White Owl

by Veronica Blake

  They rode without speaking. Riding across the vast wilderness beside this powerful man made Rose experience feelings she had never felt before. Every step that their horses took increased Rose’s desire to break free from the constraints of her life, and run as wild and free as the man who rode next to her.

  She became aware that they were following the river and entering a thicket of trees. It was in this lush patch of forest that White Owl finally halted his horse. He dismounted, then reached up to lift Rose down. She held her breath again as their bodies touched while he slid her down to the ground in a slow, sensuous manner. He felt taut and mighty against her body, and she was vitally aware of every inch of him as she moved. Rose wished her feet would never touch the ground.

  When, at last, he released his hold and stepped back, Rose realized both of them were breathing heavily. They were unable to look away from each other.

  “You came back to me,” White Owl finally said.

  Rose opened her mouth with the intention of telling him that once again she had no other choice if she wanted to keep her family safe. But the words would not leave her lips. For reasons she could not explain to herself, she had lost the urge to try to defend her actions, and the differing sensations that were flooding through her mind and body right now were overpowering every rational thought she had ever had. At this moment, she just wanted to feel his lips on hers again. How much longer would he torture her like this?

  She did not have long to wait.

  Chapter Eight

  At first White Owl had thought he was imagining the look on her beautiful face. Did she really come here because she wanted to be with him? He drew a sharp breath, but was almost afraid to exhale. If she wanted him as badly as he knew he wanted her, he might not need to breathe ever again.

  The past week he had engaged in the ancient rituals of the Sun Dance, but his thoughts had been consumed by Wild Rose. As hard as he tried to focus on the importance of the ceremonies and the dancing and bonding with his fellow tribesmen, his attention kept drifting to how her hair shone in the sunlight, how her body had felt against his. He had emerged from the Sun Dance lodge feeling even more unsettled and confused than before. The ceremony was supposed to give him a sense of spiritual power that would bind him to his family and tribesmen and the world around him. Yet White Owl felt disconnected with everything and everyone, because the only one he wanted to bond with was his Wild Rose.

  As they faced each other now, he circled his hands around her small waist. She seemed to be holding her breath, too. Since it was the Ute custom to know many women before choosing a wife—or wives—White Owl had been with his share of young maidens. He knew desire and basic human needs, but none of those other girls had made him feel like he did right now. There was no doubt that he wanted to make her his woman physically. But he wanted more than that, too. He wanted it all . . . her body, mind and soul. He leaned forward to kiss those waiting lips.

  Her arms welcomed him without hesitation as she reached up to embrace him around the neck. To his shock and pleasure, she was kissing him back with almost as much intensity as he was kissing her. The heat of this kiss created an inferno in all of White Owl’s body that he could not extinguish. He crushed her against him, vitally aware of everything about her—the way her fingers were entangled in his long hair, the way her body molded to his as if they were joined, the way her soft, delicate lips felt hot and demanding against his own mouth. In spite of all those other girls he had kissed in his past, including the kisses he had stolen from Wild Rose, this—he realized—was his first real kiss.

  White Owl drew in a ragged breath and leaned back slightly so that he could peer down into her face. Her long brown eyelashes fluttered softly as she opened her eyes to return his gaze. Not even the cool azure waters of the high mountain lakes could compare to the brilliance of her blue eyes. White Owl felt as if she had just possessed him, and it was a spell he never wanted to break.

  They stared at each other for a long moment as White Owl attempted to corral his thoughts and emotions. In a normal situation, if a woman had kissed him like this, there would not have been one instant of hesitation on his part. He would have dragged her into the deep grass and taken what she was obviously offering. But this was not a normal situation, and Wild Rose was not just any woman.

  His entire body was shaking with constraint, his father’s words echoing through his mind. I do not worry about you, my son. You have never done crazy things that would disgrace me.

  White Owl vowed to himself that he would not rush into this, because there was nothing about this new turn of events that he wanted to chance. He had tried to move too fast the last time they had been together and had nearly scared her off for good. This time, he had to be sure that she really wanted him in the same way he wanted her and that she would not change her mind after they were together. It would be disastrous to the mounting problems his people were already having with the whites, and the way he was feeling right now, it could possibly destroy him, as well. As hard as it was, he had to be strong, and from the way she was looking at him right now, he needed enough strength for both of them.

  He cleared his throat, but the hard lump did not go away. “We should—we could sit in the shade,” he finally managed to whisper. She nodded but did not release her tight hold around his neck. White Owl gently pulled her arms down, but he kept ahold of one of her hands as he led her to the nearest clearing beneath one of the large oaks. She followed him without any resistance. He felt like he was strangling on every labored breath, and it sounded as though she was breathing just as heavily as he was.

  Effortlessly, he pulled her down into the lush grass under the low-hanging branches of the old tree. Their hands were still entwined. White Owl was still expecting to see her expression turn to fear and panic, but he was the one who kept being surprised. The only thing he sensed from her at this moment was complete surrender.

  “I really didn’t think you’d come,” White Owl said when he felt slightly in control again. Her hat had fallen off at some point during their impassioned kiss, and now her shiny red hair floated softly around her face. He reached out and pushed a rebellious strand away from her cheek. Her skin felt as flushed as it looked.

  “I was so sure that I wouldn’t,” she said quietly.

  A very slight smile touched the corners of his mouth. “But you are here now.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment as if she couldn’t believe it herself. “I tried to convince myself I was coming because I was afraid that if I didn’t you would come back and hurt my family, but—” She opened her eyes and looked directly at him as she added, “The real reason I came is because I can’t stay away from you.”

  Her words were so unexpected that White Owl almost had to ask her to repeat them. But the look on her lovely face confirmed what he thought he had heard. “Are you sure?” he asked. His gaze studied every contour of her face looking for any indecision. She had to hear the thudding of his heart; it sounded like a thunderstorm in his chest.

  “Yes, I am sure.”

  At that instant, White Owl knew that he had found the only woman he would ever want. But even as this new knowledge flooded through him, so did the reality of their situation.

  “Now what?” he whispered as much to himself as to her.

  Rose let out a heavy breath and shook her head slowly. “I was hoping you would know.”

  White Owl was afraid that at any second she would begin to beg him not to hurt her family. But there was still not a hint of fear or indecision on her face or in those mesmerizing blue eyes. He was the one afraid now, however, so afraid that he was only dreaming.

  “I guess you’re surprised,” Rose said after another long pause. She sighed. “Me, too.” She squeezed his hand tighter and a smile curved her mouth.

  White Owl was completely mute. Her beauty had entranced him. At last, he forced himself to contribute to the conversation, and he started with the one person they could not ignore, “But your
father—”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.” Her reddish-brown brows drew together. “I haven’t gotten past the part where I want to be with you.”

  White Owl smiled and pulled her closer and then turned her around so that she was sitting in his lap. She settled back against him without a moment of hesitation. They were a perfect fit. “That is where we start then,” he said as he rested his chin on the top of her head. He knew that if he continued to gaze into those hypnotizing blue eyes, or stare at those soft lips, he would lose what little control he had left. This had to be her choice in every way.

  He felt her relax against him even more as he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and breathed in the heady scent of her hair. It was not the scent of perfumed soap, but natural and intoxicating.

  “We already know how my family will feel,” Rose began. “So what about your family? How would they feel about you being with a white woman?”

  Her question caught White Owl off guard. She cared about his family? Obviously she was thinking about a lot of things that he hadn’t even thought to consider yet. “I don’t care what they think. I do what I want.” He felt her body stiffen slightly. He quickly added, “But it is different with my people. We have been forced to learn how to live with the whites. Your people just want to kill us.”

  The second the words left his mouth, White Owl knew that he shouldn’t have said them. Her body became as rigid as a tree trunk, and her shoulders drew back in a defensive manner. “Wild Rose, my words do not apply to us—to you and me. And my father understands my feelings for you.”

  Rose turned around to look at him. “You have talked to your father about me?”

  “He is my friend as well as my father. And he is much wiser than I am when it comes to women.” White Owl chuckled at the shocked expression on her face. Then, when he remembered how her father would feel about the two of them together, he realized that there was nothing humorous about this situation.

  “What did you tell him?” Rose asked as she leaned back against him.

  “That you wouldn’t leave my head alone ever since that very first day that I saw you on the ridge above the racetrack,” White Owl answered with honesty. Her body relaxed even more.

  He had to fight to control the urges that kept trying to escape from his loins. He couldn’t forget how she’d reacted the first time that had happened, and even though they had progressed past that point with their heated kisses, he wasn’t sure she was ready to go any further—yet. He tried to reposition himself in case his body defied him.

  “Tell me about your people,” she said.

  “What do you want to know?” White Owl placed his chin on top of her head again. This felt so comfortable. It was like they had known each other forever.

  “Well, how long have you lived here?”

  He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Forever,” he replied. “Ask something else.”

  “Oh,” she said in a thoughtful tone, and then asked, “Well, do you—I mean—your people have courtship rituals, you know, like we do?”

  Her question once again shocked White Owl. Her thoughts were obviously way beyond his—he could not get past the idea of making love to her in the summer grasses and she was thinking about courtship. He coughed and cleared his throat awkwardly. “I know many ways of your people, but I am not familiar with the white man’s courtship,” he responded as he tried to rein in his frantic heartbeat.

  She didn’t seem to notice his odd reaction as she explained. “We meet a man—a suitor, fall in love, and become betrothed, and then after a proper amount of time has passed, we get married. Is that how the Utes do it?”

  White Owl ran his tongue over his dry lips. “No.” Her silence told him that she was waiting for more details. He sighed. “We find a woman that we like and hide in the bushes and play songs on a reed or tell her riddles. If she likes it, then she will toss a rock at us. That is an invitation to spend the night in her tepee.”

  Rose was silent for a minute, and then asked, “You are then considered to be . . . together?”

  “No, if we enjoy each other, then we stay together. If not, then we keep repeating that ritual until we find a woman we like.”

  “Oh,” Rose said in a strange tone. “It is considered proper to—you know—um, sleep with more than one woman?”

  “We have to find a woman, or women that we want to spend the rest of our lives with. How do we know if we don’t try out many different ones?”

  She gasped, “Women? You are allowed to have more than one wife?” She twisted away from him and scooted out of his lap so quickly that White Owl didn’t have time to react.

  As they faced each other again, White Owl reminded himself that white men only married one woman at a time. But he still thought it was rather humorous that she was so shocked by the Ute custom. “If it pleases us,” he said. The color that rose up in her cheeks was deep red. It made her blue eyes look even more brilliant.

  “But I intend to take only one wife,” White Owl added quickly. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she didn’t believe him. “Your turn, Wild Rose. Do you have a suitor?”

  Her blush deepened. “Me? Oh, no! I mean, who—” She met his gaze and looked down at the ground. Her hands twisted at the material of her skirt.

  The smile on White Owl’s lips widened. He was certain that she was thinking the same thoughts he was—she definitely had a suitor now—if she wanted one. Neither of them could deny there was something special between them, and he was certain it was much more powerful than anything either of them had ever experienced.

  He reached out and picked up one of her hands that was fidgeting in the folds of her skirt. “My turn again.”

  She did not look up at him, nor did she make any effort to pull her hand away. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

  “Would you consider having an Indian as a suitor?”

  White Owl saw the heavy lump that she swallowed in her throat. She was wearing the shimmering gold heart necklace again today, and it accented the movement in her neck. She looked up at him now. “If I was the only woman he wanted.”

  Something hit White Owl in the thigh. He blinked and glanced down at the ground beside his leg. It took him a second to realize what it was, and his reaction was delayed because of the shock that rendered him speechless for a moment. He had no idea when she had picked up the small rock—barely more than a pebble—but her meaning was clear.

  He studied her smiling face for only an instant more. There was no doubt in her eyes or anywhere else on her beautiful face. He leaned forward to seek those sweet-tasting lips again. She met him halfway.

  They both rose to their knees, so they easily fit together as their lips sought to feed their desperate hunger. White Owl’s kisses were more demanding than ever before. The direction they were headed had become vividly clear, and he wasn’t planning to waste any more precious time. He had known since that very first day, and apparently, she had, too. It had just taken her a bit longer to figure it out.

  White Owl’s hand moved to the back of her head; his fingers became lost in the tangles of her long curls. He pressed his body tighter against hers as his mouth opened to push his tongue between her lips. For just an instant she seemed to hesitate before her lips separated and allowed his tongue to taste the sweetness of her moist mouth. Almost instantly, her tongue began a taunting dance with his, and if possible, their kisses became even more ardent.

  White Owl slowly lowered her to the ground. Beneath them the summer grass was full and soft. They lay on their sides as they continued to kiss. With his free hand, White Owl let his fingers trail over her breast and down along her waist and the curve of her hip. She trembled beneath his touch.

  He thought to pull back, to ask her if she was really sure this time, but she did not give his thoughts a chance to become vocal. There was no holding back for either of them now.

  Chapter Nine

  Rose felt
him start to pull away, but she could not imagine any distance between them at this moment. The consequences of her actions tried to invade her thoughts. But her mind was overruled by her wanton body and her yearning heart. She had no doubt now that her obsession with the Ute horse races was merely the prelude to her real destination, which was to be with this man for the rest of her life, and she was eager to begin this new life.

  In an effort to control her raging emotions, Rose tried to recall the things her mother had told her about being with a man for the first time. What had she said? It was something like, don’t think of the pain, it will hurt less as time goes on. Remembering that did not help, so she tried to concentrate on the incredible sensations racing through her body. Before she even realized what was happening, White Owl had the hem of her full skirt hiked up to her hips and her pantaloons pushed up out of the way, and he was rubbing his hand the entire length of her thigh. The feel of his hand on her bare skin was a wonderfully heady sensation.

  Rose imitated White Owl’s movements. Since he was wearing only a suede breechcloth it was easy to touch his bare skin. Beneath her tentative fingertips, his muscled thigh felt hard and smooth. She was distracted by the realization that he was fiddling with the buttons at the back of her dress. How could his hands be in so many places at once?

  She clenched her teeth together to keep from crying out when she became aware of his rock-hard manhood moving into position between her legs. All of his movements, the demanding kisses, the heated touches, everything, came to an abrupt halt.

  “You have changed your mind.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Oh no!” she gasped. “No, please, don’t stop.” She grabbed his head with one hand and pulled his face to hers, responding with a kiss that she hoped conveyed the intensity of her feelings.

  A deep moan escaped from him as he ripped the buttons off the back of her dress with one swift motion. In a tangle of flowered material he pulled the dress and her camisole away from her body and flung them into the grass.