Cherokee Storm Read Online Free PDF Page B

“You can help us hunt him down?”
    â€œYes, and no, lad. Chances are he’s somewhere in these mountains. As for sticking my nose in and leading a search party after Winter Fox’s sister’s boy, I’d sooner lead ye all straight to the gates of hell.”
    â€œMaybe you been here too long, Mr. O’Shea,” Damon ventured. “You’ve forgot the color of your own skin.”
    â€œIt’s white, when I’ve scrubbed off the dirt, but I know the Cherokee. I take to hunting down Storm Dancer, the lot of ye and my own family are as good as dead.” He swallowed another sip of tea. “And dead in ways ye don’t want to think of, let alone bring about.”
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    Tangled in vines, Shannon struggled and cried out.
    â€œShannon, darlin’, wake up!”
    She opened her eyes to find her father peering anxiously into her face.
    â€œBe ye sick?” He laid a calloused hand on her forehead. “You’re cool. No fever. Like as not, you’re worn to a nubbin from all this travel.”
    Embarrassed, she sat up and threw off the blanket. Not vines or briars, just the blanket she’d tangled in. The two of them were alone, camped in a hollow under a spreading beech tree. They’d sat up late last night talking and looking up at the stars. Da named the constellations for her as he had when she was a child.
    Shannon could smell porridge bubbling on the campfire. They’d left the Nathan Clark party the day before yesterday. Her father was eager to get back to the trading post, and she was more than ready to be with family, rather than the Clarks and their friends. Too long, she’d been the outsider, the orphan who didn’t belong. It was strange to be with Da again, but wonderful. So why had nightmares troubled her sleep?
    Not nightmares, she admitted to herself, a single dream…a dream that seemed so real she could swear she smelled the wild scent of the man who’d haunted her. She inhaled deeply, trying to compose herself. But the dream remained, so vivid that she felt her cheeks grow hot in shame.
    She’d been bathing in a forest stream, naked, her fresh-washed hair wet and hanging loose around her shoulders. Heavy fog surrounded the creek, so thick that she couldn’t see the banks. The water was warm, so warm that steam rose in tendrils into the moonlit sky. The woods were still and quiet, except for the occasional hoot of an owl and the chirp of insects. Peaceful…relaxing…
    Until Storm Dancer invaded her solitude…her privacy…. One moment she was alone and the next he was there, standing in front of her, huge and magnificent in the moonlight…standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath. He must have been swimming, because beads of water rolled off his honey-bronze shoulders and down over his chest. Moonlight glinted off the planes of his face, revealing the penetrating black eyes and rough-carved cheekbones.
    Startled, she’d wanted to run, but her feet seemed to have turned to stone. She couldn’t move, couldn’t draw breath or raise her arms to protect herself. No longer a life-and-blood woman…but a statue unable to utter a single sound.
    For what seemed an eternity he stared into her eyes. And then he spoke her name. “Shan-non.”
    Sweet sensations of light rippled through her. Her lips, which had been stone, parted and softened. She became aware of the thud of her heart as Storm Dancer stepped even closer. He reached out and touched her hair, lacing his fingers through the damp weight of it, stroking and murmuring her name.
    Then he lifted a section of her hair, bent, and pressed his lips to her throat beneath her left ear. She still could not move, but she felt an inner trembling radiate from his kiss, sending her heart into free fall.
    He trailed slow caresses to the hollow of her throat and lower still, until she felt her nipples harden to tight buds and heat