He broke their kiss so she could drag great gulps of air into her lungs. Then he closed his eyes, blocking out the beguiling sight of her so he could concentrate on the subtle messages of her body. Harder here. Back and forth again and again there, as her breath roughened and her hips bucked.
As the heady scent of passion filled his nostrils, her pliant nakedness became his whole world It had been unutterably long since he had held a woman like this, and never had he felt such deep yearning.
The wildness built higher and higher, filling her mind with crimson fire. When she could bear no more, she cried out, her thighs clamping on his hand as a vortex of sensations swirled through her. The enfolding strength of his embrace held her safe as her spirit spiraled skyward, soaring falcon free.
As she returned to earth, she sagged against Robin, dazed and trembling. He lay on his side, holding her close against him while one hand caressed her from shoulder to hip in long, easy strokes. She tilted her head back, and the satisfaction she saw in his eyes assuaged her sense of selfishness.
But underneath his composed surface, his body was tense and unfulfilled. She lay back on the pillows, then caught his hand and pulled him across her. "Your turn, Robin."
It took only a single slow, wanton roll of her hips to splinter his calm. His face stark with urgency, he parted her legs with one knee, then probed her intimately, separating the delicate folds. Nothing more was needed, for her body was still wetly welcoming.
He braced himself over her and positioned the velvety head of his shaft. Then he thrust forward, sheathing himself in her willing flesh with one swift stroke.
The pain was brief but intense, a shock wave that swept through her whole body in an instant. Then it was gone, leaving a not unpleasant sense of internal stretching, and the deep satisfaction of knowing that they were mated in the dance of life.
The effect on Robin was far worse. He stiffened, his expression stunned. "Good God, Maxie! Why didn't you say something?"
She smiled and slid her arms around him, clasping his hard buttocks to hold him tight against her. "Because I knew you would get one of those maddening attacks of gentlemanliness. You can't help it, you're an Englishman." She rolled her hips upward, drawing him deeper. "You're thinking too much again, Robin. Don't."
Unable to resist, he drove into her again and again, his breath fractured and irregular. Though she had never experienced such sensations, she knew in her marrow how to respond, how to match his rhythm and resonate to his passion. She welcomed the flagrant maleness of his assault as much as she rejoiced in the female power that could inflame and absorb such desire.
His body arched and went rigid. "Ah, God…" he groaned, his voice a low, shuddering prayer. Though she did not reach the same fiery pinnacle as before, she felt an echoing sense of release and fulfillment.
As his body softened, she smoothed her hands over his sweat slicked body, feeling the slow relaxation of his muscles. She touched her tongue to his shoulder, liking the saltiness, and the pounding of his heart, so close it seemed like her own.
He rubbed his cheek against hers, then rolled away and slid from the bed. Too exhausted even to be curious, she simply watched him cross the room. Garden of Eden indeed. Robin must be used to the casualness of naked lovers, but it was new to her, and an unanticipated pleasure. He was like a mountain lion, sleek and lithe and utterly masculine. The memory of what it had been like to have him inside her made her exhale roughly.
He went to the washstand and opened the drawer. After removing something, he returned to the bed and handed her a neatly folded towel. She used it to cleanse herself, and was pleased to see there were only a few spots of blood. It would have seemed gauche to stain a stranger's bed.
When she was done, he stretched out alongside her and drew her into his arms again. "Was I such a pathetic case that you felt compelled to do your utmost to patch me up?" he asked with rueful amusement.
She smiled. "I suppose there is a grain of truth in that, but it hardly does justice to either of us. I've wanted you from the time we met, Robin. Tonight I decided to stop acting like a demure English miss and behave like a woman of the Mohawk." She made an exaggerated face and nipped his shoulder. "We are famed for our ferocity. We take what we want, white man."
Tenderly, he massaged the back of her neck, his thumb exactly fitting a hollow he found there. "You had me thoroughly baffled. Given your age, your contraceptive tea, and general lack of maidenly vapors, I had assumed you were not a virgin."
"Among the Iroquois, many families share a longhouse. Children learn early what is natural between men and women."
"You also said once that women of your mother's people have a freer acceptance of their desires. Certainly you are comfortable with yourself like few women I've ever known." He gave her a quizzical glance. "But that makes it even harder for me to understand why I was the first for you. Are American men such fools?"
She grimaced. "As I said once before, there were plenty of men who thought a halfbreed was fair game, but I decided early on that I would not be used so casually. Yet because we traveled so much, there was little opportunity to develop the kind of relationship where I could be sure I was desired for myself." Which was true as far as it went. What she did not say was that resisting advances had been easy, because she had never met a man who attracted her half as much as Robin.
He kissed her on the forehead. "Whatever the reason, I am greatly honored to be your choice."
She eyed him sternly. "You're not going to make some silly remark to the effect that since you ruined me, it's your duty to give me your name in holy matrimony, are you?"
"I might if I thought I had any chance of success, but I know you well enough to realize that such an argument would never work." He ran his hand down her body under the blanket. "Besides, you don't seem ruined to me. You seem quite enchantingly flawless."
She gave a low chuckle. It might not do to talk of love, but it seemed fair to say, "You're rather wonderful yourself. It was worth waiting."
He kissed the edge of her ear. "Good night, Kanawiosta," he murmured. "No more bad dreams for either of us tonight."
She rolled over and nestled her back against his front. Her body was so relaxed that she could have knotted herself up like a pretzel and still fallen asleep.
With such physical and emotional closeness between them, she could easily sense Robin's mood. The combination of confession and passion seemed to have greatly eased his inner darkness. Even if they had no future beyond the next few days or weeks, his innate strength and resilience should enable him to continue the healing process.
It was gratifying to have been able to help, though she suspected that her principal virtue had been her foreignness. It was often easier to reveal one's secret torments to someone with no connection to one's normal life.
She suppressed a little sigh. In spite of his proposal, she still couldn't see them as having a future together. He could tell her anything and it wouldn't matter, because she would not be there as a reminder of when he had succumbed to weakness.
Now she was the one thinking too much. All that mattered was that Robin had healing, and that she had tasted a sweetness and pleasure she would never regret.
Chapter 25
Washed clean by the storm, the dawn sky was pale and clear when Maxie woke. It was nearing the summer solstice and the sun rose very early, so she couldn't have had more than two or three hours sleep, yet she felt amazingly refreshed.
Robin still slept, his spun gold head resting by hers and his arm across her waist. His face was peaceful and very young. Hard to remember his despair of the night before, or to believe that he had done the things he had; this morning he looked scarcely more than a schoolboy.