Chapter Fourteen

The rustling of a leaf, the snap of a stick beneath her footfalls, made her jumpy. She could not see a thing. In truth, the dark reminded her of another time in a very similar place as this. A very hard time that had been for her, too, with fear her constant companion.

“Remember, do not fear the darkness. If you travel in it long enough, there will be sufficient light for you to see where you go.”

She heard Lone Arrow’s wisdom speaking to her through the language of sign from all those years ago. It was as though he stood beside her now.

“When you walk in the dark, you must overcome your natural fear. Only then can you develop an understanding of the living things around you.”

She was trying to do what he had taught her to do, but it was not easy. In her mind’s eye, danger lurked behind every rise in the land, behind every bush. What if she ran into a wild cat?

No sooner had the thought occurred to her than something materialized in her path. She froze.

“You must remain perfectly motionless if danger suddenly presents itself to you. And while the body pauses, you must think quickly, for you must devise an escape.”

The thing was right in front of her. It did not move. And Carolyn called upon every ounce of her strength to remain still. A cloud passed overhead, uncovering the moon.

As the light illuminated her enemy, she drew a deep breath. It was no more than a shrub bush.

Releasing her breath to calm her racing pulse, Carolyn stepped around the bush and tripped down a small ravine. She let out an involuntary shriek.

Drat! She should not have uttered a sound. As she knew from past experience, the night had “ears.”

She sat up and, getting to her feet, climbed out of the ravine. Alas, she had no more than found her footing, than she was hit by a force coming at her from the opposite direction. It was alive, and it grabbed her.

She screamed, only this time it was not a mere shriek. Nonetheless, it seemed to make no difference. Together, she and whatever it was fell back down into the chasm.

They rolled over and over, and Carolyn was too stunned even to cry out, though it might have been her last utterance…

 

He tumbled with her down the ravine, trying as best he could to shield her from the bumps and scrapings from the rocks and bushes. However, he was sad to note, as she toppled over him, he could not protect her completely.

Why had she screamed? Had she not seen him approach her? Certainly, he had not expected her to fall backward, nor had he anticipated this plunge into a chasm.

There seemed nothing he could do to stop their sliding, either, and as they shot straight to the bottom of the gorge, the best he could do was keep her on top of him. In some ways, the fall seemed to go on forever until, suddenly, it was over.

For a few brief moments, Lone Arrow lay stunned, trying to catch his breath.

It did not take long. Not when, coming to his senses, he found himself lying beneath her, with all her soft curves and her gentle peaks imprinted upon the hard length of him.

Ho! What was this? Like a drop of dew in the warmth of the morning sun, his resolve, so recently made regarding her, evaporated.

His blood rushed to the center of his body, making him more than aware of what it wanted.

He, however, knew he must keep his wits about him. He was aware of how this woman affected him, and he reminded himself that ethically he should not have anything to do with her.

But how was that possible when she lay against him, her position—with her legs straddling him—impossible to ignore?

Clearing his throat, he said in English, “Are you hurt?” To his credit, he refused to lift his arms to his sides, realizing that to touch her would be to undermine his determination.

She did not answer him at once. However, as she nodded, he felt the motion of her head, there against his shoulder. Then she was sitting up, trapping him beneath her. And despite himself, despite his conviction not to, Lone Arrow felt any antagonism he might have assumed toward this woman fade.

He groaned.

At that same moment, as if to tempt him more, moonlight crept out from behind a midnight cloud, its heavenly radiance washing over her in shades of gray and silver. He muttered a deep, low sound in his throat. Was he being tested by the Maker?

How, he wondered, was he supposed to resist her when The-girl-who-runs-with-bears looked more beautiful at this moment than any person, thing, or object he had ever seen?

Worse, she sat above him; her face was mere inches from his own.

This was possibly more than he could stand. Did she know what she was doing to him?

Without warning, she brought up a hand to smooth back her hair from her eyes. At once, his attention drifted down to the imprint of her breasts against her dress.

Again, he moaned. Again, he felt the frantic beating of his heart, as well as the answering rise in his groin.

She said, “I’m sorry, Lone Arrow. I couldn’t stay in the camp.”

And he found it impossible to answer her intelligently. In truth, his voice seemed not to work at all. And so he remained silent.

She continued, “I…I’m sorry. I tripped.”

When he continued his silence, she at last glanced down at him, looking as though she might like to study him as well. What she saw there, however, he might never know. All he was aware of at this moment was that she had moved, wiggling as though she attempted to rise to her feet.

It was, perhaps, more than he could take.

“Humph,” he grunted. He could not keep himself from uttering something. And he certainly hoped she would manage to get to her feet without his help, for he knew if he so much as lifted a finger to help her…

He shifted, but all he accomplished was arousal, as certain parts of his bare body came into further contact with certain parts of hers.

He froze. It had been a mistake to move so much as a muscle, for in doing so, a shock, much like that of a streak of lightning, bolted through him. And Lone Arrow found he had nothing on his mind—literally nothing else—except her.

He wanted her. He lusted for her. He needed her. Right now.

Yet he would not, he could not take her. Had this not been the very reason he had left camp?

Still, despite himself, he found his arms coming around her. And he thought, just once. Just once he would touch her, and then he would let her go.

He reached up to smooth back a lock of her hair, and in that instant, as he did so, he knew pure panic. Worse, as though his tongue belonged to another, he found himself uttering, “Your position does much to remind me that we have not committed the act that will wed us.”

She did not answer, not in so many words. However, she drew in her breath and let it go in a soft, high-pitched sigh, as though she agreed with him perfectly. At last, she said, “Yes.”

And Lone Arrow felt as though he might likely die. Such a simple word from her; such a bizarre reaction from him. And try as he might, he could think of no good reason that he should not have her, should not take her right here, right now.

Perhaps as a last defense, he whispered, “This is not the time or place to come to know one another.” Contrarily, however, he brought her head down toward him as he lifted up, meeting her halfway.

Even when he knew it was wrong, he found his lips touching hers, softly, gently at first. A mere peck.

He should leave it at that.

But again, she sighed, and Lone Arrow found himself lost to the thrill of her touch. And as pure sexual excitement raced through his veins, he muttered a quickly spoken prayer to the Maker.

For good or for bad, he realized, he was committed to this; he was committed to her. For his own sake, and for hers, he had better make it good.

 

He kissed her lightly, softly, the caress doing much to tease her, when he whispered, “You must be prepared to feel hurt the first time.”

Her only answer had been a moan, and then he was leaning up toward her, taking her lips once more into his own.

Excitement swam through her veins and Carolyn squirmed against him, barely able to contain herself. What was this pleasure she kept reaching toward whenever he touched her?

She heard Lone Arrow’s low groan before he brought up a hand to grope beneath her skirts. That he was also brushing aside his breechcloth had the effect of exciting her, yet scaring her, all at the same time. And although she could not see that part of him, she did feel the expanse of him against her soft thighs, as she sat above him.

Dear Lord, he was big, and she found herself murmuring, “I am afraid.”

He barely answered her, uttering only a rasping sound from his throat. At length, however, he whispered against her lips, “I think that you compliment me, but do not worry. Your body is meant for this. It will hurt, but only the first time.”

She nodded and gazed down into his dark, dark eyes.

Carolyn wondered if her gaze mirrored the affection she felt. Could he see it? Could he sense it?

Or more importantly, would he even care?

If not love, he must feel something for her, she thought. After all, he was making her his wife. It was not something he would do if he did not like her…at least a little.

He shifted his weight against her, and Carolyn held her breath. While she was not unaware of the facts of life, to be presented with its reality close-up was another matter.

He must have perceived her concern, for he lifted himself up to kiss her again. He said, “I cannot keep from hurting you at first. Be assured that the next time we do this, it will bring you more pleasure.”

She gazed down at him. “Then we will do this again?”

She witnessed his instantaneous grin before he murmured, “Many, many times, I think.”

“Oh.”

“Come here,” he said, as he took hold of her waist and shifted her position until she lay beneath him. That he grabbed hold of a part of his clothing, pushing and fluffing it until it lay like a pillow beneath her head, did much to attest to his care. That he also centered his robe upon the ground so that she could lie down on it, confirmed her opinion that Lone Arrow was, indeed, a gentleman. He said, “You should be on the bottom the first time. It will hurt less.”

She simply nodded.

Having so agreed, she thought that he might make love to her right then and there. But he did not.

Instead, he reclined to the side of her, one arm bent so that he cradled his head in his hand, while with his other…she shuddered with delight.

He touched her everywhere, trailing gentle fingers down her face, over her jawbone to her neck. Down farther still to one breast, the other. And where his fingers touched, his lips soon followed, even if that meant that he had to kiss her through her clothing.

Tenderly, though with a sure hand, he undid each button of her chemise, one by one, his eyes bright as he gazed at her. And then, perhaps too quickly, it was done.

Timidly, she glanced up at him. But such shyness had no chance to fester within her, for it fled beneath the surety of his touch. And when she witnessed the fervor blazing in his eyes, she lost herself to the wonder of him.

Gradually, he peeled away her cotton chemise.

“Beautiful,” she heard him mutter as her body became exposed to his gaze.

She might have said a word, or perhaps a cute phrase back to him. It was in her mind to do so, but before she could so much as utter a single syllable, his lips were there upon her bosom, creating havoc within her.

And as he took each tender nipple into the hot recess of his mouth, she arched herself against him. She could not help herself. The pleasure he gave her was fierce, and in response she breathed out the deepest of sighs.

He dallied over her as though she were a feast, and in response to his ministration, she squirmed in his arms. She wanted more.

But he was not about to satiate her, it would appear. At least, not at this moment. Instead, he traced a series of kisses down the length of her body. Down over her stomach, lower still, to her very core, past even that to the length of each leg.

Carolyn quivered with pleasure. She felt as though every inch of her had been loved, explored and worshiped.

Scooting back up toward her, he let his fingers feel their way to the privacy of her femininity, and he murmured, “You are ready for me.”

Was she? Most likely, she was. In reality, she supposed she had been ready for him for eight and a half long years.

And then his fingers were doing things to her down there that she had only imagined possible. Pleasure erupted within her, making her feel as though she were a living volcano.

Once more, his kisses trailed down over her body.

And as his caress came closer and closer to that most exquisite of pleasure sources, she brought her hips up to meet him, never dreaming that he would kiss her there.

Yet he did. And she thought she might surely die from the pleasure of it.

Oh, how she cared for this man. And a thought occurred to her: Was this the reason she had never looked at, nor been interested in another man for these past eight and a half years?

She might have explored that thought in more detail, but she was given little resource to do so.

His tongue had found her, stealing her attention away completely. And with her body entwined within his arms, he slowly brought her up to a height of stimulation she hadn’t known was possible.

Then it happened. The intensity; the trauma. In truth, her body convulsed with so much energy, she wondered at its source. Over and over, the pleasure came to her; over and over she thrashed under Lone Arrow’s expertise.

And as her body went weak, she felt as though she were expanding as a spiritual being, gaining more space. Truly, she felt as though she looked down upon herself and upon him from a viewpoint far above them.

And in that instant, she knew the truth for what it was.

She loved this man; had always done so. There was no doubt about it; none whatsoever.

Oddly, the realization gave her peace. And as her breathing resumed a more normal pace, she slowly drifted back to earth. He, however, had lifted up until he came to rest upon a forearm. He watched her, his gaze tender. Yet it was also all mixed up with a fiery light of yearning, as well as some other emotion she could not quite identify—admiration?

He smiled at her, and Carolyn found herself returning the gesture wholeheartedly.

Once more, he said, “You are ready. It is time.”

There was more?

Without further delay, he reached up to kiss her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to mate with hers. Mouths slashed across mouths, as if a kiss, all by itself, were the act of love.

What was this? Once more, liquid fire swept through her veins. And even the taste of her own scent upon his breath did not diminish her pleasure. In truth, so caught up was she in the simple act of what they were doing, she did not feel him rising above her.

“It will hurt but a moment,” he whispered into her ear. She knew what he meant and waited for the worst. But it did not happen.

Instead, she felt the evidence of his fingers playing with her, creating another series of reactions rebounding through her.

And then, as casually as if they had done this all their lives, he substituted himself for those fingers.

Gradually, so as not to disturb her, he became as one with her, and all the while his dark eyes were trained on her. She thought that it was as if he might register her every reaction.

And oh, how she loved that care.

Coming up onto his forearms, he smiled down at her, while he swept up a wayward lock of her hair into his fingers. And dear Lord, he gazed at her as if she were the most precious thing on earth.

Inadvertently, she shifted position, observing that her action caused him to close his eyes as though he were in agony. But she knew it was good, and when she heard his deep groan, which was so obviously one of pleasure, she rejoiced. Had she done that to him? With a simple wiggle?

He whispered, “I try to go slowly for you. It is not easy for me, for I want you in a very bad way. When you stir like that, I can hardly hold myself back.”

She gulped. She did not want him holding back. She wanted all of him—now; moreover, she desired that he experience the same sort of pleasure that she had known. As he had imparted to her, so, too, she wanted to give back to him.

She said, “Don’t go slowly. I would have all of you, all that you can give me.”

He groaned, as though he could barely stand to hear these words. And he shook his head, saying, “I think that you do not know what it is that you say.”

“Perhaps, but I think you are wrong, Lone Arrow. I am not unaware of the way in which people mate.”

He gave her a grim sort of smile. “Still,” he said, “we will take it my way.”

She nodded, then watched as fine beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead; watched as he swallowed, obviously fighting for self-control.

And slowly, as he had predicted, little by little, she took in the whole of him until he fit her perfectly. They both froze.

One slow beat of time followed upon another. And then, all at once, his lips came down over hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Someone made a high-pitched sound. Was it her?

It might have been so, for the noise, quiet though it was, seemed to be his undoing. He broke off the kiss, placed his forearms at each side of her head, and positioned his cheek by her cheek, as though he could afford to do no more than this. Into her ear, he whispered, “I have needed this, wanted this from the moment I saw you in your room two nights ago.”

Joy filled her heart. Did this mean that he loved her?

She sought out his lips, moving her head to the side until she could touch her lips to his. She said, “Kiss me again, Lone Arrow. For I, too, need you.”

He growled, as though he were as wild as this land over which they roamed, and he granted her request without pause, as though he, too, could not help himself. He swept his tongue into her mouth, and this time, she rejoiced, relishing the taste of his musky scent.

Tentatively, she twisted against him, causing him to whimper a low-sounding groan. Oh, what a wonderful sound.

Rising up slightly to glance down at her, he asked, “Do you know what you do to me?”

She did not answer. It seemed unnecessary. Instead, she whispered, “I want you, Lone Arrow. All of you. Please make love to me. Please.”

He gave her that guttural noise again, which seemed to be half animal, half human, before he murmured, “I will. I promise.”

And without another word, he began to move within her, oh, so very slowly.

At first his thrusts and plunges hurt. Then, as she became more and more accustomed to him, it was with some shock that she began to experience again, that same pleasurable feeling, down there, deep within her.

What was this? Could she attain that same plateau of passion once more? So soon?

Seeking it, while at the same time, wanting to give back to him, she gyrated her hips against him, instinctively knowing what to do. And always, she wanted more; more of him, more of this. Gazing up at him, she became aware that she had somehow surprised him.

She found him watching her, even while he moved against her. And his look was intense. Still, he grinned down at her, and she found herself smiling back up at him.

Did he feel it? Did he acknowledge what was between them? It was a kind of power. Power, she thought, because there was so much beauty between them. A beauty in being this close to each other; a beauty in sharing.

He murmured, “It is good for you?”

She nodded. “It is good. But Lone Arrow, I would have more of you. I think that you are still holding back.”

Her words seemed to drive him a little crazy, for as soon as the statement was uttered, he thrust against her, once, again, over and over, so quickly and so enthusiastically, that it left her feeling as though she were spinning.

But it was good, so very good, and she met his gyrations, one for one. In truth, she could not have stopped had she wanted.

No, in essence, she found herself fidgeting right along with him, pushing herself toward that same bliss that she had experienced only a little while earlier.

The change came suddenly, like the dawning of a new day, and she felt the joy of release bursting within her.

This time the magnitude of the pleasure startled her. She hadn’t expected that, not again, not so soon. And she must have surprised him, too, for she could not keep her feelings to herself.

High-pitched whimpers, low-resounding sighs escaped from her throat, leaving Carolyn hoping that the wind itself would commingle with the clamor, making her own noise part of the nature all around her.

In response, he beamed down upon her. And in his look was so much affection, Carolyn thought she might purr. Resting his weight on a forearm, he mumbled, “It was good for you, even this, your first time?”

She nodded, whispering, “It was wonderful.”

But it was not over. Carolyn knew inherently that he had not met the same release as she, and so, as though to aid him, she began her gyrations all over again. Over and over she strained, until he all at once took over their rhythm. Coming up onto his knees, he placed her legs over his shoulders, and with his gaze softly staring down into her own, he bore against her, once, again and again.

She knew the exact moment he spilled his seed within her, watched as he shut his eyes against what must be an overpowering sensation for him. And she sighed.

It was like heaven to her. She listened to his raucous release; gloried in the feel of him, in the sound of him, in the scent of their lovemaking. Truly, she had never felt closer to another being in her life. And she thought that there, for a moment, it was as though—perhaps for a moment only—they shared the same space.

In the aftermath, as he gradually sank down upon her, she felt herself become one with him, not only in body, but in spirit. And as the two of them drifted off into the surroundings above them, she found herself sharing a part of her with the one she loved.

So this was lovemaking. It was an awakening of life such that she had never before experienced.

And so it was that she fell into a pure, relaxing sleep, with the arms of her Indian lover firmly holding her, protecting her.

Truly, as she snuggled deeper into his embrace, she felt as though she had come home.