Tasina Luta crossed the lodge to hug her grandson. “Walk the Life Path and be happy, cinks, as I was happy with your grandfather.” She took J.T.’s hand and held it tightly. “Do not let the past get in the way of your future.”
J.T. nodded.
Tasina Luta smiled at him, her dark eyes bright with unshed tears, and then she turned to Brandy and took her hand.
“My grandson is a stranger to me,” she said quietly, “yet in my heart I know he is an honorable man. Be good to him, and he will be good to you.”
“Please, stay and eat with us,” Brandy said.
Tasina Luta shook her head. “Another time, daughter. This night is for the two of you.” She placed Brandy’s hand in J.T.’s. “Be happy, my children. Come see me often.”
“We will,” J.T. promised. He gave his grandmother a hug, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he watched her leave the lodge. All this time, he’d thought himself alone in the world when he’d had family waiting for him here. It took some getting used to.
“I like your grandmother, J.T.,” Brandy remarked. “I’m glad you’ll have a chance to get to know her.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Rising to his feet, he crossed the lodge and secured the door flap, took a deep breath, and turned around. Brandy was sitting where he had left her, looking more radiant than the sun.
He held out his arms and she rushed toward him, her face flushed, her eyes shining with such love and joy that it took his breath away.
“Brandy.” What have I done, he thought. How will I ever leave her when the time comes?
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “I’m dying for you to kiss me.”
With a low groan of assent, he slanted his mouth over hers, unable to believe she was his, truly his, that he could hold her and touch her as he had so longed to do.
“Are you still wearing that fancy underwear?” he murmured.
Brandy tilted her head back so she could see his face. “Yes, and you should have seen the look on the faces of the Indian women who bathed me and then helped me dress,” she said, grinning.
J.T. grinned back at her, and then, as he recalled how tantalizing she had looked in that scanty attire, he felt his desire rise anew. She was his wife now, and he could look at her, and touch her, to his heart’s content.
As if reading his thoughts, Brandy took a step back. She felt not the slightest bit of embarrassment as she began to undress, slowly, provocatively. Never, in all her life, had she tried to entice a man. Never had she fully realized how wonderful it was to be a woman, nor imagined the pleasure and satisfaction that came to a woman as she aroused the man she loved.
Not that it took much doing, she thought as she removed her leggings and slipped off her moccasins. She shimmied out of her dress, the tiny bells ringing with each movement. The need between them had been burning hot for days, but never so hot as the fire in J.T.’s eyes as he looked at her.
Brandy licked her lips, then reached out and began to undress J.T., her hands running lightly over his chest and shoulders, delving into the thin sprinkling of hair on his chest, teasing her way down to the waistband of his clout. She heard the sharp intake of his breath as she began to unfasten the thong at his waist.
“Not yet,” J.T. muttered, afraid that, if she touched him now, he would shatter. With hands that trembled, he removed the ties from her braids, running his fingers through her hair until it fell around her shoulders in a shimmering cloud of black.
Whispering her name, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed located in the rear of the lodge. He lowered her gently, then followed her down to the pile of furs, his lips raining kisses over her face and neck. He nuzzled her cleavage, rubbed his face over the lacy black material that covered her breasts. His lips slid over her belly.
Brandy drew in a deep breath as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She removed his clout and moccasins, her hands skimming across his flat belly; he slid her panties over her hips, down her thighs, the touch of silk and the warmth of his hands combining in sensual delight against her skin.
And then his hands moved to her bra, and stopped.
Unable to help herself, Brandy burst out laughing. “Like this,” she said, and sitting up, she showed him how to unfasten the hooks in the back.
“What do you call this?” he asked as he slid the straps over her shoulders.
“It’s a bra.”
“What does it do?”
“It’s a kind of corset.”
J.T. lifted one dark brow as he regarded the tiny scrap of lace. “Doesn’t look like any corset I’ve ever seen. What’s it supposed to do?”
“It’s made to, you know, to support a woman’s breasts.”
“Doesn’t look like much support to me,” he muttered as he tossed it on top of his clout.
“Well, I’m not very big,” Brandy said, blushing, “so I don’t need much support.”
J.T.’s gaze moved over her breasts, and then he cupped them in his hands. “Big enough for me,” he whispered.
Brandy melted against him as he began to kiss her again, reveling in the feel of his bare skin against her own. She explored his body, savoring the taste of him, measuring the spread of his shoulders with her hands, the length of his well-muscled arms and legs. To her surprise, his feet were ticklish, a fact she stored away for future use.
There was no shyness between them, only a sense of completion. For Brandy, it was as if she had finally found the other half of her soul; for J.T., it was as if he had come home after a long absence.
The fire had burned low when J.T. rose over her. He hesitated a moment, imprinting her image on his mind, wanting always to remember how she looked on the night he first made her his. Her hair, as black as a raven’s wing, was spread across the furs, shimmering like a living thing in the faint light of the fire. Her skin was the color of honey, warm and sweet, damp with perspiration. Her lips were pink and slightly swollen from his kisses. She reached for him then, unable to wait another moment, and he lowered himself over her, whispering her name as he joined his flesh to hers.
Brandy clasped him to her, her hips arching to meet him, her eyes filling with tears as J.T. moved deep within her. Never had she known such a sense of peace, of contentment, of belonging. And then there was no time for thought, there was only the incredible sensation of being united with the man she loved. In the back of her mind, she heard the shaman’s words: from this time forward you will be one flesh, one blood, one heart. There will be no cold, for you will warm each other. There will be no loneliness, for your souls are joined…
And that was how she felt, as if her soul had been irrevocably joined with his. It was a feeling unlike anything she had ever known, and she thought a journey back through time a small price to pay to find it.
She woke in the middle of the night, sighed as she felt J.T.’s arms around her, holding her close, as if he would never let her go.
She snuggled closer, a warm sense of belonging engulfing her as she draped her arm over her husband’s chest. Husband, she mused. Was there ever a more beautiful word in all the English language?
A little tremor of excitement and anticipation rippled through her when she felt J.T.’s hand slip over her breast.
“I thought you were asleep.” She covered his hand with hers, holding it in place. His hand was rough and calloused and wonderfully warm against her bare skin.
“No.” He turned on his side and pulled her up against him, letting her feel just how awake he was.
“Again?” she asked, and he heard the barely suppressed laughter in her voice.
“Again,” J.T. whispered. His hand stroked the curve of her hip, the smooth length of her thigh. “And again and again and again.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, her cheeks, let his lips caress the corners of her mouth. “I love you,” he said fervently. “I think maybe I’ve waited forever to love you.”
“Don’t wait any longer.”
He murmured her name as he rolled
her onto her back and settled between her thighs. “You make me drunk with wanting you.”
“Then drink your fill, J.T.,” she urged, and her voice was soft and silky, like the smooth skin beneath his hand.
He kissed her and kissed her again, his hands moving over her willing flesh, until she writhed beneath him, until she took him in her hands and guided him home once more.
She was like a fire in his arms, a living, breathing flame that purged his heart and soul, burning away the darkness, the loneliness, replacing the emptiness of his life with warmth and hope.
* * * * *
J.T. woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of a warm body curled against his own, of a slim bare leg lying over his. He took a deep breath, and his nostrils filled with the musky scent of woman.
He smiled faintly as he lifted a lock of her hair and wound it around his finger. She was his woman now, in every sense of the word. They had made love the whole night through, until he knew every sweet curve, every seductive valley, each gentle peak. He had made love to other women, but he had never loved a woman, or had a woman who loved him.
Only now did he realize what the act of love was all about. Now he knew why he had always felt vaguely dissatisfied with other women, why he had felt cheated. Comparing what he’d had before with what he had now was like comparing the luster of a star to the brilliance of the summer sun. Until last night, he had never realized that there was more to the act of love than the physical act itself. When consummated with the right woman, it was more than a brief joining of the flesh; it was a uniting of the mind and the soul, a melding of two hearts. She was his now, and he was hers, and nothing would ever be the same again.
She stirred against him. His reaction to the sweet abrasion of her flesh against his was instant and unmistakable. That quickly, he wanted her, needed her.
“Brandy?” He rolled onto his side. Leaning on one elbow, he tickled her cheek with the lock of hair in his hand. “Brandy, are you awake?”
“No.”
He heard the subdued laughter in her voice as he ran his tongue around the edge of her ear.
“Brandy.” He called her name softly, pressing his body against hers, letting her feel how ready he was.
“Go away.” She turned her back to him to hide her grin, suppressing a giggle as she waited for him to tease her some more. But nothing happened and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw him sitting up, his jaw clenched. “J.T., what’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed.
“Nothing. You told me to leave you alone.”
“But I didn’t mean it!” she exclaimed, mortified to think he had taken her seriously. “I was just teasing.”
He looked at her then, his dark eyes vulnerable and shadowed with pain.
“J.T., you must have known I was kidding.”
“I don’t ever want to hurt you, Brandy, or force you. Or make you do something you don’t want to do.”
“J.T., I’m sorry.” She hesitated a moment. “Didn’t any of the…” She took a deep breath. “Didn’t any of the other women you’ve made love to ever tease you?”
“No.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “It was usually business, quickly done, quickly forgotten.”
Tentatively, she touched his arm, stroked his shoulder. Had no one ever loved him? Teased him? Played with him? “I’m sorry,” she said again.
He shook his head. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Forgive me, Brandy. I’m new at this. I guess I’m not very good at it.”
“That’s not true,” she said vehemently, and taking him in her arms, she set out to prove that he was the best, most wonderful man she had ever known.
* * * * *
It was late afternoon when they emerged from the lodge. Brandy knew a moment of embarrassment as people turned to stare at her. By now, everyone knew they had been married the night before, and why they were so late in rising. She felt her cheeks grow hot. There was nothing to be ashamed of, she thought. She was J.T.’s wife, after all, but she couldn’t help feeling as if she was standing on a street corner, stark naked for all the world to see.
J.T. spoke to those they passed on their way to the river. Brandy nodded, her embarrassment fading as she wondered what the Lakota would think if they knew she was Crow.
And then she forgot everything as J.T. found a secluded spot downriver. The water was warm and clear, shielded from casual view by a stand of cottonwoods and berry bushes.
She hesitated as J.T. shucked his clothes and slid into the water.
“Come on,” he called.
Brandy bit down on her lower lip. She’d never gone skinny dipping before. She’d never thought of herself as a prude, but she was reluctant to undress out in the open, to bathe in a river in full view of anyone who happened along.
“Brandy?”
“I’m coming.” She sat down on a rock and removed her moccasins. Glancing over her shoulder, she unfastened the laces of her tunic, then stood up and stepped out of it. She heard J.T. whistle softly as she stood before him in her underwear, felt the full weight of J.T.’s gaze as she removed her bra and panties, then bolted for the nebulous cover of the water.
He swam toward her, his dark eyes aglow with desire.
“Not here,” Brandy exclaimed. “Surely you don’t mean for us to… Not here.”
“Why not here?”
She glanced around. True, the place was secluded, but there was always the chance that someone else might come along: kids exploring beyond the camp, another couple looking for a quiet place to be alone.
She shivered with anticipation as J.T. took her in his arms and kissed her. She felt the length of his body against hers, wet and slick and fully aroused. That quick, she forgot every doubt, every qualm, everything except her need for this man. He caressed her, and it was as though it was the first time. She wound her arms around his neck, needing his touch, his kiss, the sound of his voice, low and gruff, whispering her name.
A faint breeze feathered across the water as he backed her up against the grassy bank, his body covering hers, his hands teasing and tantalizing, his lips brushing across her face, her throat, the curve of her breast.
“Brandy. Brandy.”
Just her name, over and over again as he possessed her, filling her, making her complete. His arms tightened around her, his face was against her shoulder.
“I love you,” he whispered fervently. “Ah, Brandy, you’ll never know how much.”
“I know.” She strained against him, needing to be closer, and then she was spinning out of control, oblivious to everything but the soul-shattering pleasure of his touch, the wondrous sense of fulfillment, of completion. Of belonging.
Gradually, she became aware of other things: the heat of the sun on her face, the water lapping against her thighs, the scent of sage and pine, the chirping of birds. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she opened her eyes and smiled at J.T.. She wanted to shout, to tell the world how happy she was. She wanted to stay there forever, with his arms around her and their bodies entwined. She wanted to have his child. A boy, she mused, with J.T.’s dark hair and eyes.
J.T. quirked one brow. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly.
“It looks like something to me.”
“Only that I love you so much.”
“Will you be happy here?”
Brandy hesitated a moment, thinking of her family and friends. She missed them, would always miss them, but this was where she wanted to be.
“Brandy?”
“Very happy,” she replied fervently, knowing she would be happy anywhere, as long as he was with her.
He made love to her again, slowly, tenderly, and then he retrieved a bar of soap from the shore and bathed her from head to foot. It was the most sensual thing she’d ever experienced, and the most natural thing in the world to take the soap from his hand and return the favor.
Later, Brandy washed out her underwear and spread it over a low-hanging limb to dry.
Le
aving the water, J.T. pulled on his clout while Brandy slipped her dress over her head, and then they sat in the sun, their feet dangling in the water, while they waited for her things to dry.
“It’s just like I always imagined it,” J.T. mused after a while.
“What is?”
“This place. My mother used to talk about it sometimes, usually late at night when she’d had too much to drink. It was peaceful, she said, the only place where she’d ever been happy, but she never talked about coming back.”
“Why not?”
“She was ashamed of what she’d become, ashamed to come back and face her parents and admit they’d been right about my father. She said Tasina Luta had warned her that the day would come when Frank Cutter would look on her with scorn. My mother never found the courage to come back here and admit that Tasina Luta had been right, Frank Cutter couldn’t measure up to the kind of man her father had been.”
“How sad.”
“Yeah. She taught me to speak her mother’s language and sometimes, when she was homesick, she wouldn’t talk to me except in Lakota. Sometimes, when she was feeling really low, she’d beg me to forgive her for marrying my father.”
“Was he cruel to her?”
J.T. took a deep breath before answering. “He beat her.”
“Did he beat you, too?”
J.T. nodded. “Sometimes.”
She knew such things happened. There was a child in her class whose parents had abused her. Try as she might, Brandy had never been able to understand how a man could beat his wife, or how a parent could beat a child. “I’m sorry, J.T..”
He shrugged. “It didn’t matter. I could tolerate the beatings. It was just hard, knowing…” He paused, staring into the water lapping quietly against the shore.
“Knowing what?”
“Knowing that he hated me.”
She took his hand in hers, her heart breaking for the pain she saw in his eyes, for the hurt in his voice.
J.T. looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t know why we’re talking about this. None of it matters anymore.”
“Of course it matters.”
“Split milk,” J.T. said curtly. “Over and done with.”
The Angel and the Outlaw Page 16
