back from his face." Would you really die for me?" she whispered softly.
He caught her hand where she touched him and drew her wrists together
high over her head, staring down at her. She didn't know if he loved her
or despised her in those seconds, but she did know that he wanted her.
Tension con stricter the length of his body, and muscles convulsed at
his throat and within the tautness of his features.
"Is that what you want?" he demanded.
He wasn't smiling. She knew that she had probably tested him beyond
endurance, so she whispered softly to him in the night.
"No, I do not want you to die for me. Nalte knows that I am here."
"What?"
"He came to me and told me that I could go to you, that he had made his
decision. We are to stay here until the ceremonies are complete for his
sister, then the Apache will see that we are given an escort out of the
mountains."
"Nalte ... knows?" Jamie repeated.
She nodded solemnly.
"He said that you told him I was already your woman. He also said that
you were either a fool or a very brave man to have come for me, and that
a brave man deserves the respect of other brave men. And so he told me
that you were here, and that I could come to you."
He stared down at her, his grip hard upon her wrists as he tried to
understand what she was telling him. Nalte had decided in their favor.
There was no need to die here. He could leave with Tess.
He could leave with her.
And he could make love to her, here, tonight, in the shadow of the
Apache's mountains, at the stream where life itself and the night seemed
mystical.
He cried out harshly and lowered himself over her, his lips parting
before they ever touched hers. He ravished her mouth, demanding that it
open to his, and he seemed to taste and find all of her, his tongue
delving ever deeper, his teeth teasing her lips, his breath mingling
with hers, the whole of his kiss so deep and complete and sensual that
it was raw and laid her bare. It touched her on a level so intimate that
the very decadence aroused her to shattering heights. Then his lips left
hers, and she was bereft. The night air touched her lips where they
remained damp and moist from his touch.
His fingers were upon the rawhide laces of her buckskin dress. Her
breasts spilled free to his touch, and his hand cupped and caressed
them, his fingers stroking and arousing her nipples. Then his mouth
formed hungrily around one nipple to suckle and tease the hardening bud,
to send streams of excitement and desire sweeping through her limbs. She
was glad of the darkness.
Flushing, she wondered how it was the searing liquid fire of his kiss
touched her breast, yet sent the molten longing to swirl to the base of
her abdomen, and lower still to hover and deepen at the apex of her
thighs.
It did not matter where he touched. He continued to kiss her as he
slowly eased the buckskin from her body. He kissed the nape of her neck,
and the tip of his tongue hovered at her earlobe, then ran a trail down
her spine as he shifted her body to toss aside the dress. He kissed the
inside of her upper arm, and she had never imagined that a touch could
elicit such wild stirrings within her. Nor did he allow his kisses to
stop there.
Soon she was lying prone upon the verdant earth again, so close to the
water that it lapped at her ankles. And even the touch of the water
added to the wonder and the magic. It caressed her as the breeze did, as
his every touch did. She was whispering things to him, things she should
never have said, things about the wonder and desire he created. She
struggled to touch him in return, to know more and more of him. Her
teeth sank gently upon his shoulders, and her tongue laved every tiny
little wound. Her fingers stroked and massaged his shoulders and
trembled over every ripple and bulge of his muscle beneath her touch.
She shed his shirt, nearly ripping the buttons from it. She touched his
chest with her tongue, and she moved lower and lower against him.
But then she found herself prone again, and his hands and lips were
moving magic upon her. His kiss touched her, searingly hot. The cool
water lapped over her feet and ankles, but the whole of her was achingly
hot, a fire against the water. His lips touched her bare belly, and the
arches of her feet, and her knees and her thighs. And then he kissed her
warmly, intimately, at the very heart of her desire, kissed her body as
he would kiss her lips, demanding all and giving her ecstasy in turn.
And still the cool stream washed against her. In the end she rose
against him, and they knelt together in the shallows in the night, and
her breasts moved against his chest as their lips fused once again, and
then the fullness of their bodies. She led him down then to the rich
earth, and crawled atop him, her hair a blaze of sunset kissed by the
moon, ~r movements smooth and sultry as the touch of golden locks swung
over his chest and belly.
In the magic of the night, to the rough and urgent murmurings of his
husky voice, she rode the magic of the darkness, and of the man, until
the beauty exploded within them and around them, until the sweet
satiation and exhaustion seized them, until they were filled with one
another. Only then did she fall against him. She didn't care about the
future or the past; she only knew that she had come to him because she
had wanted him. And because she loved him.
Nothing else mattered, for she had learned that time and life and love
were precious, and this night she had all three.
They were silent together as the moon cast its gentle glow on them.
He stroked her hair softly and at long last he whispered, "It's
true--Nalte sent you to me?" She nodded happily against his chest.
"It's true," she whispered.
"Thank God," he breathed.
"He's very upset."
"He is?"
"He doesn't like the idea that von Heusen has been causing so much
trouble.
He told me that the Apache raid, and that they make war, and that these
are separate things. They raid for foodstuffs and other things they
need, they do not raid to kill. When they make war, they do so to kill.
But they do not kill children, and they do not slaughter animals
needlessly. He says there is enough trouble between the 245 whites and
the Indians. He doesn't usually have much use for the Comanche himself,
and the tribes have warred for generations, but he cannot see the
Comanche blamed for a white man's sins."
"You had quite a long talk with him," Jamie commented.
"Jealous?" she asked sweetly.
He grunted.
She braced her hands upon his chest, staring deeply into his eyes.
"I
like him, Jamie."
Jamie laced his fingers behind his head as he watched her eyes.
"Want to stay with him?" he asked.
Words, gentle words, self-betraying words, hovered on Tess's lips. I
like Nalte, but I love you, she almost said. But she could not dispel
the memory of Eliza hanging on to him, trying to force him to love her
in return. She would never do that, she swore. It was dangerous to fall
in love with Jamie Slater.
If nothing else, Tess wanted her dignity left to her.
She forced a smile to her lips and asked lightly, "Trying to get rid of
me?"
"You are a hell of a lot of trouble," he told her frankly. "Yes, but
you've already come this far."
"So I have."
"And I really am worth it."
"Are you?" His eyebrows shot up.
She nodded. Then she moved very low against him again. She let her hair