He rescued her from slavery…now he is captive to desire.

 

Proud Wolf’s Woman

© 2012 Karen Kay

 

Lakota, Book 3

Stolen from a cruel husband by the savage Kiowa, Julia Wilson’s life has gone from bad to worse. Just when she has reached the end of her endurance, salvation rides into camp. Neeheeowee, a proud Cheyenne brave who once filled her young heart with romantic dreams, has come to save her from everything—except the flames of desire that still burn.

Bitter and intent on vengeance against the man who killed his wife and unborn child, Neeheeowee has no room in his heart for love. His captured ponies and treasured robes were supposed to be traded for Kiowa weapons. Instead, to his annoyance, he must trade everything for his old friend’s life.

Hard as he tries to hang on to his anger at being set off his mission, he cannot deny he yearns for the woman whose gentle, healing presence reminds him that happiness might exist beyond revenge. Her lips tease him with passion he dare not risk, for those who are long dead still haunt him. To take the love she offers risks his honor—perhaps his very life.

This book has been previously published.

Warning: Sensuous lovemaking might bring cause to head West to find your own romance out on the Great Plains.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for Proud Wolf’s Woman:

Neeheeowee had heard her soft words, had glanced up, only to catch that smile.

His heart did a flip-flop, then burst on with a rate of speed equal in intensity to that of a long-distance run. He stared away. What was that he had seen there, heard in her voice?

Admiration? Perhaps love? No, it could not be. He did not want it to be; he could not handle such things from her.

He was supposed to keep his distance from her, he was supposed to protect her, cherish her; yet that smile of hers did things to him, made him think thoughts he shouldn’t, made him wish for things he could not have. It gave him ideas, it set his blood to racing, it made it hard for him to breathe.

What was he to do? The worst of his ministrations was yet to come, and, with calm resolve, Neeheeowee cautioned himself to move slowly, to think first and to think clearly.

He pulled out another sticker from her finger, then another and another, washing her hands after each one. But soon there remained no more stickers left in her hands, and Neeheeowee, sending a shy gaze up at her, motioned her to stay here while he got to his feet.

The medicines he needed to spread over her fingers remained in his parfleche, and he was glad for the opportunity to leave her, if only for a moment. He had to collect himself before he continued to attend to her. If he did not, well…

He took several deep breaths, his body already responding to the mere idea of what he had to do. He dallied, he paused, fussing over his bags and then, looking over to her, realizing the delay did not lessen his agony, he threw back his shoulders and, thrusting out his chin, set about to do the deed.

 

Julia stirred under his touch, his fingers gentle as he turned her onto her stomach.

Her buckskin dress remained slit where she had fallen, exposing a portion of her anatomy she would rather he not see, and she hoped the slit there would be enough for him to help her without the necessity of pulling the dress entirely up and over her hips.

She felt his fingers there now, felt his exploring touch, winced as he ran his fingers over something sharp.

“Julia?”

She heard his deep baritone voice. It was the first time he had called her by name, the first time he’d voiced anything she could understand. She marveled at the warmth of it, the way her name sounded on his lips.

“Julia, Na-heese-tsehestoestotse.”

Julia shrugged, moving her head from side to side.

He sighed and pulled on her dress, repeating, “Na-heese-tsehestoestotse.”

Julia, at last, understood. He needed to pull up her dress.

“No, I don’t think that I want you to—”

“Na-heese-tsehestoestotse.”

He’d said the words softly and Julia, knowing what he had to do, nodded her assent.

He inched her dress up gradually, gently, as though he, too, were afraid of the result of such an action, though perhaps he just took care not to hurt her.

Slowly, inch by inch, he pressed the dress upward until at last, he grabbed her hips, holding her slightly up and easing the dress over her hips, up to her waist. Cool night air immediately assaulted her buttocks and Julia shivered as his hands touched her, easing her back into place while his fingers explored her wound.

And then he bent forward, hovering over her. She could feel it, she could sense it, and though she held her legs firmly together, she felt a response toward him building there where his touch came so close, yet hovered so distant.

She wanted him to touch her there. She wanted it. She…shame burst through her. How could she think these thoughts? How could she…squirmed, just a little. And though she was sure color diffused through her face, she couldn’t help herself. At least he couldn’t see it. At least he couldn’t know that she wanted…so much more.

He touched her other buttock cheek, the one uninjured; his touch fleeting, still…she moved in response to him…just a bit…she…

He removed his touch, making her feel immediately bereft.

“No,” she murmured before she knew what she did. But he didn’t hear her, or at least he didn’t appear to.

No, it seemed he set about his task of cleansing her wound as one who had no interest in a woman’s bare bottom, as one who had seen such things so many times, it had lost its effect on him long ago. Gently, using the tweezers he’d produced, he did nothing more than pull each sticker from her behind, carefully avoiding further contact with her.

One after the other, he worked at his task, washing her after he removed each sticker, carefully spreading ointment over each place. It took too long, yet not long enough.

At last he had finished, and still he hadn’t felt her where she longed for the contact. She lay still, wishing, hoping, aching. And though she little knew it, a moan escaped her throat and, involuntarily, she moved her hips, not much, only a little.

But it was enough.

“Ne-ve’-neheseve,” he groaned just before he caressed her, his stroke fleeting.

But it came back again, his fingers, his hands brushing her up and over her buttocks, one hand finally centering over one soft mound of flesh, then squeezing.

Julia sighed, the sound more a high-pitched moan.

“Eaaa,” she heard his soft exclamation, sounding as though he were in pain, and she felt the touch of his fingers on her; then his lips were there, too, kissing the wound better, his lips, his touch roaming farther afield while his fingers dipped ever closer and closer to that spot that…

He touched her there, and Julia murmured a soft reply.

She shouldn’t do it. She knew it. She had just decided she wouldn’t do it, and yet… His touch felt like warm velvet against her, his fingers searching, and Julia could no longer hold back.

She fretted. She sighed, but with a slight wail of relief, she did it. She opened her legs…just a little, allowing him the access she had earlier denied him.

And when she groaned aloud, she no longer heard herself.

Neeheeowee, however, registered every soft whimper, its effect devastating to his tight control, and, with his own groan of frustration, he prepared to give to her all she could need.