Comanche Sunset

by Rosanne Bittner

  He handed her a towel and soap, and she dipped her hands into the pan, rinsing her face, her emotions a torrent of confusion. She still found it amazing that he looked so Indian but was so white in his beliefs and habits and speech, except for his keener skills at scouting and hunting. She thought of the night Buck attacked her, how viciously Wade had beat him. Was that the Indian vengeance in him?

  “I’m going to take the horse into a cutout near this one. He’ll stay put as long as this storm rages,” he told her. “I’ll leave him a pan of water. This place isn’t big enough for the three of us, and you don’t need to be putting up with the smell of a horse. I’ll be right back.”

  He untied the travois, on which she still sat, and unloaded their gear, then led the horse out into the dusty wind, carrying a pan and one of the water pouches. Moments later he returned, still carrying what was left of the pouch of water. She watched him cup water into his hands and wash off his face. He grabbed a towel and dried himself.

  He turned then, and their eyes met. She realized his thoughts must be the same as her own. This could be their last night together. He could die once he went off to find Wild Horse. A heavy, worried silence hung in the air while he moved away and brushed out his hair. He waited for her to finish washing, then came closer again, shirtless, his weapons removed, his hair hanging loose over powerful shoulders. He knelt down beside her, reaching out to unbutton the top buttons of her dress.

  “You can’t wash good without taking this off,” he told her.

  Their eyes held. “I know.” She swallowed, her face flushing as he moved his hands down the buttons, and the painful desires she had felt earlier in the day for him returned when the backs of his hands touched her breasts as he unbuttoned the dress. She remembered the aching need he had awakened in her when he had touched her bare breast earlier, when he had invaded her mouth savagely so that she lost all control, all inhibitions.

  He pulled the dress off her shoulders, seeing her taut nipples outlined through the thin cotton camisole. How he wanted to touch those breasts again, only this time he longed to draw the fruit of her breast into his mouth and claim that and more as his own.

  She slipped her arms out of the dress, then reached around his neck. Both had known this moment would come; both knew without asking that it would be impossible to get through this night without acting on their needs and passion, for the feelings were too strong to deny. Both knew this might be all they ever had. The urgency of the moment, magnified by the ghostly visit from the Comanche man, only brought forth an even greater need.

  “I probably didn’t get my face too clean,” he told her. “I can’t see what I’m doing and neither can you. We’ll wash the dust off each other.” He pulled her arms from around his neck and helped her out of her dress. He took off her shoes, and she sat there in her bloomers and camisole, realizing it didn’t bother her now when he saw her this way.

  She dipped her hands into the water and soaped them, rubbing them over his face and neck, then dipping one end of the towel into the water and wetting it. Neither of them spoke as she washed the dirt from him, soaping her hands again and running them over his arms and upper chest. This was only the second time she had seen him or any other man, for that matter, bare-chested. She felt both awkward and daring. He took hold of her wrists then and moved her hands down over his own nipples. It seemed strangely wicked to touch him there, even though a man didn’t have breasts like a woman, and she sensed that it stimulated him.

  He kept hold of her wrists then, pulling her hands away. “I’ve argued with myself all day, Jenny,” he told her, his voice soft and strained. “I’ve reasoned that the best thing to do is leave you alone until we reach the fort and I settle what I came here to settle. But my love and desire for you are too damn strong.”

  He sighed deeply, letting go of her wrists and picking up the towel. He put the wet part of it to his face and began rinsing off the soap. He moved it to his neck, his arms, and she waited, not sure what to say.

  “I don’t want to hurt you or rob you of anything you feel is too important to give away too quickly,” he told her, “especially to someone who is still hardly more than a stranger to you.” He finished with the towel, still kneeling in front of her, clean and handsome, looking like a lost little boy.

  She trembled with the ecstasy of what he was telling her, and she held his eyes boldly. “I…thought about the same thing today.” The words were shaky, her love for him so strong that she wanted to cry. “You’re the only one I would want to give myself to. And you aren’t a stranger, Wade. I think some people you can know for just a little while and know almost everything about them, trust them, love them. And some, like my Uncle John, you can know all your life and never really know them at all, never be able to trust them. I know I can trust you. I know when you say you love me, you mean it. And when you promise to come back for me, I know you’ll try.”

  She took the towel from him, looking down to rinse it out. “I don’t want you to leave me at the fort and go to Wild Horse without first showing you you’re the only man I want to belong to. I want to give you more reason than ever to come back, Wade.”

  She met his eyes again, passion ripping through her at the look in his eyes. His jaw flexed with repressed desires as he took the towel from her. He nodded, both of them knowing what must be. “Now I will wash you,” he told her.

  It seemed her veins ran with fire instead of blood. She closed her eyes, feeling the flush at her face as he reached down and pulled at the waist of her chemise, lifting it up and over her shoulders and off her arms. For the first time her naked breasts were exposed to his eyes, and her heart pounded wildly.

  “My God, you’re beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.

  She heard the splash of water, and in the next moment his soaped hands were moving over her own face and neck. She opened her eyes and met his own boldly as he bathed her and rinsed her. He soaped his hands again, this time moving them down to her breasts, hesitating a moment before rubbing over the nipples with the slippery soap, gently massaging, squeezing, toying with the pink fruits.

  “I’m told the Indian man has a custom on his wedding night of rubbing down his bride with oil,” he told her, dipping the towel into the water then to rinse off the soap from her. “I think it sounds like a fine custom. I imagine it’s very relaxing.”

  He rubbed the towel over her, removing the soap from her breasts. Their eyes met again, and he came closer, covering her mouth, moaning with need and passion as he drew her against him, pressing her bare breasts against his own bare skin. The contact was all that was necessary to throw away all caution, all reason, all logical thought, which they both knew would happen anyway. Right or wrong, this was something they both had to do.

  His kisses were hot and passionate, hungry and urgent. He moved his mouth to her throat, cupping a breast in his big, gentle hand. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked in a near whisper.

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “You aren’t really well yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She met his mouth with equal hunger. “I’d go through anything to belong to you, Wade,” she whispered after another kiss. “I just want it to be you. I…don’t want you to go away without this. I love you so much, Wade. Teach me all of it. Show me how to love you in more than words.”

  He pulled away slightly, his eyes on fire with desire, his nostrils slightly flared with passion. He reminded her of a wild warrior, yet she was not afraid of him. “I’ll make up a bed for us.”

  He stood up and took some blankets from their gear. Jennifer pulled a blanket over her bare breasts, listening to the wind continue to howl outside while Wade used all the blankets he could find to build up a comfortable bed on top of some soft sand. He came back beside her, sitting down to remove his boots and socks, then rose to remove his denim pants.

  Jennifer dropped her eyes, and he knew she was not ready to look at that hidden part of man she had never seen. He remo
ved his pants, leaving on knee-length long johns. He leaned down and picked her up in strong arms, carrying her to the bed of blankets. He pulled away the blanket she held in front of her and lay her down onto the other blankets, stretching out beside her.

  Resting on one elbow, he leaned over her, his dark hair brushing across her breasts. He grasped her own cascading mane of reddish hair in his hand and bent down to kiss her lightly. Her eyes were closed. “Look at me, Jenny,” he told her.

  She opened her eyes, feeling fire rip through her at their close nakedness, realizing that before he was through she would be completely naked and he would own every part of her.

  “If you aren’t sure, tell me so now.”

  She swallowed. “I’m sure.” She felt faint, felt as though she was floating in a world of unreality. Was this really the Jennifer Andrews who had left St. Louis only three weeks ago, an innocent, frightened young woman who knew nothing about Texas and men like Wade Morrow? “I love you, Wade. That’s all that matters.”

  He met her mouth again, one hand moving to again caress her breasts, teasing, toying, awakening virgin desires. She lay her head back and closed her eyes as his lips moved over her throat then, trailing down to one breast, finding for the first time the sweet fruit he had so longed to taste.

  The feel of his warm lips and tongue at her breast brought gasps of sweet pleasure to her lips. She dug her fingers into his shoulder, arching up to him, wanting to give him pleasure. Her gasps became soft whimpers as his hand moved inside her bloomers while his lips lingered at her breasts. Suddenly he was touching her in a magic place that brought such exquisite pleasure to her insides that she felt light-headed. He moved his fingers in lovely, circular motions that made her forget the pain in her leg, made her want to give herself to him, boldly, willingly, brazenly.

  “Oh, Wade,” she moaned, as his lips kissed her flat belly. She felt him pulling off her bloomers, felt the thrill of letting him drink in the sight of her naked body, this time in heated desire and not because he had to help her. He kissed lightly the reddish hairs that hid that part of her he intended to possess, drawing a groan from her lips.

  He moved his lips upward then, tasting her breasts again ever so gently before meeting her mouth in an invading kiss that left her helpless, while his hand searched secret places. She felt something push carefully inside of her as his fingers explored and lightly introduced her to what was to come. The touch made her feel wild with desire, making her return his kisses with wild, innocent passion.

  Wade felt more alive and loved than he had in years. She was young and eager, reacting with all the innocence of a woman’s desires being awakened for the first time. He wanted to please her, to let her feel everything, experience everything, enjoy everything. He hoped he would not hurt her too badly, but he knew what had to be done. His own passion ran wild at the feel of her satiny juices on his finger tips. He felt privileged that she had chosen him to make a woman of her, and he knew he would never love like this again.

  She cried out then, gasping, arching up to him. He knew she had experienced her first climax, and he moved on top of her, unbuttoning his long johns. He kept his left hand under her neck, kissing her between words.

  “Relax now, Jenny,” he whispered, moving carefully between her legs. “Am I hurting your leg?”

  “No,” she lied. Her leg hurt, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered now, nothing but to please Wade Morrow. “What…happened to me?”

  He grinned a little, kissing her hungrily again, running his tongue deep. He pressed his hardness against her belly. “You’re just ready for a man now,” he told her in a husky voice. He could hold himself back no longer. In one swift, urgent movement he pushed himself inside of her, moving a hand under her bottom as she screamed with the pain, but he was unable to stop in spite of those screams.

  Moments later he could not hold back his own ecstasy, nor would he have tried. He knew that for her sake it was best it was over quickly. With a final, deep thrust, his life spilled into her; and at first he felt a sudden rush of guilt. Would his love for her destroy her? Had he stolen something to which he had no right?

  He let out a long, shuddering sigh, coming down on her, grasping her hair in his hands and letting her cry into his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jenny,” he groaned. “I shouldn’t have done this.”

  “No, no,” she wept. “Don’t…be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry.” Her fingers still dug into his back as a myriad of emotions engulfed her. The pleasure had turned to shock, now mixed with the sweet satisfaction that the man of her own choosing had been her first. “It doesn’t matter now…what happens,” she told him. “Nothing can…change this.”

  “I hurt you,” he said, kissing her hair, her eyes.

  “I wanted the pain. I wanted it to be you.” She finally met his eyes, loving him more than ever now, for they had been intimate, and she knew that even if something happened to him, she could not share this with another man for a long time to come. “Maybe…after a little while…we can do it again,” she told him, wiping at some of her tears with her fingers.

  He frowned. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure that I love you.” She sniffed. “I’m sure I want it to be nice for me before you go away. I mean…the pain must get better, or women wouldn’t keep…having babies, would they?”

  He grinned. “Yes, the pain goes away.” He kissed her eyes. “And I want it to be as enjoyable for you as it was for me.”

  For a moment she was jealous of any other women he might have touched, even Rebecca. “Then promise me we’ll do it again,” she whispered.

  He stroked her hair. “Before this night is over you’ll be solidly branded, Jennifer Andrews. And as soon as I can get you away from Fort Stockton, I’ll change your last name legally, if you’ll agree to marry me.”

  She smiled through misty eyes. “It’s a little late for me to change my mind, I think.”

  He laughed lightly. “I suppose so.”

  She reached behind her and pulled a blanket over them. “Do you think God led us to this place, Wade, so we could do this before we reach the fort?”

  “Maybe. And maybe He meant for us to resist the temptation.”

  She nestled against him. “I like to think He approves. In my mind and heart you’re already my husband. I think God knows how we feel. I don’t think He cares much about a piece of paper—just what’s in the heart.”

  “Well, I think you’re right, and in a sense this is legal anyway. This is the way the Indians marry, and I’m part Indian.”

  She smiled, kissing his chest. “Then we’ve been married Indian style.” The thought reminded her that in a few days he would be more Indian than he had ever been in his life. Could she truly trust him to return for her? She looked into his striking blue eyes, seeing only love and near worship. “You’ve got to come back for me, Wade.”

  He searched her eyes, thinking how they reminded him of the sea. “Nothing short of death will keep me from it.”

  The word death stung deep. She leaned up and met his mouth, kissing him desperately. “I want to do it again,” she said boldly. “Was it all right? Did I please you?”

  “Oh, yes, bil nashdehi. You please me very much.”

  She ran her fingers lightly over his lips. “What did you say?”

  “Bil nashdehi is Apache for ‘my wife.’ I’m afraid I know the Apache tongue better than the Comanche.”

  “You had better be careful when you go to see Wild Horse and not use any Apache. Aren’t the Comanche and the Apache bitter enemies?”

  He frowned. “Oh, yes. The Comanche chased the Apache right out of west Texas. They’re the fiercest warriors of all the plains Indians.” He spoke the words with feigned bragging pride, but she sensed it was not all fake. Somewhere deep inside part of him truly did feel pride at the statement. Could that part be kept tamed once he found his people?

  She touched his hair, noticing how dark and straight it was, noticing how lily white her hand looked next t
o his face. “I love you, Wade Morrow. You won’t ever forget that, will you?”

  He took hold of her hand, looking at it, also seeing the stark contrast. “I feel honored, Jenny. How could I forget such a thing? I haven’t felt this way since Rebecca.” He kissed her hand. “I can’t wait for my family to meet you. They’ll love you, and you’ll love them.”

  “I just hope the day comes soon when I can meet them.”

  He kissed her eyes. “It will, Jenny, I promise.” His lips moved to her mouth again, and the talking ceased. Outside the wind continued to howl, drowning out the sounds of passion inside the cave, while a lone Indian made his way back to Comanche Hills to tell Wild Horse that his shadow would come to him soon. Several miles southwest of the Indian, a patrol of soldiers under Sergeant Anthony Enders made its way against the raging dust storm along the stage trail.

  “Shouldn’t we stop, Tony?” Corporal Deaver yelled out to his friend.

  “Hell no! Not till I find my woman,” Enders shouted back. “The telegram said the coach made it past the second home station. That’s only another day away. Whatever happened to it, we should come to it by sometime tomorrow morning if we can make it a little farther tonight!”

  They rode on, eyes stinging, nostrils filled with dirt, while Sergeant Enders’s betrothed gave her heart and body willingly and in sweet love to another man.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jennifer opened her eyes, realizing it was the quiet that woke her. The howling wind had finally ceased blowing sometime during the night. She lay still, watching the dawning light filter into the crude cave-like shelter Wade had found. She lay with her back to Wade, his love for her making her less conscious of the scars on her back, which didn’t seem to bother him. Never had she felt so beautiful, so loved and protected.