Lily's Secrets [Elk Creek 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (7 page)

Perhaps she could start with not coveting a man who was not her husband!

No matter how much she’d scolded herself these last few days during Dakota’s convalescence, however, was she unable to stifle the smoldering flame of arousal that constantly caused her sex to throb. Even now Lily found the crotch of her bloomers wet with wanting as they had been ever since she and Wyatt had rescued the Indian in the woods.

Surely she was going to hell for such shamelessness and disrespect!

“You are here.”

Lily’s eyes flew open at the quiet voice about which she had allowed herself to fantasize for the last few days. The reality proved far superior to her dreams.

She hastily stood from the rocking chair where she had been sitting for the last couple of hours and placed her knitting down in the seat before she went to Dakota’s bedside.

“Yes, I’m here.” She took one of his hands and held it in hers, glad that it was not clammy as it had been the last few days. It was rough, warm, and felt so good in hers. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry?”

“I find that I am…ravenous.”

Lily chuckled and nodded. “Doctor Malloy said that you might be once you finally came back around to the living.”

“How long have I been not around the living?”

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness since we brought you back from the woods three days ago.”

“More out than in, I would gather.”

“You had a fever and were fighting an infection. It was to be expected.”

“And you have been taking care of me during this time?”

Lily suddenly felt shy and averted her eyes from his surprisingly sharp gaze. She hadn’t expected he would wake up so alert and full of questions. She’d hoped, but she hadn’t expected.

“Look at me, Lily.”

She raised her gaze to his face and her breath hitched in her chest at his impassive expression. His face looked like it had been carved from stone.

If she only focused on his eyes, she felt as if she was looking at a white man, for she had never known an Indian with eyes such as his. When she let her gaze roam the rest of his face though, the long, shiny jet-black hair, light copper complexion, and high, sculptured cheekbones plainly gave away his heritage. For the first time since she had encountered him, she wondered what tribe he was from. “You’re Kiowa, aren’t you?” she blurted.

“My mother was.” He nodded.

She peered at him, unsure what to ask next, unsure if she should ask anything at all. “Was” indicated that his mother wasn’t with the living any longer. What had happened to his mother and father? She wanted to ask but didn’t know if she had that right.

He didn’t owe her anything, after all, and despite her having helped save his life, she didn’t want to make him feel as if he was beholden to her. She knew that the situation was quite the opposite for most Indians and the Chinese. Each race believed that once one saved a life, one was responsible for that life from that point on.

I am responsible for him
.

She found herself strangely comforted by the thought and not burdened at all.

“You did not answer my question.”

“I helped take care of you. Doctor Malloy did most of the work.”

Dakota pointedly moved his head to look around the room before resting his gaze on her again. “But he is not here now.”

“He took the bullet out and stitched you up before giving me instructions on how to take care of your wound in his absence.”

“You nursed me.”

“I guess you could call it that.”

Dakota lightly squeezed her hand and grinned. “Was that you singing earlier?”

“I…you heard me?”

“I thought I was dreaming.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I am sure that it is past time that I woke up anyway.” He struggled to sit up and Lily quickly moved to stack the pillows behind his head and shoulders.

“There’s no need to rush.” Lily put her free hand on his chest, her pussy muscles trembling at the sturdiness of him. He didn’t feel like a man who had been immobile and recuperating from a bullet wound for the last few days.

She stopped short of gasping at the sudden image of him shirtless.

She’d touched his warm skin and run her fingers over the hard, ridged muscles of his abdomen as she’d cleaned his wound and changed his dressings. Yet she was more aroused with her hand on his shirt-clad chest than she ever had been touching his naked skin. Maybe because he was awake and aware of her touch, as aware as she was.

Lily gave him a chastising look as she pushed him back against the pillows. “You need to regain your strength before you go anywhere.”

“I am sure your husband disagrees.” He looked around the room again. “Where is he?”

“He went into town to pick up supplies.”

“And left you alone with me?”

“It took me a while to convince him that you wouldn’t be a threat.”

“He was right to be concerned.”

Lily frowned. “You aren’t dangerous.”

He squeezed her hand again. “You do not know that for sure.”

“Of course I do.”

Dakota held her look for a long moment before releasing her hand and turning his head to gaze out the window.

“Have I offended you in some way?”

He turned his head to look at her. “Not at all, Lily. Far from it.”

She patted his hand and smiled to ease the obvious heaviness in his heart. “Doctor Malloy will be here soon to make sure that you are healing as you should. So you don’t have to worry about us being alone for much longer.”

Dakota laughed, the deep rumble lightening her own heart. “I was not worried about us being alone.”

“What would you like to eat? I’m sure you’re sick of soup by now.”

“I would welcome anything that has been prepared by your hands.”

Lily put a hand to her cheek as her face warmed. “I’ll see what I can rustle up then.” She headed for the door and paused on the threshold before turning back to look at him one more time. “I’ll be right back.”

“I will be here.”

* * * *

Dakota watched Lily leave and it was all he could do to slow his speeding heart. He averted his eyes, trying not to watch the sensual sway of her gently rounded hips, the erotic way her ass switched back and forth beneath the light-purple muslin material of her dress.

The recollection of how her body had felt when he’d lifted her in his arms to transfer her into the makeshift stretcher assailed his senses. She had been all soft curves and fragrant skin.

His cock grew hard at the memory, and painfully throbbed. Not even his guilt at having been aroused by an unconscious woman so badly battered, bruised, and totally unaware of his physical state could stifle his current want.

Dakota tried a different tactic, focusing on something about Lily that was nonsexual, which proved almost impossible. Everything about her—from her luscious breasts to her rounded hips, full ass, and long, shapely legs—made him want to lay her down in a rich bed of grass and slide his cock into her slick female folds until she cried out his name. He finally settled on her singing voice since the melodious lilt reminded him of his mother. Thinking about his mother and how she had been taken from him and his father made him sad, which, for the time being, took his attention from his weeping cock.

The diversion did not last long. In no time at all, he was back to thinking about Lily and how her sadness matched his. They had both lost someone close to their hearts. The only difference, Lily’s loss was temporary. She still had a chance to retrieve what she missed.

Dakota prayed to the Great Spirit for strength not to succumb to his lust for Lily once she returned. Perhaps this Doctor Malloy would be here sooner rather than later so that he would not be tempted. He feared that not even his weakened physical state could prevent him from kissing her and finally sating his curiosity about how her lips would feel beneath his.

It surprised him that Wyatt had left them alone together, but then he knew how determined and persuasive Lily could be. He was after all benefitting from her very compelling nature now by being a guest in her and Wyatt’s home.

Dakota frowned as he remembered bits and pieces of the last few days, and how Lily had poured out her heart and soul to him when she did not think he could hear her. True, he had not gotten as much as he could have. However, he had gotten enough to understand how much pain Lily was in. He knew also that her and Wyatt’s union was in trouble.

What he was supposed to do to fix that, he did not know. He knew only that it was his duty to do
something
. He owed Lily that much. He owed her much more actually. She just did not know how much or what. Dakota wished to keep her in the dark for the mere fact that once Lily knew exactly what offense he had committed against her, she would probably never forgive him and be perfectly within her rights not to do so.

Dakota lifted himself up in the bed a little further as the scent of fresh-baked bread and stewed meat, potatoes, and vegetables wafted up from the kitchen.

He closed his eyes as he inhaled to savor the appetizing aromas and his salivary glands began to work in earnest.

Dakota opened his eyes to look at the bedside table where a pitcher of water and a glass sat, but when he reached for the pitcher he winced at the pain that shot through his side.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lily stood on the threshold of the bedroom with her fists on her hips and a stern expression on her face. “You’re going to tear your stitches.”

Dakota thought she looked like the schoolmarm she once had been and grinned at the image of her disciplining one of her students the way she seemed about to chastise him.

Lily made her way across the floor, grumbling and sounding a lot like her husband as she fluffed the pillows behind his head and reached for the pitcher of water. “Why didn’t you call me? I could have done this for you.” She poured some water from the pitcher into the glass and handed it to him.

Dakota reached for the glass, brushing her fingers with his as he took it from her. The brief contact practically singed his skin, despite the coolness of the glass. He tipped the cup to his mouth and drained the water in three easy gulps. It was not too difficult to do. He was fairly parched and feverish beneath Lily’s intense gaze.

As if reading his mind, she reached for him, resting her palm against his forehead. “You’re still a little warm. Do you want me to open the windows more?”

“Yes, please,” Dakota rasped and closed his eyes against the sight of her voluptuous breasts hovering over his face. If he moved his head just an inch to the left, he would brush her bosom with his cheek.

He swallowed hard as the soft lavender scent of her skin drifted out to him right before she moved across the room to open the windows. He silently thanked the Great Spirit for getting her away from him when It had. Maybe the cool air would put a rein on his mushrooming libido.

“The food should be warm soon. It’s nothing fancy, just leftovers from last evening.”

“I am sure it will be fine.” He opened his eyes to see her staring at him and frowned. “Is there something troubling you?”

“Just fine? Not delicious?”

“Of course it will be delicious! I did not mean to—”

“Dakota, I was joshing you.”

“Oh.”

“You’re always so serious. I mean, I understand we didn’t meet under the best or most cheery of circumstances.”

For an instant he wondered if she was referring to when he had rescued her years ago and not when she and Wyatt had rescued him a few days ago. He did not think that she recognized him, but realized that could change the longer he remained in her company, just another reason for him to regain his health and leave as soon as possible. “No, we did not.”

“But are you always so…serious?”

“I do not know any other way to be.” It was true. He had found precious little to smile or laugh about in the last several years…except for Lily. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“I’m not always serious.”

“Perhaps not.” He shook his head. “But you are sad.”

She fidgeted beneath his look but did not turn away. After a long moment she whispered, “You know why.”

Dakota recognized that it was not a question and reached out his hand. “Come, Lily. Sit beside me.” He knew his demand improper but did not regret his informality, especially not when she walked over and took a seat on the bed as he had asked.

She held his gaze as she let him take her hand in his, and Dakota allowed himself to envision what life would be like for him if Lily was his woman. Strangely, he did not eliminate Wyatt from his imaginings, but included him.

Dakota had never before thought of sharing a woman with another man, although he knew of at least one Comanche chief who had had as many as six wives. He did not think Chief Quanah Parker or men in other cultures who practiced polygamy like him, however, had had sex with more than one of their wives at the same time.

His own people were monogamous by nature and he wondered how depraved it made him to want something outside of the experiences of most of his tribe. Would his people think his feelings born of his white heritage? Would they think he had been around the white man too long? Or was he so desperate to be with Lily he was willing to take her under any circumstances, even if it meant sharing her with her husband?