Comanche Woman (9 page)

“Who else would dare?”

The silence in the tipi was deafening. Bay drew a ragged breath before admitting, “The
puhakut
.”

There was an astonished pause before Long Quiet said, “And Many Horses said nothing?”

Bay sneered at his disbelief. “Would he dare challenge one who wields the power of a medicine man? He was not so foolish! I learned later that He Decides It had told Many Horses I must be tested by the spirits, to see if I was worthy of him. I . . . I tried to fight back, but he tied me down and . . . I pleaded, but no one stopped him.

“The first night, when I was left alone, two wolves came to sit on either side of me. The wolves would not let anyone near me. It was three days before . . . before the wolves left as mysteriously as they’d come. The
puhakut
declared it was a sign from the Great Spirit. He made it tabu for anyone except Many Horses and his family to speak to me or cross my path. I was left all alone . . .”

Long Quiet pulled her trembling body into his arms, his hands soothing her agitation, knowing no words could remove the memory of her pain. “The wolves that stayed by you were the ones Creed told me about, the ones Cricket raised?”

Bay froze for a moment, then smiled. Most Comanches would have been awed by her tale, but Long Quiet had looked for and found a reasonable explanation for what had happened. Once again she was reminded that this stranger who held her was at least half white. “I helped raise those two wolves from pups. They followed me here all the way from Three Oaks. As for why they came to sit beside me and why they left—I can’t explain that.”

Bay found Long Quiet’s embrace more comforting than she’d expected, and allowed herself to enjoy his solid strength. It was a welcome relief to lean on someone else and not to have to stand on her own. As the moments in his arms lengthened, however, totally different feelings began to course through her. A tingling sensation, a sense of fullness, rose in her breasts. His body was changing, too. The rising tension between them forced her from his embrace.

“It was a long time ago,” she said. “I’ve never understood why the
puhakut
proclaimed the tabu or why he didn’t just let me die when the wolves left. But I haven’t forgotten or forgiven his cruelty.”

Long Quiet took her hand in his and stepped back to the buffalo robe that would be their bed. “Lie down with me.”

Bay avoided looking at Long Quiet as she settled down flat on her back, her arms at her sides. He quickly joined her, placing himself close, but not close enough for their bodies to touch. She turned her head so she could see his profile. His face was all angles and shadows—hard, harsh, and tense. He closed his eyes, and within moments she could tell from his steady breathing that he was asleep.

What did he want from her? Why hadn’t he taken her body to use for his pleasure? Perhaps he planned to take his pleasure of her when he woke. Should she flee him now?

Bay lifted herself up on her elbow to examine the self-professed Comanche who slept beside her. He was an impressive man, without an ounce of wasted flesh on him. He was all knotted muscle from his thighs to his lean waist and broad shoulders to the . . .

Bay discovered the flesh she so admired was flawed. There was a swollen red gash on Long Quiet’s forearm. Why hadn’t he said something so she could relieve his pain? She shook her head. He was probably as stubbornly proud as Many Horses. There was nothing she could do now, but she determined that when he awoke, she would insist he allow her to make a healing balm for the wound.

With that thought Bay drifted off to sleep and soon found herself dancing in Jonas Harper’s arms. As she dreamed, his square jaw became more angular and somehow Jonas’s moustache disappeared to be replaced by Long Quiet’s sensually bowed upper lip. Just as Bay began to suspect perhaps it wasn’t Jonas who was causing such a ripple of excitement with his lips at her throat, her dream was interrupted.

She cried out in fear, throwing up her arms to protect herself as an unexplained weight came hurtling down on top of her.

Bay blinked her eyes at the sunlight filtering into the tipi and found that Long Quiet had grasped Little Deer by her arms and was holding her outstretched before him. The little girl’s chin quivered and her lips were turned down in preparation for the wail that would accompany the tears hovering in her huge black eyes.

“Give her to me,” Bay said. When Long Quiet hesitated, she added, “She’s mine.”

His eyes became distant again, his face impossible to read as he settled the little girl in her lap.

“Good morning,
Pia
,” Little Deer said. “
Kaku
, Grandmother, said I must wait for you to wake, but I missed you.”

Cries at Night could be heard outside the tipi. “Little Deer, are you in there?”

“She’s here,” Bay called out. “She can stay with me for a while.”

Long Quiet studied the child with the same intensity he’d used to peruse Bay. “She doesn’t take after you much.”

“She looks like her father,” Bay replied, knowing that was at least the truth, if not the whole truth.

Long Quiet looked at the child again. He could find nothing of Bay in the little girl and wasn’t sure whether that pleased or upset him.

Cries at Night stepped inside the tipi. “I would not have disturbed you, Shadow, but now that I am here, Many Horses has asked that I help you serve his guest in whatever way I am needed.”

“Will you take care of Little Deer while I prepare a meal for our guest?”

“I will do it gladly. Is there anything else?”

Bay tried to decide whether she should ask the older woman to run an errand for her, then decided it was not too much to ask. “Would you bring my
parfleche
of herbs to me?”

“Of course.”

“I will keep Little Deer until you return.”

Cries at Night examined Long Quiet for a moment before she cackled to Bay, “He is a lusty one, eh?”

“What?” Bay gasped.

The old woman was gone with a speed that belied her arthritic limbs.

Long Quiet laughed at the old woman’s observation, but seeing Bay’s flushed embarrassment, he tied on his breechclout. His eyes caught a movement by Little Deer in Bay’s lap and the grin on his face faded.

Bay followed Long Quiet’s searing glance only to discover that Little Deer had reached out to play with one of her nipples. Somehow Long Quiet’s easy manner had allowed her to forget about her nakedness. Now she was forcefully reminded of it.

She tried to remove the child’s hand. “No,
ona
, baby.”

Little Deer resisted. “Pretty.”

“The child is right,” Long Quiet said. “Very pretty.”

Bay grabbed Little Deer’s hand and brought it up to her mouth to kiss it at the same time she hugged the child to her. When she looked up, the frown had returned to Long Quiet’s face.

Mercifully, Cries at Night arrived at that moment with the rawhide bag full of healing herbs. Bay kissed Little Deer’s cheek and gave her another quick hug before handing her to Cries at Night.

“Go with your
kaku
. I will come play with you later.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Bay said with a quick kiss for the little girl.

With the child gone, Bay became conscious again of her nakedness and hurried to pull on her simple clothing. She would never get used to the Indians’ matter-of-fact attitude toward their bodies. Young boys wore nothing until the age of eight or nine, young girls only a breechclout until puberty, and she’d spent her first days in camp constantly flustered by the sight of them. That feeling was nothing compared to the way her pulse galloped at the sight of the muscles and sinews along the naked flanks of the man sitting across from her.

Once she was dressed, Bay worked quickly. She poured water into the buffalo paunch hanging on sticks to one side of the fire. She put heated stones from the fire in the paunch to boil the water and threw in some carefully selected herbs.

Long Quiet remained lying comfortably on the buffalo robe, watching her work. “What are you making? Something to eat?”

Bay laughed. “No, not unless you have a taste for cotton.” She held up a piece of brightly colored cloth she knew had been stolen from some Texas settler’s home before dropping it in the hot water. “I’m making a poultice for the wound on your arm.”

Long Quiet’s hand reached reflexively for the wound. “It isn’t necessary.”

“Perhaps not, but I noticed last night the cut is pink and swollen around the edges. This poultice will draw out any poisons.”

His voice was husky as he asked, “You examined me while I slept?”

“I only . . .” Bay’s mind raced for an excuse to cover the truth. “I thought you, like Many Horses, might have been hurt in the battle with the Tonkawas.”

With the same catlike grace she’d seen before, he rose and seated himself beside her. She flinched when his hand reached up to brush a curl from her brow.

“I find I like being cared for by you.”

Before he could do what his eyes told her he had in mind, she used a forked stick to draw the cloth from the water.

“Lie down on your side,” she ordered firmly. “And hold your arm so I can reach your wound.”

He smiled, then obeyed her.

Bay held the hot cloth out on the forked stick and levered it over to his arm, allowing it to settle on the wound. The hissing sound Long Quiet made told her how hot the cloth was.

“It has to be hot to work,” she said.

“I didn’t complain.”

“I didn’t want you to think I’d hurt you on purpose.”

“But you don’t like me.”

She kept stubbornly silent. The fact was she did like him, but she didn’t understand why. Until she did, it would be better not to admit such a thing.

Long Quiet suddenly sat up so the cloth fell from his arm. He thrust his hands in her hair where her braid had come loose overnight and held her head steady while his eyes searched her face. Before she could resist, his lips brushed hers once, twice.

If he’d tried to invade her mouth Bay would have fought him, but his touch was so soft, so tender, that she let him have his way. It was her undoing, because once he’d accustomed her to the feel of him, his tongue made a gentle foray along the edges of her lips, enticing, tempting. When she opened her mouth to object, his tongue slipped inside.

Her whole body tensed with the unfamiliar feelings that shot through her. His mouth felt good on hers. But it shouldn’t. He was a stranger. She’d been given to him to use as he wished, like a slave woman to a plantation rake.

So why wasn’t she resisting him?

Bay opened her eyes and saw his eyes were open, too. He kept his hold on her but edged back so they could look at one another easily. His gaze was frighteningly possessive in contrast to the gentleness of his touch.

“You aren’t going to . . . you won’t . . .” Her voice failed her.

“For now, until I leave, you belong to me.”

Chapter 5

N
O
!” T
HE PROTEST SPRANG INVOLUNTARILY FROM
B
AY
’
S
lips as she struggled to free herself from Long Quiet’s arms. He held her gently but firmly.

“I will have you.”

Long Quiet’s simple words sent Bay into a frenzy, and though she knew it was futile, she arched her body away in an attempt at escape. He captured her easily and pulled her wildly writhing body back into his embrace.