Warrior's Prize (Panorama of the Old West Book 15)

by Georgina Gentry

  Keso struggled, the darkness seeming to close in on him. If he surrendered, he would live; yet without Wannie, his life meant nothing. All these years he had protected and cared for her and he knew he would do so the rest of his life, whether she appreciated it or not.

  He must not lose consciousness—he could not let this brute have Wannie. With strength born of desperation, he brought both hands up, breaking Coyote’s choke hold. He threw the bigger man to one side and staggered to his feet, exhausted and gasping for air.

  Coyote threw his head back and laughed. “You know you are beaten, you coward! Say to all present that you give me the girl and we will stop this fight now!”

  Not if you kill me inch by inch, Keso thought as he gulped big breaths into his massive chest. He charged into Coyote and they rolled over and over, struggling for superior position. Keso came out on top, but the other rolled out from under him and grabbed Keso’s knife that lay gleaming in the dirt. His eyes glittered with anger and lust. “I will kill you and water this dry ground with your blood!”

  Around them a chorus of disapproval went up with shouts that Coyote must not use a knife, that the men must wrestle for the prize, but Coyote seemed past hearing. He ignored the others as he crouched, moving toward Keso, the sharp knife glittering and reflecting the firelight. In fact, Keso could see his own almost naked image reflected in the shiny blade as they circled each other. Coyote seemed to pay no attention to those warriors who were shouting disapproval.

  Keso took a step backward, trying to decide what to do. “The jewels,” he urged, “the jewels are worth much gold.”

  Coyote glanced down at the gold and jewels lying at his feet. That temporary diversion was all Keso needed. He charged in, caught the man’s knife arm, and twisted. Coyote shrieked with fury and pain even as Keso caught him across the throat with the hard edge of his hand. Coyote dropped the knife and grabbed his throat, choking and coughing as he staggered.

  Keso could smell the sweat from Coyote’s unwashed body, feel the dust clinging to his muscles and the sting of his singed arm. Coyote went to his knees and collapsed, choking and gasping. With a sneer of contempt, Keso kicked the knife away from the vanquished loser’s hand.

  An old warrior cried out: “Ouray’s son wins! He is truly Ouray’s blood! Take your prize—you have won her fair!”

  Keso stood feet wide apart in the circle, swaying a little. “I claim the woman as my own!” he shouted. “Does anyone else challenge me for her?”

  There was a long silence, broken only by the gasping Coyote lying in the dirt and the crackle of the fire. Keso looked toward Cleve, waiting for him to protest, but he seemed concerned with nothing but his own life as he hung tied from the framework. No one stepped forward and a cheer began to build among the gathered crowd. “Claim her! Claim your woman!”

  Keso started moving across the circle toward the tipi. He was so weary that he swayed a little as he walked, but he would reach Wannie if he had to pull himself forward on his belly. Yet his heart was light and his mind was cheering. He had won her. Wannie was now a warrior’s prize!

  TWENTY-ONE

  Wannie had watched the fight through the tipi doorway. In the dim light of the big center fire, the struggle had raged as she held her breath and awaited the outcome. This couldn’t be happening; she had planned to be the bride of the Brewster heir, one of the richest men in the country, but that man was tied to a framework of poles, watching as she watched. He hadn’t even offered to do battle for her.

  As the fight continued, Wannie knew one of these two warriors would take her virginity as a trophy tonight. The thought of being used to slake Coyote’s lust terrified her; but the other warrior ... Could it be? No, of course not. Keso was surely dead or he would have come back to rescue her and Cleve. A big lump came to her throat as she thought of Keso. She hadn’t realized how much he meant to her and how much she depended on him until he was gone.

  A mighty cheer brought her back to the present. The handsome combatant had vanquished Coyote, who lay on the ground as the crowed cheered. The fight was over. The big savage looked toward the tipi where she was tied. Oh God, now she would be forced to do anything he wanted. She was no more than a possession to amuse the victor and warm his blankets.

  If she could only escape! Desperately, Wannie pulled at the rawhide strips that bound her wrists but they did not give. There would be no escape. Even as she watched, the virile savage strode toward the tipi, stopped, and spoke to one of the women. Mystified, Wannie watched as the woman brought him a bowl and some rags. What was he going to do?

  He stooped and came into the tipi. In the dim light of the outside fire, she could barely make out his silhouette. She was terrified and helpless. Perhaps if she pretended she was unconscious, he would be discouraged and go away. Surely no man could take pleasure in using an unconscious woman.

  She let herself go limp and closed her eyes. He paused before her. She could hear his breathing as he began to untie her. She must not scream; she must pretend. Maybe his attention would be temporarily diverted and she might yet escape.

  He caught her in strong arms as she fell, holding her close against him. Her torn bodice had come open and she felt her bare breasts pressed momentarily against his hot, naked chest. She almost panicked, then remembered that she was pretending to be unconscious. She kept her eyes closed as he carried her over and laid her on a soft bed of buffalo furs. Oh God, he was going to rape her after all. Just as she readied herself to scream and fight, she heard a splash of water and next, a warm, wet rag caressed her face gently. What kind of man was this who wanted his prize to be clean before he ravished her? She opened her eyes only a crack to peer up at him. His face was shadowed so that she could not see his expression as he washed her face.

  Then he began to unbutton her torn bodice. Now, he would strip away her clothing and take her. She lay very still, wondering if she dared to chance jumping up and bolting from the tipi, knowing there were hundreds of Utes out there in the darkness of the camp? He took the warm, wet rag and began to wash her breasts. She closed her eyes again and sighed. The rag caressed her breasts and her nipples. She had not known she could become so aroused by such gentle stroking. What kind of slut was she to enjoy this touch of a savage?

  He was unbuttoning her dress down the front. She tensed, wondering what to do. Maybe he was waiting for her to regain consciousness before he took her. In that case, she could pretend all night long. She forced herself not to move or fight him as he pulled the blue dress off and washed her gently. Her owner was looking at her naked body. The humiliation made her face burn, but she dared not move as he touched her so intimately. Would he rape her now or just continue to touch and stroke her as if she were some kind of small pet for his amusement? Instead, he pulled the warm fur of the buffalo robe up over her naked body. The fur against her bare skin felt erotic.

  Wannie opened her eyes just a crack to watch her captor. He stood in silhouette from the outside firelight as he stripped off the loincloth and washed himself. What a magnificent body! His muscles gleamed in the light as he washed the dust from his skin. Naked, his big maleness was enough to make her catch her breath in awe and trepidation.

  He put the loincloth back on. A woman came to the tipi entry and said something to him as she handed him a bowl and went away. What now? Wannie took a deep breath and smelled something delicious. Food. Of course he was going to fill his belly and then enjoy his captive at his leisure. He knelt next to her, put his arm under her head, and half lifted her, holding the bowl to her lips.

  She was completely naked with only a buffalo robe around her; it slipped down her body, allowing her bare flesh to press against his. She should pretend to be unconscious, Wannie told herself, but she was too hungry and desperate to care anymore. The scent of the hot broth was too much to resist and she took a sip. It was so delicious, she could not stop herself.

  Finally she paused.

  “Enough?”

  She only managed to no
d, knowing what would come next. But he laid her down and finished the broth himself, setting the bowl to one side. His hand reached out toward her and in her terror, she opened her mouth to scream. He slapped that big hand over her mouth. “Stop it! Don’t you know me?”

  She stopped fighting and collapsed, almost sobbing with relief. “Keso? Keso! Is it really you?”

  His hand went to stroke the hair from her eyes. “No other. Are you all right?”

  She wept softly. “I ought to be mad at you—you scared me half to death!”

  “I’m sorry, Wannie, I thought you knew me and if not, I didn’t dare let them know I knew you.”

  She rose up on her elbows, peering anxiously toward the tipi entry. “Is Cleve all right?”

  His body stiffened and she saw the sudden hostility in his face. “Hell, yes. The yellow coward was willing to trade you to save his own life.”

  Wannie began to cry and he took her in his arms, pressing her against his bare chest and gently kissing her forehead. “Hush, honey, you’re all right. I’ll take care of you.”

  “What did you call me?” She looked at him, unmindful of the buffalo robe slipping down so that she was naked from the waist up.

  “Brat.”

  “You liar, that’s not what you said.”

  “I—I don’t remember.”

  She stared at the ring hanging on a thong around his neck, then reached up and took it between her fingers, gently rotating it so that the light gleamed on the inscription. “Pour toujours. For always. Where’d you get this?”

  “What difference does it make?” He jerked it out of her hand.

  “Did you steal it?” Somehow, even as she said it, she knew better. Keso was no thief.

  “Hell, no, I bought it.”

  “Bought it?” She looked up at him, trying to read his rugged face in the shadowy firelight. It didn’t make any sense that Keso would buy himself such a delicate silver ring in a size so small it wouldn’t even fit on his pinkie. Then she remembered their situation and the ring didn’t seem important anymore. “Oh, Keso, I’m so scared! What’s going to happen?”

  He gathered her into his arms, heedless of her nakedness, holding her close against him. “I reckon I don’t rightly know. The Utes are so desperate, they’ll follow any lead. Tomorrow, unless Ouray returns, Coyote’s liable to convince them to kill us all.”

  She rested her face against his bare chest, feeling secure and protected. “You fought him for me, didn’t you?”

  “Did you doubt I would? They’ll have to kill me to hurt you, honey.”

  Honey. She hadn’t imagined his tender words. She swallowed hard, wondering. “Can I—can I doctor your back?”

  “It’s okay—don’t bother.”

  “It’s no bother.” She took the little pot of ointment and half-turned him so she could put the soothing bear grease on the raised welts.

  He sighed at her touch as she ran her fingers across his bare flesh, marveling at the power and strength of the man. As she touched him, she became aware that he was tensing, breathing deeper. Wannie paused with her palms against his bare back, feeling his heart pounding hard. What she had at her fingertips was a big, strong male and the thought electrified her. How could she have thought of him all this time as only her brother? “I—I’m finished.”

  He turned back toward her, his eyes smoldering with unspoken passion. How could she have been so blind to his devotion? She had always taken him for granted, not even guessing that he might care for her. Abruptly, she knew who that ring was for. Her throat swelled to the point of choking and tears came to her eyes and dripped on his chest. “Oh, Keso.”

  He put his arms around her, hugging her naked body against his. “Hush, Wannie, you’ll be okay, don’t be afraid.” He wiped her tears with one big finger. “I—I don’t know how to tell you this, but since I’ve won you, according to custom, I’ll have to come out of this lodge at dawn with proof that I’ve taken you.”

  Blood, she thought. He was expected to come out of the lodge with her virgin blood smeared on his manhood. She looked up into his eyes. “I understand.”

  “Look, Wannie, I’ll use a knife. At dawn, I’ll cut my arm and smear a little blood on my, well, you know. That way, they’ll be satisfied, and maybe I can figure out a way to get you and Cleve out of here safely.”

  She leaned into him, staring up into his dark eyes, wondering how she could have been so unaware all these years? “You’ll try to save me and Cleve Brewster and get us out of here so I can marry him?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you.”

  He bent his head to kiss the tip of her nose the way he always did, and as he did, Wannie reached up and caught his face between her hands. Very deliberately, she brought his face down to hers and kissed him on the mouth. For a split second, he stiffened in surprise and almost pulled away, but she wouldn’t let him. She pressed her bare breasts against his naked chest and deepened the kiss, licking along his lips until he opened them, then slipping her tongue deep inside his mouth.

  For a moment, he hesitated, then with a soft groan, his powerful arms went around her and he pulled her against him so hard that she could scarcely breathe. She moved her arms around his neck, holding him tightly as she caressed the inside of his mouth with her tongue.

  He was breathing hard, aroused and holding her tightly as he took over the kiss, sucking her tongue into his mouth, running his hands around her shoulders and down her bare back to her hips.

  The kiss seemed to last an eternity but not nearly long enough. The only man who had ever kissed her was Cleve Brewster and compared to this, it had been nothing. What had she been missing all these years while Keso kissed the tip of her nose and her forehead?

  Keso seemed to be fighting for self control as he took a deep breath and pulled away from her. He caught her arms and looked down at her with horror and she realized his big hands were trembling. “Good God, Wannie, I—I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry! I know you love Cleve—”

  “Hush.” She reached up and put her small hands on his broad shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me you loved me, Keso?”

  He started to say something, then looked away. “I did, but you never seemed to hear me. I wasn’t fancy enough for you. It doesn’t matter, Wannie, I understand. I’d do anything for you.”

  “You always would,” she whispered. “How could I have been so blind?”

  “I’m just a rough woodsman, like Cleve said.”

  “You were willing to fight to the death for me and he wasn’t.”

  “You don’t have to be grateful, honey.”

  “There, you called me that again.” She looked up into his face, then reached out and caught the little silver ring in her fingers. “Who did you buy this for?”

  He hesitated. “Please don’t laugh.”

  “Keso, dear, I’m not laughing. Don’t you see I’m not laughing?” Tears ran unchecked down her face.

  “I—I bought it when I went to Boston for your graduation. I was going to ask you to marry me, but all you could talk of was Cleve.”

  She wiped her eyes. “I never guessed.”

  “I know—it’s okay I reckon the thought that I might love you never crossed your mind.”

  “I was such a fool,” she whispered.

  “Wannie, I don’t know what to make of you.” His shoulders slumped. “I’ve looked after you the best I could all these years and I’m afraid Cleve Brewster isn’t up to the job, but if he’s your choice—”

  She reached up and put her fingers across his lips so he could not finish. “You have just fought a fight to the death to take me and now you’re willing to cut your arm to pretend you did.”

  He kissed her fingertips. “Don’t you understand, Wannie?”

  “I think I’m just beginning to,” she murmured, “and wondering why I didn’t know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve won me, Keso, and I’m y
ours for the night, but God willing, I’d like to be yours for always.”

  “Honey, you don’t know what you’re saying. Tomorrow, you’ll regret this and be back talking of fancy dresses and jewels and big mansions—”

  “I want to be your woman,” she whispered, “now and forever.”

  He took a deep breath and stared into her eyes as if he could not quite believe her words. Whatever he saw there gave him his answer.

  Very slowly, he reached up and untied the rawhide thong. As he slipped the ring on the third finger of her left hand, he said, “I had always dreamed of doing this before a preacher.”

  “And if we get out of this alive, I promise you we will,” she murmured, “but for tonight, our vows to each other will have to do.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He took her in his arms, probing her mouth with his tongue, caressing her lips with his own.

  “Oh, honey, if you only knew how much I’ve dreamed of this.” He laid her back on the buffalo robe and slowly pulled it away from her body.

  She lay there, smiling up at him, relishing the approval and desire in his dark eyes as his gaze traveled over her bare flesh. “We have all night,” she said. “let’s enjoy it as if it were the only time we will ever make love.”

  “I promise you, honey, you will never, never forget tonight.”

  They both knew without saying that tomorrow, the Utes might change their minds and kill them both, but they had tonight and each other. It was enough.

  She closed her eyes and let Keso kiss her eyelids and her cheeks and comb his rough but gentle hands through her dark hair. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  “I never thought you would.” She reached up and caught his face in her hands and kissed him again until he groaned aloud.

  “All these years,” he promised, “I’ve dreamed of kissing every inch of you and tonight, I will.” He kissed her neck and along her collarbone.

  Wannie had never felt desire when Cleve kissed her, yet at this moment, need was a hot whirlpool in her belly that radiated through her whole body. Keso was staring down at her as if he was not sure he dared touch her further. For answer, she arched her back, offering him her breasts.