Percy and Dale bowed low to Pocahontas, but John Smith quickly crossed the room, went down one knee before her, and kissed her hand. He will feel how cold it is, she thought. That was all she could think of. His fingers were warm in her palm, his beard prickly against the back of her hand.
Slowly he raised his eyes to hers and said, “Welcome to England, Princerss Pocahontas.”
Pocahontas caught her breath and turned her head away. At the sound of his voice on the syllables of her name, she felt as if he had walked up to her and suddenly fondled her breasts. Blushing, she could feel her cheeks growing as hot as her hands had been cold. She could not speak with him here, before these other men.
“I am very glad to see you,” he said loudly, but I have business to talk before I can take pleasure in your company.” The slight pressure of his hand on hers told her that he had understood. “Do me the honor of waiting here.”
Somehow he persuaded the others to leave, on the pretext of inspecting Sir Henry’s garden. People generally did what John Smith told them to, Pocahontas thought. It was a long time before he came back.
--more from JAMESTOWN: THE NOVEL, to be continued.