His movements quickened, then slowed, for he was not about to take his pleasure before giving hers. He stopped, staying inside her as his hands caressed her breasts, her face, his tongue touching hers in exquisite joy. They were locked in time.
Jacie dug her nails into his shoulders, dizzily aware of his wound, trying not to touch it. But if he felt discomfort, he gave no indication. She pressed against him, eager for more of this strange new world he had taken her to and never wanting to leave it.
He could feel her cresting and he took her then, thrusting mightily until both of them were sated and lay in each other's arms, awed by the splendor of the moment.
For a long time, Luke did not speak, nor did he want to. He was savoring the sweet afterglow and the realization that never, after more women than he could count, could he remember anything so pleasurable. No one else had ever given him so much of herself, and Luke was awed to think that a part of her would somehow be with him forever more.
Jacie lay with her head snuggled against his shoulder, lost in wonder over what it all meant. And she too silently acknowledged that nothing in her life would ever be the same. No matter where fate led her, she would never forget her first lover, her Comanche lover... nor did she want to.
Somewhere a coyote howled, and Jacie instinctively wriggled even closer. Luke smiled and tightened his hold on her and said, "Don't worry, little one. You saved my life again, so now I suppose I am honor-bound to protect you."
Reality was like cold water in her face. This cannot be, Jacie told her rapidly pounding heart. I cannot let it be. It's a warm, sweet interlude between two people, alone together in the wilderness. That's all it is...all I will let it be, and I must remember why I'm here.
She pulled away from him and sat up, drawing the blanket to cover her nakedness. "I don't ask you to protect me, Luke, only to take me where I want to go. This shouldn't have happened, and it can't happen again," she said tremulously.
Luke was also hurtled back to reality but was confused by what he was feeling for her, which made him respond coldly. "It only happened because you wanted it, too. And that's the only way it will happen again. As for taking you where you want to go, I don't think you even know where that is." He got up and walked toward the stream.
Jacie stared after him, thinking, despite her resolve, how magnificent his body in the moonlight.
He has to take me, she thought desperately, and soon, because if he doesn't, God help me, I might not want to go....
Chapter 21
Jacie awoke from a restless sleep. Luke had bedded down on the other side of the scrub brush, and when she pushed through it, she found he was already up and saddling his horse. He was dressed in army trousers once more and wearing boots. As she faced him, she felt a warm rush to recall the way he had held her, kissed her, and hoped her face was not flushed.
"Are we going somewhere?" she asked.
Luke gave a curt nod. He had lain awake all night, angry with himself for what had happened, madder still to admit he cared for her. A hell of a lot. And not just for the pleasure they had shared. Something was stirring in his heart, causing an inner battle that he was losing. And it wasn't anything like what he had felt for Amelia. He had eventually come to realize that had only been a melding of the flesh, but with Jacie it was different, in a way he did not like to think about.
Toward dawn he had made the decision it was best to get her out of Texas, out of the west, and send her back to the man waiting to marry her. "Get your things," he said, a little gruffly. "We're getting out of here."
Jacie was puzzled by his tone but too happy that they were leaving to dwell on it. He probably wanted to forget last night as much as she did. Surely they would part soon, and then they'd never see each other again, which was best, she tried to tell her aching heart.
They rode out into the early morning sunshine, and Jacie drank deeply of the fresh, crisp air, making an attempt to ease the tension. "This is my favorite time of year back home. Buckeyes and oaks and poplars and black gums are dripping with gold and blazing against the sky. It's good-eating time, too." Her stomach gave a hungry growl. "Apples and pumpkins and raspberries. My—my aunt," she said, having to correct herself again, for it was still hard to think of Violet as anything except her mother, "would make apple butter in a big kettle over a hickory-fed fire, and I'll never forget how good it smelled. Mehlonga showed me how to cook lots of things too, like a soup made of parched corn."
"Did this Mehlonga also teach you to throw the knife?"
"Yes. He wanted me to be able to protect myself."
"I would never have given it back to you if I'd known you had a warrior's skill. He taught you well. Tell me, when you return home, will you be a medicine woman there?"
Jacie was glad for the chance to talk, because when there was silence, there was also an awareness, and she wondered if he was recalling last night's splendor, as she was. "No. A planter's wife has a lot of responsibilities. Michael has a big house and many servants working there. I'll eventually be in charge of them, as well as planning socials. He might run for political office one day, you see, and—"
"I don't care about him." He cut her off suddenly, sharply, to ask with contempt, "These servants you speak of—they are actually slaves, aren't they?"
Jacie felt uneasy. "Well, actually the Blake family never refer to their Negroes as slaves. They're treated quite well, you see."
"Can they leave if they want to?"
"I—I don't think so," she stammered, but rushed to add, "but they have no place else to go, no way to earn money for food and shelter, clothes. The Blakes take care of them. It's the way it's always been."
"They are still slaves, and it is wrong, but maybe you disagree. Maybe you think it's all right to hold a man against his will."
"No, I don't."
"But you will marry a man who does."
Jacie fell silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully in hopes of making him understand. "He can't help it. He has thousands of acres of land and he could never afford to hire Negroes to work it. And he inherited the plantation, as well as most of the workers, who were bought by his grandfather when he first came to this country."
"It's still wrong. A man should be free for all of his life. That is what my people are struggling for—freedom, and the land that's rightfully theirs. Your people want to take it away. I think they'd also make slaves of us if they could."
Jacie, resentment bubbling, fired back, "Well, you have no right to criticize. I'll remind you that if my mother is still alive, she's been a slave of your people for over eighteen years."
"She's not—" Luke caught himself. He'd been about to say Sunstar was not a slave, that she had been revered not only as the wife of a chief but eventually respected as a shaman. Damn it, he needed to rid himself of this woman who filled him with lust and confusion, before she discovered he was hiding the truth from her.
Jacie was watching him with eyes narrowed. "She's not what?" she said slowly, quietly. "It sounds as though you know something about my mother after all."
"Not your mother," he lied. "The yellow-haired woman I told you about. She was married to a chief, and she learned to love his people as much as they came to love her. She was very happy."
Grudgingly, Jacie said, "Well, if she fell in love with someone, I guess I can understand that."
"Can you?"
"Yes, because I believe that when you love someone, it doesn't matter who or what they are."
"And you feel this way about the man you are going to marry?" Luke wanted to bite his tongue. Why couldn't he let it go? If he didn't get rid of her soon, he was going to make a fool of himself, say the wrong thing and make her really suspicious, and he didn't want that. He wanted her to go home and not look back, never to wonder what she might have discovered had she stayed to search relentlessly.
But then he realized she was not responding to his question and was instead staring at something scurrying among the rocks. Deliberately chang
ing the subject, she asked what it was, and he seized the opportunity to also get his mind on other matters. He explained that the small, fat, reddish-brown animal was called a prairie dog. "When he sees an enemy, he'll sit up on his haunches and make a yapping sound like a dog to alert others of his kind in the vicinity. Actually, they're a good source of food, but small. My people like them as a change from buffalo meat, and the young boys learn the rudiments of stalking game with bow and arrow by hunting them. They're quick and wiry and..."
He fell silent and reined to a stop, holding up his hand to signal she should do likewise.
Jacie had been listening with interest but realized something had caught his attention and followed his gaze to the rocks overhanging. At once she reached for her knife, but Luke had anticipated what she would do and caught her arm and held it.
"Don't," he said sharply. "There is no need."
Jacie did not share his optimism. The huge cat was staring down at them emitting low, ominous growls and looked as though it were going to spring any second. "Shoot him," she whispered thinly, noticing Luke had not reached for a weapon. "He's going to attack."
As though able to hear and comprehend the death sentence Jacie decreed, the cougar opened its mouth to display lethal fangs as it let loose a scream that went to the very marrow of their bones.
But still Luke made no move. Instead, he fastened the cat with a steely gaze and began to speak to it in the Comanche language.
The rope reins were cutting into Jacie's hands, she was squeezing them so tightly in her terror. To her amazement, however, the growls subsided, then the great cat became quiet as it surveyed them warily with its shining golden eyes. Finally, with an annoyed swish of its tail, it turned and disappeared among the rocks.
Luke saw how she had paled. "See? It isn't necessary to kill everything you fear. Sometimes it goes away on its own, in peace."
"And he understood what you said to him?" Jacie was stunned.
"Who knows?" Luke kneed the stallion and started him moving again. "Maybe it was the tone of my voice. He sensed I was no threat unless he attacked. So he left. In peace," he added with a smile.
"But it doesn't always work that way."
"No. Sometimes you have to kill to save yourself."
As they rode on, Jacie concentrated on the world around her, asking questions, not only because she wanted to learn, but to steer conversation away from anything personal. Hard as it was not to look at Luke and remember the ecstasy they'd shared, she was determined to try and forget. She even attempted to think about Michael, but try as she might, it was difficult to dwell on him when images of Luke's lovemaking lingered. Washed with guilt, she wondered whether Michael would be able to tell that she had been with another man, and if so, whether he would still want her. It was going to be difficult enough for him to hear the truth about her parents without thinking of her in the arms of another man.
But deep inside, a voice taunted that no woman could ever forget being made love to by a man like Luke.
She saw her first porcupine, along with mice, gophers, toads and lizards. They ate their fill of prairie plums, hard and green but tasty. Then Luke shot a prairie chicken with an arrow, and they cleaned it together beside a rushing stream to skewer and roast for their midday meal.
As they rested in the shade of a cottonwood grove, bellies full for the first time in days, Jacie ventured to ask, "Where have you decided to take me?"
"To a place called Nacogdoches, where I have a friend who works for a stagecoach line. He'll see that you're put on a coach heading east." He watched her face for her reaction and did not miss how her eyes suddenly danced with tiny dots of red among the lavender hue.
"You can take me anywhere you want to, but I won't go back now."
"Lord, you are one stubborn woman," he said, irritation boiling over. "What's it going to take to make you realize it's best for you to forget this nonsense? Hell, even if you did find her, that man waiting for you wouldn't want you bringing her back. If you thought he would, you'd have asked him to help you find her in the first place. Forget it, Jacie. If she's alive, she's better off where she is than in your world, living in misery."
They were sitting side by side, and she leapt to her feet, hands clenched into tight fists. "You only feel that way because the only life you've ever known is that of a savage. You might have gone to school in Mexico, but so what? That didn't tell you anything about my people."
"Oh no?" He laughed bitterly and rose also, towering angrily above her. "I know plenty about your people." He felt a wave of bitterness to recall the prejudices he had known whenever he crossed the line between red and white. The army might respect him for the expert scout he was, but he was ever aware of the shadowed contempt. The only way he had ever been accepted was to dress like a white man, wear his hair like one, and pretend to be everything he was not. Luke did not like living that way and passed for white only when necessary.
Jacie was staring at him warily. The way his face had turned to granite, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly in his fury, she was not sure she wanted to continue the debate. Better to be on their way and part company as soon as possible. She got up and started toward her pony, but his next words stopped her dead in her tracks.
"Yes, I know all about your world, Jacie, but you know nothing of mine."
"Nor do I want to," she said coldly. "And I told you before—we are even now. You saved my life. I saved yours. You got what you wanted last night. You have no more need of me, so let's be on our way. The sooner I'm rid of you, the better."
He reached her in quick strides to grab her by her shoulders and spin her about. "No," he said, face ashen, eyes flinty. "You're wrong. You got what you wanted last night. I would have stopped any time you wanted me to, and you know it. But you didn't want to stop. You wanted to see what it was like to mate with someone you think of as a savage, didn't you?"
She slapped him.
He saw the blow coming and could have ducked or caught her hand but didn't, because he wanted her to lose her temper, to get mad. Anything to head off the emotions he had sensed smoldering beneath the surface all day.
Jacie braced herself, unsure of what he would do. He could snap her neck with one squeeze of his strong hands, but he merely glared at her with icy black eyes.
After what seemed forever, he said, "Let's go. We won't reach Nacogdoches by night, but don't worry. I won't touch you."
"Well, that's fine, because I—"
He held up a hand. "Silence. Don't move." Hurrying to his horse, he took his rifle, and motioning again to Jacie to stay where she was, he disappeared among the thick trees.
Jacie drew her knife and quickly dropped to her knees behind a clump of plum bushes, praying there were not other Indians around who might be Luke's enemies. If they killed him, she shuddered to think of what they would do to her, but she also knew she did not want anything to happen to him. No matter that he had made her mad, no matter how she argued within herself, she knew she cared for him deeply.
Long, torturous moments passed. She could stand it no longer and was about to creep out and see for herself what was happening but heard footsteps approaching and stayed where she was. Only when she heard Luke's voice speaking his native tongue did she dare rise up, then shrank back to see he had two Indians with him.
He saw she was alarmed and called, "It's all right, Jacie. They're friends."
She peeked out. Scalplocks fell from the tops of their heads, and one of them had tucked a single yellow feather into his. The other's braids were wrapped in what looked like animal fur. But it was their faces that startled her the most, for they were painted with bright red streaks.
"They won't harm you, because you are with me. They're members of a Comanche band called the Honey Eaters."
"What... what do they want?" She had to strain to speak, because the way they were looking at her was terribly unnerving.
"There's a wounded child. A boy. Too young to be a warrior, and they didn't kno
w he had followed them until it was too late. They ran into some trouble with renegades, and he was shot in the leg. They're on their way to their medicine man, but the boy is bleeding badly. Can you help him?"
Jacie did not hesitate. She ran to grab her bag from where it was tied on the pony and followed Luke out of the Cottonwood grove—and stopped short. There were at least twenty more men on horseback, all of them staring at her with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
"I showed them my wound," Luke said. "I told them how you helped me, so they will let you tend him."
She saw him then, the small form held in the arms of one of the mounted warriors, blood flowing from the child's leg. She started toward him, but one of the warriors screamed out, and she hesitated. Luke spoke to him, then gave her a gentle push to indicate she should continue.
Grudgingly, the Indian holding the boy handed him down to Luke, who laid him at Jacie's feet. A piece of doeskin torn from someone's leggings had been wrapped around his leg below the knee. Jacie removed it, did a hasty examination, and was relieved to see the bullet had apparently passed through the calf of the leg and had not hit bone. If she could stop the bleeding, she was confident he would heal.
Luke followed her directions, starting a fire and bringing water so she could cleanse the wound properly.
Jacie melted the lump of pine tar, which would be packed into the wound. For a bandage, she tore strips from her blanket, finally able to advise Luke, "Tell them he'll be fine. Their medicine man will know what to do from here on."
He translated the message, and they took the boy and left with slight nods of gratitude in her direction, giving a sack of fresh deer meat to Luke.
Luke and Jacie did not talk as they rode onward, each lost in private thought.
They stopped for the night near a small waterfall, the pool beneath dancing with pink and purple shadows from the setting sun over the rise beyond. Serene and peaceful as it was, Jacie felt a whirlpool of emotion within to see how Luke was ignoring her as he set about to prepare their food.
Say You Love Me Page 19
