by Linda Ladd
“It won't hurt you, Starfire,” he explained, trying hard not to smile. “It can't move, it just tells you the time.”
Starfire was not convinced, watching the pendulum skeptically.
“But it did move, Tracker! It still moves! And it spoke loudly.”
He laughed again, and she stared into his eyes, twinkling in amusement, then moved away, hurt by his light treatment of her fears.
At once regretful, he drew her back into his arms, feeling a prickle of shame. He must watch himself and be more sensitive to her feelings, or he might lose her.
“I'm sorry, Starfire, I didn't mean to laugh at you.”
Pacified and feeling warm and safe in his strong arms, she snuggled close, completely unaware of the wide grin that still split Tracker's face above her head. A moment passed while he feathered soft kisses along her temple, lips still curved in indulgent amusement, until Starfire sat up, distrustfully pointing at the tall timepiece.
“If it doesn't live, why is it moving?”
“It moves because...” He was suddenly at a loss of words. How could he explain the intricate mechanism of a clock to a girl like Starfire? He floundered momentarily, before he finished vaguely, “It has to move to keep the correct time.”
“But why?”
“So white men will know exactly what time of day it is.” Her delicately arched eyebrows formed a thoughtful V as she considered his words.
“Why can he not look into the sky at the sun, like my people?” she asked seriously.
He looked down at her tenderly, knowing that she would never understand why white men lived by regulated time, not after the free and easy existence of the Cheyenne.
“Ah, Starfire, it really isn't that important. Some men just act as if it is.”
She looked dubious, and he spoke, wanting to ease the furrow of confusion on her smooth brow.
“Enough about the clock, Starfire. How do you like my house?”
Her eyes scanned the room, not sure what she thought about it.
“I do not know. It is strange and hard to understand.”
At the apprehension in her voice, Tracker squeezed her small hand. “It will be better in time. When you get used to everything, it will be easier to understand. I'll teach you myself.”
He spoke earnestly, with warmth in his blue eyes; and Starfire shrugged off her fears, endowing him with a brilliant smile that took his breath away. He stared at her fragile beauty in wonder, smiling at her, as he leaned close to her, murmuring softly against her lips.
“And I'll begin now, my sweet, by teaching you the most enjoyable use of the white man's bed.”
He pressed her gently backward into the silken pillows, but Starfire smiled wickedly to herself, deciding she would teach Tracker a lesson for laughing at her fears.
“No,” she said, pulling away and crouching at his side. “You will suffer for laughing at me.”
Logan frowned slightly, surprised Starfire would deny him. It had never happened before; she was usually as eager as he for their lovemaking. He looked at her sensuous smile, at her violet eyes, half veiled by long black lashes, and the totally seductive look in them sent his heart into a faster cadence. He lay back and smiled as Starfire swung one slim leg over him, taking his wrists in her hands as she held them on either side of his head.
“You are at my mercy now,” she said softly, leaning forward until the softness of her breasts brushed teasingly against his furred chest. She smiled, rubbing silky skin slowly over him, tingling his nerves and Logan gasped as her lips began a fiery descent at the middle of his chest.
Starfire savored the role of seductress as she tightened her naked thighs against his sides. Her own body was warm and ready, but she continued to kiss him, enjoying the taste of his heated skin. Logan groaned, his blood beginning to pulsate.
“Enough,” he muttered thickly, and Starfire's laugh was low and throaty as he broke her hold and captured her wrists, imprisoning them behind her back. He rose to his knees, and Starfire stared into his eyes, her soft breasts touching the molded steel of his chest. He raised her slowly, until their lips nearly touched.
“Now you are at my mercy,” he breathed in her ear. “What should I do with such a lovely captive?”
“I am yours, my Tracker,” she murmured. “Do anything you wish with me.”
Her violet eyes glowed with undisguised love, and something in the way she'd said her words made Tracker swallow hard. He released his grip, and Starfire slid soft arms around his neck. Their lips sought each other, warm, hungry, loving, as Logan crushed her slight weight against his chest, then rolled with her upon the silken coverlet, all thoughts gone in their eagerness to give all their hearts, all their souls to the spiraling pleasure of their love.
Eight
Much later, Tracker led Starfire into the dining room, standing back to view her reaction. She walked along the polished table, then gazed up in awed wonder at the intricate crystal chandelier, until Parker pushed through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.
“Good morning, sir. Miss.”
Starfire looked startled, then darted a questioning look up at Tracker. He put his palm beneath her elbow reassuringly and led her to the table.
“Starfire, this is my butler, Mr. Parker. Parker, allow me to present my guest, Starfire.”
“I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Starfire.” Parker tried not to reveal his shock at her sole garment, a huge, soiled gentlemen's shirt. His eyes were a wee bit sympathetic, but friendly, and Starfire caught his honest warmth, rewarding him with a dazzling smile.
Quite disarmed by the tiny girl's loveliness, Parker pulled out a chair for her, mentally chastising his young master for allowing the beautiful child to wear such rags.
Starfire looked blankly at the chair being held for her, then to Tracker for help.
“Sit down, Starfire,” he instructed, and as Parker gallantly pushed her close to the table, Tracker suppressed a grin at her startled expression.
“Parker, I'd like a word with you. I'll be right back, sweet.”
They left her gazing eagerly around the room, and Tracker paused in the hall and spoke in a low voice.
“We'll be here about three weeks, Parker, but it would be better if no one knows we're in town. I hope you and Mrs. Parker will be discreet about our presence.”
Parker nodded solemnly.
“And another thing. I'd like Mrs. Parker to prepare both of us a bath while we're dining. We've been on the trail for days.”
“Yes sir.”
Parker stood waiting, and Tracker hesitated, then answered the unasked questions hovering on Parker's face.
“She's lived with the Cheyenne since she was three.
Everything is new and strange to her, and I would appreciate it if you and your wife would help her adjust in any way you can.”
“Yes sir, we'd be delighted. She's such a lovely little lass.”
Tracker grinned, agreeing wholeheartedly, then paused at the door. “And Parker...” He grinned sheepishly. “Make that a bubblebath for her, if you will.”
Before Parker could respond, Tracker left him and entered the dining room. Starfire held a silver fork close before her eyes, turning it over as she examined it in detail.
Tracker smiled at her absorption.
“That's a fork, my sweet. You eat with it.” It seemed ridiculous to her. Why would one need such a thing? With five fingers on each hand it seemed so useless.
“Why?”
Patiently, Tracker tried to explain. “White people do not eat with their fingers. It's not good manners.”
“What are manners?”
Tracker took a deep breath, realizing Starfire's education would take a very long time. There were such gaps in her experience that only time would fill. He was phrasing an explanation of the fork when Mrs. Parker backed through the doorway, carrying a silver tray loaded with dishes.
“Hello, sir, it's good to have you home again! You and your little guest.”
She smiled engagingly at Starfire, who took in her benevolent face with instant liking. Agatha Parker was a tiny woman with a stocky, maternal build and snow-white hair pulled severely into a bun at her nape. Her wire-rimmed spectacles were perched upon a small pug nose, and the lively blue eyes behind them took in every detail of Starfire's appearance.
“And what a lovely child you be, dearie. I do hope you like eggs and biscuits.”
Starfire returned her bright smile, wondering what eggs and biscuits could be. Tracker leaned back, his smiling blue eyes on Starfire's face, as she watched Mrs. Parker's every movement while she served them bountiful portions of her excellent cooking.
Mrs. Parker bustled out, and Starfire listened carefully as Tracker told her the name of each dish. She stared skeptically at the mounds of strange, yellow food, reluctant to put any in her mouth Tracker grinned at her hesitation.
“It's very good, Starfire. Look, this is how you use a fork,” he urged.
He showed her how to use it, taking several bites of scrambled eggs.
“See, it's not hard.”
She watched him closely, then carefully dipped up a bite of the eggs, watching in surprise as they slid from the fork, landing with a wet plop in her lap. Tracker threw back his head and laughed at her frown.
“It takes some practice. Why don't you try the spoon? It's easier.”
Starfire took the spoon he held out to her and tried again, this time managing to deposit a morsel into her mouth. Her expression of concentration changed to pleasure, and glowing eyes found his.
“It is good,” she exclaimed with her mouth still full, scooping more into her spoon.
The meal was a success, with Starfire exclaiming with delight over each new taste, but adamantly refusing to touch the strong black coffee.
“It is bitter. I cannot drink it.”
Tracker poured her a cup of hot chocolate and was rewarded as her violet eyes closed in ecstasy.
“It is wonderful, Tracker.” She drank more, and one corner of Tracker's mouth lifted at the brown mustache it left under her dainty nose. “I have never had anything like it.”
“It has sugar in it, Starfire. That's what makes it taste so good,” he explained.
Things were turning out even better than he'd expected. Even at this early stage, she was adjusting well, seeming to welcome and enjoy each new experience. It would just take time, as much as she needed, which was something Tracker was more than willing to give her.
After three more cups of chocolate, Tracker led her back upstairs. At one side of the bedroom there was a draped bathing alcove, and he drew back the curtain for Starfire. She gazed down at the huge hip bath, bewildered by the curious white foam that bubbled up over the edge.
“This is a bathtub, sweet, and I think you're going to find it quite enjoyable.”
He scooped up a handful of the scented foam and held it under her nose.
“It's like flowers,” she said happily.
“You get in it to bathe. Here, let me help you.”
Starfire stood docilely, smiling up at him, as he undid her buttons, then pushed the shirt away, letting it fall around her feet. His eyes roamed at will over her slim, high-breasted body, and she met his eyes without embarrassment, her exquisite eyes soft with love. His breath quickened, and he put one arm around her small waist, lifting her against his chest, their lips meeting hungrily.
She twined her arms around his neck, and his lips went to the side of her throat.
“Woman, I'll never get anything done with you in this house,” he whispered hoarsely, before he swung her into his arms and lowered her into the bath.
Starfire gasped, then sank to her shoulders in the warm bubbles, losing herself to the lovely, relaxed feeling. She leaned her head against the padded back, emitting a long sigh of pleasure.
Tracker sat back in a chair, captivated by the sight of the satiny flesh of her breasts where they broke the surface of the water in provocative mounds. Starfire opened contented eyes, and happiness forged the purple depths into sparkling amethysts.
“This is very wonderful, Tracker. I think I shall like your house very much.”
Every hardship he'd faced since his first meeting with Alfred Huddleston was made worthwhile by the loving expression upon her beautiful face. He bent and grazed her lips, unable to resist tracing one fingertip over the wet flesh to touch the soft pink crest that was only partially hidden by the bubbles. It sprang to life under his gentle caress, and he leaned close. Starfire's hands went around his neck immediately, and she lifted herself up against him. Tracker was pleased at her quick passion, kissing her lightly as he stood.
“You're a temptress. I'm already fighting the urge to get in there with you.”
She smiled, and he gave her one last lingering look, then left her alone to enjoy the newfound delights of bathing.
Starfire leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and thought. The white man's bath was wonderful, the water so warm and fragrant. At home, she had bathed in cold river water in the summers, and in melted snow during the long, hard winter. Tracker had told her the truth. The white man's life was most wondrous. Everything was so soft and clean and easy. Never had she eaten food that Raging Buffalo had not killed in a hunt, but Tracker's food was brought to him on shiny trays. She sighed, her initial fear of Tracker almost forgotten, eagerly anticipating the next remarkable surprise that Tracker would show to her.
Downstairs, Tracker entered the kitchen in time to catch the end of the Parker's conversation about Starfire.
“Such a wee little girl, Jamie, but a lovely one, she is. I do hope he will treat her better than his other women.”
Before, her husband could answer her, Tracker spoke from the door. “I have no intention of mistreating Starfire, Mrs. Parker. I am not the monster you seem to think.”
Mrs. Parker gasped in dismay, then, seeing the glint of amusement in his eyes, she scolded him affectionately with the familiarity of an old and trusted friend.
“I declare you move about like a savage, and I don't care, the little one upstairs is an innocent. I just know she is. She shouldn't be hurt any more. Growing up with the Indians was horrible enough,” she clucked.
“You can rest easy on that account, Mrs. Parker. Hurting her is the last thing I'd ever do.” She smiled, and he went on, “But now I'd like you to do something for me, if you will.”
Mrs. Parker untied her apron, reaching for the serviceable black bonnet hanging on a brass hook by the door.
“Glad to, sir. What you be needing?”
“Starfire needs some clothes.” Tracker hid a smile at their quick nods of agreement. “Spare no expense and get her everything she'll need. Can you estimate her size?”
“Yes sir. She's as little as a minute, she is.”
“Good.” He spun on his heel, then turned and tossed over his shoulder, “Oh, and, uh, Parker, you might as well go with her. I won't be needing you for a while.”
Tracker watched the door close after them, knowing he could trust his two loyal friends. He grinned suddenly, and with a hoot, headed upstairs, fully intending to join Starfire in the sudsy bath.
Starfire sat in the deep tub, luxuriating in the perfumed water, entirely relaxed. She curved her lips slightly at Tracker as he entered the room, and he dragged a chair to a spot near the tub, where he could feast his eyes on the tiny droplets of water glistening on her smooth, golden skin. He turned it around and straddled it, bracing his arms on the back, his gaze intent on the loveliness before him.
“Do you know how very beautiful you are, Starfire?”
She met his eyes, answering without guile.
“I've never seen myself, except in the river water, but Lone Wolf told me many times that I pleased him greatly.”
She swiveled to retrieve the cloth in the water, missing the sudden tension to Tracker's square jaw. She turned to face him then, and continued speaking, unaware that her innocent words had cut deep.
“I do not
like my white hair, though. I wish it were as black as midnight, as Tree Winds’ is.”
Tracker tried to ignore the hard coil of jealousy hardening inside his chest, but when Starfire stared sadly at the surface of the water and whispered, “I miss them all,” Tracker stiffened.
His blond brows met in a massive frown, and Starfire looked up quickly when he rose in one swift, angry movement and glared down at her.
“I have sent for clothes for you,” he said coldly. “I'll see you after you're dressed.”
Starfire watched him leave, perplexed at his sudden, unprovoked anger, then shrugged, and sank deeper into the lovely warm water.
Tracker strode to his library, grabbed a bottle of brandy, and took it to the guestroom where his own tub had been prepared. He took a long draft straight from the bottle, then tossed off his fringed deerskin shirt and leggings and eased into the warm water, thinking jealously of the tall, lean Cheyenne that Starfire had wanted to marry.
Grimacing, he took another deep swallow, then rested his head against the rim and closed his eyes. He was surprised by his reaction. He'd never before experienced the rush of emotion which filled him. He'd always scorned men who let a woman rule their actions, but even the thought of Starfire with another man brought a tide of fury expanding against his chest. He tried to calm himself, knowing full well that she had done nothing to warrant his burst of ire. She'd mentioned a name and he'd overreacted to it. He would have to work to control his possessiveness, he decided with a self-mocking smile. After all, Starfire had been a virgin when he'd first made love to her, and no man had touched her since. Or ever would, he vowed. Lone Wolf had not been intimate with her, and if she'd wanted to return to him, she'd had the chance at the river. But if mere thoughts could provoke such anger in him, what would the actual attention of another man do to him? The thought was unsettling, and he thrust it out of his mind, thinking instead how good her skin would smell when he pulled her into his arms.
He was still thinking about it when he lathered his face, eager to shave off the long winter's growth of beard. It was the first bath he'd had in months, and he felt invigorated as he put on the unaccustomed white man's clothes. The white silk shirt and tan breeches felt very strange after months in buckskins, making him wonder how Starfire would like her new clothes. Something told him her response would be negative, but he could already envision her in clothes complementing her great beauty.
