Time Walkers 2 Book Bundle: The Legend of the Bloodstone, Return of the Pale Feather (Time Walkers 1-2) by E.B. Brown
Authors: E.B. Brown
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because men of your time spill no blood? I say your men know nothing of honor. Why do you want to return to such a time?”
“It’s where I belong, Winn,” she said softly.
“ Je fais partie ou la lumiere me prend,” he murmured.
“Is that Paspahegh?”
“No. French words, from a book. It means ‘I belong where the light takes me’. Just as you do.”
“Who are you?” she asked, filled with wonder at each snippet of soul he revealed to her. She rose from the furs and approached him. “Where did you learn that? You speak so beautifully.”
His shoulders tensed, and she felt him stiffen when she slipped her hand into his.
“You think this savage knows nothing? I know many languages. I can read from your books. I am quite valuable to my Weroance.”
She placed her other hand softly on his chest and moved closer to him so he could not avoid her gaze. He looked angry, yet controlled, but she needed to ease the fire and staunch the distance between them.
“I meant no insult,” she said, trying to lighten his mood. “I was being nice.” He frowned.
“Nice? Humph,” he grunted.
“Here, sit. I have a gift for you,” she said softly. He let her pull him down next to the fire, where Teyas had left a few supplies for her. A clamshell that fit snug in her hand, a bowl of thick bear fat, and a soft deerskin to use as a towel. When Maggie asked her how to properly thank Winn for what he had done, Teyas assured her that shaving his scalp would show him just how grateful she was. She only hoped she could do it without hurting him.
“Maggie—”
“Please. Let me do this for you.”
When he watched her dip her hand in the grease, she saw his throat tighten. She kneeled in front of him, and while placing one hand on his shoulder to steady herself, she carefully smeared the grease on the crescent of short hairs over his right ear. His eyes followed her every movement.
“Be still,” she said. She took the sharp shell in the palm of her hand as Teyas instructed her, and slowly scraped it along his skin. She was pleased when the hair came cleanly away, leaving his bared scalp slick from the grease. His breath felt warm on her neck as she worked with her face close to his, going over the moon shaped patch to ensure it was smooth. As she leaned in to pat his skin dry, he turned his chin, a slight movement, yet enough for his lips to brush the side of her neck.
“Thank you for what you did today,” she said.
She touched his cheek softly with her closed lips, meaning to give him something to show her sincerity, but at the contact, the urge to feel even more assaulted her. He caught her head in his hands before she pulled away, moving his mouth to gently cover her lips. Sweet with brandy wine he kissed her, his palms cupped around her face.
She felt him shudder, and her own hands shook as she placed them flat upon his chest. She meant to move closer, every ounce of her being drawn to him, but suddenly he broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at her. His gaze flickered down, and she knew her dress laces fell half opened yet did not care, only focused on the heat in his blue eyes when he met her stare again.
“Go,” he said, his voice hoarse, “take your rest. I will see you when the sun rises.”
She thought he would kiss her again, yet he did not. He left her there alone by the fire, wondering what exactly had just happened between them.
“Did you cut him?” Teyas asked.
Maggie shook her head.
“I did a pretty good job, if I may say so myself,” she replied. They worked together with the other village women, grounding Tuckahoe root into flour. Maggie would have liked to go out on the boats to retrieve it, but she was reluctant to make any suggestions since most of the women viewed her with suspicion. She imagined they wondered if she was a slave or a guest, and since she was hardly sure herself, she could see why they might be leery of her.
“Oh, good! He liked it,
“It’s where I belong, Winn,” she said softly.
“ Je fais partie ou la lumiere me prend,” he murmured.
“Is that Paspahegh?”
“No. French words, from a book. It means ‘I belong where the light takes me’. Just as you do.”
“Who are you?” she asked, filled with wonder at each snippet of soul he revealed to her. She rose from the furs and approached him. “Where did you learn that? You speak so beautifully.”
His shoulders tensed, and she felt him stiffen when she slipped her hand into his.
“You think this savage knows nothing? I know many languages. I can read from your books. I am quite valuable to my Weroance.”
She placed her other hand softly on his chest and moved closer to him so he could not avoid her gaze. He looked angry, yet controlled, but she needed to ease the fire and staunch the distance between them.
“I meant no insult,” she said, trying to lighten his mood. “I was being nice.” He frowned.
“Nice? Humph,” he grunted.
“Here, sit. I have a gift for you,” she said softly. He let her pull him down next to the fire, where Teyas had left a few supplies for her. A clamshell that fit snug in her hand, a bowl of thick bear fat, and a soft deerskin to use as a towel. When Maggie asked her how to properly thank Winn for what he had done, Teyas assured her that shaving his scalp would show him just how grateful she was. She only hoped she could do it without hurting him.
“Maggie—”
“Please. Let me do this for you.”
When he watched her dip her hand in the grease, she saw his throat tighten. She kneeled in front of him, and while placing one hand on his shoulder to steady herself, she carefully smeared the grease on the crescent of short hairs over his right ear. His eyes followed her every movement.
“Be still,” she said. She took the sharp shell in the palm of her hand as Teyas instructed her, and slowly scraped it along his skin. She was pleased when the hair came cleanly away, leaving his bared scalp slick from the grease. His breath felt warm on her neck as she worked with her face close to his, going over the moon shaped patch to ensure it was smooth. As she leaned in to pat his skin dry, he turned his chin, a slight movement, yet enough for his lips to brush the side of her neck.
“Thank you for what you did today,” she said.
She touched his cheek softly with her closed lips, meaning to give him something to show her sincerity, but at the contact, the urge to feel even more assaulted her. He caught her head in his hands before she pulled away, moving his mouth to gently cover her lips. Sweet with brandy wine he kissed her, his palms cupped around her face.
She felt him shudder, and her own hands shook as she placed them flat upon his chest. She meant to move closer, every ounce of her being drawn to him, but suddenly he broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at her. His gaze flickered down, and she knew her dress laces fell half opened yet did not care, only focused on the heat in his blue eyes when he met her stare again.
“Go,” he said, his voice hoarse, “take your rest. I will see you when the sun rises.”
She thought he would kiss her again, yet he did not. He left her there alone by the fire, wondering what exactly had just happened between them.
“Did you cut him?” Teyas asked.
Maggie shook her head.
“I did a pretty good job, if I may say so myself,” she replied. They worked together with the other village women, grounding Tuckahoe root into flour. Maggie would have liked to go out on the boats to retrieve it, but she was reluctant to make any suggestions since most of the women viewed her with suspicion. She imagined they wondered if she was a slave or a guest, and since she was hardly sure herself, she could see why they might be leery of her.
“Oh, good! He liked it,
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