“And you have not even experienced the ultimate of pleasure yet,” Swift Horse said, smiling into her eyes. “My woman . . . are you ready?”
Marsha knew that her face must be flushed, for she seemed consumed by heat from her head to her toes. She was filled with a longing never known by her before, and as his lips came down hard onto hers and he plunged into her again and began thrusting, heated contractions of pleasure knifed through her, over and over again, filling her with a pleasure too magnificent to describe.
She opened herself wider to him. Her hips responded to his thrusts, in her own rhythmic movement, and her whole body began to quiver. Her mind seemed to splinter into many explosions of color as sensations such as she never knew could exist swam through her. She clung to him as his body thrust more deeply inside her, over and over again, as he moaned and held her endearingly close, his lips now buried against the curve of her neck.
And then when it was over, they both lay clinging to each other, their breaths mingling as they gazed into each other’s eyes.
“How could such wondrous feelings exist?” Marsha said breathlessly, still seeming to be pulsing where she had just been awakened to the full pleasure of making love.
“What we shared together was borne of our love for each other,” Swift Horse said, reaching a hand to her brow and wiping a pearl of sweat from her flesh. “It is something we shall always have. When night falls, the bed will beckon for us. When the sun rises in early morn, we will not want even then to leave the bed.”
“But your chieftain duties will always be awaiting you,” Marsha said, smiling into his eyes.
“Not before we make love,” Swift Horse said, laughing huskily.
“It will be wonderful to go to sleep at night after making love and start my day making love,” Marsha said, finding it hard to envision such happiness. But she had discovered that such things were possible now that she had found paradise in the arms of this lover who would soon be her husband.
“And then sometimes I will come to you midday to make love,” Swift Horse said, laughing to himself when he saw how that remark made her eyes widen in wonder.
“That will be rare,” he said, chuckling. “But if you ever wish for those moments, any time of the day, just reach your hand out for me and I will be there for you.”
A movement behind them in the brush caused Marsha to tense up and to grab a blanket and cover herself. She sat up and peered into the darkness that had now come down around them in what seemed to be a black cloak, for there was no moon tonight, nor stars.
“It was only a night creature seeking companionship, too,” Swift Horse said, reassuring her that no one was there spying on them, yet he, too, gazed into the darkness to reassure himself.
“Whatever it was is gone,” Swift Horse said, then placed his hands at her waist and drew her onto his lap.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, and soon everything but their lovemaking was forgotten.
Chapter 29
Best and brightest, come away—
Fairer far than this fair day
which, like thee, to those in sorrow
Come to bid a sweet good-morrow.
—Percy Bysshe Shelley
Marsha sat on a platform with Swift Horse, witnessing the Green Corn Ceremony. She learned that the Creek life was filled with ceremony and celebration. The return of hunters meant that a villagewide dance and feast of bear ribs barbecued with honey would be held.
But she now knew that the most important of all Creek ceremonial occasions was the Boskita, Busk, or Green Corn Ceremony, celebrated annually when the new maize had ripened and was ready for harvesting, as well as marking the beginning of a new year of plenty.
During the festival, a new fire was lit, the green corn was roasted, and a new year commenced.
The sacred fire was lit within four logs, arranged so that each pointed in one of the four directions. This was a time when offenses were forgiven, and the Creek women swept out their hearths and cleaned their homes to be ready for a fresh start with the new year.
Tonight, as Marsha sat with Swift Horse, the moon high overhead, dancers performed around the huge outdoor fire, where earlier in the afternoon a part of the new harvest had been sacrificed, to the accompaniment of drums, rattles, and a flute made from the tibia of a deer’s leg.
Marsha noticed that the women had gathered together to perform the Ribbon Dance. They held special sticks twined with ribbons and wore on their legs bells made from the hooves of deer. Along with the tinkling earrings and bracelets of the women, the bells made a lovely sound that wafted into the night air.
Although Marsha was intrigued by everything that had happened today, she could not focus totally on it. She glanced over at Swift Horse, whose eyes were slowly scanning the crowd.
She knew whom he was missing.
One Eye.
As the sun had set in the west, all of the separate Creek clans had finally arrived. They sat in a wide, half circle around the fire, enjoying the dancing and music, and would soon enjoy a feast of feasts with Swift Horse’s clan.
As people had begun arriving, Swift Horse had greeted them personally, his eyes watching for One Eye’s arrival with his clan. One Eye’s clan had been the last to arrive—in fact they were so late that Swift Horse was not standing there to greet them. He had already sat down on the platform with Marsha and would remain there until the dancing part of the celebration was over.
Marsha knew that Swift Horse realized something was awry when the Wolf Clan arrived so late.
Knowing how Swift Horse felt about not seeing One Eye there, Marsha could almost feel his anger. His longtime best friend had not attended the ceremony—the first time he had not attended with his clan, ever.
Marsha jumped with a start when Swift Horse suddenly left the platform. She looked over at Soft Wind, who sat at her left side, and questioned her with her eyes as Soft Wind looked back at her.
“Go to him,” Soft Wind softly urged, nodding. “He needs you.”
Trusting that Soft Wind knew the protocol of things and was urging Marsha to leave, Marsha nodded, smiled at Soft Wind, then left the platform in a rush, hurriedly following in the direction that she had seen Swift Horse go in determined, angry steps.
When she finally reached him at the corral, his hands were tightly fisted at his sides, and his eyes stared straight ahead.
Marsha stepped gingerly to his side. “Swift Horse?” she said, reaching and touching his arm. When he didn’t respond, she stepped between him and where he was gazing, so that he would see her.
“You finally know, don’t you?” Marsha murmured, reaching a gentle hand to his cheek. “Because of One Eye’s absence at the most important ceremony of the year, you know that he is sporting an injury that I inflicted on him.”
“I believe that now, too, from the depths of my heart, but still I cannot face him with it,” Swift Horse said. He took her hand in his. “My woman, I must still wait and let him reveal himself to me. He will not be able to bear silence between us for much longer, not after having been confidantes and best friends for so long.”
“But while you are waiting for him to come to you, might he not be wreaking havoc somewhere else as he is prone to do?” Marsha asked, searching his eyes. “Can you chance that?”
“I am certain that the wound you inflicted on him has slowed him down enough for me not to have that burden on my mind,” Swift Horse explained. “I must wait, Marsha. He will not be able to bear absence from my village for long, for it has become his second home. And when he is able to travel, I feel this will be the first place he will come.”
“But the wound,” Marsha said, not wanting to argue, yet feeling the need to. “He knows his wound will reveal his guilt. The scar will always be proof, for I hit him hard enough for him to have a scar left there forever.”
“He is a clever man who will come up with an answer to even that,” Swift Horse said, slowly shaking his head back and forth. “He is
more clever than I ever gave him credit for.”
“Yet you will not act on knowing that?” Marsha asked, but when she saw the added torment those words caused in his eyes, she flung herself into his arms. “I’m sorry. I won’t say anything else about this. You know what you are doing.”
His arms swept around her. He leaned his face into hers. “My woman, do not ever be sorry about anything you say to me, for everything you say is from the heart,” he said passionately. “And I understand how you must want this thing finished once and for all. But I do need this time.”
“And I promise you that you will not hear another word from me about it,” Marsha murmured.
Realizing the music was over and the dancing had stopped, and that everyone should now be entering the council house to eat the feast that had been set out by all of the women of the village, Swift Horse took Marsha by the hand. “We must join the others again,” he said, already walking away from the corral with her.
“Everyone will wonder where we went, and why,” Marsha said, remembering how everyone had watched him leave, and then feeling those same eyes on her as she left.
“But no one will ask,” Swift Horse said tightly. “They know that their chief would leave the celebration only if he felt a strong need to. No one questions what I do, or why.”
“Except me,” Marsha said, giving him an apologetic look as his eyes met with hers.
“You are my woman and should have the freedom to question me about anything,” he said, then forced a smile when he came to a small crowd of his people who had not yet entered the huge council house to join the others to eat. “The corn awaits us,” Swift Horse said, gesturing toward the opened council house door, where the scent of an assortment of food wafted from within. They all went inside.
Soon Marsha and Swift Horse were sitting amidst everyone else, their wooden trays piled with an assortment of food, corn the most prominent.
Marsha now knew also about Sofkee, a gruel or soup, to which pieces of venison were added. She knew now that hardly a Creek household was without a Sofkee pot.
She knew that sunflower seeds and honey from bee trees were a favorite among the Creek community and that sweet potatoes were almost as important as corn, delicious when nuts were added to the sweet potato dishes.
“My brother, I saw you leave,” Soft Wind said as she came and sat beside Swift Horse. “Is everything all right now?”
“My sister, nothing will be absolutely all right again until I have solved the problem of One Eye,” Swift Horse said, only loud enough for her to hear. “But do not worry yourself about it. In time I will have all of the answers I seek.”
Marsha stiffened when two warriors from One Eye’s village came and stood before Swift Horse, causing him to rise and gaze slowly from one to the other.
“Our chief sent word to you of his regrets for having not been able to attend the ceremony today,” Night Moon said. “He is not a well man. But he says he will be well soon and will come for council with you.”
“You say he is not a well man,” Swift Horse said guardedly. “What ails him?”
“He spoke from inside his cabin to us, so we did not see him,” Night Moon answered. “And he did not say. Why do you question such a thing?”
“I do not like to think that my friend is ill, and I hope it is not something serious,” Swift Horse said, lying. “Go back to him and give him my regards and tell him that I will want to meet him in private council, as we ofttimes do, when he is well enough to come to me.”
“Might you want to go to him?” Night Moon asked.
“If he is not well enough to attend today’s ceremony, he will not be well enough for friends to come and take him from his sickbed,” Swift Horse quickly responded. He placed a gentle hand on Night Moon’s shoulder. “Just go and tell him what I have said.”
Night Moon nodded, then rejoined his clan’s group and continued with the feast.
“And so he is too ill to attend the ceremony, is he?” Marsha said sarcastically.
Swift Horse said nothing, then smiled when a young brave came with a huge platter of food. “I am taking this to Abraham, if that is all right,” the brave said, his eyes dancing. “I talked to him earlier. He said he is too tired for such a vigorous celebration.”
“Yes, I know, but I am certain he will feel better soon,” Swift Horse said, having gone to check on Abraham earlier. He hated seeing just how long it was taking for the man to get stronger. But in time he would be as good as new.
“Then I can take him food?” the brave asked, his eyes wide. “I like to sit and talk with him and pet the fawn.”
Swift Horse patted the child’s head. “Yes, go and take the food,” he said. “You are a thoughtful brave, you are.”
Marsha smiled as the child ran from the huge house, then looked quickly over at Swift Horse as he took her plate from her hands, set it aside, and led her from the council house.
“Come with me,” he said. “My people no longer need me. They are enjoying the food and company of the other clans.”
Marsha smiled down at Edward James and Soft Wind, gave them a soft wave of good-bye, then went outside with Swift Horse.
He turned to her and gazed at her, the huge outdoor fire’s glow shining in his eyes. “I need you,” he said thickly.
She didn’t have to be told any more than that. She went with him to his cabin, and moved into his arms when the door was locked to everyone else.
“I have waited for this moment all day long,” he said huskily, then gave her a kiss that melted her insides.
When he lifted her into his arms, she placed her cheek on his chest as he took her to his bedroom and lay her gently on his bed of blankets.
She watched him undress as the fire cast dancing shadows all around him on the walls, on the ceilings, and then on his nakedness.
Chapter 30
Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell.
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The merriment and feasting momentarily forgotten, Swift Horse and Marsha lay together on his bed.
“When we are together, it is only us . . . no one else, nothing else,” Swift Horse said huskily as he gave Marsha an endearing look, the shine of the fire in her violet eyes. “You take me away from all wrongs. You make everything right again.”
“Without you, nothing would be right,” Marsha murmured. “My darling Swift Horse, make love with me. Bring the stars and the heavens all around us as a gentle embrace—as our haven.” Pleasure spread through Marsha when Swift Horse filled her with his heat and began slowly thrusting into her, his lips now on hers.
A raging hunger overcame Marsha as she clung to Swift Horse and tasted his lips. His hands eagerly and hungrily searched her body, and then cupped a breast and kneaded it until Marsha’s pleasure became intermingled with a sweet sort of pain.
The hot touch of his body against hers and the way his lean, sinewy buttocks moved in such a steady rhythm made a passion burn higher within her. She grew feverish as he cradled her now, their bodies molded together and moving rhythmically as one.
Swift Horse groaned as he felt the tightness in his loins coil intensely as he moved within Marsha slowly, yet deliberately. His tongue brushed her lips lightly, his eyes dark and stormy as he gazed down at her.
“Kiss me again . . . hold me more tightly,” Marsha whispered, her ankles locked about him as his lips bore down upon her in a savage kiss.
When he moved, she moved. When the pleasure began to peak for one, it did for the other. They clung and rocked together as that ultimate joy was reached and savored, then they lay still together, breathing hard.
“I am so glad for my brother,” she murmured. “And also for your sister. Wasn’t their ceremony such a glorious sight to see? Their happiness is the same as ours, Swift Horse. And soon we will say vows that will make our own happiness complete.”
His hand made a slow, sensuous descent along her spine as he gazed
at her, his face now a mask of naked desire. “I had not known such a love as ours could exist—such a woman as you could exist,” he said. His gaze moved slowly over her, as though in a caress, seeing her perfect in every way.
He bent his lips to a breast and drew a nipple between his lips and flicked his tongue around it, drawing a sensual moan from within her. He moved over her again, their bodies straining together. His hands wove through her silken hair as he drew her lips to his.
Marsha’s pulse raced as she felt his manhood filling her again. “Every breath I take is yours,” she whispered against his lips. “Please, oh, please never stop loving me.”
A soft cry of passion escaped from between her parted lips as he plunged his hardness inside her. As his dark, stormy eyes gazed at her, she placed a hand to his cheek and smiled at him as he began his easy strokes within her. Her breathing grew ragged when his hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs circled her nipples, drawing them into tautness.
Marsha twined her arms around his neck and urged his lips to hers. Passion erupted between them as they kissed, their tongues meeting as their lips parted.
With an instinct for pleasure now that had been borne within her that first moment of Swift Horse’s showing her the true meaning of love, her hips moved in unison with his eager thrusts. Raking her fingernails down his back, she moved her hands to his buttocks and splayed her fingers across his hard body. She urged him closer, reveling in the feel of his wondrous thrusts inside her.
And then he slowed his body and withdrew his hardness, breathing heavily as he pressed his lips to the delicate column of her throat.
“I never want our time together like this to end,” he said huskily. “But the real world always awaits us.”
“Not yet,” she said, kissing him.
They moved together again for a moment longer, then again went over the edge that overwhelmed them both, the pleasure so intense, so wondrous to behold. And then they lay quietly together again, only now aware of the laughter outside the lodge, and remembering the celebration of renewal—the beginning of a new Creek year.
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