The Legend of the Bloodstone (16 page)

Nemattanew
did not share the smoke with the others. He wore a multitude of feathers, his back decorated with the full wings from an unlucky swan. He looked like a treacherous angel, the wings spread from his shoulders, fluttering in the brisk night breeze. She quickly averted her eyes when he noticed her gaze.  His eyes held nothing but bleak hatred, dark brown orbs full of restrained malice as he stared back at her across the fire.

She needed to get away from them all, even for a few moments.

Maggie made an excuse to check on Blaze, escaping from the happy gathering if only for a short time. If she continued to enjoy their company and take part in their lives, it would only be that much harder when she left. She had doubts about saving her own heart from breaking, but she pushed that indecision aside and concentrated on the colt instead.

She expected
to be joined by the children as she tended to Blaze, but she was surprised to see they did not follow her as she made her way to the lean-to. She entered the structure, built in a sturdy manner with flat plank siding on three sides and a high peaked roof that Chetan had copied from the English.  Horses stomped and their hooves made impatient thuds in the straw at the sight of her, and she imagined they thought it was feeding time by her presence. Blaze usually ran to her on sight, and she was puzzled to find him missing.

She twirled around with a huff to make her way back to the
feast, intent on finding Winn to see what had happened to her colt. Suddenly a hand closed over her mouth and she was jerked into the shadows against a broad chest slick with sweat. She let out a muffled screech against the hand and stomped on his moccasined foot, eliciting a deep chuckle from her captor.

“You
fight like a wildcat,” he laughed. “Do not fear, it is only me,
eholkon
.”

“You ass! You scared me! You-”

“You left the meal
,”
he murmured as his mouth came down softly on hers. She could not recall what curses she meant to call him, her senses scattered by his touch. The tangy scent of the smoke clung to him, sending a tingle through her lips that slowly changed to a pleasant numb twinge. She clutched his face in her hands as his mouth moved lower, tracing a path down her neck, knowing she should push him away but hungry for him to continue. 

“I didn’t think anyone would notice,” she answered.

“I noticed.” His lips caressed her shoulder and she could feel the warmth of his heavy breaths upon her skin. “I missed you,” he said softly, his face still hidden against her.

She closed her eyes at his admission, for once in her life at loss for words.

“What magic is this that I cannot leave you? Why do I stay here with you, when I should go join my men? Do you cast a spell,
Tentay teh?
”

Maggie shook her head without a response, afraid to interrupt the flow of his words as the dam of his emotions began to crumble.
Even if the smoke had clouded his judgment and loosened his tongue, she still longed to hear the words from his heart.

“My Uncle calls for your death. If I make you my wife in truth, I know not what he will do. Even he
cannot make a man kill his wife. Should I just take you and be damned?”

“You think I would agree to be your wife?” she asked, breat
hless as his lips dipped down her neck, tracing a path of delicious torture across her skin.

“You would agree,” he murmured, intent on his work as he continue to nuzzle her.

“No I would not,” she insisted as a moan escaped her lips.

“What if I take you to my
yehakin now, would you still argue?”

“Wait a second,” she said, tearing away from his seeking lips. “Things are different in my time. I
don’t have to marry you if we- if we just
sleep
together. No one would force me to be married.”

“This is my time. I can see your fire for me, I feel it in here,” he insisted, placing his hand on her heart. “And I promise you, when I take you as mine, it is forever. That is
my
way.” His hand fell to her waist and he pulled her tight against his chest, his face hardening. “Have you given your body to others then before me?”

“I have not given you anything. You
never ask, you just give orders!” she stammered.

“Answer me,” he groaned, his hand sliding beneath her dress to cup her buttocks. She writhed at the contact and felt him
shudder in response.

“No. Never. I
have never loved a man enough…to do that,” she admitted.

A flush
crept over her neck and cheeks when she saw his eyes widen, the sudden understanding of her words apparent in his face.

“Then if you only pledge your heart with your body, do I have your love when I do this?” His mouth closed over her aching breast, bringing her nipple to a straining point as she moaned. “Or this?” His hand reached beneath her other breast, lifting it gently as his thumb brushed across it, teasing one side with his fingers as he sucked gently on the other.

“So I have your love you say?” he murmured, his gaze heated once more.

She knew no
other answer to give him.

“You do,” she whispered, meeting his soft blue eyes with her own.

His mouth covered hers, stemming the tremble of her lips. The possession in his kiss left no question, the words once spoken, never to be rescinded. The shadow of consequence fell away, smothered beneath the urgent need to be a part of him, with him, swallowed whole by the unknown, tempered by his strength.

With one swift
movement, he lifted her into his arms.  He carried her across the clay packed path to his yehakin, where he dropped the bearskin hide across the door to shield them inside. He let her legs fall so that the tips of her toes brushed the ground, holding her so tightly she could not attempt to flee if she had wanted to.

His fingers tugged at the rawhide tie that bound her dress down the middle, unraveling it slowly as his lips probed lower. She
needed his heat, the contact of his skin like a ripple of electric through her body, the only motion she could command was that which brought him closer. One round breast fell free, aching for his touch, and he complied by covering it with his wet mouth. His hand slid under her dress and he clutched her bare bottom, refusing to release when she strained against him with a cry of pleasure. He knelt down in the soft furs, his lips tasting her navel, gently biting and licking a torturous path.  Right and wrong held no meaning, nothing left inside except an empty ache that longed to be sated.  He was a storm, and she was fire, and each touch of his hand inflamed her soul with frantic need. She trembled when he tugged away the remnant of her dress, the thrill of his caresses chasing away the fear of her nakedness. 

When he pulled her gently down beside him it was none too soon, for her legs lost purchase and she gladly let him guide her.  His breath whispered shivers across her bared skin and the pounding of the drums echoed between them, but the sounds
were muted to her ears from the roaring of her heart. She wanted to take all of him, to hold his gentleness inside her secret place yet harness the smoldering violence that clouded his soul. There was a surge of panic down in the base of her belly when he parted her thighs with his knee, but she embraced the beast of her fear and meant to meld it to her own doing.

“
Ntehem
. Let me love you,” he murmured.

She felt him shudder as she wrapped her hands around his neck to draw him down, the muscles of his abdomen taut at her touch, his head dipping to her shoulder as he moved to join their bodies.

***

Maggie felt the warmth of golden sunshine across her face
from the smoke hole as the sun rose overhead, gently dousing their skin as they lay together on the furs.  Limbs entwined with his, her head resting against his bronzed chest, she could hear the thud of his heart beneath her ear. It was slow and steady, humming a peaceful rhythm that soothed her senses back into memory of the decadence they shared.  Her lips curled into a smile, and he must have felt the motion, for he sat up a bit and arched one brow at her, his thick dark lashes opened slightly over sleepy eyes.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Although fresh off the intimacy between them, shyness overtook her at the thought of discussing the act. 

“Nothing,” she lied. It was his turn to smile.  He pulled her upward against his chest so that she had to look at him.

“If you want me again, you only need ask, my wanton woman,” he grinned.  She blushed harder at his taunt and giggled, and he covered her lips with his own. Teasing at first, he nipped at her lip, but his kiss became more wanting when she lowered her head for more. He held her head with both hands and tilted her face, the taste of sweet tangy smoke on his lips. His eyes twinkled with mischief, soft and wide as he gazed at her with a boyish grin.

“No- I mean, yes, but that’s not it-”

“No or yes?” he smirked.

She buried her face into his chest, feeling the blood rise to her cheeks at the turn of the conversation, at utter loss to explain the questions she wanted to ask.

“You’ve done this before,” she blurted out, her cheek still lying hidden against him. “I, well, I haven’t. I was just wondering what … wondering if … oh, Christ! I would like to know if this was good for you! I mean, if I was good,” she stammered, the last of her words trailing off as a mumble. She regretted the question immediately, sure she would be unable to answer him coherently if he chose to entertain her ridiculous conversation.

She squeezed her eyes shut when he slipped his fingers under her chin and raised it up.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his tone teasing yet insistent. She complied, grudgingly, and met his steady gaze with her own.

“I just…I just want to know. Was this…special to you?”
she said softly.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out, then he clamped it shut. She saw him swallow and he shook his head a bit as if clearing it from a fog, then pushed himself up to sit.  She moved with him and settled in his lap, her belly flipping in cartwheels when he settled his arms around her waist.

“Look up,
ntehem
,” he said finally, glancing upward with her at the rising sun through the smoke hole, its shimmer too powerful on their eyes to view for more than a moment.

They bowed their heads together and he paused, taking her hand in his and turning it gently over.  He considered the scar in her palm, gently tracing his thumb over the silver knot that seared her skin like a brand.  He brought it to his lips and kissed it, then laid it against his chest over the steady beat of his heart. She felt the heat, the pounding, t
he joining of the connection as warmth spread through her body to the deepest recess of her soul. 

“A man is only a mountain in the darkness, waiting for the day when the sun will smile on him,” he whispered. “
But no man can look on the sun without burning. You burn me, but I will not let you go. I have waited too long to feel you smile on me.”

He kissed her tears gently away as they slid down her cheeks, kissing her mouth with the tangy taste of salt between them. 

“Special? If you need a word, then take this,” he whispered. “You are mine, and I am yours. I know no other word for that.”

She settled back down deep into his embrace, her questions answered.

Chapter
11

Maggie and Teyas rode alongside each other as the men rode ahead. When the women were invited to travel to Martin’s Hundred for supplies, they both gladly accepted.  Maggie was anxious to see the English town, curious to connect it to the little she knew about the history of the settlement.

Her fat pony plodded along, swinging her back and forth in a lazy rhythm. The glutton resorted to grabbing at every piece of tall grass they passed, so Maggie
was forced to tap him frequently with her heels to remind him his job was to walk, not eat. Teyas had no such problem with her mount, but she was kind enough to lag behind with Maggie anyway.

“C’mon, you lazy hog!” Maggie snapped, kicking her pony for what seemed the hundredth time. Teyas giggled and helped her along by swatting her mount’s rump with her rein,
which did absolutely nothing.

“He only does that with you,” Teyas smirked.

“Well, maybe I need an upgraded model,” Maggie huffed.

“Upgrade?” Teyas asked, raising her eyebrows.

“A better horse. A faster one,” she explained.  Teyas shrugged.

They followed the men along the coastline for what Maggie estimated was several miles. Once the beach began to narrow again and they came to an inlet, suddenly in sight was the outline of some sort of civilization shimmering as a mirage against the sand.  Maggie pushed herself up as high as she could manage on the short pony and craned her neck to see. 

“There it is!” she said. “Is that Martin’s Hundred?”

Winn must have heard her exclamation.  He circled his horse around and rode back, trotting up to ride beside her. Sandwiched between Winn and Teyas, Maggie let out a frustrated groan.  She wanted to gallop in for a closer look.