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  “It’s 1996, as if you didn’t already know,” she retorted irritably, jerking her finger out of his grasp and plopping back down by the fire.

  His jaw fell in astonishment as he swiftly calculated the time difference. “By the stars! That is nearly two hundred years hence!”

  “For a primitive, your math is very good, Silver Thorn, or whatever your real name is,” she jeered, “but this charade of yours is getting tiresome. It’s a bit like trying to converse with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

  “I am not acquainted with these men,” he replied vaguely, his mind already on more important matters. His eyes shone with excitement as he leaned forward and said, “Tell me what has occurred in the many decades between your time and mine. What has become of my people?”

  For reasons she couldn’t fully fathom, and didn’t truly want to delve into too deeply, Nikki felt herself being drawn into Silver Thorn’s time-travel make-believe. Perhaps it was the intensity in those compelling silver eyes. Perhaps it was the teacher in her, that urge to impart information to a particularly enthused student. Whatever the motivation, she found herself answering his query.

  “First off, you joined forces with the wrong side. The Americans beat the British in the War of 1812 and never really had any further problems with them. In fact, they have since become fast allies.”

  “And what of my people?” he wanted to know.

  “After Tecumseh was killed in October of 1813, at the Battle of the Thames in Ontario, the fire went out of their will to fight. The Shawnee . . .”

  “Halt!” Silver Thorn stared at her in dismay. “My brother is to die?” he rasped, his voice quaking. “In but four moons more, Tecumseh will walk with the Spirits?”

  Nikki winced. Silver Thorn’s shock and sorrow were so evident, so . . . real! “I’m sorry. It was callous of me to break it to you so bluntly.”

  “What of Tenskwatawa, and the others?”

  She continued. “The remainder of Tecumseh’s warriors returned for a time to Fort Malden, on the Detroit River, then migrated west. Many Shawnee left Ohio then, or soon thereafter, seeking new lands across the Mississippi. Only a few bands stayed on. Those at Lewistown and Hog Creek and Wapakoneta were the last to leave, forced out by the United States government in 1932. They were relocated to government-allotted lands in Kansas and Oklahoma, to places called reservations, with land so poor and desolate that white people had no wish to settle there.

  “As you should already know, the Prophet fast lost all his credibility after falsely predicting victory for the Shawnee at Tippicanoe in late 1811. Few of your people would listen to him afterward, let alone follow him on a path to destruction. After Tecumseh, the one man they were willing to follow, right or wrong, was killed, all the Shawnee sought was peace. If I recall correctly, the Prophet died on a Kansas reservation, a drunken, lonely old man, though he lived well into his sixties, I believe.”

  Silver Thorn shook his head mournfully. “Tenskwatawa is ever ruled by whiskey. It comes as no surprise that it will be his downfall until his death.” He sighed, deep and long, focusing sad eyes upon her. “I should have known it would gain me more sorrow than gladness to ask the Spirits to reveal the future. Your Aesop, in a fable, said it thus: ‘We would often be sorry if our wishes were gratified.’ He was correct.”

  Nikki nodded in commiseration. “In my day, the adage is, ‘Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.’ ”

  “I must consider all you have related to me,” he stated. “Perhaps there is yet a way to change what is to happen, to save Tecumseh and my people.”

  “Silver Thorn, you can’t rewrite history. What must be, will be. Also, as much as I regret being the bearer of bad news, I really have to go now.” She rose and stepped toward her small pile of belongings.

  “Your clothing is not yet dry,” he pointed out.

  “Even if it were, it would only get wet again,” she countered, indicating the rain that still fell outside the cave. “I won’t melt, and my car heater works well. So, if you’ll excuse me and turn your back, I’ll get dressed and leave you to your solitary contemplations.”

  “No.”

  “No to what? No, I won’t melt? No, you won’t turn your back and afford me my privacy?”

  “No, you cannot leave. I may have further need of your knowledge. Moreover, though I summoned you here, I know not how to send you back from whence you came.”

  “Now look, fella. I’m not staying. I’ve played along with you as far as I’m going to. More than was wise, no doubt, but then I’ve never had to deal with a schizophrenic psychopath before.”

  As she spoke, she decided to forego dressing and edged toward the cave entrance. She’d run stark-staring naked through a briar patch if she had to, if that’s what it took to escape this lunatic. Any moment now, he might turn violent. Better embarrassed than dead any old day of the week!

  She was four feet from the entrance, a mere yard from possible freedom, when Silver Thorn raised his arms toward the roof of the cave and issued what appeared to be a loud command in a strange language Nikki assumed was Shawnee. Suddenly, the earth beneath her began to quake, as did the walls and ceiling. Nikki lost her balance and fell to the floor. She huddled, paralyzed by fear, as the rumbling sound grew to a roar. Between one instant and the next, a large portion of the roof came crashing down, missing Nikki by a hair’s breadth.

  Dust choked her. For long moments, she couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. When the air finally began to clear, Nikki lay gasping for breath. At length, she screwed up the courage to open her eyes and was immediately dismayed at the sight before them. The entrance to the cave was totally blocked by several huge boulders and a multitude of slightly smaller rocks. Only a slim section across the top, perhaps a foot-and-a-half deep, had not been filled.

  “Oh, God!” she whimpered, hysteria sprouting fullblown. “We’re trapped! I’m entombed with a maniac! I’m going to die! I don’t want to die!”

  Chapter Four

  “Cease that wailing and calm yourself, Neeake!” Silver Thorn commanded brusquely. “You are not harmed, nor shall you be. When the time comes for us to leave, I shall remove the rocks as easily as I put them there. I promise. This is merely the simplest measure to prevent you from attempting to flee before I am ready to let you go.”

  If the man had sprouted horns and a tail, Nikki couldn’t have been more stunned. “You . . . you?” she stuttered, indicating the rockslide. “No. In a million years, you’ll never convince me you had anything to do with that. It was an accident. An earthquake or something. One of those odd coincidences.”

  Silver Thorn shrugged. “Believe what you want, little goose.”

  She frowned up at him. “Even if you were responsible for the cave-in, don’t you think it’s a rather drastic move?”

  “Perhaps. Were you not so provoked, I might have chosen to place you in a dream state; but I was not certain of success, given your state of mind.”

  “Well, gee! Why ever should I be upset?” she mocked. Levering herself into a sitting position, she swiped at the chalky dust layering her face and limbs. “I’ve only been abducted by a crackpot actor who believes he’s an Indian from another century, lugged around like a sack of dirty laundry, and now I’m likely to die of starvation . . . but only if I’m fortunate enough to live that long!”

  She stood and faced him squarely, more furious than frightened now. “Okay, hotshot! You say you can get us out of here. Prove it. Twitch your nose or your toes or your fingers and move those rocks if it’s so blasted easy!”

  He met her glare calmly. “When I deem the time appropriate, I shall do so, and not before. My powers are not at your disposal, Neeake. Nor are they for your amusement.”

  “Well, guess what, sweetcheeks? I’m not in the least amused!” she railed. “In fact, I’m damned mad!”

  Nikki had never attacked another human being, not even her ex-husband when she was most angry at him. But without a mome
nt’s thought to the consequences, she launched herself at Silver Thorn, her fingers curled into talons and aimed at his throat.

  Taken by surprise, Silver Thorn was knocked off balance. Together, they tumbled to the dirt floor, landing with Nikki astraddle him and shrieking like a banshee. First, she attempted to choke him; and when that didn’t offer the desired results, she pummeled him with her fists, cursing like a sailor all the while. When he caught one wrist and held it at bay, she changed tactics and aimed her sharp claws at his face.

  “It’s all your fault!” she screamed. “You and your asinine delusions!” Her nails missed his eye by a quarter inch, raking a long furrow across his cheek. “You belong in the cracker factory in a rubber room and a strait-jacket!”

  He snagged the second wrist and pushed her arms down to her sides, even with her waist. “Enough!” he demanded sharply. “Your anger, though not unfounded, will serve you no good.”

  “I don’t actually give a rat’s butt!” she spat back, her eyes shooting lavender flames past the veil of dark hair that had escaped the barrette and fallen into her face. Her chest heaved in rage and from the effort she was expending as she continued to struggle against his superior strength.

  It was a futile attempt, ending with Nikki’s elbows propped firmly on Silver Thorn’s ribcage. They lay staring into each other’s eyes, their bodies aligned from head to thigh. With each harsh breath she took, the tips of Nikki’s scantily covered breasts brushed Silver Thorn’s muscled chest. Her response was purely carnal and not at all in accord with any conscious will as she felt her nipples tighten into pert buds. A reflexive quiver shot through her.

  Silver Thorn’s eyes widened. His nostrils flared slightly, as if catching the scent of her borning desire. His body answered hers, lusty male to beckoning female.

  As Nikki felt his arousal grow, nudging her through her flimsy bikini panties, she became aware of another disturbing reality. In their skirmish, Silver Thorn’s blanket had come dislodged and hers had been lost when she’d lunged at him. He was now lying totally nude, and fully stimulated, beneath her, while she wore only two skimpy pieces of nylon and lace that shielded next to nothing from his view . . . or his touch.

  A blush licked her face and torso, painting them with heat. “I . . . I’ve heard it said that anger can be a potent aphrodisiac, but this is ridiculous!” she stammered. “I don’t know you. I don’t trust you any farther than I could throw you. A minute ago, I wanted to rip your head off and cram it down your throat!”

  Silver Thorn had the audacity to grin up at her, white teeth flashing. “ ‘The lady doth protest too much, me-thinks,’ ” he quoted. “I am also reminded that there is more than one means to tame a shrew.”

  “Stow the Shakespeare, Thorn,” she warned with a glare. “It won’t cut any ice with me.”

  “Ice?” he repeated drolly. “You are all but ablaze, my wild goose. And what of my ‘spear,’ which is, indeed, ‘shaking’ for want of access to your most hidden heat?” His manhood nudged her again, this time quite deliberately. “Shall I bury it inside you as we both wish?”

  Nikki swallowed hard. “You’re not long on the preliminary getting-acquainted routine, are you?”

  “You require wooing?” he queried, still amused, though his eyes now glowed with sensual fire. “In what manner shall I court you, Neeake?”

  “Flowers and candy would be a nice change of pace,” she suggested smartly, stalling for time, hoping that their mutual lust, which was still churning between them, would dissipate as quickly as it had surfaced. Let him try to gather a bouquet and a box of chocolate cherries inside this stone fortress!

  Her thoughts were curtailed as Silver Thorn, in a voice as thick and dark as fudge, said, “What need have you of flowers when your eyes are the color of the blossoms which grow in the meadow in spring and your mouth is like a wild- summer rose?” As he spoke, his lips reached for hers, gently and leisurely sampling their texture and taste.

  Nikki’s pulse raced. When his mouth retreated, she felt absurdly bereft.

  “Your flesh is as soft as the petals of the rose,” he continued in a mesmerizing purr, his lips now seeking her throat, “and as sweet as the sugar from the maple tree.” His mouth trailed a damp path down her chest and caressed the swell of one breast. Chill bumps rose on her skin; her nipples budded tighter. Drawing her upward, Silver Thorn’s tongue traced her areola with his tongue, chafing it through the gauzy fabric of her bra.

  Nikki instinctively drew in a sharp breath. Her breasts burgeoned, pressing insistently against the confining garment, seeking his touch more fully. His teeth grazed the peak, and she bit back a moan of intense desire.

  “What is this harness you wear?” he murmured. “And how does it release?”

  “You’re in charge of this seduction,” she groaned, contrary even in the face of rapidly rising frustration. “You figure it out.”

  Capturing her wrists in one hand, he raised them over her head, out from between their bodies. With his free hand, he fumbled with the intricacies of her bra for mere seconds before his own patience wore thin. Still unable to disengage it, he simply yanked at the cups, drawing them down until her breasts sprang free. The elastic and cloth, stretched to the limit, pressed her breasts upward and inward, securing them firmly for his avid perusal.

  “You spoke of candy,” he rasped, his silver gaze sweeping the offering displayed before him. “The fruit I now behold is more tempting than any other treat. Tasty pacanu and ripe red berries perched atop plump usketomake. There is no more appealing morsel, no more succulent delight than these.”

  His palm cupped her left breast. His callused thumb rasped over the crest.

  Nikki quivered, her breath catching. “Berries . . . and what?” she whispered.

  A devilish smile arched his lips. “Usketomake. Melons. Firm, juicy melons.” His tongue lashed out to swipe a long wet line along the curve of her breast. “And pacanu. Savory brown nuts.” He caught her nipple between his teeth, nipping lightly.

  A keen thrill shot through her. Her toes curled. Her bones felt as if they were melting.

  “Shall I woo you further? Taste of you more deeply?” he taunted softly.

  “Maybe . . . just a nibble or two,” she conceded weakly.

  He had her panting in a matter of seconds as he toyed with the pouting peak as a cat would tease a mouse, batting at it with his tongue, rolling it between his teeth, licking, sipping. Then, quite suddenly, he changed tactics and drew her breast fully into his warm, moist mouth, suckling with such force that Nikki felt the pull clear through her. Her womb echoed each magnetic tug, as he suckled deeply, time and again. Her blood turned to liquid fire, pulsing loudly in her ears, pooling in her belly, anointing her body in a balmy dew and making it throb in places she’d almost forgotten existed.

  By the time he’d lavished the same thorough attention on her right breast, the crotch of her undies were wet and she was whimpering incoherently. When Silver Thorn swiftly altered their positions, placing Nikki on her back beneath him, she barely registered the change—until she felt his tongue prodding at her through her damp panties.

  Nikki’s initial response was one of pleasurable anticipation. It had been three years since she’d last enjoyed a rousing romp. No, more accurately, it had been three years since her divorce and closer to four since she’d had satisfactory sex, and even then it hadn’t been much to shout about. By that point, her husband had been putting his best efforts to practice elsewhere, outside their marriage.

  Still, she couldn’t remember a time with Scott, even at the start of their relationship, when their lovemaking had been this hot! This titillating! Eliciting such primal, wanton need that it was almost frightening in its intensity. This was akin to living out one of those alien movies, discovering a stranger had invaded her mind and now abided in her body . . . someone she didn’t know lurked there, just below her skin, waiting to emerge at the most inappropriate moment.

  His tongue licked inti
mately at her, and she shivered, wanting him more than she recalled ever wanting anything. Her resolve wavered, but only for a moment. “No!” she gasped out. “Stop! You can’t . . . we can’t!”

  His dark head rose from between her legs, his silky hair brushing her bare thighs. Still seething with passion, his gaze snared hers. “What is it, Neeake? Why do you wish me to cease? It is not as if you were an untried maiden, untaught in the ways of joining.”

  “I’m not a whore, either,” she countered stiffly, though conversing with the man through the gap between her knees didn’t exactly lend a whole lot of credibility to her statement. “Whether you choose to believe me or not, I’ve never made love with anyone but my husband. I don’t make a habit of sharing my body with strangers.”

  “That is good, but there is no shame in what we do here, Neeake. I will have no contempt for you afterward.”

  “Hah!” she snorted with dark humor. “What woman hasn’t heard that line from a man? ‘Sure, baby, I’ll respect you in the morning.’ And the check’s in the mail, and . . .”

  “Is it fair that you judge me by other men you have known?” he interrupted. “Any more than it would be for me to judge you by the same measure?”

  “No,” she admitted, feeling chastised despite herself, “but there are more important considerations here. Like AIDS, for instance.”

  “AIDS?” he mused.

  “Yes, AIDS, as in Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome. As in, you catch it, you die. As in, transmitted by unprotected sex, among other ways. And don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about!”

  “I am aware of sicknesses which are given to others through mating,” he acknowledged somberly. “My people were free of such maladies before the white man brought them to us. One such is known as the French disease and has been known to bring about madness if it progresses sufficiently, but I know of none that cause death.”

  “You’re speaking of venereal diseases that can be controlled or eliminated by medicine. There is no cure for AIDS, and I’d rather be safe than sorry.” When he made no immediate response, she added forcefully, “In other words, buster, playtime is over. Let me up.”