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Page 269
all raised in apparent glee. The mission Little Elk had described might have ended successfully.
Did that mean they'd head tomorrow for the Iroquois's long houses, wherever they might be?
Thorn's face intruded into her thoughts, his strong features, his hooded brown eyes as unfathomable as a river, his broad neckand the wonderful, muscular body that had loved hers so well, so briefly.
Would he blame himself for what had happened to her? No; he didn't need more guilt to heap upon all that already burdened him. Her misfortune had nothing to do with him.
If only she could tell him so.
If only she could tell him that, no matter what, she loved him.
A small sound of despair escaped her lips. One of the bare-chested Indians who held an animal skin looked toward her. She opened her mouth as though she were stifling a yawn.
"You guys going to cut me down so I can get some food and sleep?" she asked.
The Indian just looked at her blankly, but Nahtana emerged from the crowd. He smiled his cruel smile at her again, then showed her the knife he was carrying. She tried not to flinch as he brandished it in her face. Then he cut her bonds and drew her painfully to her feet.

This was it! His opportunity.
Thorn watched as Mariah stumbled, obviously stiff from being tied to the damned tree. He gritted his teeth as that bastard Nahtana grabbed her, not gently at all, and dragged her back to her feet. She cried out, but softly.
Mariah Walker was a brave thing. Her courage shot an arrow of remorse deep into his soul.
He should not have left the inn.
Knowing the Indians were attacking settlements, he should not have left her alone.
No matter that the soldiers were there. Little good they'd done.
Or that René and Holly were there. They had barely been able to take care of themselves.

 
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