Gray Hawk's Lady: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 1 (34 page)

She sat before him here, under the moonlight, in a tan Indian dress that was intricately decorated with porcupine quills and beads. On her legs she had tight leggings that reached all the way to her knees, and on her feet she wore moccasins. She looked Indian, yet not.

Her dress was Blackfoot, yes, but her skin, her hair, her eyes…all these things were uniquely hers and not easily compared.

Like her nose. He loved her nose, strong, yet small, the tip of it turning softly up at the end. He ran a fingertip over it and was rewarded with a deep sigh from her.

He groaned.

He loved those little moans. The sounds she made were music to his ears. He listened for them when he made love to her; he gloried in them.

She brought her chin up, and she seemed to beg him for a kiss. He didn’t hesitate to give it to her.

He almost groaned again. Her lips were sweet, and wet from the water. And he wanted so much more.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping inward to capture even more of her taste.

She pulled her head slightly away from him and she grinned at him, her look that of a winsome child.

She drew her shoulders back, her chest automatically going forward, and Gray Hawk’s gaze moved downward from her face.

She began to take off the sleeves of her dress, and he gazed back up at her, catching that look in her eyes that was part feline, part minx.

Next came her belt and then her dress. And soon she sat before him, clad only in knee-high leggings and moccasins.

He grinned and, squatting before her, began the task of removing these last.

She whimpered and made little movements with her legs, with her hips, that would have sent him over the edge if he hadn’t realized what lay in store, yet to come this night.

He held himself back.

“You are more beautiful,” he said, “than I remember. Perhaps I have been gone too long hunting.”

She smiled. “Perhaps.”

He was rubbing her feet, and she giggled, sitting forward in a hurry. “That tickles,” she said, lying back and sighing.

“What?” He did it again.

“Gray Hawk, stop that.”

“Do you mean this?”

She giggled again, sitting up.

Suddenly her face was in front of his. She leaned in toward him, and he drew forward.

“Gen-ee.”

“Gray Hawk.”

Moonlight shone down on them, bathing their features in the soft rays of silvery beams while the fresh scent of balsam blew around them on the wind.

Caught in the moment, they stared at one another as though unable to believe the beauty of the other: one of them pale, with fiery hair glowing and shimmering with vitality under the waxen
light; the other contrastingly dark, his mane of ebony hair glistening with a bluish-black luster.

They were connected, these two, and nothing mattered between them: not race, not culture, not even prejudice.

They loved, pure and simple.

Her lips were only a minuscule distance away from him, yet he didn’t touch her, wanting only to admire. He breathed in, and her pure scent, combined with the pine and balsam carried to him on the breeze, reached out to him; her fragrance, her radiance, wrapped around him more tightly than the clothes he wore.

He had never felt this way in his life. Not once. Not ever.

“I love you.”

They said the words together, as though their language were perfectly choreographed.

At last he leaned in, closing the tiny gap between them, kissing her with only a hint of sweet passion, yet she swooned forward as though he had given her the world.

His stomach reacted. Ah, his Gen-ee. How he loved her, how he gloried in her response to him.

All at once, her hands came up to his chest, and he felt the effect of her touch all through his system.

He shuddered, but she wasn’t done. She kissed her way over toward his ear, and as sensation swept over him again, he heard her say, “One of us has too many clothes on.”

He chuckled softly, but at the same time he drew his shirt over his head and, as though it were on fire, tossed it aside.

He felt her fingers at the tie around his waist, at his belt, loosening it.

His breechcloth fell off, leaving only his leggings and moccasins upon him.

And just as he had done with her earlier, she took his feet in her hands, removed each of his moccasins, and massaged first one and then the other foot.

She didn’t pay any attention to his leggings since these were only attached to his belt, which was already loosened. Instead she stared at him, at the effect she had on him, and he could feel himself harden even more under her look.

“Gray Hawk, I—”

“Let us swim, Gen-ee.”

“No, it is too cold.”

“Ah, but it is good for you.”

She shook her head and gave him a crooked smile. “Maybe for you,” she said. “You are used to it, but I noticed that none of the women in your camp take midnight swims on these cool evenings—only the men. And I must agree with the women. It is too cold.”

He splashed a little water up on her.

“Gray Hawk…”

He gave her a devious glance. “Let us wade then, and later we can snuggle underneath one of the robes.”

“No, I…wade, did you say?”

He grinned and nodded to her, her face so close to his own.

She said, “I will wade with you, but that is all.”

“Good.”

He removed his leggings in an instant and stood, offering his hand to help her up.

But she didn’t immediately rise.

She just stared at him, her gaze skimming up and down his body, centering in upon that area at the juncture of his legs.

He felt as though his skin tingled under her inspection, and he grew even harder.

“Come,” he said, and he pulled her to her feet. “We will wade out into the water, just a little.”

He saw her gaze upon his naked body, her glance centering on his chest and his manhood, and he felt his pulse race at her attention. He grinned at her. “You are welcome to do more than look,” he said.

She glanced immediately at him, her eyes round.

He merely chuckled and held his hand out toward her. “Come.”

He led her out into the stream then, its coolness sending welcome shivers up his spine. But not so his love.

“Gray Hawk, it’s freezing.”

“Yes, it makes the blood start pounding, does it not?”

“Not, I’m afraid.”

He splashed her.

“Gray Hawk, you said you wouldn’t…”

“Did I?”

“Yes,
well, no, but…” She giggled and, lunging away from him, splashed him back.

He gave her a stern look. “You know this means a fight to the death, do you not?”

“To the death?”

He grinned. “Perhaps not to the death. Maybe I should say ‘to the bed.’”

“Is that what this is? A war over our bed?”

He inclined his head. “It could be. We could wager. If you win this fight, you may order me do whatever you would wish, but if
I
win the fight,
I
will have you…order me to do anything that you wish.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “What a fate I must suffer, then. It seems I must order you about no matter the outcome.”

He grinned. “Yes,” he said. “What terrible things await you.” He gave her a deliberate leer, then tsked, tsked. “Come now. Let us see who is to win this fight.” He splashed her.

And she shrieked, but she got him back.

He followed, then she, back and forth.

He held back the full force of his power, seeming to barely keep up his own end, until he had enticed her into the full part of the stream, where he let loose upon her, soaking her entirely.

But she didn’t seem to notice. She only laughed and lay back, splashing at him with her feet.

He moved in closer toward her, making a shower with every step he took, until he came right up to her. And there, taking her in his arms and pulling her up to him, he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her nose, her lips again.

“I love you,” he said. “
Kitsikakomimmo
.”
And he began the process all over again.

“
Kitsikakomimmo
,” she said, returning his every embrace.

They stood in the water, only thigh deep.

At first, he wasn’t aware of what she did. At first, he was only cognizant that he needed her, that he wanted her.

But she had moved her head slightly downward until she was nibbling on
his
chest, on
his
nipples. Excitement tore through him.

He groaned, the sound deep in his throat.

But she wasn’t finished. She dipped down lower still, down over his chest, then back up to his nipples.

He made another sound. He couldn’t remember what, though.

And then she dropped down toward his navel, lower still.

“Gen-ee?”

She didn’t answer.

“Gen-e-vee, what do you do?”

She raised her head, but only for a moment. She said, “The same thing you do to me.”

“Yes, but—”

She took him into her mouth then, and he forgot what he’d been about to say.

He couldn’t remember a thing at that moment. He closed his eyes on a sigh. Oh, what she did to him, his Gen-ee. He let her kiss him, over and over, on and on, until he thought he couldn’t take it anymore.

And then he brought her back up toward him.

“Do you not like that?” she asked after he had lifted her up to him.

“I like it very much.”

“Then why did you have me stop?”

“Because,” he said, bringing her shivering body in toward his, wrapping her in the warmth of his arms, “I have plans for the night, and I do not wish it to end prematurely.”

“Prematurely?” Her gaze at him was one of pure innocence.

He nodded. “Yes.
Had you gone on too far, I would not have been able to stop myself from meeting my conclusion. I do not wish that yet.”

“Oh.” She mouthed the word.

“Come,” he said. “You are shivering. Let us go and find that buffalo robe that I promised you.”

And with that said, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the lean-to, not stopping until he had entered the structure and had her…and himself wrapped up in a buffalo robe.

He started a fire, quickly, efficiently, and within minutes, the two of them were warm again and staring into the blaze.

“Where will we go, Gray Hawk?” she asked after a while, her body snuggled in closely toward his. “To the fort, or to my father’s?”

“To your father’s.” He didn’t look at her. He kept staring into the flames. “It is what I have intended for some time. I see no reason to change my plans now.”

She acknowledged his words with a barely perceptible nod.

“There may be trouble once it is learned that we are married,” she warned.

“I anticipate it. It is what I have come to expect since I visited the white man’s post. We will just have to be strong.”

“My father may insist upon my marrying you in our church. He might not feel, until that is done, that we are truly husband and wife.”

Gray Hawk said, “Then it will be done.”

“There is also the possibility that my father may not recognize our marriage no matter what we do. While he is not prejudiced against other races, he has been exposed to too many primitive people to have much respect for them…as equals.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“He may not understand my wanting to go back to your people with you,” she said, not looking at him. “He will think that it is below me, most likely, and may cause us some trouble. He might not accept it altogether, and may insist upon your learning English customs and accompanying us back to our home.”

“I will not do this, but you do not answer my question. What does his study of primitive people have to do with me?”

Genevieve gazed around her, at her surroundings before. She said, “Nothing, he…”

“Gen-ee?”

She sighed, just barely able to look at him. “He will consider you and your people uncivilized, and he will not understand my returning with you. There will be trouble, Gray Hawk, I just know it. Perhaps it would be better if I just wrote the letter to him.”

“No,” said Gray Hawk. “You would always worry, and I would have you free of this. Besides, do I look the kind of man to walk away from trouble?”

“No, it is only that—”

“We will ensure that your father will survive well without you, and then, if we have to, we will sneak away. Some may consider me ‘uncivilized,’ but I know that I can do this.”

“Gray Hawk?” She backed slightly away.

And he gave her an inquiring look.

“I have just remembered something.”

“Yes?”