The Doctor's Medicine Woman

Her words were like magic, drawing them deeper and deeper into the moment. Her eyes danced with emotion, her tone rose and then softened for the greatest impact. It was clearly evident that she’d told this tale many times. That she herself reveled in the history of her tribe. And that in this verbal tradition—whether the story was myth or reality—she was celebrating her proud heritage.

Travis tore his eyes from her beaming face and looked at the boys. They, too, were held entranced by the enchantment she conjured. This connection to the past was a good thing for Jared and Josh. Of that he couldn’t be more sure than he was at this moment, seeing the fascination in their eyes.

“And Half Moon did grow to be a great man,” Diana said. “He was all the things The People knew he would be. He was a great chief. Wiser than many others. Half Moon was the man who made the Big Negotiation. He knew the Europeans were in our land to stay. He knew they would soon outnumber The People. So he made it possible for us to have a place. A home. He gathered his tribe and moved them to what is now known as Vermont. The Kolheek, People Of The Smoke—your people—survive today because Half Moon knew when to talk peace rather than engage in war.”

Pride seemed to emanate from her. Her spine was straight, her slender shoulders square. There was no conceit or arrogance in the way her chin tipped upward; however, there was a good measure of old-fashioned self-respect. And Travis couldn’t help but admit that he found it alluring. Highly alluring.

Movement at the periphery of his vision had him darting a glance down the length of her body. Gravity tugged at the hem of her robe, parting the bottom facings to reveal a slice of her bronze-hued thigh. The sight of her finely honed muscle caused heat to curl in the bottom of his belly, his abdomen tensing with a sharp but pleasant pain. The sudden discomfort was a shock and the urge to suck in a lungful of air was overwhelming, but he successfully restrained it.

As inconspicuously as possible, he pressed his balled-up fist to his diaphragm, hoping to quell the constriction. Never before had he reacted to a woman in such a…a physical manner.

Women are trouble, a shadowy voice in his head warned.

Averting his gaze to the far corner of the room, he clenched his jaw. He didn’t need any dark warnings. He knew all about women. Knew the kind of wounds love inflicted. Had seen it in his parent’s marriage. His brother’s. Hell, he’d even experienced the pain firsthand back in college.

He wasn’t interested in becoming trapped in any woman’s web, no matter how beguiling it might seem.

He was just going to have to snuff out these feelings of attraction he felt for Diana. He could do it. Anytime—every time—he felt something even remotely resembling desire, he’d simply squash it. Like an irritating gnat.

Simple plans were the easiest to accomplish. And this plan couldn’t be more simple. He could do it. She wasn’t going to be here for long.

Apparently she’d finished her story. She was standing now, smiling at Jared and Josh. Then Diana turned that gorgeous smile on Travis, and it was as if he’d been struck between the eyes with a ball peen hammer.

“I’m going to say good-night,” she told him.

Her voice flowed over him—through him—like the mellifluous notes of some haunting melody. Again, his gut tightened.

This is crazy, he told himself. Damned crazy!

“I’ll leave you to tuck in the boys.”

And then she was gone.

You can fight this. You’re stronger than these idiotic feelings. Ignore this ridiculous attraction. Just ignore it.

But even as the thoughts marched drill-like through his brain, he unwittingly turned his head to inhale the faint, citrusy scent she’d left behind.

At last the house was quiet. Diana had brewed a pot of her own herb tea and was sitting in the all-season sunroom, looking out at the darkness, listening to the muffled quiet of the silent, wintry night. Pale moonlight cast a beautiful mélange of deep shadow and pearly glow among the thicket of pine and bare hardwood trees.

When she’d left Travis and his boys, Jared and Josh were both sleepy-eyed and ready for the sandman to take them on whatever dream adventure was in store for them this night. They were great kids, full of energy and imagination. They had delighted in the story she’d told of Half Moon, that much had been clear to Diana. But then, they were bright, inquisitive children. She knew she was going to enjoy spending time with them, aquainting them with their Kolheek heritage.

Travis had paid close attention to her story, too, Diana silently mused, lifting the mug to her lips and taking a small swallow of tea. Well, she hoped it was the legend that had held him so enthralled. His onyx eyes had latched onto her, making her feel as if he were staring into the very depths of her soul, and she’d had a hard time concentrating on the storytelling. She’d wanted to reach up and smooth her hair, fidget with the sash of her robe, but she’d forced her hands to remain in her lap. She hadn’t liked feeling like a silly, squirming schoolgirl. Thank heaven she’d been able to quell the nervousness Travis’s intent gaze had provoked in her. Soon, the training she’d received in the nearly lost art of storytelling had kicked in and she’d become engrossed in the past herself.

Still, when she thought about how his gaze had been riveted to her face, his attention focused on her every word…The memory caused shivers to careen down her spine like an icy mist, and she curled her hands around the heated ceramic mug to ward off the imagined chill. She tucked her bare feet under her on the padded seat of the wicker chair.

His interest had been in nothing more than the story, she firmly told herself. She refused to think anything else. He’d been captivated by Half Moon’s experience. Anyone would be fascinated by the history of such a great chief’s life.

But Travis’s gaze was so dark, so…She couldn’t quite put a name to what she saw in his eyes. Like secret windows. Seemingly filled with something deep and profound. Something mysterious. Haunting her. Calling to her.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, she looked toward the ceiling. Why was she so intent on conjuring fantasies around this man? Her thoughts had seemed to have a mind of their own ever since she’d first laid eyes on Travis.

Head shaking slowly, she tried to clear her mind. She simply refused to allow her imagination to get the better of her.

But the thoughts persisted, refusing to be banished. What was it about him that provoked these sensuous notions running through her head? She’d had no trouble whatsoever deflecting the approaches made by other men since her divorce. She’d easily turned down all offers of dates, and she’d done so politely and tactfully so as not to hurt a single living soul. Yet here she was fancying that Travis Westcott—a man she barely knew—was staring at her…desiring her.

Desiring her? Is that where her thoughts were heading?

No. No. No. She couldn’t have that. She wouldn’t allow herself to be undermined by her own ridiculous imaginings. Travis had become caught up in her story. That was all—

“I’m glad to see you’ve made yourself at home.”

She looked toward the French door that led into the house. His frame was backlit by the soft light being thrown from the kitchen. He looked strong. Safe. Protective.

Shaking her head slightly, she shoved the impressions from her, but not before she realized this wasn’t the first time she’d been plagued by these same out-of-the-blue reflections. Ridding herself of the fanciful thoughts shouldn’t be very difficult. Especially when she knew that no man would ever make her feel safe and protected.

“I’m in the habit of drinking some chamomile tea before bed,” she told him, relieved that her voice sounded much less quivery than she felt inside. “So I made myself a pot.”

His dark head bobbed slightly. “I hope you don’t mind. I helped myself.” He lifted the mug he held in his right hand. “May I join you?”

“Please.”

This politeness, this formality, made her feel too awkward for words.

“Look, Travis, I’m awfully sorry that I’ve been foisted on you like this. I know you see me as an intruder in your home. Especially when, I’m sure, all you’re thinking about is getting to know the boys, letting them get to know you and becoming a family so you can enjoy the Christmas holiday together.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just sipped his tea, peering at her over the rim of the mug. Finally one of his shoulders lifted a fraction. “This is what’s best for the boys.”

She couldn’t tell whether or not he believed what he said, but she was fascinated with those eyes of his. Even in the dim light of the porch, his gaze gleamed with some unnameable force, a humming energy she found mesmerizing.

The apology had been meant to somehow lessen the tenseness in the air. But all their small exchange seemed to accomplish was to make the oxygen denser, harder to breathe. She wanted to say something, to somehow break this awful silence, but it was as if the ability to speak had suddenly been lost to her.

“So—”

Not ready for the sound of his satiny voice, Diana actually started.

“—was it true? The story you told the boys?”

Nodding, she answered, “Yes, the events I relayed to the boys really happened. Generations ago. Of course, I didn’t go into too much detail. Jared and Josh are young. The simple version of the story is good enough for the time being.”

“The simple version?” he asked. “There’s more?”

“Oh, yes. Much more.” She shifted in the seat. “Half Moon didn’t come to the decision to negotiate with the Europeans easily. The Kolheek are proud and stubborn people. He fought first.”

“As well he should,” Travis said. “The land he lived on belonged to him.”

Diana slowly shook her head in modest dissent. “No one can really own the earth. But the right to hunt and live on the land was ours.” She paused. “Well,” she lightly amended with a tiny smile, “Half Moon believed the right belonged to The People.”

Travis nodded, a new understanding—or was that interest?—lighting his eyes.

“Many men from the tribe, young and old, lost their lives in battle,” she said, “before Half Moon decided to bargain with the Europeans. The wars went on for years. They were bloody. And relentless. It was an awful time in our history.”

He sat with his feet planted apart, both hands grasping the mug of tea, his elbows resting on his knees. He was utterly silent, his gaze focused. And he was staring directly at her mouth.

Anxiety churned in her stomach at the realization. Was he hearing a word she said? It seemed as if he were in some sort of trance.

Ever so slowly, his tongue roved across his bottom lip. The action appeared utterly subliminal. As if he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. She didn’t sense he was trying to flirt with her, but she did recognize that her worst fears were true. When she’d thought he might be feeling something for her, it hadn’t just been her imagination. He was attracted to her. She was sure of that now.

Panic sent her thoughts into total commotion. She should tell him this instant that she wasn’t interested in any kind of association with him other than the purpose for her being here. Jared and Josh.

Just be honest with the man. Her grandmother’s wise words echoed through her mind.

Diana opened her mouth to speak, but then the most extraordinary thing happened. Travis sat up straight. He looked out the window into the cold, snow-coated night. His chest rose and fell with a heaving, seemingly steeling breath. And when he directed his gaze at her again, there was not a single nuance of fascination or temptation or intimate interest expressed in his eyes. It was as if he’d extinguished his feelings like they were a candle flame that could easily be snuffed between a moistened index finger and thumb.

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