handsome. His deep voice grated pleasantly on her ears. As she lay against him at night, her fingers adored the smooth texture of his skin, and she was becoming addicted to the musky male scent of him. Even the salty taste of his skin appealed to her, and the taste of tobacco on his tongue when he kissed her.
Still Tanya hesitated. She feared the time when he would make her wholly his. She didn’t want to desire him; yearn for him, for she felt certain that once that barrier was crossed there would be no turning back. Once she fully accepted him and life among his people, she would have no wish to leave.
Later that day, Tanya knew what she would see before it happened. The young brave finally rode his spotted horse. As he cantered proudly about the meadow, Panther and Tanya watched, each with their own thoughts. Then Panther turned to her. Holding her gaze with his own, he silently reached out and removed her leash, throwing it on the ground at his feet. Tanya eyed the leash, then Panther, and finally turned to watch the proud brave on his pony. Her mind struggled to sort out the jumble of thoughts rushing through it. Each day Panther had brought her here to watch the warrior gentle his horse. He did so with patience, and each day the horse responded a bit more to his touch and his voice. It struck her that Panther had done the same thing with her, in correlation with the progress made by the young brave.
It also occurred to her that Panther wanted her to realize this; had more or less said so by his action of throwing away the hated leash. Today the warrior had realized his goal and ridden his horse. Tanya's eyes grew huge as she realized the significance of this. Panther was letting her know that tonight he expected to realize his goal. Tonight he would make her his completely and bind her to him with bonds stronger than any chain or fetter.
Panther eyed Tanya warily, intent on her reaction. He saw the confusion in her face, then the humiliation and anger of her wounded pride. Not really expecting her to accept this calmly, he was not surprised by her reaction.
Tanya turned on him with eyes spitting golden flames. Quietly but vehemently, she fumed, “If you think I’m going to take this calmly, like a sheep led to slaughter, then think again!” she spoke in English, too upset to try to find the words in his language. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, making them glitter brilliantly, but she blinked them back. She stood facing him defiantly, her hands clenched into two tight fists at her sides.
“I’m not a mare to be gentled and mounted! I’m a human being with feelings of my own! Isn’t it enough that you’ve taken me away from my family and friends? Isn’t it enough that you’ve made me your slave, to fetch and carry and wait on you hand and foot? Need you humiliate me at every turn?”
Panther did not touch her. He stared down at her with those stern, dark eyes and spoke firmly. “Speak to me in my own tongue, Little Wildcat.”
“I haven’t the words to say it in your tongue,” she told him, and then in English she continued, “how could I tell you in any language how I fear you?”
At his concentrated frown, she turned her back to him. “How can I explain this feeling I have that if I’m not rescued soon it will be too late for me? You have stolen another man’s woman. Do you know that? I was to be married today. I pray each night that he will come and rescue me in time. Now you have made it plain that my time has run out.”
Tears finally spilled over and ran silently down her cheeks as the utter futility of her situation overwhelmed her. “How could he still want me after you have had me?” she choked out.
Panther’s hand on her arm wheeled her about. His face was a hard mask of anger held barely in check. “Come,” he ordered. “You have yet to prepare my meal. There is no time for your womanly tears of self-pity. They are wasted on me and will change nothing.”
The
Still Tanya hesitated. She feared the time when he would make her wholly his. She didn’t want to desire him; yearn for him, for she felt certain that once that barrier was crossed there would be no turning back. Once she fully accepted him and life among his people, she would have no wish to leave.
Later that day, Tanya knew what she would see before it happened. The young brave finally rode his spotted horse. As he cantered proudly about the meadow, Panther and Tanya watched, each with their own thoughts. Then Panther turned to her. Holding her gaze with his own, he silently reached out and removed her leash, throwing it on the ground at his feet. Tanya eyed the leash, then Panther, and finally turned to watch the proud brave on his pony. Her mind struggled to sort out the jumble of thoughts rushing through it. Each day Panther had brought her here to watch the warrior gentle his horse. He did so with patience, and each day the horse responded a bit more to his touch and his voice. It struck her that Panther had done the same thing with her, in correlation with the progress made by the young brave.
It also occurred to her that Panther wanted her to realize this; had more or less said so by his action of throwing away the hated leash. Today the warrior had realized his goal and ridden his horse. Tanya's eyes grew huge as she realized the significance of this. Panther was letting her know that tonight he expected to realize his goal. Tonight he would make her his completely and bind her to him with bonds stronger than any chain or fetter.
Panther eyed Tanya warily, intent on her reaction. He saw the confusion in her face, then the humiliation and anger of her wounded pride. Not really expecting her to accept this calmly, he was not surprised by her reaction.
Tanya turned on him with eyes spitting golden flames. Quietly but vehemently, she fumed, “If you think I’m going to take this calmly, like a sheep led to slaughter, then think again!” she spoke in English, too upset to try to find the words in his language. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, making them glitter brilliantly, but she blinked them back. She stood facing him defiantly, her hands clenched into two tight fists at her sides.
“I’m not a mare to be gentled and mounted! I’m a human being with feelings of my own! Isn’t it enough that you’ve taken me away from my family and friends? Isn’t it enough that you’ve made me your slave, to fetch and carry and wait on you hand and foot? Need you humiliate me at every turn?”
Panther did not touch her. He stared down at her with those stern, dark eyes and spoke firmly. “Speak to me in my own tongue, Little Wildcat.”
“I haven’t the words to say it in your tongue,” she told him, and then in English she continued, “how could I tell you in any language how I fear you?”
At his concentrated frown, she turned her back to him. “How can I explain this feeling I have that if I’m not rescued soon it will be too late for me? You have stolen another man’s woman. Do you know that? I was to be married today. I pray each night that he will come and rescue me in time. Now you have made it plain that my time has run out.”
Tears finally spilled over and ran silently down her cheeks as the utter futility of her situation overwhelmed her. “How could he still want me after you have had me?” she choked out.
Panther’s hand on her arm wheeled her about. His face was a hard mask of anger held barely in check. “Come,” he ordered. “You have yet to prepare my meal. There is no time for your womanly tears of self-pity. They are wasted on me and will change nothing.”
The
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