by Karen Kay
That was all it took to have Kali responding in kind, and as she collapsed against him, she returned his kiss wholeheartedly. His breath filled her lungs, and his being merged with hers.
Was he right? Were they attuned spiritually? It was true that when he was near, she felt as though she somehow gained space. Not that she became him. She was still very much herself…but more so.
She broke off the kiss to gaze up at him. Should she tell him what was in her heart?
His face was so close, so dear, so handsome, and as she stared at him, she knew that she must memorize this instant and keep it with her. Always would she cling to his image, to the tenderness in his eyes, the compassion that was expressed in his every facial feature. Gulping, she whispered, “You are probably the most beautiful man I have ever known.”
He grinned. “I am glad that you think so.”
“Soaring Eagle,” she murmured, her voice low. “I…I think that I do lo-love you. It must be love, for I feel that you are part of me. You see, what you were saying…about being more yourself? I, too, feel this. It is as though what is happening to you happens to me also. Does that sound silly?”
“Saa, no,” he said. “It reminds me of something my father might say…very wise.”
“Oh, Soaring Eagle, what are we to do?”
“Live our lives together.”
She sucked in her breath. “Oh, that I could.”
“You can.”
“No, no, I can’t. Just because I have come to understand my feelings for you doesn’t mean that I have changed my mind about us, about marriage. I might know now that I love you, it’s true, but it changes very little. Our lives are too different, our goals too individually diverse.” And I’m still not sure you won’t hurt me terribly, she said to herself.
“And yet,” he said, “you are my wife. In our dreams you took me easily and gladly.”
“Many things come true in dreams.” Kali’s smile was a melancholy affair as she added, “Tell me, how willing would you be to travel the world with me?”
Looking at him, Kali had her answer without a word being spoken. A sadness had come over Soaring Eagle’s features that was so real, so effusive, it was almost tangible. Nonetheless, he said, “It would be a difficult thing for me to do. My people need me here.”
Kali looked away. “And I would not want to take you from here, from your tribe, your people. It would be as to take away a part of you. I couldn’t do that.”
“Then stay here. You and your father could write more than one book about our people.”
Our people? Had he realized what he’d said?
But Kali shook her head, managing to affect a bland smile. “Do you see? Already you try to persuade me.”
He didn’t respond to this, though his lips thinned perceptibly.
“No,” she continued, “it’s a grand idea, a marriage between us, but that’s all that it is, I think. I’m afraid, Soaring Eagle, that it would be best if we kept our wits about us and realized that our time together is simply that—a splendid intrigue—memories for our old age.”
“Memories?” He brought his cheek next to hers, where he proceeded to nuzzle it against her own. He said, “I am here with you now.”
“Yes, and we should capture this moment for what it is. I will always remember you.”
“I will have no need of memories, my wife, for always will a part of me be with you.”
“What do you mean?”
He pulled her to him and, standing chest to chest, his fingers rummaged through her hair as he said, “When you write your book, there I will be with you. When you read it, when you tell your stories, when you remember this time, there I will be.”
Kali sucked in her breath as shivers of delight, exquisite and delicate, raced up and down her spine. This man, the things he said, the way he said them, were entirely beyond her experience. And his words, him, the beauty of the moment seized hold of her, capturing her as surely as if he’d thrown a net over her head. And the odd thing was, she understood exactly what he meant.
He said, “I think, my sweet Kali, that once you have known love, you will be unhappy without it. Think well on this, my love.”
“Yes, but—”
“I ask you to consider what kind of person would merely exist, when he could live? While our path, yours and mine, might be full of obstacles, would it not be more difficult to try to live without one another?”
She had no argument for that, at least not now. In truth, at present she was finding it more and more difficult to think clearly, particularly when he was holding her so close.
She sighed, realizing what she must do. She said, “Let’s not argue this any further. Though you state your cause well, my mind is set against marriage, and I must remain firm to what I once knew was right. But something must be resolved between us, if only because of the way in which we awakened, the way we are standing here now. I only hope the good Lord will forgive me for what I am about to suggest to you.”
“You have a suggestion?”
“I do.” She gave him a brief nod. “And it is not easily given, but as I see no other solution, it is all I can offer.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”
She took a deep breath for courage, and jumped in with both feet. “An affair.”
“An affair?”
“Yes; let us make a pact that we have had only an affair, and that anything else that might happen between us would be only a short liaison. Love without marriage. Love without the ties that would restrict us in accomplishing our dreams. It would leave us both free. No ties, no bonds, no inhibitions.”
He frowned. “I know what an affair is,” he said. “But why? Why would you want this when you could have everything?”
She shrugged.
And he said, “It’s not as though either one of us would keep the other from achieving their heart’s dream.”
Kali shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t certain why this was important to her, but it was. Yes, it was outrageous. Yes, it was most likely shameful. Yet deep within her was the need to remain separate from this man…for reasons she had no way of grasping. Besides, she was, after all, a nineties woman, a woman who was only beginning to test the strength of her wingspan.
She said, “I’m not certain you speak the truth. A man will usually expect a woman to conform, and you are, after all, from a…”
“…patriarchal society,” he finished for her. He scowled, drawing his brows together in an utterly confounded expression. “There is a problem.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t see how I can agree to that since I have vowed—if only to myself—that I will not take you to my sleeping robes without marriage. You must realize that this thing you suggest could ruin your reputation.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “Yes, perhaps it could. Yet I know of no other way to settle this. The deed has already been done…the seeds sown, and since we seem to be in a rather compromising situation, even at present…”
“And you think an affair will pacify our…needs?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do.”
He stared down into her eyes with a look that appeared as though he might, with intention alone, likely change her mind. But it was simply not to be, and after a few moments, he said, “I think you might be too innocent in your evaluation of our situation. For once a person has known the pleasures of the flesh, they are not so easily forgotten. But come with me.” He settled her into the crook of his arm and plunged back through the water to the shoreline, where he gently deposited her upon its grassy banks.
She shivered. Her body had adjusted to the temperature of the water, and the combination of wind and the cool morning air seemed frigid.
But he was there beside her, rubbing her arms, her legs, coming close, sharing his body heat. And leaning over her, he said, “Though I desire you, I do not think this is a good idea. First, let me say again that we are married.”
“We are not.”
He held up a hand. “Secondly, there is my vow to consider. I cannot easily take that back.”
“Fine,” she said huffily. “Then you can believe we are married. Will that help ease your mind?”
“Saa, it will not, for you do not believe it, too.”
She sighed. “Do you think this is easy for me? I’m going against a great deal that I hold sacred by even suggesting this. And perhaps I will have to atone for my sins at a later date. But I think, if you will examine the facts calmly, without any added emotional involvement, you will see that there is no other way for us. Besides, as I said before, the deed has already been done. And if we have only an affair, we can keep it secret. There will be no trouble. You won’t have to tell your people, I won’t have to tell mine. It’s a good solution.”
“I disagree.”
“Fine.” She rolled away from him, onto her side. “Soaring Eagle, where are those towels? And the change of clothes?”
“What are you doing?” He touched her shoulder, his voice close to her ear. “You would walk away from me?”
“Yes,” she said, leaning out of his reach. “I must. My future happiness, my father’s and, I think, yours too depends on it.”
Soaring Eagle was silent for several minutes, until at last he said, “All right, we will have this affair.”
She fidgeted. “I don’t know. It seemed a good idea at the time I suggested it. I’m not certain now. Besides, I don’t want you to go against your principles.”
“Ah yes,” he said. “That would be a terrible thing.”
She glanced at him obliquely. Had she detected a note of sarcasm?
He continued, “But I assure you, my principles are firmly intact. Are yours?”
Kali moaned as the double edge of that question hit her square in her center. Nonetheless, she responded with a simple, “Perfectly. Why do you ask?”
Chapter Eighteen
Cupid plays havoc with the hearts of red as well as white people. And—dare I say it?—the love of the red, as a rule, is more lasting, more faithful…
—James Willard Schultz, My Life as an Indian
“My wife, the fallen woman.” There was more than a little humor in this observation. But Kali chose to ignore it, which, it appeared, only served to urge him on, for he continued, “Perhaps I should boast to my friends that I have managed to solicit an affair with a married woman.”
“Oh, stop it,” she said. “If you are only going to make fun of me, maybe we should get dressed. After all, there are many things I should be doing.”
Yet when she made a move to rise, he pulled her back down to him. “Where are all these promises?”
“Promises?”
“You are the one who suggested the illicit romance. I am but a helpless victim to your charms, awaiting only your touch and all else that accompanies an affaire d’amour.”
“Soaring Eagle, cease this.”
“What?” he asked, while his hands began to massage her back. “What must I cease? This?” He brought one of his palms around to rub her breast.
She groaned.
“Or this?” He kissed a sensitive spot on her neck.
Kali, already mesmerized, felt like sculptor’s putty. And as she sank back against him, her body molded itself to his.
She groaned. “That feels heavenly.”
“Yes,” he said, “it does.”
The comment made her smile, and lazily, she turned over to face him. “Soaring Eagle,” she said, “please, I…I yearn for more…kisses, I think.”
“Do you?” He brushed a strand of hair back from her face, his features softening as he gazed at her. “Then it shall be done, but first you must help me with it, for this is my first affair and I am uncertain of what you might like.”
She sniffled.
“Tell me, should I kiss you like this?” He placed a small peck on the top of her head. “Or like this?” He rubbed his lips over her ear. “Or perhaps like this?” He brought his face close to her, his stare at her and his demeanor intent, his lips coming close, closer, closer until finally he skimmed over her lips completely and placed a tiny kiss on her cheek.
“Would you stop that?”
“What? No more kisses? Have I not pleased you?”
Kali blew out her breath. “Would you be serious?”
“I am serious.”
“No, you’re not. You’re teasing me. What I want is a real kiss.”
“Are you telling me my kisses aren’t real?”
She sent a look up to the heavens.
“Or did you mean for me to kiss you something like this?”
His lips captured hers, fully, completely, his tongue tasting first her upper lip, her lower, then sweeping hungrily into her mouth, sending waves of exhilaration surging through her.
“I think I meant something like that,” she whispered as she came up for breath.
“Oh,” he said, “then let me repeat it.” And he proceeded to do it all over again.
Kali was a willing victim, too. But no matter his urgent kisses or his affectionate murmurings, it wasn’t enough. Like it or not, she had been awakened to the full face of love. And she wanted it all, again…now…
And though the ground beneath her was wet and mushy, she barely noticed. Alas, she was hardly aware of anything else save the hammering fervor of her heart as it pumped life-giving fluid through her veins.
Perhaps, she thought, she had made a tactical error in staying here through the morning. Maybe she should have left last night with all possible speed, rushing back to New England, to safety, to her world as she knew it.
But what was life without a little excitement? Without a little love?
Alas, it was true. She might live to regret her actions this day.
But not now. Goodness, no. Not now…
She lay on her back, gazing up at him, while Soaring Eagle pressed her hair back from her face. Ah, his love, his sweet, beautiful wife.
He knew she struggled with something he could hardly understand. Indeed, he wondered if she was aware of the exact source of her problem.
She wanted him; he was well aware of that. Yet, she didn’t want to want him. She loved him, too. But he was willing to stake his life on the notion that she didn’t want to love him, either.
It wasn’t an insult. No, and it wasn’t what she said it was, either. Not culture, not race, not even her career.
There was something else. Something she was probably unaware of. It was as though she harbored a deep-seated distrust of him. Why?
In some ways he felt as though he’d known her forever. In other ways…
“Soaring Eagle,” she said, “come here.”
He scooted back up her body, pressing his lips to her ear. “I am here,” he said.
“Tell me,” she said. “Why do I ache so badly?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Stomachache?”
“No.”
“Headache?” He grinned.
“No. I feel like I’m on fire.”
“Ah,” he said, “Does your heart race unsteadily?”
“Yes.”
“And does your pulse soar?”
She nodded.
“Aa, this could be bad, very bad. I know a good Indian remedy.”
“Do you?”
He inclined his head.
“Then please do it and hurry.”
But Soaring Eagle was in no particular rush, nor was he inclined to take her orders. And so, as he kissed and caressed her, he dawdled.
“Soaring Eagle,” she murmured, arching her back, “I think I am ready.”
“I know you are, but, my sweet wife,” he said, “you might be sore. It was not long ago that we enjoyed this same act, and it is a new venture for you. We will take our time, I think.”
“Why?” she asked. “How can you tell if I’m sore if you don’t attempt to find out?”
Despite himself, Soaring Eagle chuckled. He had been told that the white woman was an unresponsive, cold partner when
taken to a man’s sleeping robes. Surely, he thought, his sweet wife was proving that remark to be no more than ugly gossip.
“All right,” he said, “but if I am right and you are bruised, we will slow the pace down until the fire within you is so bright, you will not notice when I become one with you. You will tell me.”
She nodded. “I will tell you.”
And with no more haggling to be done, at least for the moment, he joined his body with hers.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” she said, “but you’re holding back, aren’t you?”
“Aa, yes, my wife. It is easier for a man to reach attainment than it is his wife. As your lover, I would have you experience all the pleasure that I can give you and more. A man must learn control.”
“Oh, really?”
“Aa, yes, really.”
“Humph. I’m not certain I like that. I don’t want you to be ultracontrolled. I want you to ache for me.”
“I do, my wife. I do.”
If she heard him, he would never know. She scooted down until she had positioned her lips over his chest. Before he could ask her not to move, she had sought out one of his flat, sensitive nubs, taking it between her lips. Over and over she kissed him.
He groaned.
But she wasn’t finished. Moving to the other side of him, she made a banquet of that part of him too.
He murmured deep in his throat and drew in his breath, mumbling, “You must cease doing that if you want—”
She stared up into his eyes. “I’ve decided that I definitely don’t like you controlling yourself when you are with me,” she said.
“But a man must—”
“Not now. I want you to yearn for me.”
“But I do,” he said, as though the admission pained him. “I have, I will, I do.” Taking her in his arms, he proceeded to show her exactly what her efforts had wrought…
Inside Comes Running Bird’s lodge, rattles beat time on a buffalo hide. “To imitate the sound of a beaver’s tail hitting water,” Soaring Eagle explained.
Drums pounded out a rhythm so loud that she and Soaring Eagle were forced to lean close in order that they be heard over the noise.
