Night Thunder's Bride: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 3 (22 page)

She blushed fiercely at her thoughts, but still she had to ask, since she had come this far, “Would you turn around, please?”

He did so.

She froze, her eyes opening wide. How had this man fit within her?

Yet he had. She remembered it quite vividly.

Lust, pure and carnal, began to smolder within her as her gaze traveled all up and down him. And unaware of what she did, she held her breath.

His body, naturally darker than hers, boasted a healthy tan except for those places his breechcloth usually hid. Very few hairs marred his perfection, except, of course,
there,
where nature had intended an inherent bushy protection to be.

She strained forward, and to her chagrin, she realized she had begun to think of this man more and more, every day, as not only her protector but her husband. She might not like it, but there it was.

Why, she asked herself, did she not relax? Since he insisted on calling her wife, why did she not do as he had once suggested and agree to take him as husband, so long as she remained in the Indian encampment? With the view in mind to denounce him later, upon returning to the fort?

She cut a glance skyward and sighed. Because, she answered her own question, it was dishonest. That was why.

But my, to see him now…Her gaze riveted back to him.

He said, his look at her tolerant, “Come out now and give me the kiss that you promised me.” He stared down at his rigid form for a moment. “Now that you have brought me to life.” When he stared back up at her, humor tinged his eyes.

She, in turn, could only gawk at him. She couldn’t help it. Excitement, exhilaration, and soul-stirring urgency shot through her. Energy, sparking and flaring between them, blazed as though it were a wildfire. She tried to speak, but it became impossible when her stomach turned over, doing flip-flops. Still, she had to try.

She cleared her throat. As well as she was able, she said, “If it’s a kiss you’ll be wanting, you’ll have to come in here and get—”

She never finished.

He forged into the water as if he had been awaiting such an invitation for years, or at least all morning.

He took her in his arms and she melted at first touch. The fresh scents of the cool water, mixed with the clean and tangy aroma of his skin, assailed her, confusing her. She felt her resolve weaken.

She wanted him. She had wanted him for several days now, and their being constantly thrown together, yet having to remain so distant, was doing nothing more than intensifying her pleasure. Was this why people married? she wondered. Because they couldn’t get enough of one another? Because they couldn’t stand being apart? Or was there some other reason?

Surely morals, point of view, and culture had something to do with it. Didn’t they?

Or did they? Wasn’t it more important that two people tried to get along with one another? Compromised? Granted one another the right to be the persons that they were?

His hands were massaging her, all up and down her back, and Rebecca could no longer think with raw emotion, urgent and frenzied, racing up and down her spine. Every nerve ending strained for the caress of his fingers.

His lips closed over hers at last.

Ah, enchantment.

One of his hands came up to run over her cheek, her eyes, her neck. He drew back his lips, only slightly, to say, “Once you asked me if I loved you and I did not answer.”

“I’m not asking you now,” she whispered, their lips raining tiny kisses upon one another as they spoke.

“But I am answering you now.”

She gulped. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted…

“Know now, Rebecca, sweet captive, I do love you…here.” He put her hand over his heart. “Know also that when we enter my village this day, I will have to make my way separate from yours many times. I will take up the habits of a warrior, you will go with the women. We will be often apart. Such is the custom of the village. But I would not take you there with you not knowing that if you decide to stay with me, my heart will be glad.”

A part of her rejoiced. A part of her despaired. She frowned. “And if I decide I must leave?”

“I will always value the time which we had together. I would never regret it.”

“But you would let me go?”

“From the first moment we have been together, it has been my duty to protect you. If you decide that the fort is the security that you desire, I will have to learn to accept it.”

“But you would not like it?”

“I would not like it.”

She shuddered.

“You are cold.”

“No, I…” How could she tell him she was keeping herself back from touching him? From feeling the texture of his skin, the hard flesh of his muscles? How could she say that to him?

“Come,” he invited, “it is warmer on the shore, and I—” It was his turn to draw in his breath, though his breathing was cut short.

Rebecca had begun to rub her hands up and down his chest, just as he had so often done to her.

He grabbed her hands. “Do you know what you do to me?”

She nervously wet her lips. “I think so, if it’s anything like what you do to me.”

“Know if you continue, where it will end?”

She could barely believe it was herself speaking, when she said, “And where would that be?”

The intonation in her voice had been pure invitation, she knew it, and Night Thunder was not one to abstain, she was soon to discover.

“Sweet captive,” he uttered, when her fingers came dangerously close to that area of his body so definitely male. “If you do not want to do this, then you must stop now.”

She didn’t utter a syllable, though the movement of her fingers, her hands, spoke far better for her than words could have.

He jerked his head to the left and she watched him shut his eyes as she continued her assault upon his chest. She knew she shouldn’t; she would feel terrible about herself later in the day, but she couldn’t help it. She loved this man, she wanted him. Why shouldn’t she enjoy the love they shared, just this once? Especially when their time together was soon to come to an end…

She would have something of him to take with her, even if it was only the memory of their lovemaking.

She reached one of her hands up to his neck, his cheek, his ear, caressing him as he had so often done to her. And she was rewarded for her efforts by the hiss of his breath as he tried to breathe in.

“Unlike you, my friend,” she said, so very softly, “I cannot see into the future, and I do not know what it might hold. But I fear that soon we will be pulled apart to travel our separate ways. But before I leave, before you take me back to the fort, I would have you know that…I would like to take the memory of your lovemaking with me. I would have you love me.”

He stared at her for so long, he might have been stunned. But at last he nodded. “So it will be,” he said.

“I must warn you, though, that if you take that other woman as wife to you while I am still within your village, I will leave you so quickly, and without your assistance, that you will not even remember that I had been there.”

He shook his head. “Always, I would remember you.”

She ran her hands over his back, down to his tight buttocks, and she placed her forehead against his chest as she said, “And I, too, will always remember you. No matter the future. Always, you will be in my heart.”

“Our future,” he said, bringing his lips down to her neck, nibbling there, while his fingers worked magic on her breasts, “will never be the same. It will be rough, I think, for us to remain together, but I believe we will be happy.”

“Is that what you see?”

He nodded. “That is what I see.”

“I am uncertain.” She closed her eyes, her head rocking back and forth on his chest. “I have so much I want from life, you see, and the Indian village—that way of life—isn’t what I had envisioned for me, and I—”

“Sh-h-h, let us not think about it now. Let us love one another. We may not have another chance once we are in camp.”

It was only then that she realized he was still aroused and ready for her. And looking at him, she felt herself becoming more and more excited.

“Before, when we made love,” he said, “I was as a man demented, seeking my own release. Now, let us take our time, let me truly love you, show you the pleasure that can be between a man and a woman.”

“It was not as though I wasn’t enjoying it that first time.”

He gave her an odd look and said, “It can be so much better. Come,” he led her to the shoreline. As though he knew every feature of this land, he took her to a softened green spot, a willow tree shading the place from anyone’s ready vision.

She couldn’t help one tiny protest, however, and she started, “But the others…”

“Will leave us alone. They will be a long time preparing themselves to enter the village. Do not worry.”

“But what if they decide to come and find us?”

“They will respect our need to be alone, I promise this to you. You are safe here.”

He lay her down then, and the soft grass immediately cushioned her backside, the grassy fragrance of it and the wildflowers adding to her already heightening senses.

“Night Thunder, I—”

“Sh-h-h. I am going to love you as I should have that first night.”

“But we have not really come to terms with whether or not we are married, and I would not want to—”

“We have been joined by the forces of nature. Sun wills it, I think.”

“But not my God.”

“Our gods are not so different, I think,” he said. “Though you may call Him something else than do my people. Spirits are everywhere, but there is but one Creator, I think. Let us not argue about this. You are free to believe as you wish. But know that you are my wife, in true. What you choose to do with that has yet to pass, but know that we are joined. There is nothing wrong in what we do.”

She shuddered.

And as his lips found hers, he eased himself beside her, although far from making her feel relaxed, his kiss roused her.

She wanted more.

One of his hands discovered her breasts all over again and she moaned. Still, it wasn’t enough. His lips followed the curve of her neck, downward, toward her swollen nipples, causing her to squirm beneath his mastery.

“You are beautiful,” he muttered.

“I am not,” she whispered, her voice husky.

“
Aa,
yes, you are,” he said. “I think I would know.”

He kissed her ears, then, her throat, her cheeks, her neck, and all the while his fingers massaged her softened mounds of flesh, urging her on toward a promised finale.

“Someday,” he said, his gaze centered upon her bosom, “these will be filled with life-giving milk for our babies.”

Babies? Aye, babies.

His statement should have had the same effect on her as that of a dash of cold water. Strangely, it did not. She would have hated to admit it, but the thought of having this man’s baby stimulated her beyond belief. Perhaps it was because despite her misgivings about him, about society’s right or wrong, she felt herself responding.

She put her hands on his chest, rubbing them up and down, and had the pleasure of hearing him groan.

“Do you like that?” she asked.

He gave her a nod. “
Hannia.
Very much.” He stilled her hands, though, after a while, and said, “But please, a little of that is enough, lest I disappoint myself and you.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, frowning.

He gave her a half-smile. “Always, I try to keep myself under control, but with you, I am much aroused. I do not want to be as a small boy and take my pleasure now. I would see that you have yours first.”

“I still don’t—”

“Someday you will. It is enough to know that I desire you very much.”

She smiled at him. “You do?”

“
Aa,
yes,” he said, “too much, perhaps.”

He proceeded, then, to shower her face, her neck, her bosom again with kisses. His lips found the tip of her breasts, suckling them before moving downward toward her navel, his tongue and lips creating havoc within her.

Onward, downward, he made a path; down to her silken patch of hair. He glanced up at her quickly. “Indian women do not have curls here,” he said.

“They don’t?”

He shook his head.

“And how would you know?” she asked.

“I would know.”

She ignored his response. “Have you stolen many a young girl’s heart?”

“I would not seduce a young girl.”

“Would you not? Then how did you come by your experience? Your fiancée, Blue Raven Woman?”

He shook his head. “She is a maiden.”

“Then how?”

He didn’t answer her right away. Instead, his fingers began rubbing that swollen, silken part of her body.

Slowly, seductively, he slipped a finger inside her femininity, and she thought she might die of the heady stimulation he created. Her stomach spun over several times and her fingers clutched at the grass beside her.