"Yes, sir." Nikolaus grinned and followed Slade to a dozen bales of hay fashioned into makeshift seating. Several children sat, sprawled or tussled on the bundles.
Anton hurried on. Outside the arena, a line of mounted cavalry soldiers waited their turn. Immediately discovering no safe place to step, Anton realized why Rain Shadow hadn't blinked an eye at shoveling dung.
Nearer the Indian encampment, he wiped his boots on the grass and strode purposefully to her tent. He called out and, at the silence, stepped in.
The interior was just as he remembered, except that the drawers of her trunks were open, clothing, headbands and jewelry spilling in haphazard piles onto the ground. Anton studied the collection and realized she'd played more parts than he'd recognized.
A rider approached. Mouth dry, palms damp, Anton contemplated the tent opening. Anticipation pounded through his veins.
The flap flew back, and she entered the lodge, already untying the leather strips behind her neck. In a split second, she knelt, withdrew the knife from her white knee-high moccasin and leapt sideways.
Anton raised his palms in the air.
It took her longer to recover from the sight of him than it had to crouch and draw her knife. "Anton?"
The sight of her took his breath away. He doffed his hat. "Rain Shadow."
"What are you doing here?" She straightened, glanced at the knife in her palm and slid it into her moccasin.
"Watching the show."
She raised a black brow, her amethyst eyes questioning. The white headband she wore made her skin and hair even darker in comparison. Two blue-tipped white feathers dangled near one ear. Face flushed from her run to the tent, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on.
"I came to see you."
Her eyebrows rose. "Is Nikky here?"
"Nikky's watching the show with Slade."
"Anton, what is it?" She stepped closer to him. "Is everything all right? Your father-"
"Pa's just fine. This is about us."
A wary look crossed her features, and she turned aside. "I have to change."
Anton manacled her slender wrist with his enormous hand. She stood in silence, facing away from him. "This is something I have to say now. Before the contest. So you'll know the outcome makes no difference to me."
Her lashes raised in a troubled sweep.
"Rain Shadow, if you don't win, I'd like you to come home with me." Beneath his fingers, her pulse quickened. "Why?"
"So we can be your family."
She twisted her wrist loose. "Don't insult me by pitying me, Anton. I don't need your pity. I don't want it."
His stomach plummeted.
She jerked the headband off, tugged the ties from her braids and ran her fingers through the plaits. Beads plunked and rolled like marbles, and feathers fluttered to the floor.
"Look." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "If you lose, you can still have a family with mine. They're all crazy about you. Especially Nikolaus, you must know that."
She pulled away, grabbed her hairbrush and stroked it through her hair, brushing until the ebony length shone. "So you don't think I'm going to win? You think I'll make a fool of myself and be devastated? Thanks for your confidence." She braided her hair in one long plait, pulling it over her shoulder to tie the braid with a leather strip. "You can go now. You've done your good deed. You've made the ultimate sacrifice. Your conscience is clear."
He stared at her, her anger a perplexity. She untied the dress and slipped it forward. He'd come all this way to assure her, and he'd only succeeded in making her mad. He'd never been able to say things right, to express his real feelings. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes all over again. This outcome was too important. This outcome was everything.
Deliberately, she dropped the dress to the floor and, dressed only in her thong and moccasins, stepped out of the doeskin puddle and turned to her trunk.
Anton stared at the ridges of her spine, fighting to control the desire that pierced his composure at the sight of her honey-hued skin.
She unfolded a dress.
"I said it all wrong," he said softly. I'm an idiot."
She tossed the braid over her shoulder.
"Rain Shadow." He stepped behind her and, without thinking, spanned her bare waist with his hands, turning her to face him. "I meant to say it differently." Beneath his callused palms, her skin was as velvet-soft as ever. His hands still made her seem like a fragile, delicate creature, though he was well aware of her strength. "I'm a fool. This has nothing to do with feeling sorry for you. I need you. I just hope I might appeal to you as much as the fame you've already earned and the notoriety you will surely know before this day is over."
She wadded the dress in her fists and met his gaze evenly. "I'm not Emily. I can never be like her."
He raised his brows in surprise. "I would never have given you a second glance if you were."
"But you loved her. She was everything I'm not."
"Yes." Hurt flickered in her eyes. "I did my best to love her. And you're nothing like her, that's true. From the minute I brought her home, she was uncomfortable with me. I never learned how to...connect with her." He stopped and his voice faltered. "I take all the responsibility for not making her happy."
"She was a fool, then," she declared.
He'd told her this much, he may as well tell it all. "Her moods changed quickly. Toward the end she behaved more strangely than ever. And then she sent for me, set fire to the barn and locked herself inside."
Rain Shadow's lips formed an astonished O.
"Lydia had seen that she'd doused the tackle room with kerosene. She told Lydia to go get me and she set fire to the hay. We chopped a hole in the side of the barn to get in. I caught a glimpse of her, but a rafter fell between Emily and the opening. The fire was out of control. I tried to save her."
"The dream," she whispered.
He nodded. "She was seven months pregnant."
Tears welled in Rain Shadow's storm-sad eyes. "Oh, Anton, I'm so sorry."
"I don't want you to be sorry. Don't you see? You're nothing like her. You're...perfect."
"I'm not."
"You are. I never had a woman want me like you did. You're open. You're honest. Unaffected and unspoiled and..."
Her shimmering violet gaze dropped to his chest.
"And you're beautiful," he whispered. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. I lived a lot of years with hurt and anger eating me up inside. I never wanted to care for a woman again. That's why you seemed dangerous to me. That's why Sissy was safe."
"She can bake and keep house and quilt."
"She can't hold a candle to you."
Rain Shadow raised her gaze to his mouth. "What are you saying, Anton?"
One thumb caressed her spine, sending a delicious shiver up her back. "I'm saying I love you."
Her heart slowed to a dangerous level. Loved her? Her? A woman who didn't even know her real name? He could trace his ancestry all the way back to Germany! He loved an orphan with only an illegitimate son and an old Indian for family? He had his own son, father, brothers, nieces, nephews and sisters-in-law. Had he come all this way on a mercy quest... or because he loved her? Loved her? "Is that what you came to say?"
"Yes. I don't pity you. I admire you. And I want you to be my wife."
Hoof beats pounded up to the lodge. "Princess Blue Cloud?"
"I'm changing," she called.
"'Bout another five minutes. Will's looking for ya!" a young male voice called.
"Tell him I'll be there."
"Yes, miss." The youth rode off.
Blinking away tears, Rain Shadow untangled herself from Anton's embrace and slipped her dress over her head. Anton had picked a fine time to tell her this. She picked up her Stevens rifle and her revolvers. "I've worked most of my life for this day. I'm not going to give it all up now."
"I wouldn't want you to," he replied. "Just remember, whatever happens, I love you."
His solemn blue gaze forced her to turn away. She picked up one of her ammunition bags. "I told you I loved you once, and it didn't change anything," she said barely above a whisper.
"Here, let me carry those for you." He brushed past her and took the bags.
She sized up his lack of response. Didn't he believe her? The first time he'd ignored her admission of love she'd been hurt, thinking he had no feelings for her. This time he'd confused her, especially after his profession of love.