“I understand the Comanche custom that allows Many Horses to offer . . . to share me with you, and I know what I promised. But I . . . I really don’t wish to . . . You must understand how unnatural, how wrong such an act would seem to a white woman . . . such as myself. After all, you’re a white man, you—”
“I am Comanche, a True Human Being. Do not dare to call me White!”
Bay’s face blanched at the sharpness of his reply. Whatever thought she’d had of appealing to his understanding died a swift death. She closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting for his wrath to descend upon her.
“I only wish to sleep now,” he said, his voice less harsh. “Make a bed for us.”
Bay sighed silently. He’d given her a brief reprieve. She didn’t want to guess why. It was the now at the end of his expressed desire for sleep that curled her toes. Perhaps once they lay down together, he’d change his mind and reach for her. His tone, however, had brooked no refusal. She had no recourse except to make a bed for them.
Her nervousness increased as Long Quiet watched her spread the buffalo robe on the hard-packed ground and settle the pillows at one end. It was an imperfectly cured robe, one of the first she’d prepared by herself, but her fingers found comfort in its flaws. She rubbed a spot that was still stiff, where she’d missed softening the hide with a mixture of basswood bark, buffalo brains, and grease. She had learned to do better. She had learned to survive.
“The bed is ready,” she said at last.
Long Quiet rose and crossed to where she stood, reaching for the string that released his breechclout. She clenched her teeth to keep from asking him not to bare himself. She carefully kept her eyes on his face, not daring to look down. Completely comfortable with his nakedness, he lay down on his back with his hands cradling his head.
“Come, join me,” he said.
When she started to lie down fully dressed, he stopped her. “You’ll be too warm in that deerskin. Take it off.”
Bay felt a spark of anger at his demand. “I don’t want—”
“That we should be together now is by your choice. I merely wish to see you. That is less than you’ve agreed we should have between us. Do you deny me even this?”
Bay bit her lip until it bled, but she said nothing.
Long Quiet shrugged. He was relieved that she’d failed this first test. Now he wouldn’t have the torture of remembering her body when he’d gone away. “I will leave with the rising of the sun.”
“No. Wait.” The words were torn from Bay. For a while she’d been able to forget that this gray-eyed, English-speaking man was Comanche, but it was becoming clear there was nothing remotely civilized about him. A combination of anger and desperation gave her the courage to do what she knew must be done. Bay had never wished so fervently for a petticoat. She was naked beneath the deerskin.
With her eyes on her feet, Bay untied the thong at her waist and let the skirt drop to her feet. As the fringes of her poncho undulated against her naked thighs, she heard Long Quiet’s sharp intake of breath. Her face flushed scarlet as she realized she’d unwittingly provided more temptation to him than she’d intended. She stood with her head bowed, her hands at her sides, unwilling to completely bare herself to his gaze.
He rose with sure, catlike grace to stand before her. His hands grasped the poncho and pulled it gently up from the waist, bringing her arms above her head as he released her from the garment. Her hands automatically crossed over her breasts.
“I want to see you.”
He’d said it so softly, so gently, that she looked up to see if his gaze matched his voice. It did. There was no frightening, fiery desire, no uncontrolled hunger. Neither did she find anger or any intent to inflict hurt or humiliation. She let her hands drop slowly to her sides.
She could see him try, and fail, to control another sharp intake of air. His eyes flashed briefly with raw need, then his gaze once again became remote. She flinched when he reached out to touch the long, jagged scar on her ribs, but stood still as his fingers traced the scar to its end. She knew when he realized there were more scars on her back. His jaw muscles tightened and his eyes narrowed as his arms reached around her, his fingertips tracing the myriad trails of pain.
“Did he do this to you?”
The rage in his voice kept her silent for so long that Long Quiet drew his own conclusions.
“I won’t leave you here with Many Horses. When I go, you’ll come with me.”
“No.”
“You would stay with one who—”
“He didn’t do it.”
“Who else would dare?”
The silence in the tipi was deafening. Bay drew a ragged breath before admitting, “The puhakut.”
There was an astonished pause before Long Quiet said, “And Many Horses said nothing?”
Bay sneered at his disbelief. “Would he dare challenge one who wields the power of a medicine man? He was not so foolish! I learned later that He Decides It had told Many Horses I must be tested by the spirits, to see if I was worthy of him. I . . . I tried to fight back, but he tied me down and . . . I pleaded, but no one stopped him.
“The first night, when I was left alone, two wolves came to sit on either side of me. The wolves would not let anyone near me. It was three days before . . . before the wolves left as mysteriously as they’d come. The puhakut declared it was a sign from the Great Spirit. He made it tabu for anyone except Many Horses and his family to speak to me or cross my path. I was left all alone . . .”
Long Quiet pulled her trembling body into his arms, his hands soothing her agitation, knowing no words could remove the memory of her pain. “The wolves that stayed by you were the ones Creed told me about, the ones Cricket raised?”
Bay froze for a moment, then smiled. Most Comanches would have been awed by her tale, but Long Quiet had looked for and found a reasonable explanation for what had happened. Once again she was reminded that this stranger who held her was at least half white. “I helped raise those two wolves from pups. They followed me here all the way from Three Oaks. As for why they came to sit beside me and why they left—I can’t explain that.”
Bay found Long Quiet’s embrace more comforting than she’d expected, and allowed herself to enjoy his solid strength. It was a welcome relief to lean on someone else and not to have to stand on her own. As the moments in his arms lengthened, however, totally different feelings began to course through her. A tingling sensation, a sense of fullness, rose in her breasts. His body was changing, too. The rising tension between them forced her from his embrace.
“It was a long time ago,” she said. “I’ve never understood why the puhakut proclaimed the tabu or why he didn’t just let me die when the wolves left. But I haven’t forgotten or forgiven his cruelty.”
Long Quiet took her hand in his and stepped back to the buffalo robe that would be their bed. “Lie down with me.”
Bay avoided looking at Long Quiet as she settled down flat on her back, her arms at her sides. He quickly joined her, placing himself close, but not close enough for their bodies to touch. She turned her head so she could see his profile. His face was all angles and shadows—hard, harsh, and tense. He closed his eyes, and within moments she could tell from his steady breathing that he was asleep.
What did he want from her? Why hadn’t he taken her body to use for his pleasure? Perhaps he planned to take his pleasure of her when he woke. Should she flee him now?
Bay lifted herself up on her elbow to examine the self-professed Comanche who slept beside her. He was an impressive man, without an ounce of wasted flesh on him. He was all knotted muscle from his thighs to his lean waist and broad shoulders to the . . .
Bay discovered the flesh she so admired was flawed. There was a swollen red gash on Long Quiet’s forearm. Why hadn’t he said something so she could relieve his pain? She shook her head. He was probably as stubbornly proud as Many Horses. There was nothing she could do now, but she determined that when he awoke, she would ins
ist he allow her to make a healing balm for the wound.
With that thought Bay drifted off to sleep and soon found herself dancing in Jonas Harper’s arms. As she dreamed, his square jaw became more angular and somehow Jonas’s moustache disappeared to be replaced by Long Quiet’s sensually bowed upper lip. Just as Bay began to suspect perhaps it wasn’t Jonas who was causing such a ripple of excitement with his lips at her throat, her dream was interrupted.
She cried out in fear, throwing up her arms to protect herself as an unexplained weight came hurtling down on top of her.
Bay blinked her eyes at the sunlight filtering into the tipi and found that Long Quiet had grasped Little Deer by her arms and was holding her outstretched before him. The little girl’s chin quivered and her lips were turned down in preparation for the wail that would accompany the tears hovering in her huge black eyes.
“Give her to me,” Bay said. When Long Quiet hesitated, she added, “She’s mine.”
His eyes became distant again, his face impossible to read as he settled the little girl in her lap.
“Good morning, Pia,” Little Deer said. “Kaku, Grandmother, said I must wait for you to wake, but I missed you.”
Cries at Night could be heard outside the tipi. “Little Deer, are you in there?”
“She’s here,” Bay called out. “She can stay with me for a while.”
Long Quiet studied the child with the same intensity he’d used to peruse Bay. “She doesn’t take after you much.”
“She looks like her father,” Bay replied, knowing that was at least the truth, if not the whole truth.
Long Quiet looked at the child again. He could find nothing of Bay in the little girl and wasn’t sure whether that pleased or upset him.
Cries at Night stepped inside the tipi. “I would not have disturbed you, Shadow, but now that I am here, Many Horses has asked that I help you serve his guest in whatever way I am needed.”
“Will you take care of Little Deer while I prepare a meal for our guest?”
“I will do it gladly. Is there anything else?”
Bay tried to decide whether she should ask the older woman to run an errand for her, then decided it was not too much to ask. “Would you bring my parfleche of herbs to me?”
“Of course.”
“I will keep Little Deer until you return.”
Cries at Night examined Long Quiet for a moment before she cackled to Bay, “He is a lusty one, eh?”
“What?” Bay gasped.
The old woman was gone with a speed that belied her arthritic limbs.
Long Quiet laughed at the old woman’s observation, but seeing Bay’s flushed embarrassment, he tied on his breechclout. His eyes caught a movement by Little Deer in Bay’s lap and the grin on his face faded.
Bay followed Long Quiet’s searing glance only to discover that Little Deer had reached out to play with one of her nipples. Somehow Long Quiet’s easy manner had allowed her to forget about her nakedness. Now she was forcefully reminded of it.
She tried to remove the child’s hand. “No, ona, baby.”
Little Deer resisted. “Pretty.”
“The child is right,” Long Quiet said. “Very pretty.”
Bay grabbed Little Deer’s hand and brought it up to her mouth to kiss it at the same time she hugged the child to her. When she looked up, the frown had returned to Long Quiet’s face.
Mercifully, Cries at Night arrived at that moment with the rawhide bag full of healing herbs. Bay kissed Little Deer’s cheek and gave her another quick hug before handing her to Cries at Night.
“Go with your kaku. I will come play with you later.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise,” Bay said with a quick kiss for the little girl.
With the child gone, Bay became conscious again of her nakedness and hurried to pull on her simple clothing. She would never get used to the Indians’ matter-of-fact attitude toward their bodies. Young boys wore nothing until the age of eight or nine, young girls only a breechclout until puberty, and she’d spent her first days in camp constantly flustered by the sight of them. That feeling was nothing compared to the way her pulse galloped at the sight of the muscles and sinews along the naked flanks of the man sitting across from her.
Once she was dressed, Bay worked quickly. She poured water into the buffalo paunch hanging on sticks to one side of the fire. She put heated stones from the fire in the paunch to boil the water and threw in some carefully selected herbs.
Long Quiet remained lying comfortably on the buffalo robe, watching her work. “What are you making? Something to eat?”
Bay laughed. “No, not unless you have a taste for cotton.” She held up a piece of brightly colored cloth she knew had been stolen from some Texas settler’s home before dropping it in the hot water. “I’m making a poultice for the wound on your arm.”
Long Quiet’s hand reached reflexively for the wound. “It isn’t necessary.”
“Perhaps not, but I noticed last night the cut is pink and swollen around the edges. This poultice will draw out any poisons.”
His voice was husky as he asked, “You examined me while I slept?”
“I only . . .” Bay’s mind raced for an excuse to cover the truth. “I thought you, like Many Horses, might have been hurt in the battle with the Tonkawas.”
With the same catlike grace she’d seen before, he rose and seated himself beside her. She flinched when his hand reached up to brush a curl from her brow.
“I find I like being cared for by you.”
Before he could do what his eyes told her he had in mind, she used a forked stick to draw the cloth from the water.
“Lie down on your side,” she ordered firmly. “And hold your arm so I can reach your wound.”
He smiled, then obeyed her.
Bay held the hot cloth out on the forked stick and levered it over to his arm, allowing it to settle on the wound. The hissing sound Long Quiet made told her how hot the cloth was.
“It has to be hot to work,” she said.
“I didn’t complain.”
“I didn’t want you to think I’d hurt you on purpose.”
“But you don’t like me.”
She kept stubbornly silent. The fact was she did like him, but she didn’t understand why. Until she did, it would be better not to admit such a thing.
Long Quiet suddenly sat up so the cloth fell from his arm. He thrust his hands in her hair where her braid had come loose overnight and held her head steady while his eyes searched her face. Before she could resist, his lips brushed hers once, twice.
If he’d tried to invade her mouth Bay would have fought him, but his touch was so soft, so tender, that she let him have his way. It was her undoing, because once he’d accustomed her to the feel of him, his tongue made a gentle foray along the edges of her lips, enticing, tempting. When she opened her mouth to object, his tongue slipped inside.
Her whole body tensed with the unfamiliar feelings that shot through her. His mouth felt good on hers. But it shouldn’t. He was a stranger. She’d been given to him to use as he wished, like a slave woman to a plantation rake.
So why wasn’t she resisting him?
Bay opened her eyes and saw his eyes were open, too. He kept his hold on her but edged back so they could look at one another easily. His gaze was frighteningly possessive in contrast to the gentleness of his touch.
“You aren’t going to . . . you won’t . . .” Her voice failed her.
“For now, until I leave, you belong to me.”
Chapter 5
“NO!” THE PROTEST SPRANG INVOLUNTARILY FROM BAY’S lips as she struggled to free herself from Long Quiet’s arms. He held her gently but firmly.
“I will have you.”
Long Quiet’s simple words sent Bay into a frenzy, and though she knew it was futile, she arched her body away in an attempt at escape. He captured her easily and pulled her wildly writhing body back into his embrace.
“Let me go!” s
he cried.
“Do not dare to fight him! You belong to him!”
Bay froze at the sound of Many Horses’ thundering voice. She hadn’t noticed the sounds of someone entering the tipi, but perhaps Many Horses’ entrance explained the tautness she’d felt in Long Quiet’s body only moments before Many Horses had spoken. Bay could almost see the hackles rise on both men’s necks as a frisson of barely controlled antagonism arced between them.
Because she knew him well, Bay was aware of the coiled tension in Many Horses’ body. He should properly have ignored her presence, but she caught his quick glance as he looked to see how she’d fared after a night in another man’s bed. Her face colored when she realized he no doubt believed Long Quiet had taken her to his blanket during the night. She was sure Cries at Night must have told him she’d been naked when Little Deer had awakened her.
Bay saw a flash of regret on the Comanche’s face. Many Horses’ jaw muscles tightened as though he were grinding his teeth. His guttural voice rasped in anger. “I had not thought you would shame me thus, woman. His right to you is as mine. You cannot refuse him.”
Despite the words he’d spoken, Bay had the feeling Many Horses’ anger was directed not at her but at Long Quiet. As she started to rise, Long Quiet’s arms tightened around her.
“There is no shame to you, haints,” Long Quiet said, “in her refusal of me. It is a tribute to the feeling she has for you.”
“She must obey me!”
“No,” Long Quiet countered. “She must obey me. She is mine now . . . until I leave.”
Many Horses struggled to hold his tongue but lost the battle only to ask, “How long will you stay among us?”
“I have not decided.”
Bay felt the rivalry blossom between the two men. Long Quiet had once again become the consummate Comanche warrior, slipping back into use of the Comanche tongue and observing Comanche customs. She shook her head in disbelief. Both men were too proud for their own good, and she refused to be fought over like some prize of war they both thought they deserved. If that meant she must submit willingly to Long Quiet, then she would. “I will—”
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