Through the Fire (The Native American Warrior Series) Read Online Free PDF

the fern. He reached out his hand to steady her when she stumbled on a stone hidden in the green fronds and helped her down to the stream. His sympathy made what she meant to do more difficult, somehow. He stood behind her while she knelt at the edge and cupped palms full of the icy water to her lips. The morning chill hadn ’t dissipated, making her sketchy plan even less practicable.
    Plotting this escape was far different than beating a hasty retreat from a ball when hounded by an amorous suitor. Ever the schemer, she took careful note of her surroundings. The stream spilled over steps of rocks as it rushed downhill, then slowed to collect in a deep pool between some large stones before breaking through again on its way east. Scaling the stones would present a challenge with her sore muscles and light-headedness.
    There! She spotted one whose flat surface would provide easy access to the water. To her advantage, the pool wasn’t particularly wide. She could swim, having learned from a childhood friend, which was unusual for a lady. She was by no means a strong swimmer, but this distance was manageable, especially if she lightened her heavy skirts.
    Should she take the risk? This might be her single opportunity to escape. Fear of being caught churned alongside an unreasonable reluctance to go. If that odd sensation had anything to do with Shoka, she ’d shake it off.
    Whatever peculiar notion Rebecca had taken in her muddled head over him must stem from the blow she ’d suffered. There was nothing for it, but to go. Now.
    Hiding jittery nerves behind what she hoped was a casual facade, she stood. “Meshewa, I would like to bathe.”
    He gave an uncertain nod. His brows arched as she unfastened the embroidered stomacher attached to either side of her bodice with hooks hidden beneath bands of robing covered in ruched lace.
    She had his attention. Next, she’d utterly disarm him. The V-shaped insert undone, she stepped out of the blue linen gown clothed in a tight corset and two petticoats, the outer one embellished in knots and roses. Beneath these, she wore a shift with sleeves cut just below her elbows. The ruffled hem fell to mid-calf. She untied the drawstrings at her waist and let the petticoats slip to her ankles in a lacy heap.
    Meshewa responded exactly as she ’d anticipated he would to this partially clad Englishwoman, with open-mouthed shock, even shying back to give her more room. Perfect. Her plan depended on offending the modesty she thought she’d detected in him by behaving as though she had none.
    Reaching behind her back, she pretended to unlace her corset. He turned his head. Many men she ’d known would gladly watch her undress, even lend a hand, but she had guessed rightly about this youth. By the time he looked around, she’d be gone.
    She hurried silently over the stones scattered at water ’s edge and climbed over the large flat one. She slipped into the frigid water, stifling a gasp. The cold wasn’t her only hardship. Her leather shoes dragged at her feet, and the shift clung awkwardly, but desperation goaded her swiftly across. The tumble of water helped muffle her stealthy scramble up the bank. Keeping low, she crept through thick fern.
    Still no alarm came from Meshewa. If she followed the stream, it should lead her out of the mountains and back toward the more settled Shenandoah Valley. She didn ’t know how long a journey she was undertaking only that she must escape the warrior camp and Shoka. Especially him. Like fire and earth, he was a force of intense presence, his draw on her disquieting.
    He ’s your enemy, she reminded herself.
    Once out of earshot, she caught up her binding shift and fled, shaking with cold. The deep woods scent filled her nose as she ran, each breath rasping in and out of her throat, her chest burning, legs aching. Rapid flight gradually warmed her, but briars snagged her hair and tore at her shift. Rocks littered the trail, turning every step into a