Captive Eden by Brenda Williamson Page B

Charlie had a kindness in him like his
father. But it saddened her to think she was the reason that what he knew of
Indians had come from dime novels her uncle read to him. She should have told
him more about his father’s people.
    “He’s also not wearing any war paint.” Charlie sighed with
more than a small hint of disappointment.
    “The Chawi Pawnee won’t attack us, Charlie. They are a
peaceful tribe,” she whispered.
    Eden swallowed, clearing the dryness from her throat.
    “Good afternoon, Brant.” She finally gave him a polite nod,
knowing they couldn’t stand there forever eyeing each other like enemies.
    Her immediate misgivings waned as his gaze traveled the
length of her. His slow inspection made her insides quake. Under her cotton
chemise and linen blouse, her nipples hardened. Beneath her blue wool skirt,
heat roiled in her belly and her insides twitched.
    She tried to think of something else to say yet words would
not come.
    Once Brant’s assessment stopped, desire and danger sparkled
in his brown-eyed stare. Her heart thumped harder. How many times in the past
five years had she dreamed about him wanting her?
    “You know him?” Charlie loosened his hold.
    She tried to answer, except the whimper rising from the
excitement in her soul threatened to embarrass her.
    Brant showed a powerful agility in his fluid dismount . It put him on the ground in
one swift motion. The adorable boy she had fallen in love with had matured into
a handsome man. The love she’d kept locked away fought to pour out. All she
needed was one sign of welcome. A smile, a kind hello, anything at all and she’d
spill her heart of all her closely guarded feelings.
    “Hello, sir.” Charlie stepped forward, displaying his courageous
and trusting nature.
    Eden tried to move. Brant’s spellbinding stare kept her feet
fastened to the ground next to her father’s grave. He dropped the reins of his
horse and his solemn look lowered to Charlie.
    “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Eden wiped the back of
her hand across her cheek, pushing aside the escaping tears.
    His gaze lingered on their son. Not saying anything rattled
her.
    “Brant?”
    The muscle in his jaw clenched and his gaze lifted to her.
Forced to make the first move, she managed to budge a few inches toward him.
She watched for the slightest indication he was happy to see her. One sweet
word of encouragement and she’d rush to claim his embrace.
    “I have come for the boy.” His statement knocked her back a
step.
    “My father told you?” She didn’t think her father would ever
mention her pregnancy to anyone since he sent her away as if she’d committed
the worst sin in the world.
    Of course, Brant would want his son. But his words weren’t what
she expected to hear. She wanted him to announce he had come for her. On the
train, she went over what he’d say. On the stagecoach, she dreamed of their
first encounter. She yearned to fling herself into his waiting arms and kiss
him a thousand times to make up for every second she had missed with him.
    His cold tone dashed away those hopes. What she had clung to
over the years became a childish dream.
    So Brant knew about Charlie. It actually came as a relief.
She had always wanted to tell him he had a son, and yet, she also hated him for
breaking her heart enough that she thought she’d never divulge that treasured
fact.
    Brant came closer. His imposing size made her tremble again.
    “You had him for five years.” Brant reached out and grabbed
Charlie’s arm. “Now he goes with me.”
    “No!” she screamed, horrified by his demand.
    “You have no say in this,” he insisted, dragging Charlie
away from her.
    Eden lifted her skirt and hurried after him. “You can’t take
my son.” She positioned herself between Charlie and Brant.
    His arm remained stretched passed her, keeping hold of
Charlie.
    “He doesn’t know you,” she cried, holding his arm as if she
had the strength to stop him from doing