the tomahawk.
Ahote’s pride at tracking her fades away as he takes in her condition. He followed Kimani’s footprints until he found the beads from her dress. Now looking at her he understands.
“I found you, little butterfly. Are you going to strike me down for it?” His childhood nickname for her causes her weapon to drop, slightly.
“That depends, Ahote, did you come to finish what they started?” Kimani steps left, and he mirrors her action. Tremors of pain and fear flow through her body.
Anger at her condition, has him lifting a hand and speaking softly. She looks like a dear about to bolt. “No, Kimani. I came for you.”
“Why?” she whispers. Watchful, wary eyes and plump, peach lips call to him.
“Do you not know?” He steps towards her and plucks the tomahawk from her hand without warning.
Kimani stumbles back from him and turns to run, only to find herself captured in his arms. “Settle little, butterfly,” Ahote whispers in her ear. Chills erupt on her body, and she shivers against the strength holding her. “I only want to bring you safely home. Let me help you?”
Kimani turns in his arms and stares at him. His hand trails up the back of her neck, and she hisses in pain when he touches the bloody knot on the back of her head. The unmistakable metallic scent has anger flaring in his eyes.
“How did this happen?”
“The same way it always happens,” she replies gently pulling away from him.
“Your Father should not allow this,” he snarls.
Her semi-hysterical laughter strikes his heart.
“It wasn’t our people, this time.”
His eyes stare at the blood on his hand, the condition of her dress, coupled with her fear of him and an ugly picture is painted in his mind.
