Lakota Surrender (15 page)

He waited for her. Alone on a green swell of the prairie, with only his pipe in hand, he stood tall, proud, confident, knowing she would come.

The sun was only a little past its zenith when he first caught sight of her racing across the plains toward him.

He watched, patiently, as she drew closer. Kristina had taken great care with her appearance. He could see that she wore her best dress, a sheer garment which was not quite white, and he could only guess at its material. It caught the rays of the sun each time she moved, shimmering as though alive. Her hair was fastened up in loops around her face, the golden strands interwoven with ribbons of the same white color and blue. She had lavished herself in a scent he did not recognize and upon her lips she had applied color.

She did not rein in her mount until she was within feet of him. Even from a distance he could detect the anger on her features. He knew she meant to disconcert him, but he stood unflinchingly. He grabbed the reins as soon as he was able, and deftly settled the animal.

Tahiska glanced at Kristina and grinned. She was angry with him. Very angry. Often he had seen his mother in a similar state of distress and had witnessed his father’s adept handling of her emotions. He also remembered well the conclusions to these episodes later in the night when all was quiet in the tepee. He hoped to have similar success with Kristina.

She looked beautiful. To Tahiska it seemed her radiance blossomed daily. He had been attracted to her spirit from the start, recognizing in her a strength and determination rare in a woman. And now he wanted her. Holding the reins in his left hand, he turned toward her. His dark gaze met hers and he held her stare, acknowledging the fire in her eyes. He was so pleased with her he wanted to laugh. She had great spirit. Despite her wrath, she had come. She was here with him.

Tahiska noted again her dress. That she had worn her best pleased him. Now that she was closer he saw that at her waist she had tied a blue ribbon, the same color that was interwoven in the golden strands of her hair.

His approval emanated from his smile. She was always with him in thought; she was the last thing on his mind in the evening, the first image he beheld in the morning. He was giving her all that he had to offer. He only hoped it would be enough to bridge their two worlds.

Kristina wanted to rage at him. She wanted to pummel him in her fury and then ride away. She had worried too much, had spent too many restless nights to be so easily forgiving. She longed to cause him the same amount of anguish that he had caused her.

But she did neither. For one thing, she was so upset she couldn’t think of the right signs; for another, she was just too relieved to see him, alive, well, and here with her.

And if Tahiska had studied her, she, too, scrutinized him.

Each time she saw him he appeared more handsome than before. He wore a white deerskin shirt and white leggings, fringed with human hair and porcupine quills. In the center of his shirt, blue and white painted quills were arranged in four concentric circles. Around the circles, blue, yellow, and red stick figures were painted in what appeared to be a reenactment of some battle.

His expression held absolutely no emotion, and she matched his stare as though dueling with him. She hoped her gaze was as piercing as she meant it to be.

They stared at each other in this manner for quite awhile until at last Tahiska, in what was a most athletic move, jumped onto the back of her horse. The reins still in his left hand, he settled himself behind her and gave the horse a swift kick, spiriting the animal into a trot.

Sitting sidesaddle as she was, his arm continually brushed her breasts, kindling a slow fire inside her. Her pulse increased and Kristina felt tiny beads of sweat appear along her brow.

She had nowhere to go. He had stretched both arms around her and his whole being engulfed hers. When she breathed, it was his clean scent that filled her lungs. When she moved, it was his touch that set her heart racing. If she gazed to the front, she saw only his hands, clean, strong, tanned. If she looked to the rear, her lips almost touched his.

If he had been trying to seduce her out of her bad mood, he couldn’t have been making better work of it. And with sudden cognizance, Kristina realized this was
exactly
what he was doing. So perhaps her first words were too harsh.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked all at once, her voice mirroring her annoyance, although she wasn’t sure with whom she was more displeased: herself, for her inability to rein in her emotions, or Tahiska, for not offering an excuse for his disappearance and then thinking he could seduce her into forgetfulness. Well, she wouldn’t forget and she would have an explanation.

When he didn’t answer at once, she repeated in sign, “I need to know where you are taking me.”

“You will see,” was all he replied in quick gestures.

This
would not suffice. She shot him a heated glance, ignoring the fact that his cheek brushed against hers as she made the movement. “I need to know now!”

As she made the sign for now, her upheld index finger lingered in front of her face. Quickly, he slid the reins to his right hand, capturing Kristina’s finger in his left and bringing her hand closer to her shoulder. There he bent forward, kissing the tip of it, following his action with the same treatment to each other finger in succession.

Kristina inhaled sharply. The man was a master. She risked a glance at him from beneath her lashes. He smiled at her, seeming not at all surprised by her ill temper. It made her all the more angry and she sat up in the saddle, prim and proper. But if Tahiska noticed, he didn’t show it. Instead, he settled both his arms back around her, effectively hugging her.

Kristina pretended to ignore his subtle mastery over her even if her body didn’t. She resorted to sign, “Where are you taking me? And where did you disappear to these last few days? Did you not think you should inform me?” That her motions brought her breasts into further contact with his arm was unavoidable, and Kristina realized he had maneuvered her well.

“It is not my way to apprise you of my movements,” he motioned with his free hand.

“It is mine!”

He smiled, whispering, “Are you as passionate in love as you are in anger?” He didn’t sign it, instead he motioned, “If it displeases you this much, I will try to remember to keep you informed of my whereabouts.”

“Oh,” was all she could reply. She hadn’t expected to win so easily and her attention was so caught up in this, she forgot to question him further.

Tahiska placed both arms around her again and she relaxed back against him, both falling into silence.

They must have traveled an hour when the creek that they had been following opened up into a wider stream. Ahead she could see several trees dotting the grassy shoreline. It was a magnificent and unusual sight on the prairie, where within the rolling swells of grasses, rarely a tree or anything at all marred the surface of the sea of green.

Tahiska urged the horse into a run. They made a spectacular sight—the horse and its two riders racing over the surface of the prairie, their golden and blue-black hair mingling, flying back against the wind. These two people, one dark, one pale, were intertwined, not in violence, nor by chance. They were joined simply because they loved. And if they were too innocent to realize the restrictions society might place upon their devotion, they were, for the moment, saved from these opinions and their inevitable fate.

Tahiska reined the horse in as soon as they came within the protection of the trees. He jumped from the horse in a graceful motion that to Kristina looked as smooth as flight, then led both horse and rider through the surrounding trees to a spot nestled against a sloping hillside. The river had woven its way here, creating a cavern of sorts, hidden from view by the cottonwoods and by the swell of the hill itself.

It was a beautiful spot—and slightly cooler in the shade.

He hobbled the horse, then turning back to her, he smiled.

“Welcome,” he signed, then reached up for her. Kristina caught her breath. His smile, his actions, his whole manner towards her was like a salve dissolving her hurt. And he looked at her in a way that made her want to throw herself into his arms.

She willingly slid off the horse into his embrace. His fingertips trailed over her cheeks, kindling a response, and as she lifted her face to his, he gently placed one finger over her lips, this action telling her to be silent.

Disappointed, yet curious, she obeyed and watched until he was out of sight, his footsteps as silent as a cat’s paws. At her feet lay his buffalo robe, but her gaze caught and held onto his bow and quiver, which he had slung horizontally, over his shoulders. There were several deadly arrows in his quiver, and Kristina was struck by the artistry of the beadwork on the weapons. She wondered again who had cared so much to ornament these articles for him. The handiwork was beautiful.

He strode back to her so silently, she didn’t know he was there till he touched her arm. She jumped.

But he quieted her as though she were a precious filly, resting his hands upon her shoulders, massaging them, creating a warmth within her that spread outward and downward towards her womanhood. It was an exquisite pleasure.

Placing a finger under her chin, he lifted her face toward his. She wet her lips in anticipation of his kiss, trying hard to remember all the reasons she was displeased with him.

But he didn’t kiss her. He spoke to her in his own tongue, not signing his meaning, but the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice told her his words were of love.

He bent to retrieve his buffalo robe, threw it around their shoulders and, holding out a strip of rawhide cured and painted red, bound her wrist to his. He smiled at her, then bending again, picked up his pipe.

He held the pipe out to her, inviting her to grasp it, and when she did, he moved his hand over it, clasping her hand with his firmly around the pipe’s stem. He smiled at her, he spoke to her, softly, soothingly, and Kristina, smiling back, wondered at the significance of Tahiska’s actions.

They stood gazing freely at one another, and Kristina forgot why it was that she had been so worried. As long as she was with Tahiska, nothing else mattered.

“Mitawicu,”
he murmured and bending, he kissed her.

He shifted the pipe out of her hand and, setting it aside, threw off the buffalo robe. Still smiling, he held their bound hands up toward the sun, speaking again in his own language.

Kristina gazed at him, returning his smile. She wondered again at this ceremony, but she was hesitant to interrupt the moment to ask. Instead, she quietly admired his physique. Standing so close to him, his body touching hers, their arms bound together, Kristina found her composure deeply disturbed.

Tahiska dropped to his knees, then looking up at her, invited her to join him. Kristina knelt in front of him, and as soon as she had made herself comfortable, he took her free wrist, placing his lips upon the pressure point there. “I love you,” he murmured in his own language, and straightening, he signed his intent. Kristina didn’t say a word. Instead, she crossed her one arm in front of her, grasping her fist tightly to her, telling him that she loved him, too.

“Mitawicu,”
he whispered and grinned.

“Tahiska,” she beamed.

And together they laughed.

Still kneeling, he kissed her, though the kiss was often interspersed with happy, mutual laughter. His lips met hers, time and again, his tongue roving inside where she met him, until at last he would withdraw and they would share a smile.

His right hand traced over the crisp sheerness of her dress, hunting for buttons.

“Did you wear this for me?” he questioned.

She nodded and with eyes downcast, smiled.

He was quite pleased and grinned down at her. He removed the rawhide that bound them and began the task of removing the dress. This time he was not surprised by the chemise she wore underneath. He quickly removed it, too, leaving her free of any clothing from the waist up. His gaze roamed her every contour, from the fullness of her breasts to the smooth curve of her waist. But it wasn’t enough. Not now. He jerked at the ribbon at her waist and standing, he pulled her to her feet, removing the dress completely.

Kristina, alive with need, stood before him in only her pantalets and hose. She shivered, though the air was warm. She should be embarrassed, only she wasn’t. More than anything else she craved his embrace. But Tahiska stood slightly away from her, looking, watching. And while Kristina found this exciting, it was also frustrating. She wanted his hands upon her, dispelling her timidity, assuring her that what she was doing really wasn’t wrong. She had never stood in only her underwear before a man and though her every nerve was tingling with anticipation her natural shyness wouldn’t allow her to continue to undress.

It was Tahiska who untied the pantalets and slipped them and her hose off.

It was Tahiska who initiated the embrace which dissipated her shyness. He took her in his arms and, firmly holding her hips next to his, he rained kisses over her neck and shoulders.

He lifted his head and smiled down at her, while his hands moved from her buttocks to massage her breasts. His hair, which he had tied in a knot on his head, had fallen down to the middle of his back. His hands, which were dark against her pale skin, traced circles upon her breasts. Kristina tried to return the smile, but found she could just barely muster it. She thought him the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen. His masculinity overwhelmed her, and that combined with what he was doing to her sent her senses reeling. There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t feel pleasure, and there was a warmth pressing downward toward her womanhood. She half-closed her eyes and leaned in towards him, but instead of the luxury of his flesh against her, she felt only the deerskin shirt. This she protested. How could she be standing here before him completely naked while he was still fully clothed?