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cling to a vine.
    There was no longer a barrier between his body and hers. If she did not pull away soon he would slide her legs about his waist and she would be lost. She must pull back first, she screamed silently in an attempt to gain control of her warring passions.
    He broke the kiss and pulled back to look into her eyes. She gazed into their blue depths and for a moment felt a comfort she had never experienced before. The spell was broken with his next words, "Now is not the time to make you mine, little purring kitten."
    The reality of what almost happened, what could have happened slammed into her. For a moment she was lost in a swirling mix of emotion, regret, surprise, and finally anger. Her body was still too attuned to his as he held her hips pressed tightly against him. She fought without success to quail the quivering in her own body that called out to his in a way that made her doubt her own control.
    In near panic she raked her nails downward from his shoulder and across his bare chest. Finding herself suddenly free from the support of his body she stumbled. Her eyes never left his as she steadied herself.
    How could he just stand there with that grin on his face? His eyes actually twinkled with laughter as they devoured her hair, her eyes, and her lips while what she wanted—what her body cried out for—was for him to take her.
    An exaggerated huff escaped her lips while she raised her chin and smoothed her dress down to cover her exposed hips. With as much Cherokee pride as she could muster she turned and made her way to the narrow pass.
    ***
    James tilted his head to one side as he watched the retreating hips swish angrily from side to side. Then, with a quick glare over her shoulder, she was gone.
    The woman must be crazy to step out and face a cat with no weapon! Yet he couldn't help but be impressed by her calm bravery. He was surprised by his own actions. He'd shook with relief that the cat had not turned on her, yet was burned with fury because she took such a risk. But she is alive , he told himself . Alive...and brave and beautiful beyond any other woman. God, but she is magnificent.
    He looked down at the four long, red welts stretching across his left breast. Several drops of blood oozed slowly to the surface. "So much for not making the same mistake twice," he mumbled as he touched a finger to one small, ruby-red drop of blood. He rubbed the crimson drop between thumb and finger.
    "So your claws are as sharp as your tongue, my little Wa-sa." Laughing loudly he called out, "Did you know that you have stolen my heart away, Little Wa-sa?"
    She probably couldn't hear him. It didn't matter. He'd tasted her passion and he would have more. For all her show of spit and vinegar she had responded to him. The only thing left was to win her respect, something that was sure to be a challenge.
    Never had he considered proving himself to a woman. He'd never had to. Yet, he wanted to prove himself to this one, this Cherokee princess who thought him a NoThing . He wanted to capture her strength and turn her fire into passion, but he wanted more than that. His pride demanded more. He would have her respect!
    That settled in his mind he let out a happy whoo-whoop and dashed back to the water.
    ***
    New Moon leaned against the boulder just out of sight. Her legs trembled so badly she could not take another step. Are you the one? She asked him silently.
    She remembered her vision. It was a vision of a great and strange cat, one she knew did not live in her land. She knew this cat to be the totem of the one to come.
    The great muscular beast in her vision had a wide tuft of hair circling his neck. His eyes were a calm, gentle shade of blue, but like this white man's eyes, they had flashed with the warmth of the summer sky when he turned his head and locked his vision to hers.
    Her heart skipped a beat as his laughter reached her ears. Would he follow her and find her leaning weak as a kitten against the rock? She