by HELEN HARDT
“Tell me you want me to leave, itka, and I shall go.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her neck.
Warmth speared through her, and she shuddered.
Ella’s lips rested against Raven’s hard bronze chest. She inhaled. His scent was crisp and male. Rugged, like the beautiful Black Hills themselves. Without thinking, she slid her lips into a pucker and kissed his bare skin.
“Ah, itka. That feels nice.”
“Oh, my.” She pushed against his chest. “I’m so sorry. My goodness, what you must think of me.”
“I think only that you are mine, tehila,” he said against her hair, “and that your soft lips on my skin was the sweetest sensation I have ever felt.”
“Oh.” She sighed and melted against his chest again.
“Tell me what you desire. Tell me, and it is yours, if within my power.”
“Goodness. I don’t have need of anything.” She eased into him, and a hardness poked her belly. The hairbrush. Oh, how she wanted to brush his beautiful, long hair and then braid it. A silly girlish folly. He’d no doubt laugh at her. Yet he had told her he’d allow her anything she wanted.
“Raven?”
“Yes, tehila?”
“There is something I would like.”
“Anything.”
“May I—” She cleared her throat. “May I brush out your hair for you?”
As she feared, he chuckled, but it was a friendly, loving little laugh. “If that is what you wish.”
She pulled away from him. “I know it seems silly.” She reached into her apron for her brush. “Oh!” Her apron pocket was quite a bit lower than the hardness she had felt against her stomach. Of course it was. She knew that. “Oh, my!” She gasped at the bulge in Raven’s buckskin trousers and backed farther away.
“Do not fear me, Ella,” Raven said, inching toward her. “And do not fear that part of me. I cannot control my desire for you, but I assure you I can control my actions. I told you I would never harm you, and I meant it.” He smiled. “Now”—he took her hand that held the brush—“please. Brush my hair for me.”
Ella’s hands shook as she looked into his black eyes. They smoldered, as though catching on fire. Little sparks ignited across her skin.
“W-We’ll have to sit back down. You’re so tall.”
“As you wish.” Raven sat down slowly.
“Please. Be careful of your injury.”
“I will. Do not worry.”
Ella sat down behind him and gathered his tresses into her hands. “Such long hair. Nearly as long as mine.”
“My brother’s is even longer.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. The longest of any warrior in our camp.”
“He is the white one?”
“He is Lakota. But yes, he is white.”
Ella whisked the brush through Raven’s hair and caught a snag. “I’m sorry. You’ve been leaning against that straw wall for quite some time. There will be tangles.”
“The tangles are from my encounter with the she-bear. My hair came loose from its braid and went…as you say…every which way. Be careful, though. If you brush an Indian’s hair too hard, it falls out.”
“Goodness, that doesn’t make any sense at all! Perhaps I’d better not—”
Raven’s full lips curved into a knowing smile.
“You’re joking, aren’t you? How silly of me to fall for it.”
“Yes, I am only joking.” His onyx eyes danced.
She smiled back. “Then this may hurt.” She yanked on his hair just a little to tease him. “But I’ll do a thorough job, Raven.”
“You may do whatever you like to any part of me, itka.”
“Your hair is beautiful. As black as the bird you were named for, and silky smooth.” She tunneled her fingers through the locks, shocked by the intimacy with which she was touching him, yet unable to stop. She continued brushing until she had pulled through all the snarls. “I’ll braid it for you now, if you’d like.”
“I’d like.”
She bound his hair into a tight braid that reached below the middle of his back, tore a thread from her apron, and tied it. “There we are. All finished.” Ella stood and turned to face him. She gasped.
He had been handsome before, but now, his hair pulled behind him accentuating the high cheek bones of his chiseled face, he was beautiful. “Oh, my.”
“Ella mine,” he said. “May I brush your hair now?”
She nearly lost her footing. He wanted to brush her hair? She had never heard of such a thing. A man brushing a woman’s hair. Really. “I…am not sure that would be proper.”
“Why not? You just brushed mine. It would please me.”
Her feet threatened to give way. Such strong feelings scared her. She wanted him to brush her hair. She wanted him to kiss her. To touch her body. Her bare body.
“Raven, I’m sorry.” She walked briskly to the door of the soddy. “I must go now. I…I shall see you after supper. I’ll bring your meal.”
“Ella.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and rushed out the door and shut it behind her. She leaned against the door, her pulse racing. Her body chilled, and then heated, and then chilled again, and the place between her legs throbbed in time with her heart. Images of his dark skin covering her swept through her mind. Heat, desire, confusion—what was occurring inside her?
“Ella.” Raven’s deep voice carried through the sod and the wood of the door. “I know you are still there. And I know you desire me as much as I desire you. Please do not fear the feelings. They are natural. As natural as the grass beneath your feet, the sun in the sky. I shall see you tonight, my tehila, my love.”
Chapter Five
Raven paced around inside the soddy, his leg burning from the effort. It was nearly sunset and Ella had not come. What if something had happened to her? A weight settled in his stomach and his heartbeat thudded. He could not lose her, not now that he had finally found her.
But what if he could not convince her to go with him, to his home, his life?
He knew other warriors who had loved white women. They had stopped at nothing. Some had stolen their brides.
A ribbon of possessiveness threaded through him. So would he, if it came to that.
He hoped it would not come to that.
He jumped when the door opened and Ella appeared. Relief coursed through him in a warm tingle. He pulled her to his chest and smothered her in an embrace.
“Goodness, Raven. What has gotten into you?”
“You did not come. I feared for your safety.”
“I’m fine.” She set down the basket she carried. “Papa brought home guests for dinner, a couple of lost sheep, and I couldn’t leave until they were gone.”
“You brought sheep to your house for dinner?” Raven furrowed his brow. What did she mean?
“You silly goose,” Ella said, her smile lighting up her face. “A lost sheep. A lost lamb. It means someone who needs help. For whatever reason. In the case of these two men, they sought Papa out in town. They’ve become bored of the gold rush and are searching for something more…I don’t know…meaningful.” She chuckled. “Ripe for the picking, as Papa would say.”
Raven was still puzzled. “Perhaps you are the jokester now, tehila.” He smiled. Her beauty mesmerized him. “Sheep for dinner. And I am a goose? And do you speak of fruit? What is ripe to be picked? I have spoken the language of the white man for half of my life, but you do not make any sense.”
“Can I explain it all later? I’m sure you must be starving. Let me feed you.”
“To be fed from your hand, tehila, would please me greatly.”
“I wasn’t speaking literally. Goodness.” She pulled out a loaf of bread and a tin of blackberries. “I promised you more blackberries,” she said, handing him the tin. “And I have a treat for you.” She rummaged in the basket and pulled out a cloth. “It’s chicken. My mother breaded it and fried it in the renderings from salt pork. It’s delicio
us. You’ll love it.”
Raven unspread the cloth and regarded the pieces of meat. He inhaled. The scent was strange, but not unpleasant. “Many thanks. I shall enjoy it.”
“I know you will.”
“You will stay? While I eat?”
“Yes, I suppose I can. It’s a beautiful night. Not a cloud in the sky. All the stars will be out.”
“Do you wish to take one of your moonlit walks this evening?”
“Yes. I think I just might. It’s too lovely a night to waste.”
“Then I shall accompany you.”
Ella cocked her head to one side, and the look on her beautiful face troubled him. Would she refuse his suit?
But her eyes softened. “I would like that, Raven. Very much.”
He smiled, his loins surging, and sat down on the floor to eat his meal. The chicken had a pleasant flavor, but felt fatty in his mouth. He was used to game meat which had little fat and a tougher texture. This chicken had no doubt been raised by Ella’s mother here on their little farm. Still, the crispy coating was interesting and tasted of black pepper and…was it sage? Yes, sage. Tasty.
“Raven?”
He set his chicken on the napkin and reached for his tin cup of water. “Yes?”
“How does a man…”
She turned her head, and a lovely shade of pink crept up her neck. How he longed to press his lips there, to stroke his tongue along her smooth skin, to memorize every peak and valley of her body.
She cleared her throat. “What I mean is, how does a man court a woman, in your culture?”
Raven grinned, his skin warmed. This question was a good sign from the Spirit. “Many different ways. My father, Standing Elk, blew on a whistle shaped like an elk to court my mother.”
Her lips curved into a saucy grin. “Are you joking again?”
He smiled. “Not this time.”
“Why then? Because his name is Standing Elk?”
“Partly. But more to draw on the potency of the elk bull, which is very powerful, to woo his love.”
“And your mother? Did she…enjoy this ritual?”
“They became man and wife. Does that answer your question?”
“I suppose.” Her hands fidgeted in her lap.
Raven wanted to grab them, cover them with kisses, and then lead them to his erection that ached inside his buckskins.
He winked. “Would you like me to blow an elk whistle for you?”
That got a chuckle from her lovely lips. “Goodness, no.”
“What would please you then, tehila?”
“That’s a new word. You’ve used it a few times. What does it mean?”
“It means mate.” He leaned closer to her and inhaled her fresh floral scent. “Lover.”
“Oh, my.” Ella edged backward slightly.
“I mean it in a most affectionate way, Ella.”
“Yes. Of course. I understand. It just…goodness, it’s a warm night, isn’t it?”
“Too warm to wrap ourselves in a blanket?” He gave her what he hoped was a lazy grin.
“What are you talking about now?”
“Another courting ritual. One we learned from the Cheyenne. Unmarried couples who want time alone together wrap themselves in a blanket and talk quietly.”
“And?”
He arched his brows. “And…other things.”
“Goodness.”
Again, her blush ensnared him. “Have you never been courted, tehila?”
“Well…no. I guess not. Andrew and I, we talked of marrying, but we never…that is…”
“I understand. You did not love him, Ella.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You’re right. I didn’t.”
His heart thundered. “You love me.”
“Oh, Raven, I hardly know you.”
“But you feel the connection the Spirit has forged upon us. We are mates, Ella. We cannot escape our fate.”
Raven stood and held out his hand. His body throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Her soft, supple body would slide against his so easily, so perfectly. He burned with the urge to take her, to thrust into her and make her his. But first, a walk. A walk with his beautiful mate. “Come, tehila. The moon is bright and the stars shine. Walk with me.”
“But your bread. Your blackberries.”
“Can wait. Right now I wish to walk under the stars with my tehila.”
* * *
Raven was even more beautiful in the moonlight than in the sunlight, Ella thought, as she walked next to him, following the moonpath against the edge of the wooded foothills.
“Do you see those hills? To the west?” Raven’s long finger pointed toward a crest of blackness, nearly invisible in the dark.
“Yes.”
“They are sacred to my people. Warriors and braves climb the rocks to commune with the Spirit. Sometimes the Spirit will grant a vision.”
“Have you ever made such a…pilgrimage?” Ella asked.
“Many times, but only two times has the Spirit granted me a vision.”
“Would you tell me?”
“Of course. I have no secrets from you, tehila. The first time, I was young. Only ten winters had passed since my birth. I climbed the rocks and prayed to the Great Spirit. I was granted a vision of a bear cub, lost and wandering.”
“Oh? What did it mean?”
“The next day, my brother came to us, starving and frightened. We call him Wandering Bear.”
The devotion in Raven’s eyes moved Ella. Clearly he loved his brother very much. “How very interesting. What of your other vision?”
“That was more recent, the day before the bear attacked me.”
“Yes?”
“I climbed the hills, searching for answers about finding the mate of my spirit. My grandfather, the chief, and Dancing Doe’s father wanted me to marry Dancing Doe. I did not feel she was mine. I felt—I feel—very strongly that she is for my brother, Wandering Bear. I asked the Great Spirit to grant me guidance finding my love. I had a vision of flowers growing on the side of the hills, underneath the tall pines. They were violets, at first bloom.” Raven stopped walking and pulled Ella into his arms. “The next day, I found you. You, with eyes the color of violets at first bloom.”
Ella’s mouth dropped open as she stared into Raven’s smoldering gaze. When he lowered his head and took her lips with his, she didn’t resist.
The sensation of his tongue in her mouth was new and different. But not unpleasant. Oh, no, not at all. It was hot, so hot, and she tasted him. Raven. Slightly sweet, like cinnamon sprinkled over a tart apple. He explored her mouth, touching every crevice. When she tried to speak, to ask what to do, only wordless sounds, muffled by his mouth over hers, emerged.
If only she knew how to please him. She wanted to kiss him back, to tangle her tongue with his. To grasp his strong shoulders and pull him ever closer until nothing could separate them.
Such impure thoughts! But she didn’t chide herself, because only seconds later she couldn’t think at all. She only felt. Felt with all her body, all her heart, all her soul, that she wanted Raven. Wanted to be with him. In every way a woman could be with a man. She boldly forced her tongue into his mouth.
He groaned and tightened his arms around her. Instinctively, she knew her actions pleased him. And she wanted to please him. In all her life, she had never wanted anything more.
She let her tongue wander over his teeth, caress the inside of his cheeks. When he pulled back, panting, she traced his full lips, first the upper and then the lower, and she reveled in his moans. She smiled against his mouth.
“Do I please you?” she whispered.
“Always, tehila.” His breath caressed her cheek. “Always.”
She sighed and turned her head to draw a much needed breath. To no avail, however. When Raven pressed a trail of wet kisses down the side of her neck, she lost her air once more.
“Will you let me show you,” he whispered, “some of the wonders that exist between a man an
d a woman?”
“I-Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Ella barely recognized her own voice. It seemed lower, earthier.
“Yes, but there is more than kissing. I can take you to the stars and back. If you will allow me.” He rained kisses over both her cheeks and then found a place below her ear and nibbled.
Ella’s skin heated, yet she shivered. Such sweet contradiction. “I don’t understand.”
“Surely you know what occurs in the marriage bed?” Raven untied the string binding her braid and slowly tunneled his fingers through her thick locks.
The gentle tugging of her hair, the warmth of his hands on her scalp—all good, all touched her soul. “Y-Yes. Of course.” She knew of the physical act. She inhaled deep. What a warm night!
Raven’s chuckle tickled her neck. “Would you enjoy soaring into the sky with me, tehila? I could lead you to places you have never dreamed of, all without taking your maidenhead. Just say the word, and I will.”
“Raven—” She swallowed, her heart pounding so hard against her breast she thought he must be able to hear it.
“Techi’ hhila,” he said. “I love you.”
The words warmed Ella’s heart. She longed to return the sentiment, but she’d known Raven how long? Two days? Yet such overwhelming emotion cascaded though her when she was with him. Emotion so thick, so powerful, she could almost see it sizzle between them.
“Yes, tehila. Ella. You are mine. I love you.”
“Raven…”
“The soft moss beneath our feet will cushion us. The evergreens of the forest will shield us. And I will take you to the highest peak of the Black Hills.”
He crushed his mouth to hers and kissed her. Ella responded dreamily, vaguely aware of Raven’s long fingers untying her apron, unbuttoning the back of her sprigged calico work dress. In the back of her mind she formed a wayward thought that she was glad she hadn’t donned her corset that morning. She rarely wore the restrictive garment anymore. What was the point, when all she did was work around the farm?
