Tender Taming by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

simple desire for a lovely woman that pained him, but he refused to question his feelings. Stiffening to a posture as regal as that of any of his warrior ancestors, he growled a quick “Good night” and spun away in a smart turnabout Moving deftly around the cabin to extinguish all but one of the gas lanterns, he added briskly, “I’ll leave this light going so that you won’t be in total blackness. Just don’t panic in the night and go thrashing about and knock it over.”
    “I won’t,” Whitney promised, closing her eyes.
    A few moments later she heard a feint creak as he lowered his weight onto the couch opposite her. Opening her eyes narrowly, she could see his form dimly in the pale, remaining light. The muscles of his golden back rippled even in relaxation; the trim length of his legs, still encased in the worn jeans, hung precariously off the couch. He was turned away from her, his black crop of hair resting on a pillow he had bunched beneath his head. Whitney watched him for several moments, then sighed complacently and closed her eyes. Even in the swampland of the Glades, she felt an innate security knowing that he slept just a few feet away, his easy breathing audible if she listened closely.
    In her exhausted state Whitney began to dream. She was back in the muck, following a path to the light. She ran and fell, floundered to her feet, ran and fell again. The earth sucked at her, refusing to release its grip. She could see the light clearly, shining so near! But no matter how desperately she clawed for freedom, the muck dragged her down.
    A noise came from behind her, and in the confused state of her dream she knew that it had to be White Eagle. But it wasn’t. White Eagle stood ahead of her, framed in the glow of the light as a dark form, his arms crossed over his chest, his feet a foot apart and planted firmly to the ground.
    Whitney’s head turned irrevocably in an out-of-sinc slow motion. She didn’t know what she would see behind her and dreaded the confrontation with paralyzing panic, yet still she turned her head, slowly, slowly, slowly …
    Outside in the night, a bird shrieked a high call. It coincided with the earsplitting scream that Whitney rendered as she reared up in the bed, trembling uncontrollably with terror.
    “Whitney! Whitney!” Strong arms cradled her as she fought her way from the murky depths of the dream to reality. The blurry world came into focus and she saw that White Eagle was beside her, his face unmasked for once, his eyes naked pools of tense concern.
    “I—I was dreaming,” she babbled, “about something hounding me. It was coming for me. Oh God! How horrible!”
    “Hush, Whitney, it was only a dream.” He sat holding her, swaying in a slight rocking motion until her trembling subsided to small shudders.
    As her sense of fear lessened with each waking moment, Whitney began to feel faint twinges of embarrassment. Here she was, self-proclaimed rugged woman of the world, wailing like a banshee over a dream!
    “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, suddenly very aware of the arms that held her with soothing comfort. “I didn’t mean to disturb your sleep. I don’t usually do things like this—”
    He was smiling gently. “It’s all right. You really did have a rather hairy first introduction to the Glades. Probably a delayed reaction.”
    “I guess,” Whitney said sheepishly.
    Pushing her to arm’s length, White Eagle probed her eyes intensely. “You don’t have to go through with this deal of ours,” he said, his expression carefully guarded again.
    Whitney bristled. He was thinking her a cowardly quitter. “I most certainly do intend to go through with our deal, and more important, I intend to win.”
    Eagle shrugged, and Whitney could see the gleam of perfect white against the bronze of his face in the darkness as he nonchalantly grinned. “That is something only the future will tell!” He released her shoulders. “Are you okay now?”
    “I—uh—yes,”