“What?” He kissed her, his lips like fire against her skin. “Tell me what you want?”
“You. Just you.”
His hand slid up her side, the tips of his fingers brushing along the curve of her breast. Pleasure curled through her belly. So long, she thought, so long since she had felt his hands on her skin. “Mitchy…”
“Don’t look at me like that unless you mean it,” he warned.
She waged a silent war within herself…her desire battling with her innate sense of morality. She knew it was wrong to be intimate with Mitch before they were married. It had been wrong before; it would be wrong now. This time, she wanted everything between them to be right.
With a sigh, she drew back a little. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He traced the curve of her cheek with his forefinger. “I’ve waited this long. I can wait another day. Come on,” he said, taking her hand in his, “let’s walk.”
“Tell me about your mother,” Alisha said. “I thought she passed away when you were twelve or thirteen.”
Mitch grinned into the darkness. “That’s what I thought, too. My old man was a real piece of work. To keep me from running away, he told me she was dead. I should never have believed him. Con Garret never told the truth in his life.”
Alisha made a soft sound in her throat. The lie Mitch’s father had told him was no worse than the one her own father had perpetuated. “How are we going to find our son?”
“I’ll ask my mother tomorrow, see if she knows anything.” He shook his head. “Even if we find him, he might not want to come with us.”
She had thought of that herself, but it was worse, somehow, hearing him put it in words. She had clung to the fantasy that she would find her son and that all obstacles separating them would miraculously disappear.
“‘Lisha?”
“What?”
“You must have thought of that.”
“Yes, of course, but I refused to dwell on it. I told myself that he’d want to be with me. I’m his mother, but I’ve just been lying to myself, haven’t I?”
“Hey, you don’t know that. Maybe he’s unhappy where he is.”
“No!” She had thought of that, too, of course, imagined that whoever had taken him in mistreated him. She had wondered if he had decent clothes to wear, enough food to eat, if the people who had adopted him treated him kindly, if his mother tucked him into bed at night and told him stories. In the end, she’d had to believe he was happy and well cared for because to think otherwise was too painful to contemplate.
Mitch swore softly. “We’ll find him, ‘Lisha, I promise.”
“Oh, Mitchy,” she wailed. “Why did my father have to lie to me?”
“I don’t know, darlin’,” he said, drawing her into his arms once again.
“I just don’t understand how he could do such a horrible thing.”
Mitch took a deep breath. Feeling her need for reassurance, he said, “I’m sure he did what he thought was best for you,” and thought he’d choke on the words.
“Oh!” She twisted out of his embrace and began to pace back and forth. “I’m so tired of everyone saying that! How could it possibly have been the best thing for me to give my child away? How could he ever think it was right for my son, our son, to grow up without his mother? How could that be right?”
“I don’t know, but I know your old man loved you. He was probably just trying to spare you the shame of raising an illegitimate baby.” Mitch took a deep breath, realizing, for the first time, just what Alisha must have gone through, all because of him. She had been the preacher’s daughter. If people had learned she was carrying the bastard child of a half-breed, they would have proclaimed her a fallen woman and shunned her company. She would never have been allowed to teach, never been able to hold her head up in the town again. He suddenly realized that, had he been in her father’s place, he would likely have done the same thing to spare his daughter the shame she would have endured.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Dammit, ‘Lisha, I would have been here for you if I’d known.”
She stopping pacing and took a deep, calming breath. “I know. I’m not blaming you.”
“Well, maybe you should. Dammit, I never should have left you.”
She looked up at him, smiling through her tears. “No, you shouldn’t have, but it’s all water under the bridge now,” she said, sniffing. “You promised you would never leave me again, and this time I’m holding you to it.”
“And you promised you’d marry me,” he said quietly.
“I know. Can we really get married tomorrow?”
“Anxious, are you?”
“Yes. Does that surprise you?”
Mitch shook his head. “No. You always were an impulsive girl. Why, I remember the first time I kissed you, I thought you were going to eat me up, you were so hungry for more.”
“Oh!” Eyes flashing, she punched him on the arm. “I was not!”
Mitch laughed as he reached out and pulled her up against him. He gazed down at her a minute, and then he kissed her.
Every thought fled Alisha’s mind as his mouth covered hers. Warmth and a sense of security washed over her, and with it the deep inner knowledge that this was right, this was where she was meant to be.
She kissed him back, her tongue dancing with his, her heart pounding with joy. She was in Mitchy’s arms, and she felt young again, free again. Somehow, everything would work out.
“‘Lisha, I want to feel you open for me… move with me…I want to taste you…” He groaned low in his throat. “Feel your heat surround me.”
His words caused an ache deep in the core of her being, and she pressed against him, wanting to be closer. A soft moan escaped her lips as his arms tightened around her. She could feel his desire in his kiss, in the tension in his body, the tremor in his arms. Whatever else was wrong in the world, this had always been right between them.
“‘Lisha.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Dammit, girl, if you keep kissing me like that, I’m not gonna be able to wait until tomorrow.”
Happiness welled up inside her and poured forth in a wave of merry laughter.
“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled.
“No, I’m just happy.”
She was beautiful when she was happy, with her brown eyes sparkling and her lips slightly parted. She seemed to glow with a radiant inner fire and he knew he’d consider himself a lucky man if he could spend the rest of his life warming himself in her light.
“Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand. “I think we’d better go find a crowd before one of us gets in trouble.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The whole encampment had turned out for the victory dance. Mitch was surprised to see Elk Chaser up and about. He mentioned it to his mother, who just shook her head.
“I told him he should rest,” she said in a resigned voice, “but he insisted on being here.”
Mitch sat beside Elk Chaser, not certain what to expect.
An air of excitement and anticipation hung in the air. A fire burned in the center of the crowd, the low beat of the drum seemed to speak to him, telling him of victories long past, of brave warriors whose blood nourished the earth. The drum. Its voice was like that of the Thunder people, speaking to his heart and soul, awakening memories of his childhood, of the things his mother had taught him of the People, of their history and beliefs.
He watched the warriors dancing around the fire, acting out the battle near the cave. When they finished their part of the battle, Fights the Wind began to dance. Clad in clout and moccasins and carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows, he showed how he had fought the Comanche and been wounded. In an amazing sequence, he showed how the son of White Robe had saved his life. And then, to Mitch’s surprise, the warrior walked toward him and offered him the bow and a quiver of arrows.
Mitch nodded as he took the gift, realizing, in that moment, that Fights the Wind had done him a great honor.
The last dance was a dance of thanksgiving to Usen for granting the Apache a victory over their enemies.
When the dancing was over, Elk Chaser and Rides the Buffalo returned to their lodge.
After bidding the two of them good night, Mitch took his mother aside. “I need your help.”
“What do you need, ciye?”
“Alisha and I want to be married tomorrow. Can you arrange it?”
“So soon!” White Robe exclaimed. “And you told me you had no woman. Hah!”
“Ma…”
She looked up at him and laughed. “I will see to it.” She looked over to where Alisha was standing. “She is lovely, Otter. You have made a wise choice.”
“I think so.”
“I remember you spoke of her many times when you were a boy. I had often wished that you would bring her home to meet me.”
“I wanted to, but I was always afraid he might be there, and I was ashamed of him.”
White Robe nodded. “I hope you and Alisha will find the happiness that Elk Chaser and I have found.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
She smiled at him. “Go, now, and be with your woman. I will take care of everything.”
Bending, Mitch pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek, his heart pounding with anticipation. Tomorrow, Alisha would be his.
* * * * *
Mitch stood beside Alisha. It had been a long day. Weddings among the Apache were not elaborate affairs and he had hoped to marry Alisha first thing in the morning. He was anxious to make her his bride, anxious to hold her in his arms again. Anxious to make her his in every sense of the word. He had said as much that morning, and his mother had replied that Rides the Buffalo wanted to go hunting.
“Hunting!” he had replied. “Ma, haven’t you been listening? Alisha and I want to get married. Now. Today.”
“I hear you, ciye. Take your brother hunting. Come back this afternoon, late.”
He had started to protest, but she held up her hand. “Go.”
So he had taken Rides the Buffalo hunting, but all the while he had been thinking about Alisha, remembering how good she felt in his arms, the eagerness with which she kissed him.
When they returned to White Robe’s lodge late that afternoon, they had found Red Clements and Elk Chaser sitting outside, sharing a pipe in the shade.
When Rides the Buffalo started to go inside, Elk Chaser grabbed him by the arm, and shook his head. “The men have been banished from the lodge.”
“Why?”
Elk Chaser shook his head. “Only women are allowed in there today. If you are hungry, go see Yellow Flower.”
Rides the Buffalo looked up at Mitch, shrugged, and ran off toward Yellow Flower’s lodge.
Mitch hunkered down in the shade beside Clements. “What’s going on?”
“Why, I hear you’re gettin’ hitched, boy. Big doin’s goin’ on in there. Women been comin’ and goin’ all day.”
“Is that right?”
Clements nodded. “They been sewin’ and cookin’ up a storm in there.” He slapped his hand against his thigh. “Gonna be quite a shindig, from the looks of things.”
That had been an hour ago. Now, freshly bathed and clad in a new set of buckskins, he stood beside Alisha. Just looking at her took his breath away. She wore a doeskin tunic that had been bleached white, then decorated with delicate blue glass beads and tiny silver bells. Her long wavy hair fell loose down her back save for two tiny braids that framed her face. She wore a pair of new moccasins.
It looked like the whole camp had turned out to watch the ceremony.
Mitch took a deep breath as the shaman took his place.
“These two have pledged their hearts to each other,” he said. His voice, though low, carried to all those gathered around. “There are no words strong enough to bind a man to a woman, or a woman to a man. With us, the joining of a man and a woman takes place here, in the heart.”
The shaman took their hands and joined them together. “Now you will feel no rain, for each will be a shelter to the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each will be warmth to the other. Now you will feel no loneliness, for each will be a friend to the other. You are now two people but there is one life before you. Go now to your dwelling place and enter into your togetherness. And may your days be good and long on this earth.”
Slowly, Mitch drew Alisha into his arms and kissed her, sealing the shaman’s words upon her heart and soul.
When he released her, he saw his mother beaming at him. Tears glistened in her dark eyes as she came forward to hug him.
“We have prepared a lodge for you near the east bend of the river. Horses await to take you there. You will find wood for a fire, and food to last for three days. Enjoy this, your special time together.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
“Be happy, ciye.” White Robe embraced her new daughter-in-law. “Good wishes, my daughter.”
“Thank you,” Alisha said, pleased that Mitch’s mother had so readily accepted her into the family.
Elk Chaser and Red Clements also came forward to offer their congratulations, as did Fights the Wind, who offered Mitch a buffalo robe and a pipe made of white birch.
Rides the Buffalo tugged on Alisha’s skirt. “You are my sister now, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she said. “I guess I am.”
Rides the Buffalo smiled. “I always wanted a sister,” he confided in a low voice, “but don’t tell Little Fox. He would make fun of me if he knew. He does not like girls.”
“I won’t tell,” Alisha promised solemnly.
“Maybe you and my brother will have a baby soon,” Rides the Buffalo said candidly.
Alisha looked up at Mitch and smiled. “Maybe.”
“I’ll do my best,” Mitch said.
“Go now,” White Robe said. “Enjoy these days together. Make good memories.”
Mitch hugged his mother and then, eager to be alone with his bride, he swung Alisha into his arms and carried her to where two white horses were waiting.
At last, after five years, she was his.
* * * * *
The wickiup was located in the shadow of a tall pine. The river ran slow and quiet beside their lodge. Silver bells had been tied to the branches of the tree; their soft tinkling would serenade them in the night.
Mitch lifted Alisha from the back of her horse, letting her body slide slowly against his as he put her on her feet.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” he asked.
“No.”
“I’m not sure I can find the words.” He grinned at her. “I’m a lawman, you know, not a poet.”
She smiled at him. “Try.”
“You’re beautiful, ‘Lisha. More beautiful than any woman I’ve ever known.” He traced the curve of her cheek with the tip of his finger. “Your skin is softer than dandelion down, prettier than a fresh peach. I want to cover you with kisses, feel you lean into me, taste your breath on my face when I wake in the morning.”
Alisha laughed softly. “Who says you aren’t a poet?”
He laughed with her, unable to believe that she was here, that she was his. “I love you,” he said quietly. “Always have. Always will.”
“And I love you.”
“Show me,” he said, and swinging her into his arms, he carried her into the wickiup.
The lodge was fragrant with the scent of sage and sweet grass. Several soft furry robes had been spread in the rear of the lodge. Wood was piled in the pit in the center. There were two willow backrests for their comfort, food and water, soap to bathe with, a change of clothes for each of them.
“It’s nice,” Alisha said, looking around.
Mitch nodded, silently blessing his mother’s kindness.
“‘Lisha?”
She nodded, her dark eyes luminous as she gazed up at him. She stepped
out of her moccasins and then, slowly, she reached for the ties that fastened her dress at the shoulders, unfastening first one and then the other. The soft doeskin tunic slid slowly down her body to pool at her feet.
Mitch sucked in a deep breath. She had been lovely as a girl of sixteen; now, more rounded, more voluptuous, she was a vision. Her skin was smooth, unblemished. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, haloing her face, the perfect accent to her creamy skin.
She smiled as she read the admiration in his eyes, felt a blush rise in her cheeks as his gaze grew hotter. “Thank you,” she murmured, pleased by the look in his eyes.
His gaze swept over her again. “Thank you,” he replied wryly.
She cocked her head at him. “One of us is overdressed.”
“What? Oh.” He slipped off his shirt, shucked his leggings and moccasins, removed his clout.
Alisha grinned as she saw the visible evidence of his desire.
“It’s your fault I’m in this terrible condition,” he said. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“What would you like me to do?”
He closed the distance between them and drew her into his arms, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Have you forgotten everything I taught you?”
“Well,” she said, nipping his shoulder, “it has been five years.”
“It will all come back to you.” He ran his fingertips down her spine, cupped her buttocks and drew her hips against his. “Does that remind you of anything?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I’m beginning to remember.”
He put his finger under her chin and tilted her face up. “I’ll never let you forget again,” he promised, and captured her lips with his.
He kissed her until she was mindless, breathless, until her knees went weak and only his arms held her upright. His hands roamed over her body, trailing fingers of fire. His mouth sweetly assaulted hers, branding her as his, awakening memories of summer nights near the creek back home, of winter days spent on a buffalo robe in a dark cave where she had first tasted love.
She moaned and pressed herself against him, wanting to crawl inside his skin, to feel what he felt, to hold him close within her own body and never let him go.
Apache Flame Page 17
