Excerpt of White Dusk by Susan Edwards

If you overheard the conversation I had with my brother, then you know I believe our joining must be. Do you not also believe that?" He heard genuine puzzlement in her voice.

"No." A twinge in his gut accompanied the harshness of his voice. He heard her swift, sharp intake of air at his brutal honesty. Guilt rapped him smartly on the shoulder. It did no good to voice his true feelings on the matter of this marriage. But it was too late, had been before he'd even met Emily. His life had been set on its course the minute his uncle had decided to groom him to be the next chief.

Small Bird walked around to face him. "How can you not believe that our lives are meant to be joined as one? Our futures were decided the day you saved my life."

Wishing he hadn't stopped to talk to Small Bird, Swift Foot smiled without humor. "I have saved the lives of many. Should I take to wife every female I've helped?" If only it worked like that. Save a life. Marry. He thought of Emily, of how he'd saved her and lost his heart in the sweetness of her smile and the braveness of her spirit. But a future had not been possible between them.

Staring over Small Bird's shoulder so he didn't have to see the hurt in her eyes, he saw only a bleak, empty future. He felt hollow inside and could not see how his shared past with Small Bird meant that their future was tied together. If life was that simple, he'd never have fallen in love with another woman—especially a white one.

Small Bird swung her hands behind her back. Her chin went up, and her eyes flashed. "Was not the day you saved my life the one that led to your becoming the great warrior you are now? Or have you forgotten that day?"

Swift Foot lifted a brow. Forget the day he'd become a warrior? The fear that had lodged in his throat when he'd seen the enemy riding down a small, innocent child? Never. That day had set him upon his path to becoming everything he was: a man who'd somehow restore honor to his tribe, a man who'd never allow the enemy to kill another helpless member of his people. He kept at bay the terror and grief that day had produced.

His voice hardened. "I have not forgotten."

"Neither have I," Small Bird replied, hands on her hips. "You linked our lives when you acted with the courage of a warrior. It is right that we marry and join together to find a way to end this war between the

Hunkpapa and Miniconjou. If you do not believe this to be so, then you are not so wise as I had hoped." She hugged her arms to her chest and turned her back on him.

He'd hurt her, something he'd not intended. Now he realized he'd been looking to pick a fight when he'd approached her, maybe to learn she truly didn't want the marriage. Swift Foot opened his mouth to apologize, but the gentle sway of her long, blue-black hair, and the way it brushed against the rounded curve of her buttocks, stopped him.

Small Bird was a petite woman with narrow shoulders and a tiny waist. With her back to him, her shoulders drawn in, she looked fragile. He couldn't help but compare her to Emily—who hadn't been much taller but was more generous in the curves of her body.

The two women were very different. One was of the gentlest dawn, the other the darkness of night. One held the rich brown of the earth in her eyes, the other the clear blue of the sky. Small Bird's hair was of blackest night, while Emily's was moon and stars. One had loved him and been willing to give up all she knew for him; this other, by her own admission, felt bound by duty. Duty that bound him to her as well.

The difference between him and Small Bird was that she accepted that duty.

Clenching his jaw, Swift Foot slid his fingers up his arm and over the band of rabbit fur circling his biceps. Then his fingers trailed down to his bare chest where a rabbit's foot, dyed red, hung from a narrow strip of leather. Next they went to the narrow pouch that hung below. He gripped it tightly between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the thin strand of braided hair inside. He didn't need to take it out. All he had to do was look up into the sun to know its color. To be reminded of Emily.

"You are troubled."

Small Bird's soft voice jerked him out of his reverie. She stared up at him, a frown on her face. Then she cocked her head to the side. "No. You are sad."

Her pronouncement hung between them. Longing to lash out, to destroy the truth of her words, he took a step back, angry with himself for allowing her to see more than he'd intended. He fought the urge to run. Far and fast. Away. Anywhere that he would not have to look upon this woman who'd soon be a daily reminder of the woman he'd lost, this woman who'd soon be his wife.

His wife.

The words sent bitterness raging through him. Once he'd viewed his upcoming marriage as a duty—nothing more, nothing less. He'd seen it as no different from any other responsibility expected of him. All his life he'd put his people first, sacrificed whatever they asked of him. Without complaint. Without resentment.

Until now. His time with the young white girl had changed everything—yet nothing had changed.

When he didn't respond to her question, Small Bird walked away. Another layer of guilt slid across his shoulders. She didn't deserve his anger. It wasn't her fault he'd changed since sealing their marriage contract.