Free Tykota's Woman (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon Page A

tell my
mother that he had. Ladies don't swim," she
said, laughing.
    "Then a lady could drown."
    "Ladies do not do many of the things I have
done since I left New Orleans."
    Tykota found himself fascinated by the water
sliding off her soft skin, and he felt an ache
begin deep inside. She was so innocent and
beautiful, and he was becoming too attached to
her. He had to put some distance between
them.
    She went under and came up again. "I never
thought anything could feel so good."
    He knew other things that could-his lips
touching her neck, then sliding up to her lips.
"You remind me of a child given her first toy."
    Her laughter was musical. Her happiness
gladdened his heart. Beads of water clung to her
face, and he wanted to reach out and touch them,
touch her hair, her lips.
    "Oh, this is better than any toy. I never
thought water could taste so good," she said
gleefully. "Being raised in a place where there is water in abundance, I have always taken it for
granted."

    "There are many things that we do not
treasure, Makinna, until we lose them."
    The way he said her name warned her. She
averted her eyes and dipped her hands in the
water, sifting it between her fingers. "Have you
lost something you treasured?" she asked. When
she looked up again, she saw sadness in his eyes.
Then his gaze hardened, and he glanced at the
horizon.
    Clearly, he was not going to answer her
question. Already his thoughts were far away,
and she sensed that if she spoke at that
moment, he wouldn't even hear her. She felt an
iron control at work within him, and again she
wondered what it would take to ever make that
control slip. He dipped his hands in the water
and raised them to his lips. He was naked to
the waist, and she had to ball her fists to keep
from reaching out and touching his bronzed
skin.
    Makinna turned away, horrified by her
improper thoughts and reactions to Tykota.
She waded slowly toward the shore and found
shelter in the shade of a prickly shrub. But her
gaze went back to Tykota, and she watched
him emerge from the spring. As he moved
toward her, the water became shallower,
revealing more of his body with each step he took. His ebony hair hung thickly past his
shoulders, and his wet trousers molded to his
muscular thighs like a second skin.

    She averted her gaze, glancing at the thin
ribbon of greenery growing alongside the spring.
But again her eyes sought out Tykota. He was
such a marvelous-looking man. She blushed and
ducked her head, hoping he wouldn't realize
what she was feeling as she saw the clear outline
of his disturbing masculinity.
    Against her will, she watched again as he
removed his boots, pouring the water out of
them. Then she gasped when he began to
remove his trousers. She tensed, fearing he
would have nothing on underneath. But he
wore a skimpy breechcloth that did little to
cover his rippling muscles. Blushing, she
lowered her gaze, again ashamed of her
improper thoughts.
    She lay back, closed her eyes, and tried to still
her beating heart. She would not look in his
direction again, she told herself.
    Makinna lay still, listening to the wind and
trying to recall happier days in New Orleans.
But suddenly she could only remember the sad
times. Her father being forced to sell their
home and move them to a smaller house near
the docks. She hadn't minded so much, but her
brother and father had. Her father had died a
broken man a year after the move. She remembered her sister moving away. Her mother and brother dying. Makinna couldn't bear to think
about her family-the pain was too deep, the
loneliness too sharp.

    She cushioned her head on her folded arms
and tried to sleep.
    Makinna awoke to the most delicious aroma
she'd ever smelled-meat roasting over a
campfire. She sat up and stretched her arms over
her head, smiling at Tykota, who was bent over
the spit turning the meat.
    "I don't care if that is rattlesnake, I'm
ravenous.
    He stood up