Lovestorm by Judith E. French

shelter, cannot find food or water when they are all about you, and I am the ig-nor-anne savage?”
    â€œIgnorant,” she corrected.
    â€œYes,” he agreed. “That is what you are, Englishwoman. You are ignorant, and only a very brave and wise warrior could make you into a proper wife.”
    â€œHow dare you insult me!” she flared. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him with unconcealed ire. “You are wrong,” she said haughtily. “I am not ignorant. I have been educated to be the perfect wife for a British nobleman. We are nothing alike, you and I. Nothing you could ever do would make you a suitable husband for me. It would please me if you didn’t speak of marrying me again.”
    Eliz-a-beth’s words would have angered Cain if he had not noticed the quiver of her lower lip. It was plain to him that she was afraid, and that she hid that fear with brave words. He remembered how good she felt lying close against him, her arms around his neck and her breath warm on his face. He desired her as he had never desired another woman, but he wanted her to come to him of her own free will. “This one would never do you harm,” he said.
    â€œI am your prisoner, but you don’t own me,” she flung at him.
    â€œNo, dah-quel-e-mah. I am the prisoner.” He stopped by the entranceway and looked back at her. “I will not speak of marriage again. You, Eliz-a-beth, you must look into your own heart and see what is true and what has not truth.” He smiled. “This night, when the moon rises, we will hunt your wolf together.”
    â€œNo, we won’t! You’re crazy if you think I’m going to put myself within reach of that wild beast again!”
    â€œWe hunt.”
    â€œSavage!” Elizabeth swore an oath and reached for the nearest object, a carved cedar bowl. Laughing, Cain ducked outside, and the bowl bounced harmlessly against the wooden frame of the wigwam.
    â€œDon’t come then,” he teased, “but if you do not, then this one make you cook your own supper! ”

Chapter 5
    E lizabeth lay flat on her stomach in the low grass. Cain stretched close beside her, one hand resting on her arm. She wasn’t sure how long they had been here without moving or talking; it seemed like hours. She wiggled her toes in the soft deerskin moccasins, glad for their warmth and doubly glad for the leggings he had insisted she wear under her doeskin dress.
    The full moon had risen over the sea, a shimmering disk of iridescent silver casting an enchanted light over the hushed forest and the pond. The night was warm; the slight breeze came from the land, not the cold, rolling waters of the ocean. Cain had explained that the direction of the wind would hide their scent from their quarry. If the breeze had been off the salt water, they would have had to circle around the pond and come up to it from the far side.
    Elizabeth turned her head slightly to look at Cain. He was so still that if she hadn’t heard his breathing, she would have believed him made of stone. His boldly sculptured face was in shadow, but the moonlight glistened off his naked shoulders, bathing his thick, dark hair in radiance.
    His solid presence was oddly comforting. Although she had protested loudly, Elizabeth was not sorry she had come on this unlikely adventure. If any of her friends had suggested she would be hunting wolves beside a red savage in America, she would have verbally consigned them to Bedlam. But the truth was, she was enjoying the expedition.
    Her eyes sparkled as a bubble of excitement rose in her throat. Once I am safely at Jamestown, she decided, I’ll have an unbelievable tale to relate. No one will have an after-dinner story to match this!
    Her left arm began to cramp, and she leaned her weight on the right and sighed. Cain’s fingers tightened warningly on her arm. The pressure wasn’t enough to cause her pain, only enough to let her know