Candace McCarthy by Fireheart Page A

watch her, which set her nerves on edge.
    “Close your eyes,” she said.
    He looked amused. “When you were a child, you showed your breasts.”
    She felt herself flush. “I’m not a child anymore.”
    “Kihiila,” he agreed with such meaning in his tone that Joanna couldn’t help but laugh. Her laughter made him smile. “Come, Autumn Wind, forget you are English. Be Lenape again.”
    His words and tone enticed her. Wasn’t that what she wanted? To forget that she was a Neville and the niece to an awful man? To remember those times in the Lenape village when she had felt free, open, and loved?
    Joanna slowly lowered her arms. The air was warm, but little bumps rose on her skin. The tips of her breasts hardened as a summer’s breeze touched them.
    She caught Fireheart’s gaze, was unable to release it. It was dark, but she could make out the planes of his face in the shadows. There was enough light to see the glistening of his dark eyes.
    Her pulse racing, she lay in the water, and began to swim slowly, carefully, in Fireheart’s direction. His teeth flashed in the darkness as he grinned. He swam backward with her following, stroke after leisurely stroke, kick after gentle kick.
    “You swim like an otter,” he told her.
    She grinned. “You swim like Kuikuenkuikiilat.”
    He chuckled. She had told him that he swam like a frog.
    “Let us see who swims the fastest—the otter or the frog.”
    Taking up the challenge, Joanna shot through the water with her hands flat to her sides, kicking her feet to move quickly.
    Fireheart moved like lightning, and as she fought to catch him, Joanna marveled at how playful their exchange had turned after moments of tension laced with a strange almost sexual anticipation.
    She paused to see where he was, then laughed as she saw him disappear beneath the surface.
    When he didn’t immediately come up, Joanna became alarmed.
    “Fireheart!” she cried. “Fireheart!”
    She made a frantic search of the water for some sign of him. Beside herself with concern, she wondered what to do. Then a hand clamped onto her ankle and tugged her downward. Suddenly she was facing him in the water, and his hands fastened on her waist, drawing her close. To her shock, she felt his lips on her mouth, and might have drowned with the surprise of it, but then he was pulling her to the surface.
    She had no time to utter a word, as he kissed her a second time, holding her up in the night air beneath her arms, while her head spun and her body pulsed with wild sensation.
    The kiss seemed to go on and on. Joanna moaned softly as Fireheart raised his head and shifted his hands to cup her face.
    “Uitiissa,” he murmured.
    Pretty, she thought. He had called her pretty. She smiled, pleased, and felt his lips press against hers once again, tenderly exploring then becoming hotter. Joanna whimpered, and started to sink beneath the water.
    Fireheart released her mouth to tug her upward. He cradled her in his arms, and began to swim toward shore.
    Lying within his arms, her head against his neck, Joanna breathed in his scent, and felt her head spin with desire.
    Where was he taking her? Would he touch her, kiss her again?
    She was conscious when his feet hit soil; then she became embarrassed when he rose from the water, carrying her naked body, his own male form bare.
    The breeze caressed her damp skin, making it tingle. She burned wherever he touched her . . . along her back, under her arms, along her thighs . . . against one buttock.
    She thought he would put her down once he was on dry land, but Fireheart held on to her as he continued along the shoreline to a clearing, free of rocks and sticks and lined with pine needles.
    Here, he set her on her feet, releasing her slowly so that she brushed against him as she went down.
    “Autumn Wind,” he murmured.
    She could hardly breathe as she cupped his face, ran her fingers over his features. He grabbed her hand, and pressed her palm to his mouth. She closed her