Say You Love Me

by Patricia Hagan

  They ate in silence, and afterward Luke went beyond some bushes to bed down, and Jacie spread her blanket near the dying fire.

  An unseen hand flung thousands of diamonds to sparkle in the velvet cloak spread overhead. Somewhere a coyote gave a mournful howl. Jacie was no longer frightened by such night sounds, but loneliness was a vise, squeezing tears that stung her eyes as she prayed sleep would come soon to take her away from her miserable ponderings, for she was starting to think maybe Luke was right. Perhaps it would be best for her to go back and leave well enough alone.

  She tried to focus on thoughts of Michael. Her heart had still not told her she loved him, but that no longer seemed important. What preyed upon her now was how she felt a desperate need to get as far away from Luke as possible, and she hoped by dwelling on Michael and the security he had always offered, she could find solace in an otherwise shaky world.

  But it was not working.

  Over and over she relived in her mind how she had felt so drawn to Luke, almost from the moment they met. It was as though they had known each other their whole lives. And their coming from two different worlds had not seemed to matter as they had so eagerly struggled to bond and become one unto the other, in spirit as well as flesh.

  Like the night wind's cooling kiss soothing her heated face, the thought came to her—if tomorrow their time together ended, then what harm would there be in having one last night to remember forever and always?

  Afraid that if she hesitated she would lose her courage, Jacie got up and went to him.

  He was not asleep, she knew. He lay on his back, arms folded behind his head, staring at the curtain of night, deep in reverie.

  She sat down next to him and touched her fingertips to his hard, flat belly and felt him start, but he made no sound.

  And then she voiced the decision she had not realized she had made until that precise moment: "I'm going home, Luke. I'm giving up. I'll always wonder whether I would have found my mother and what the outcome would have been, but I'll just make myself believe that if she is still alive, she's better off not knowing about me."

  "And you go home to marry the man who waits for you?" he asked quietly, painfully.

  "He will make me a good husband. I will do all I can to make him a good wife. That's my world. But for tonight"—she drew a deep breath of resolve—"I want to be a part of yours."

  He knew what she meant, and he wanted it too. He sat up and gently drew her dress over her head, and she helped him to render her naked, their eyes locked in feverish anticipation all the while.

  He stripped off the army pants, then drew her down beside him.

  Slowly he ran his hands up and down her body, and she murmured with a shy kind of pleasure. How easy it would have been for him to fall upon her like the cougar upon a rabbit, to devour her and feed his great hunger. But Luke held back, wanting to savor each morsel of her body, to delight in every touch, every caress.

  Her fingers began to play across his chest, her touch inflaming him, and when her hand traveled lower, to gently caress and stroke his hardness, it was only by mustering every shred of self-control he possessed that he was able to keep from entering her then and there.

  Jacie could feel how he wanted her, could feel her own desire quickening within her. He began to suckle at her breasts, cupping her bottom and pulling her to and fro gently, sliding himself between her thighs, and suddenly she could stand no more. She caught him by surprise, reaching to take him in her hand and guide him into her softness.

  Luke was pleasantly stunned, and he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, so she could straddle and gently ride him. He allowed her to set her own pace, rocking with her, his hips grinding against the ground beneath.

  She arched her back and caught her hair with her hands, flinging it to whip about her face in the playful breeze, moaning deliciously as every nerve in her body screamed with joy.

  He held her by her waist as he thrust in and out, and when he began to feel the tiny shudders within her, he knew she was ready.

  Rolling her onto her back, he braced himself with his hands on the ground, arms straight, while he rocked against her, for he wanted to see her face in the moonlight as he took them both to divine fulfillment.

  And when it was over, when they lay with arms about each other, her head on his shoulder, Luke pressed his lips lovingly against her forehead, then reverently whispered, "Tonight, if only for a little while, heaven traded places with the earth..."

  Chapter 22

  Everyone's patience was wearing thin, and Michael's men were growing more restless with each passing day. It had been nearly a week since three Indians had quietly appeared to lead them on an arduous two-day trek north. Finally, beside a swiftly flowing creek, they were told with grunts and gestures that they were to camp there until their leader came.

  "How much longer?" Pete grumbled as they drank the last of the coffee. "We're almost out of everythin'. One more day of beans, and then we starve, unless we want to start eatin' lizards or whatever it is those bastards up there survive on. Damn, it gets on my nerves, the way they're always watchin'." He cast an angry glance at the Indian perched on a rock above them.

  "Simmer down," Michael said, tossing down the rest of his coffee. He was tired of waiting, too, but thoughts of finding Jacie and getting her out of this madness kept him going.

  Joe Clyder, sitting beside Pete, nudged him with an elbow, and Pete spoke for all of them. "Blake, we been talkin', and we've decided we should forget all this and go home. Despite the money—and God knows, it's a hell of a lot to turn down—we're gettin' more and more leery of gettin' in the middle of an Indian war. There's only five of us, remember."

  "I can count," Michael snapped. "I also remember we had a deal."

  "Yeah, but we don't like all this waitin'. It's gettin' on our nerves. I don't like it."

  "Then go," Michael waved a hand. "Take the men and go. I'm sick of your whining, anyway."

  Joe started to get up, but Pete motioned him to stay where he was, asking Michael, "What about you? You're comin' with us, aren't you?"

  "Not without Jacie."

  "But that's suicide. Those damn Indians will be so furious when we take off they'll shoot you for the hell of it. What good is one man to them anyway? You've got to go with us. You'll die if you stay."

  Michael shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Without Jacie, I don't have a life, anyway."

  The others murmured among themselves, but Pete exclaimed, "Hell, no woman is worth dyin' for. Damn it, she left you for another man. She—"

  Michael lunged for him, grabbing him by the throat and knocking him backward to the ground. "I won't listen to that kind of talk, you hear? Now go on and get out of here. I don't need you. I don't need any of you cowards." He got to his feet, feeling how fast his heart was pounding with his rage.

  The Indians, watching from above, looked at each other and wondered why the white men were fighting.

  "You'll get your money," Michael said. "My banker in Atlanta will pay you. But there will be no bonus. Just what we agreed on in the beginning. Now go." He stalked away, head bent, shoulders slumped, hands stuffed in his pockets.

  "He's crazy," Sterne Walters declared. "If he wants to die, I say let him. I'm ready to get out of here right now."

  Joe Clyder and Ethan Terrell muttered their agreement, but Pete was staring after Michael, thinking how he had to love that woman a hell of a lot. "I'm not so sure I can desert him."

  Sterne cried, “What the hell are you sayin'?"

  "I don't think I realized till now just how determined he is. And we came this far. It wouldn't be right to walk out on him now. Besides, we're talkin' about a lot of money. I'm not sure I want to walk out on that either."

  "But we might die," Ethan was quick to remind.

  Pete shook his head. "I don't think so. We're good shots. All of us."

  "But we don't know how many Indians are comin'," Ethan argued. "Besides, we talked about it last night, and we
all agreed on turnin' back."

  "Yeah, but I thought he'd go, too. He won't stand a chance without us. That and the money makes me think we ought to stay."

  "Pete's got a point," Sterne chimed in. "Maybe we ought to hang around another day. If somethin' doesn't happen by then, he'll probably be ready to give up."

  "And if he isn't, we'll hog-tie him and make him go with us. Agreed?" Pete glanced around for confirmation.

  But Joe Clyder was not listening, and his face had gone pale as he suddenly realized there were no longer just three Indians standing on the rock staring down at them. Now he counted an even dozen, faces painted with streaks of red and yellow. "Looks like the waitin' is over," he said thinly.

  The others followed his gaze, each man feeling a tingling up and down his spine. But when one of the Indians, a big man wearing a headdress adorned with buffalo horns, started toward them, they went to stand with Michael, hands close to their holsters in readiness for trouble.

  "I think it's their leader," Pete whispered.

  Black Serpent looked them over cryptically. Their eyes reflected fear, which was only natural since they did not know what to expect, but he also noted courage as they stood in readiness to draw the fine weapons they carried and defend themselves to the death. "I am Black Serpent," he said, pressing his fist against his broad, bare chest. "Leader of my people. Which of you claims the white woman held captive by my enemy?"

  "That would be me." Michael looked him straight in the eye, unflinching. "And I've got a question I want answered before we go any further. Why are you asking our help in rescuing her when you're the bastards who took her in the first place?"

  Black Serpent was not impressed by his show of nerve and challenged his self-control by gloating, "That is true. And if not for my enemy–Howling Wolf—who has taken the white man's name of Luke," he added with a sneer of scorn, "she would be my woman now. I would be the one she would pleasure each night. Not Howling Wolf."

  Michael knew he was goading him, trying to see how far he could go. He replied coolly, calmly, "Then it would be you I would be hunting down to kill."

  Black Serpent threw his head back and laughed. "So. You want revenge. That is good. You will make a fine warrior when we raid the village of my enemy."

  "How do we know you aren't using us to get her back for yourself?"

  Black Serpent snorted. "You think I taste the leavings of Howling Wolf? I do not want her now. What I want is for Howling Wolf's blood to flow into the ground. I want him and his followers to die in disgrace by the hands and guns of white men. Then I will have honor. Peace. You will have your woman. This I promise."

  Michael looked at Pete, and Pete looked at the others, who all indicated they would keep their bargain. "Then we will ride with you," he said.

  "We start at dawn. It will take us several days to get there." Black Serpent held up his fist and bit back a grin of triumph. Soon the sky would be filled with the language of the smoke, telling the tale of how he, Black Serpent, had avenged the death of the son of Great Bear and the other Comanche by slaughtering the white men who had dared attack them. And there would be only one survivor, the white woman, whom Black Serpent would take for his slave. Many coup would be counted, and his name would forever more be spoken with reverence and awe. Most of all, he would not be condemned by other Comanche for killing his own kind.

  "Wait a minute."

  All eyes were on Pete.

  "You want us to kill them all?" he asked. "Are we talkin' about women? Children?"

  Black Serpent's eyes narrowed. "Women will kill if given the chance. They will run from their tepees and cut you with a knife. Their children will grow into warriors and kill you when they can. They must die. All of them."

  He turned on his heel and walked away.

  Pete stared after him as he scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I can't stomach the idea of slaughterin' women and children. I think once we find the woman we should high-tail it out of there and not do any unnecessary killing." He looked at Michael.

  Michael assured him that he agreed, which satisfied everybody. What he did not say, however, was that there were two killings he considered quite necessary, and he intended to carry them out himself.

  Black Serpent would be the first, because he was the one who took Jacie from the protection of the soldiers.

  Then Michael would glory in gunning down the one who now held her captive—the warrior known as Howling Wolf.

  * * *

  They had made love all night long, and when dawn kissed the dark away, they lay with their arms wrapped about each other, each held prisoner by thoughts too intimate to share.

  Jacie did not want to leave Luke and knew a part of her never would. But she also knew she must go before they reached a point of no return. Michael waited, with all his love and goodness, and now she wished she had never left him, had never tasted the wonders that would haunt her forever, and she prayed that he would never sense that she longed for another.

  Turning to look into Luke's pensive eyes, she could see he was locked in musing over his own emotions just then. "What is going to happen to you?"

  He shared his plans for going to Mexico in the spring. "It's beautiful there. Tall mountains with much game, and cool, green forests, and enough land that we can plant crops and farm and settle down. Most of all, we can find peace there to raise our children, educate them. The life we knew here no longer exists. We must make a new life, in a new land—or perish. I won't lead my people to a reservation."

  "Or into a battle they can no longer win," she murmured.

  His smile was tender, and he reached to lovingly brush her hair from her face. "All of life is a battle that can't ever be won, Jacie. We all die in the end. It's how we survive in the years before that count. We have to live them as happily as we can."

  "Happy..." Jacie spoke the word almost dreamily, allowing it to roll about in her mind as revelation dawned. "I realize now that never in my whole life have I asked to be happy. I just didn't want to be unhappy."

  Luke told himself to hold back, not to ask the question that smoldered in his heart like coals in a fire, but he could not refrain. "Is that how you will be with your husband? Not unhappy?"

  "I suppose." She rested her head against his shoulder once more, not wanting to talk about it.

  Luke rolled onto his side, sliding his hand up and down the curves of her body, enjoying the feel of her. "Why did you come here, Jacie?" He asked suddenly, soberly.

  She was surprised by such a question. "To find my mother, of course. What other reason would I have had for leaving the only home I've ever known to come to a wilderness?"

  "The Indians have a saying. A person should be careful what he looks for, because he might find it."

  She was jolted to remember how Mehlonga had said the same thing and told Luke that, adding, "I still don't understand what it means."

  "You will. When your heart is ready to understand. Till then, it means nothing." He brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her deeply. The world seemed to stand still, and Jacie prayed that it always would, that this wondrous moment would never, ever end.

  Clutching him tightly against her, she thought how it would be heaven to wake up every morning of her life in his arms. No matter they had not been together long. She knew that what they shared could not be easily found, not in this lifetime. And with tears of regret stinging her eyes, she mourned the reality of knowing she would never, ever experience it again.

  When at last he raised his lips, he took her hand and placed it against his chest, then put his against her breast. "You have to return to your world, and I must go back to mine. And though we will never see each other again, our hearts have touched. I will never forget you."

  "Nor I you..." She pulled his face down for another kiss that left both of them shaken, and she then scrambled to her feet so he would not see that she was crying.

  But he knew, yet could not offer comfort. True, he could tell her about her mother, ask
that she stay and live with her, with him—and then fear that one day she would regret having done so. No. He shook his head solemnly as he made ready to leave, allowing Jacie time to wander off and calm herself. He would not ask her to stay, for to do so meant committing his whole heart. All he had been able to bring himself to do was allow her to briefly touch it.

  They rode into the day, Jacie sitting in front of him as he held her tightly, the pony trailing behind. They hardly spoke. There was nothing left to be said. It was over.

  She was returning to a world she should never have left.

  And Luke would go back to the one he could never leave.

  As the earth became shadowed with misting hues of red and gold, they topped a knoll overlooking the Angeline River and the settlement of Nacogdoches came into view. Luke pointed to a fortlike structure made of stone. "The stagecoach leaves from there. I can see it is dark and closed now. You can find a room for the night at the hotel, but go there tomorrow and ask for a man named Howard Carson. Tell him you are my friend, and that I will see that he gets paid for your passage east. He will take good care of you."

  "I have some money." She was fighting tears again and anxious to be on her way lest she break down.

  He did not dismount but helped her slide to the ground. He did not want to look at her and stared straight ahead. "Do as I say. You might need your money along the way for food. Take the pony. Leave him with Carson as security for your ticket. Go now, before it gets any darker."

  "Thank you," she managed to say around the lump in her throat. "I wish you a long and safe life, Luke."

  "Go and do not be"—he could not resist looking at her one last time—"unhappy." The smile he offered was sad.

  Through a veil of tears, she watched him disappear into the purpled night.

  It would be a long journey home. Maybe the stage would not leave for a few days, giving her time to rest, to buy some new clothes. She hoped so, and she really did not care how long it took to get back to Georgia, because she was not looking forward to facing Michael and having to tell him the truth about everything—everything except Luke. That was the secret she would carry in her heart all the way to her grave, the secret longing for what was...what could never be.