by Karen Kay
“Yes, I think so too. Although…”
He frowned down at her.
“Although shouldn’t you remove your clothes?”
He gulped. His own state of dress had escaped his notice.
Reaching toward his waist, he untied his breechcloth, letting loose his engorged manhood. At her gasp, pleasure washed through him, for surely she complimented him. He positioned himself over her.
Though he could barely hold himself back, before he took the next step, he needed to ask, “Forgive the question, my wife. I mean no insult. But had you and Scout LaCroix been physically intimate?”
Again, she moaned, but this time it did not sound as though it were from pleasure. “Please believe me. LaCroix was not my husband.”
He nodded. “But did he—?”
“Please, go no further.”
Grey Coyote swallowed, and feeling as guilty as a young lad having been caught doing something wrong, he became still. True, he had asked her to stop him if she were able, but he had never dreamed he would come so far before she would demand a withdrawal.
He dropped his hands, and setting her away from him, he reached for his breechcloth.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why have you stopped?”
He cleared his throat. “You said to go no further. I will respect that.”
“Oh, no, no,” she replied easily, relaxing back against the buffalo robe. “You misunderstood. I meant not to speak to me further of Jacques LaCroix. Please believe me, I speak true when I tell you he lied to you. He was not, is not, has never been my husband. I have never been married to anyone. In truth, I have never been with a man before.”
Grey Coyote swallowed. “Never?”
She shook her head. “Never.”
His breathing stopped, his throat tightened. This woman was a virgin?
If it were possible, his spirits flew straight to the heavens, for it took no genius to realize he would be her first. Would he also be her only?
He refused to follow that line of thought and pulled together his musings. “I think we will proceed slowly.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “But not too slowly.”
Again, he swallowed hard, and he came down over her, pressed his lips to hers, and with one slow push after another, he joined himself with her physically.
Ah, the warmth that welcomed him, the pleasure of her inner recesses. He shuddered, and his sigh against her was deeply felt.
Everything about her was right, from her feminine scent, to her naked form, to her very soul. Forget that they had been together for so short a time. It was as though they were old friends, as though this were merely a reacquainting of the heart. Had he been born that he might live and experience this moment?
He pushed himself upward, still sheathed within her tightness, and proceeded to love her, but perhaps in a slower, more controlled way than that to which he was accustomed.
After all, she deserved to reach her pleasure, even this, her first time.
As Marietta traded kiss for kiss, embrace for embrace, she couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more. Why? Surely this wasn’t love.
It couldn’t be, since it was not as if what happened here would change the course of her life. No, the pattern of her life was set, had been set years ago. Why then did she feel such longing, such joy?
Oh, if only she had someone to confide in, someone to tell her deepest longings to. But the princess was far away, as was Yellow Swan.
No, she would have to decide these things for herself. She would have to trust herself, her own judgment. And oh, dear Lord, being in this man’s arms was…sweet.
It was too bad they would not have more time to share with one another. But the die was already cast. Besides, there were some things more important than love.
Love? There it was again. And it didn’t belong here. What was probably a more correct statement of fact would be to say what she felt was lust.
But Grey Coyote had intimated that theirs was a matter of the heart, an instinct, if you please. Was it true? Had their hearts spoken to each other?
Perhaps it was so. Certainly she couldn’t credit their coming together from Grey Coyote’s words of undying love—there hadn’t been any.
Yet, she could not deny there was something about this man which made her want to…enrich him, to contribute to his welfare. Did this mean he had touched her heart?
On its own, an image of this man in prayer, up on the butte, came to her. Was it only yesterday?
Why was that moment magical?
She sighed. She simply didn’t know, and there was no other feminine presence here to guide her. She was on her own.
“Hmmm,” she moaned as pleasure rocked her body, making further thought impossible. The sensation took her by surprise, for she hadn’t expected it. True, Marietta was more than aware that a man might find ultimate pleasure in the act of love. But a woman?
Wasn’t it a woman’s lot to enjoy kisses and hugs only? Wasn’t that what the ladies in Princess Sierra’s court had whispered?
Marietta closed her eyes against the pleasure which swept through her. Perhaps it wasn’t true.
Grey Coyote broke into her thoughts by whispering in her ear, “Wrap your legs around me and let yourself go. Though this is your first time, this act should bring you much joy. Spread your legs and give yourself to me. I will not betray you. Remember, I am your husband.”
His voice, so soft and husky against her ear, sent a wave of heat along her nerve endings. She whimpered lightly, and beside herself, she strained against him, all the while opening herself to him. Though it was true she spread her legs more fully, it was also a fact that she opened herself to him, becoming, perhaps, a part of him spiritually, and he, most likely, of her.
Joy swept with a rush along her nerve endings, the source of it originating at the junction of her legs. Her attention became absorbed by it and it alone.
The gratification of it built as well. It rose, it crescendoed, until all at once an uncontrollable physical elation swept through her body, sending radiating warmth to every part of her. She wiggled against the tide of it, and against him, straining for more, and she wondered, had he felt it too?
Perhaps so. For at that very instant, she was certain he had released within her, and she caught her breath.
It was like being endowed with a flash of paradise.
Who would have thought that here, in this dangerous, savage environment, was a bit of heaven?
But their lovemaking wasn’t over. Not yet. They bore against one another, their gazes locked, and together, wrapped in one another’s arms, they tripped over the edge of heaven, again and again and again.
At last, exhausted, they fell toward each other, her body cradling his. Gradually, she fell into a blissful sleep. If her dreams were filled with images of herself and Grey Coyote flitting through space as though they were one, she was to be forgiven. For at this moment in time, so close was she to him, she felt as if she were him.
Chapter Eight
Sometime in the night, a male voice commanded her to “Turn over.”
Yawning, she peeped open an eye. It was still a very dark night outside their shelter. “Turn over?”
“Hmm,” Grey Coyote said. “How am I to rub your back if you don’t?”
“You are going to rub my back?”
“Hau. But you sound shocked. Has no one ever done this for you?”
She shook her head. “No. Never.”
“Then I am pleased to know I will be the one to impart yet another new experience for you this night.”
“Yes,” she agreed, as she obliged him by rolling over.
“Hmmm” was all he said, and then his hands were spreading themselves all over her nude body. From the top of her shoulders, down to her buttocks, and even then, no place was left untouched. He massaged her there, in the junction between her legs, and she caught her breath.
Dear Lord, it was pure enchantment. As his hands found the knots in her m
uscles and gently assisted them to let go, Marietta did also. She closed her eyes, content.
“Hmm,” she groaned, as his hands worked over her buttocks, his caress discovering again that place most feminine and wet. His massage didn’t stop there, however. He continued rubbing her, her legs, her calves, her feet. She sighed deeply.
Up once more came his touch, his fingers finding her moist recess, and as he touched her there, she felt afresh that rousing sensation in the pit of her stomach.
Before she could roll over to accommodate him, he had joined with her, there at her back. It was unusual, she thought, committing the love act this way. Yet it was so erotic she found herself meeting her pleasure almost at once. He followed her, spilling his seed into her, and one more time, wrapped in one another’s arms, they fell into an exhausted sleep.
The pattern, however, had been set, and they made love over and over the night and morning through, as though on the morrow they might find this had all been no more than a lovely, passionate dream.
As she drifted off to sleep, the last thing she remembered was a kiss on her neck, followed by masculine arms shrouding her in his warmth. She curled herself into those arms, and strangely, she was aware this was, perhaps, the happiest moment of her life.
How odd, she thought sleepily.
Yes, indeed. How odd.
She awoke, blanketed with warmth and fully content, though very much alone. Was it as she feared? Had it all been a dream? She sat up, bringing the buffalo robe with her, and scooting forward toward the opening of their little nook, she peered outside.
Grey Coyote was sitting quietly before her, facing her, about five or six feet away, skinning what looked to be a recently killed deer. As she brought her face into prominence in the entryway, he looked up at her, and his entire countenance broke into a most engaging smile.
“You are awake at last,” he said.
“Yes.” Curiously, she gazed toward the sky, noting that the sun was directly overhead. To her horror, she realized she had slept well into the noon hour. Is this what happened to a woman when she found a lover? “It is late. You should have roused me.”
He shook his head. “Sometimes beauty needs its sleep.”
She grinned at the compliment. “I will dress and help you with your chores.”
“Must you?”
“Must I what? Help you?”
“Must you dress?”
She giggled slightly. “Yes. I’m afraid I must.”
He gave her a quick shake of his head, then quietly muttered, “Shame.”
She beamed back at him but disappeared nonetheless into their shelter, where she hurriedly pulled on her clothes.
What she really needed, she decided as she glanced down at the evidence of her recently surrendered virginity, was a bath. She stopped. For a moment, shame engulfed her.
She had given away her virginity to a man she did not intend to marry. He might call her his wife, but she had not lost sight of the reality of the situation.
What did that make her? A woman of the world, or was she still simply herself?
Oh, if only there were a way to confide in a sister, a friend or a mother…someone who could guide her. But there was no one.
Marietta sighed. Well, right or wrong, intuition told her she could trust this man. He would have to be her teacher. This decided, she promised herself she would enjoy every minute of that instruction.
Smiling, she glanced down at herself. Oh dear, she really did need a bath. Lucky for her, they were camped near a stream.
Scooting again toward their shelter’s entrance, she opened the flap slightly and said, “Mr. Coyote?”
“Who is this Mr. Coyote?” he mimicked, but he smiled at her all the same. “Am I not your husband?”
She grimaced. “Perhaps. Now, Mr. Coyote, I need a bath.”
“You say perhaps that I am your husband?” Again, he smiled at her, but apparently he didn’t intend to pursue the subject. Instead, he nodded toward the stream. “A bath would be a very good thing. And we have much water. Come…” he gestured toward her, “…if you are quick about it, I will scrub your back.”
“Would you really?” she called, as she crept toward the far end of their shelter. Once there she removed her dress, hose and shoes, which left her clothed in only her chemise and drawers. In these, she decided, she would swim, washing them and herself at the same time.
She crawled out of their shelter and then, looking over her shoulder, she cast Grey Coyote a provocative glance. “I’ll race you.”
It was a silly challenge where neither one cared who won or lost. But once she had voiced the dare, there was no taking it back, and she tore over the dry grasses and sharp stones covering her path.
She would be darned if she backed down, and she gave the race her all. Of course, Grey Coyote beat her. She hadn’t expected to truly win the race.
He caught her at the edge of the stream, and laughing, she fell into his arms. He accepted her gladly, it seemed, for he hugged her to him, bending down to press kisses to her cheeks, her neck, the top of her head, and finally to her lips.
“Good morning,” he said.
“And a very good morning to you too.” She laughed up at him.
Taking her by the hand, he led her to the stream’s bank, the cool sand refreshing upon the soles of her feet.
“Hmmm, the sand feels good.”
He nodded. “The water, also. Come.” He attempted to pull her into the stream along with him.
He had no more than waded into the water, when she sank back. “Oh no,” she voiced to him, letting go of his hand. “That water is cold.” She shivered for emphasis.
“I thought you desired a bath.”
“I do.”
“Then you should dive in and let your body adjust itself all at once.”
“Oh no, not me.”
“Then it is your intention to bathe on the side of the stream?” A smile pulled at the side of his mouth.
“No. I would simply like to take my time and adjust to the water’s coolness…gradually. That is all.”
“A-a.” He smirked. “Then I had best go back to my chores, since I think you may stand here until perhaps the sun goes down.”
She grinned at him. “Now, behave. I will not be that long. Besides, you’re one to talk. I don’t see you diving into the water. Why, even I could stand in cool water up to my ankles. Have you bathed today?”
“Hau, hau. I have. And I bathe in the cold water every morning, even in the dead of winter.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Ecenci, and yet it is so. All Assiniboine men bathe thusly, and first thing in the morning.”
She smiled saucily at him. “Prove it.”
He chuckled but hardly hesitated as he stepped out of the flow of the stream, shrugged off his moccasins and untied his breechcloth, throwing it to the side. Grinning at her, he ran straight at the water, executing a perfect dive that sent little droplets spraying everywhere.
She stepped back, but not soon enough. Cold water splashed her, wetting her from head to foot. She shivered.
“Brrrr, it is cold.”
“A-a, feels good.”
Using the tips of his fingers, he sprinkled her yet again.
“Oh, don’t do that.”
There was a devil of a smile on his face. “Don’t do what? This?” He repeated the action.
“You know very well that I asked you not to do that.”
“Me? What?” He did it once more.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Sece, perhaps. But how am I to scrub your back if you do not come into the water?”
“Could you not scrub my back as I sit here on the shore?”
He shook his head. “You merely delay the inevitable. Come now, the water is not that bad.” Diving below the surface, he swam toward her, emerging before her at the shoreline.
He stood up, in all his naked glory, letting the water rush down his body
, as though it, too, adored him. A hard, muscular chest and broad shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist, met her hungry glance. Tight abdominal muscles and stomach, muscular legs, which were curiously devoid of hair. In truth, except for the top of his head and the sprinkling of hair cushioning his sex, Grey Coyote’s body sported little hair. This included his chest, arms, legs, even his face.
He held a hand out to her, and she stepped toward him feeling like she had been summoned.
“Are you not going to remove your underclothes?” he asked.
Immediately she felt her face flood with color. It was one thing to lie nude with this man upon a bed of buffalo robes. Factually, within the heat of passion, it was, indeed, most pleasant.
It was quite another, however, to disrobe with Grey Coyote’s watchful gaze upon her, here in the bright light of day.
He tilted his head, his look at her short of a leer. “It is a little late for modesty.”
“I beg to differ. It is never too late for modesty.”
“But I have seen all of you.”
“That was different.”
He simply grinned. “Then come. Perhaps you may wash your clothes as well.”
She smiled. “Yes, that was my thought also.” She took hold of his hand and executed a cautious step toward the water.
But he didn’t pull her into its depths, as she had feared he might. Rather he bore with her as she let herself become gradually used to its coolness, seeming to her as if he had all the time in the world to spend with her.
She asked, “Are we safe here? I know you have spoken of the problem of our going into enemy territory. Are we there yet?”
“It is a good question. It shows your awareness of the environment, and that is good.”
“Well, thank you.”
He nodded. “We border the territory of my enemies, although once I passed down from the Minnetaree village, I have been treading more and more into enemy country, thus the need to hurry to our shelter.”
“Then you have camped here before?”
“Hau, hau.”
“So we are safe here?”
“For the present. I have not sensed the presence of anyone close to our camp. And to be safe, while you slept, I set mantraps and holes all around our camping area as a precaution. I have also been out to hunt this morning—as you saw—and when I was searching for game, I found no recent signs of an enemy.”
