Shameless

by Rosanne Bittner

  Nina tied off the bandages. “How is that?”

  Clay rubbed at his arm. “Not bad.” He looked up at her. “What about you? You took a pretty good fall from that horse when we all went down.”

  “My arm is scraped. That’s all.” She turned to dip a rag in a pan of water, gently washing dirt and gravel from the wound to her elbow and forearm. She was too embarrassed to mention in front of the priest that her left hip also hurt. “I just thank God that you were not killed, and that we found this place.” She looked at the priest. “I feel God is with us, Father Santiago. I could hardly believe my eyes when we came over the hill and saw the misión. Thank you for your offer to let us rest here.”

  “Stay as long as you like.” The man’s eyes moved from Nina to Clay and back to Nina, a sparkle of humor showing as he looked at them. “The two of you…you are not yet married?”

  Nina felt a flush coming into her cheeks. “Not yet,” Clay answered for her.

  The priest smiled knowingly, nodding. “I see.” He looked at Sister Maria. “I think we should leave them alone for a while,” he told the woman. “You go and tell Sister Sharon to prepare a fine meal for our guests, and I will have Sister Agatha prepare their rooms.”

  “Certainly, Father.” The woman took Clay’s torn and bloody Army shirt and undershirt. “I will wash and mend these for you,” she told Clay before leaving.

  Father Santiago smiled knowingly at Clay, then nodded and left him and Nina. They were on a veranda outside the mission chapel. Climbing roses bloomed everywhere, including along the trellis above them, creating a canopy of shade. Songbirds flitted about, and two donkeys strolled in the courtyard, nibbling at grass.

  “It is beautiful here,” Nina said, looking up at the roses and breathing deeply of their sweet smell. “I wonder if I am dreaming, to find such a place in the middle of this hot, desolate country full of Apache.” She came around to stand in front of Clay. “Do you think we were killed and now we are in some other world?”

  Clay grinned, glancing at an urn of flowers next to the bench where he sat. “Could be.” He turned his eyes back to Nina. “You saved my life today.”

  She shrugged. “And you saved mine.”

  “I acted as any man would, especially a soldier. But you…” He shook his head. “You’re even more wonderful than I thought. Most women in that situation would have panicked and become completely useless, but not Nina Juarez.”

  Their eyes held. “You say you simply acted as any soldier would. It is the same for me. I did what any woman in love would do.”

  Clay reached out for her. She took his hand and came closer, kneeling in front of him. “There has to be a reason God helped us find this place, Nina. We both know it. Can you think of a more beautiful place to be married? It’s like being in our own special little world here, safe from everything that might threaten us. You heard the hint Father Santiago gave us. Marry me, Nina. Right here. Today.”

  Nina studied the hand that held hers, a big, powerful hand that made her own look like a child’s. Once he was her husband he would have certain rights. He could take what he wanted from her whether or not she was ready to give it.

  “Nina.” He spoke the name softly, and she met his eyes, those blue, blue eyes that made her forget all reason. “I just want to know you’re my wife, that you belong to me. We have the rest of our lives for other things. You said you trusted me. I told you I’d never hurt you. Don’t you understand that if I wanted to force myself on you I would have done it by now? God knows I’ve certainly had plenty of chances. Get rid of all those doubts and marry me, please.”

  She thought how beautiful and kind and brave he was, her gringo soldier. The thought of not belonging to him, perhaps losing him again as had almost happened today, gave her her answer. She never wanted to be apart from Clay Youngblood again. She nodded. “All right.” She shivered. “You would not lie to me, would you?”

  “Have I ever lied to you about anything? The only one who has told a few lies was you, but there won’t be any more lying, will there?”

  She shook her head. “I have nothing to hide from you anymore. I feel the same as you. I do not want to pretend with my feelings any longer, or to be afraid to face them. I did not think it could happen, but I love you, Clay, in spite of your light hair and your blue eyes and the fact that men like you were once my enemy. I see you now only as a man, a lonely man who loves me and needs me.”

  He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Let’s go tell Father Santiago our decision. We’ll find a place where we can clean up and change, and then we’ll get married. We’ll enjoy that meal the Father said he would have prepared for us. Then we’ll just walk around this lovely place and talk, enjoy the beauty and peace we have found here.” He leaned closer and kissed her forehead. “Tonight we’ll sleep beside each other just like we’ve been doing, and nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen. I swear to God and Christ and Mother Mary.”

  She almost laughed, her eyes misty. “I love you so, Clayton Youngblood.”

  He kissed her nose. “And I love you. We’re doing the right thing. Even Father Santiago knows it’s right.”

  Nina rose, pulling at his hand. “Let us go and find him then.”

  He laughed lightly as she practically dragged him into the chapel.

  One of the nuns rang the mission bell while Nina walked down the aisle of the chapel. The stucco structure was amazingly cool compared to the heat outside its walls. Candles burned brightly inside the shaded building, and statues of Christ and the Mother Mary stood in niches in the walls close to the altar. Sister Henrietta stood off to the side, singing a chant in Latin.

  Clay could not take his eyes from his bride-to-be. He had never seen Nina look more beautiful. The swelling in her face was gone, and only a few bruises lingered, but they did nothing to spoil the provocative looks that had captured his heart almost from the moment he met her. He saw a pleading look in her dark eyes. She was so afraid to trust, yet desperately wanted to trust him. Her love had helped her overcome her fears. Now this fiery, voluptuous young woman would belong to him. No other man would ever touch her again; no other man could ever own her but him.

  Her dark hair was adorned with a crown of flowers one of the sisters had helped fashion for her, and she carried more flowers in her hands. She wore a simple white blouse and a blue cotton skirt. There would be no fancy wedding dress, but she did not need one to be the most beautiful bride in the West.

  In turn, Nina decided Clay Youngblood needed no dress suit to be the most handsome groom. He wore dark cotton pants that fit his slender hips snugly. His white shirt made his tanned face seem even darker, which in turn made his eyes look an even more brilliant blue. When she came closer she caught his clean, virile scent, and his freshly shaved face showed high cheekbones and a square jaw that told of a man of power and self-confidence. In those blue eyes she saw the faithful promise.

  When she reached him, he took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly and giving her a gentle smile. Nina handed her flowers to Sister Sharon, who stood nearby. They moved through the ceremony then as though in a dream, with only the sisters and two young Apache orphan children as witnesses. Father Santiago pronounced them man and wife, and the words momentarily cut a deep fear into Nina’s heart until Clay grasped both her hands again and leaned down to kiss her lips lightly.

  “I love you, Mrs. Youngblood,” he said softly.

  Nina met his eyes, and to her surprise, a wave of pleasant desire rushed through her, making her skin tingle. She was the lieutenant’s wife! She felt a battle beginning to rage in her soul, love and desire fighting with fear and ugly memories.

  The priest and the sisters congratulated them, throwing flowers and rice at them before leading them away to a royal meal of venison and corn and sweet potato pie. The Father explained that the church periodically sent wagons full of supplies along the Santa Fe Trail to the mission. The mission wagons and their drivers were always in danger from I
ndians when they left the main trail to make the short trek to the mission, but the Apache usually left them alone if they knew it was supplies for the “Sacred Place.”

  The meal was over and the sun began to set. Nina and Clay walked about the quiet courtyard until it was too dark to see. They talked more about their pasts, their dreams, their plans. They went inside the chapel and sat down to enjoy the peace and safety they felt there, and Nina left Clay to go to the altar to light a candle and kneel to pray. Clay suspected the content of her prayer, and he knew that his love for her and his concern for her inner peace was all he needed to keep from asserting his husbandly rights. He rose and walked to where she knelt, and he got to his knees beside her. He reached over to gently grasp both her hands in his one big hand.

  “Nina, we can’t put it off forever, or do you intend to sleep here in the chapel tonight?”

  She kept her eyes averted. “No. I am ready to go to our room.”

  He wanted to laugh, but he knew it would be in poor taste at the moment. She made it sound like she was going to her death.

  “I wonder what Emilio would think of all this,” she commented as they rose.

  “Hard to say. Emilio has some explaining to do as far as I’m concerned. I’m making no guarantees that I can get along with your brother, Nina.”

  “It does not matter. I have made my choice.”

  They walked along a veranda to one of several guest rooms, kept clean and prepared for travelers and traders. This was the room Sister Agatha had specially prepared for the newlyweds. They went inside to find a lantern lit. The wooden bed with its rope spring-and-feather mattress was made up with clean flannel sheets and woolen and cotton blankets. A small table and two chairs sat in a corner with a fruit basket, a loaf of fresh bread, a bottle of wine, and two silver cups on the table; a washstand stood in another corner, clean towels hanging at its side. Clay and Nina’s personal supplies were also in the room.

  Nina took a deep breath as Clay closed the door and walked over to the table. “It couldn’t have been nicer if we had got a fancy hotel room in some town,” he commented, uncorking the wine. He poured a little into each cup and held one out to her.

  Nina stared at the cup for a moment. “You…will not drink too much?”

  He smiled softly. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to get drunk, but I think we should have one small drink to toast our love and our marriage, don’t you?”

  She took the cup, never leaving his eyes as he raised his own cup. “To us,” he said.

  “To us. Yo te quiero, mi vida.”

  “Yo te quiero, mi amor.”

  They sipped the wine, each knowing what the other was thinking, wondering. Clay set down his cup then and began undressing. Nina studied his fine physique, the powerful look to his chest and arms. He said nothing as he removed everything but his long johns. She had not seen him this way before and she found herself wondering how he looked completely naked. The thought surprised her. She had seen that one mysterious part of man when her mother was attacked, and it had remained an ugly memory to her. She had always thought it hideous, yet now she had a strange, secret desire to see that part of her new husband.

  Clay came closer and took the flowers from her hair. “Come to bed, Nina. Nothing is going to happen.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to get into bed and turn my back while you undress. It’s all right.”

  He kissed her once more and climbed into the bed. Nina realized that although they had slept together on the trail, this was different. It was easier for him to keep his hands off her when they were both fully dressed and sleeping on the hard, uncomfortable ground. Now they were both bathed and rested and would be sleeping in a soft bed. Could she really trust him? More than that, did she really want to make him keep waiting?

  She set her cup aside and searched through her bags for her flannel gown, all the while watching him carefully. He remained in bed with his back to her. She quickly removed her clothes, then picked up the gown, holding it in front of her, then hesitated. Memories and desire clashed almost painfully inside of her. This was Clay, her handsome lieutenant, now her husband. He had never broken one promise to her. He loved her. He had rescued her, not just once but several times. He had risked his life and his honor for her. What more could she ask of a man? Did he deserve to lie unsatisfied on his wedding night? Was it his fault she had bad memories? He had personally given her only good memories, only beautiful thoughts and gentle touches.

  With all the courage she could muster she approached the bed. She dropped the gown and crawled under the blankets, lying stiffly beside him. “I…do not wish to make you wait,” she told him, wondering who had said the words. “I cannot let my memories keep robbing me of love and happiness.”

  Clay turned over, noticing her shoulders were bare. A look of astonishment came into his eyes. “Nina—”

  She put her fingers to his lips, watching him with the eyes of a trusting child. “I need to know, mi querido.” Her eyes misted. “I do not want to be afraid of my own husband. I want to know…if it can be like…like Carmell told me.”

  A tear slipped down the side of her face, and Clay leaned down to kiss it. He moved his lips to her mouth, sparking the intense passion Nina had felt earlier. She wanted to let go, to release hidden desires, to act on thoughts she had once considered wrong and ugly. With Clay it did not seem that way at all. It was beautiful and right. His tongue slaked into her mouth, and a big hand moved over her bare belly and up to gently caress her breast.

  A soft whimper came from her lips, and Clay knew that at last the passionate woman in her was straining to break free. He prolonged the kiss, deciding not to allow her a moment to reconsider her decision. He gently pulled the blankets away from her breasts, pushing them to her waist, groaning with his great need of her. The kiss grew deeper, and when he finally left her mouth, she gasped his name as his lips traveled over her neck and to a breast, where he moaned with the ecstasy of savoring the taut virgin nipple.

  Nina grasped his hair almost painfully, and he knew she was experiencing both desire and terror. He would rid her of the terror. He had not expected this, but now that she had decided, he would erase all her fears for good. He would show her the beautiful side of lovemaking.

  Nina forced herself to let her new husband have his way. He clearly knew what to do with a woman, and he was her husband. He loved her. She fought the ugly memories, the desire at times to scream for him to stop. He had said she was brave, little knowing that this took more courage than facing the Apache.

  His lips came back to her mouth, and she felt a big hand move between her legs. What was this he was doing to her! It felt wonderful. It made her want him even more. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she could let any man touch her in such secret places and enjoy it! His fingers explored so gently, moving in circles, pushing inside of her. She felt on fire, and she remembered his comment that first time he had kissed her, that he could feel the fire beneath her skin. He had known even then that it was there, waiting to be fed and fanned. Now it was raging. She cried out when a wonderful pulsation grabbed at her insides, and before she could wonder about what had just happened to her, he was moving on top of her.

  She felt it then. He had unbuttoned his long johns, not wanting to take the time to remove them. He pressed against her and she stiffened, digging her nails into his arms. Clay grasped her face in his hands, his eyes misty with desire and love.

  “Don’t make me stop now, Nina,” he said gruffly, their bodies damp with perspiration.

  She closed her eyes. “I want to know,” she gasped. Another tear slipped out of one eye. “I want to know.”

  She drew in her breath when she felt him pushing at her then. In the next moment she cried out when he filled her with his manliness, pushing deep and hard. She had no idea how deeply she was pinching her nails into his arms, but Clay hardly felt it. He was lost in his own ecstasy.

  This was Nina! His beautiful Nina! Now, fin
ally, she belonged to him. She was his wife. He rose up on his elbows, glancing down at her exquisite nakedness, her flat belly and slender thighs. She was so small he wondered how he had managed to fit inside her. Her breasts were full and velvety. Her eyes were closed. He knew he was hurting her this first time, but she would learn that it only got better. He moved in rhythmic, circular motions, letting his life spill into her quickly, not wanting to prolong her pain. He moaned and shuddered with the glory of it, coming down close to her to draw her into his arms. He kissed at her hair, her eyes, her lips.

  “Nina, my Nina, God, I love you so. I wanted you so badly. Thank you, Nina.”

  She blinked her eyes open, meeting his blue ones, saying nothing at first. Clay brushed at her hair.

  “I know it hurts. It gets better, Nina, I swear to God.”

  She moved against him, pressing her head into his shoulder. “It burns.”

  “I know. I won’t do anything more until you feel you’re ready.”

  She stroked the hairs of his chest, feeling the scar, where no hair grew. She touched one of the cloth strips around his shoulder. “Does your shoulder hurt?”

  He grinned. “I had practically forgotten about it.”

  She kissed his neck. “I never felt like that before…when you touched me there. I liked it.”

  He kissed her hair again, running a hand over her bare back to her bottom. “I like touching you that way,” he whispered.

  She breathed deeply, wanting to cry from happiness. He had been so sweet and gentle, and she knew that if she had not offered herself, he would have kept his promise not to touch her. Now it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered but enjoying this wonderful new world he had opened for her.

  “I do not want to wait,” she said boldly. “Carmell told me that it gets better, and you have told me, too. I want it to get better quickly, mi querido. Perhaps by morning I will feel no more pain.”