by Karen Kay
She gave him that smile again and said, “I know.”
And he practically took her in his arms right then.
But he didn’t. Instead he shook off his moccasins and shed her father’s borrowed pants, making a clean dive into the water. He surfaced a moment later, relishing in the refreshing temperature of the water, relying on it to soothe and take away the heat of his desire.
But he had thought too soon.
She turned over to watch him, coming up slightly to rest her weight on her elbows, her hands holding her head. And he was presented with the all too inviting image of her rounded buttocks, her soft breasts, only slightly hidden behind her arms, seeming to beckon him. She held one leg bent, her foot in the air, waving back and forth. Again, that smile of hers hit him as if it alone had the power to control him.
And perhaps it did. His body jolted in reaction. He felt as if he’d been struck by a single source of lightning, so intense was the craving within him. Worse, his masculine parts throbbed as though alive with a will of their own.
He moaned. How could he possibly take such seduction from her? He should have ignored her, that’s what he should have done. But that wasn’t possible, either.
However, he might be able to play at her own game. He gave her an expectant glance. “Am I the only one who will enjoy these waters this day? I thought you wanted to go swimming.”
She rose, coming up onto her knees in front of him, and he practically moaned his appreciation.
She pushed back her shoulders and shook her head, letting her hair fall down over her breasts, practically hiding them, but not completely, and he noted each and every sway of them. She said, “I do. I am.”
Suddenly she shifted position to sit back on one leg, while bending her other one at the knee. Very effectively, he was presented with a view of a great deal of her femininity.
Such did not pass by without his notice, either.
Gulping silently, he decided he had better determine her exact game. He noted, very directly, “I think that you flirt with me.”
Again, that smile came to her lips, her eyes inviting. She countered, “Do you only think so?”
He let out his breath in a noisy rush of air. If she was this intent upon her own seduction, who was he to keep it from her?
He groaned. He was the one who would, that was who. He did not think he could take more of their lovemaking without gaining his own satisfaction from it. It was beginning to have an ill effect on him, manifested in certain parts of his very sore body.
Yes, he should have ignored her.
“Moon Wolf,” she said to him, “I think I should make love to you as your wife.”
He nodded agreement. “You have that right.”
“Then why do you deny me?”
“You know why. It might relieve my pain of the moment, but it would bring me more suffering shortly, not knowing that you would be well cared for in the future. Please, you must remind me of this.”
She licked her lips. “I know a way to give you the pleasure that is any wife’s right to give her husband without compromising you.”
Now she really had his attention. He raised an eyebrow. “Of what do you speak?”
Again, her tongue flicked across her lips. She suggested, “Come out of the water and I will show you. I promise that you will be happy with me.”
Did he dare trust her? Truth be told, he had little choice. He was practically her slave at this moment, bending to almost any whim she desired.
He put one foot forward, and she sat up on her knees, her bottom wiggling so slightly that it was barely perceivable. But he noticed it. What man wouldn’t have?
He took another step forward, although he did think to ask, “What have you in mind?”
“I will not speak of it yet.”
He did think to wonder where she had learned these ways. It was a certainty that he had not taught them to her. He could barely be around her without the rigors of his body making themselves known.
“I have been speaking with my mother.” She answered his unspoken question just as though he’d asked it. “Come here, Moon Wolf.”
He took another step forward, warning her at the same time, “I will not violate you. No matter what you do, I will stop it before it goes that far.”
“I will not ask you to, I promise you,” she said. Then she added, “In the white man’s wedding ceremony, there is a line that reads, ‘With my body, I thee worship.’ I think that I would like to amend it to, ‘With my lips, I thee worship.’” Again that oh, so seductive smile lit her face, and his body responded, all out of control. “Does that give you an idea?”
Eagerness, hunger, and excitement filled him all at once. Still he did think to observe, “And your mother told you about this?”
“She did.”
He shook his head. “Mat’-ah-kwi tam-ap-i-ni-po-ke-mi-o-sin,” he said, “not found is happiness without woman, or perhaps I might also add without mother-in-law.”
Alys grinned at him. She intended to prove, too, just how right he was.
Chapter 13
Moon Wolf had no choice. He went to her. How could he not? At this moment, the strength of his desire for her, their own mutual passion, held him completely captive.
In one fluid dive, he shot toward her, at once bridging the distance between them. Supported on his elbows, he drew himself out of the water and, coming up onto his knees, swept her into his arms. He held her, just held her, his touch upon her gentle, rocking her back and forth as though he might never let go. That this might communicate the overwhelming power of his feeling for her did not dishearten him as perhaps it should have if he were to keep good his resolve. The intensity of his mood and his complete adoration of her fed his desire like fuel, and he could not have stopped had he willed it, which he did not.
At once her honey-sweetened scent encircled him and, as though existing in a life of its own, it enveloped him in its silky cocoon. He breathed in unsteadily, and the refreshing fragrance of her stirred him to his soul. His intention to keep her pure, practically virginal, almost evaporated under such an onslaught—almost…
His strength of will was such, however, that he continued to hold on to a part of his reserve—just…
“Little Brave Woman,” he muttered hotly against her hair, “it is in my heart to protect and nurture you, but I fear that you need shelter from no one else but me.”
She arched her neck and his lips at once caressed those oh, so vulnerable spots, glorying in the sound of her high-pitched moan as she responded to his ministration. She did manage to utter, her words softly spoken, “But you do protect and nurture me, my husband.”
“Saa, no, I fear my own passion.”
“It is my intent to fulfill that passion. I would have you experience all that I have, all that you have given me.”
He groaned. “I fear your intent.”
He had knelt in front of her, the position forcing her onto her knees against him. She now bent to smother kisses over his own neck, to those same sensitive spots he had discovered on her; down further, to his chest, to his own nipples, voicing, between kisses, “There is no need to fear me.”
He could feel her quivering within his arms, her response so swift, the thought did occur to him that he might burst with the need to take her. “Alys, I cannot abide this,” he confessed. “I worry that you will send me up in smoke, and perhaps yourself, too.”
He could feel her smile, there on his chest, before she murmured, her voice husky, “I hope so.”
He grunted. “Please, I must keep you pure.”
“I will not do anything you will not like and I vow to abide by your protests. I will not do anything to cause you alarm. I promise this. Please, trust me.”
She had already brought her kisses to his stomach, the touch of her lips on him, the fleeting caress of her hair, creating havoc within him and upon a more centralized area, greatly sensitized; her name escaped his lips once more, but whether in protest or in encou
ragement, he was beyond contemplating.
And when her kisses found that place most tender to him, most masculine of all, he surrendered himself to her, completely, utterly.
It did occur to him to wonder at old Ma Clayton, realizing the debt he would owe the woman and her experience; for he, himself would never have thought to teach this sort of lovemaking to his wholesome, sweet Alys. But even that thought was quickly lost as conscious thought deserted him, overtaken momentarily by the thrill of his own passion and desire.
He met his release quickly, mayhap too quickly, but he gave such little thought. The buildup to this had been so intense, so powerful, that it had to be expected. And as he spilled the essence of his seed, he spiraled up high, up into the late afternoon sky, his spirit soaring. Physically, he held Alys in his arms, her own slim body trembling.
And, as they knelt there, embraced, he realized that if he’d had any doubts about his feelings for this brave and heroic woman, such qualms had fled. As the gray sky does to the golden rays of the sun, all uncertainty was vanquished, leaving him feeling brighter.
Moreover, he realized that for all his life, all his existence, he had committed himself to her, not only in this life but spiritually and forever. And though he could not visualize the full significance or the complete implications of such a pledge, at least not right this moment, it did not detract the least from the power of his commitment.
He had dedicated himself to her, for all eternity.
Several hours later Moon Wolf lounged within the cave, awaiting Aly’s return. He was thinking. He sat crosslegged upon his blanket, his pipe at his knees, his knife within ready reach and his trusted pet at his side.
No longer influenced by the whims of momentary passion, his thoughts had become clearer, and he had concluded that he could not allow Alys to stay with him. Truth be told, if he’d had any inclination in the past to keep her from his side, it was doubly so now. He had finally realized that he loved her, deeply. He probably always had, thus explaining the incredible lengths he had gone to in order to protect her.
Although to another such an enlightenment might be used as cause to hold on more firmly, not so Moon Wolf.
He would not, could not allow this woman to ruin her life. And he saw himself as a catalyst to doing just that.
He could not deny that the old ways, the glorious ways of the free and independent Indian were on the brink of extinction, perhaps never to return. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but it was one that demanded his acknowledgment. Also, like the buffalo, Moon Wolf could not deny that the red man’s numbers decreased daily. Whether by disease, by gunshot, or by the evils of the white man’s spirit water, the red man’s power upon this land, which he had once held undisputed, had deteriorated, leaving only devastation of the land, of the Indian people.
Moon Wolf no longer knew with any certainty what the future held. And though he might himself be doomed to an early death because of this, he did not wish this upon Alys, would not sanction such a thing for his wife.
It remained a fact that she was white, and because of this, she could still secure a bright future if he could hold himself in check long enough to disentangle himself from her.
And so it was with such purpose that he awaited her now.
But, as though aware that he might have disruptive thoughts, she had excused herself and had disappeared soon after their lovemaking, not to return, not even to give him supper. And though he was more than capable of providing for himself—he had, after all, brought home meat—he had become accustomed to Alys’s bringing him food.
Patiently, as was his training, he sat within the cave, his thoughts in chaos, Makoyi at his feet.
Looking down, he addressed the animal. “Where do you think she is?”
Makoyi lifted his eyes to his master, seemed to chide him for such foolishness, then rested his head back on his paws.
“I think I had better pay a visit to the fort this night.”
Again, a warning look from Makoyi.
“What thinks you, Makoyi? Why do you frown at me? If not for her, I need to be going there to give the lieutenant all the ‘information’ I have collected on the Wolf Shadow. I have business in the fort, after all.”
Wolf didn’t even deem to look up this time. He closed his eyes.
“I think you are right and I should go.”
Makoyi pulled back his ears, wiggling them as if he hadn’t heard correctly.
“You stay here and sleep. If you come into the fort with me, it will look bad. Many people know you. But they do not relate the drunken Moon Wolf with the Wolf Shadow.”
No response from the animal, although there was clearly another pout.
“What say you?” Moon Wolf scrutinized the animal more closely. “Is this about that young female pup we saw today in the wood?”
Makoyi raised his ears.
“Humph,” said Moon Wolf. “I saw the look you gave her, and I noted the answering gleam in her eye.”
The wolf continued to pout.
“Fine, then go ahead and go to her,” he voiced to the wolf, waving his arm. “If I am going to seek out my own lady love, I see no reason to hold you here. It is spring, the urge is strong within you, too. Just do not forget to return in the morning.”
Makoyi raised his head and stared at his master, as though he comprehended each and every word.
“There is the scent of the human being on you, though, old friend. She will smell this on you and might not pay any attention to you. Do you still wish to go?”
In response, the wolf started off toward the cave’s entrance, but he returned in a moment, placing his paws on his master’s shoulders and licking his face.
Moon Wolf laughed and petted the animal gently before Makoyi came back down on all fours, turning and cantering off in the direction of the waterfalls, looking back only once. And Moon Wolf, watching him, shook his head.
They were a pair, the two of them, moping after their women, following them wherever they went.
Was there no hope for them?
He found her at a dance.
A dance. Why had she not come to him and explained what she intended? And there he had been, waiting for her.
He watched her as she frolicked, coupled with another man, spinning this way and that, stepping around the dance floor. His gut wrenched, and despite what he had told her about his wanting her to marry a white man, despite his own desire that she be freed from him, seeing her like this, in the arms of another man, gave him pause for consideration.
Especially when that man was Lieutenant Warrington.
Lieutenant Warrington. Could she not feel, did she not notice the snakelike qualities of this man?
He supposed that she might not. Many women were blind to the more deceitful qualities of men, especially when a particular man was handsome of face. But then, there seemed something insubstantial about a woman who judged a man based on physical image alone.
Irritated, Moon Wolf pulled his robe up and over his head, leaving himself a mere crack through which to see. He peeked through the thin glass of the white man’s window.
The strange music from the fiddles, the twang of the guitar strings, and the buzz from a harmonica hung lightly in the air, their pitch high-toned in comparison to the accompaniment of the more baritone singing. No drumming accompanied the music, either, which seemed odd to the Indian ear, although the sound of the stomping feet from inside kept up a simple rhythm. Laughter and the hum of the many voices drifted out through the window, too, their words hitting upon his ears without meaning, his attention centered on her and her alone.
He had come here looking for her; he had found her. Now, he should leave.
But he knew he wouldn’t.
He watched her smile at the lieutenant, and though Moon Wolf recognized her look as that of one held more captive than attentive, he clenched his jaw. He scrutinized her as well he could for signs of her mood, as she allowed her hand to be held, her waist to be encompassed. It didn
’t matter to Moon Wolf, either, that he realized that this was simply the way the dance was performed. He did not like it.
He did note that she held her arms rigid against her partner, as though she held him at a distance, and when the lieutenant didn’t watch her or speak to her, she frowned, a clear sign she was not enjoying herself.
Still, as she strutted around and around the room, dancing the lively steps that Moon Wolf had once heard referred to as a jig, Moon Wolf came to a sudden realization: he wished to proclaim to the world that this woman was his, not the property of this lieutenant. And it didn’t matter the antagonism such an announcement would create.
But he knew he would not, he could not do it. Such would serve no good purpose.
But he should do something. What?
Not certain exactly where his thoughts were taking him, but unable to stand by and watch any longer, he sauntered into the hall, bypassing the guards who had perhaps imbibed too much on this evening, for they barely noticed him.
He held himself back from the dancing couple, fading in unnoticed against the walls. At least for the moment.
Almost all the females in the place were Indian, though a strict division had taken place on the dance floor, the few white women holding themselves as far away from the Indians as possible.
All the men dancing, the traders, the merchants, the military, were white; while the male Indians had been relegated to the sidelines.
Moon Wolf joined the latter.
The volume of the music had increased, the shuffling of feet and the murmur of voices had become louder, too, and the air felt stifling for all that the doors remained open. Still, Moon Wolf held his robe up and over his head, hiding his face and watching his wife.
She glanced his way once, a question on her face. Had she recognized his robe? Perhaps his particular gait? Or did she simply feel the intensity of his gaze upon her?
