White Eagle's Touch (26 page)

She scooted around until she came face-to-face with White Eagle, gazing at him in the moonlight for some moments before she spoke, the light playing over his features and making him look more handsome than he had a right to appear, all soft, yet rugged man.

She said, “Are you asking me to spend my life with you?”

He didn’t answer her, he only gazed at her. At length, however, he said, “We once made a vow.”

“We were children.”

“Does that matter? A vow is a vow.”

“Oh, White Eagle.” She reached out a hand to run over the smoothness of his cheek, and she almost gasped when she saw how he reacted to her touch, his eyes shutting briefly. “White Eagle, I wish this problem were that easy to solve. But don’t you understand? I don’t belong here any more than you do in my environment. We are strangers to one another’s world. We might feel…things…now toward one another, but what happens tomorrow, when I realize I cannot obtain the proper material for a day dress I wish to make, or the petticoats for a new gown? What do we do when I grow bored and desire to attend a dance? You would barely be allowed in the fort, while I…I would be looked upon as something not quite human for choosing your kind of life over my own. I couldn’t live here, and I couldn’t ask you to come back to my world, where you would be viewed as little more than a savage. All we have is today, this night, maybe a few more, and that is all it can ever be.”

He listened to her, not once interrupting her, but when she had finished, he reached out to run a finger over her cheek as he asked, “Must I agree with you?”

She almost laughed, but the gesture was not one of humor. “White Eagle, whether you agree with me or not does not solve a thing.”

“Perhaps not,” he said, “but, Little Moonlight, I must tell you that I do not believe as you do. You do belong here. I feel it here.” He brought his fist to his heart. “You would be happy here. I would give you a good life, a better life than you would have in your own world.”

Katrina just stared at him, half-believing him for a moment, until with a shake of her head, she broke the mood. “No, I don’t. I don’t belong here.”

His look at her was magnetic, as though he tried by looks alone to convince her of what he said. And then he whispered, “Forget for a moment the way in which you have lived. Listen to all that is around you, to the wind breaking through the trees, the coyotes howling on the prairie, the creek running along its course. Listen with your heart, and you will see, you do have a place here.”

An onslaught of tears had come to her eyes, and she turned her face away that he not witness her weakness. She wasn’t certain what it was that he’d said that caused this in her—perhaps his insistence that she was needed somewhere, she who had never belonged anywhere—but, she felt…touched, and pride demanded that he not see it.

But he wouldn’t let her get away from him so easily. Putting a single finger beneath her chin, he turned her face around until he looked directly into her eyes.

He said, his voice so low that she could barely hear him, “Do you see? You feel it, too. Don’t you know? This land”—he motioned to it—“it is yours. You are home.”

“No.”

He kissed her. He simply kissed her, and she melted against him as snow does to a brilliant sun, her reluctance disintegrating.

“Let me show you my world,” he whispered against her lips. “Let me guide you in it, show you how to love it as I do. Like the fiery sky of an autumn sunset, there is so much to admire.”

She almost cried, so tender did he sound.

“White Eagle, I…”

“We have this time; spend it with me.”

What could she say? She’d never felt this way in her life. Never had anyone wanted her—truly wanted her. He was so beautiful, so utterly, incredibly beautiful. And…if she were to be truthful, she wanted him too.

A solitary tear flowed over her cheek, and, as he kissed it away, she heard herself say, “I…I can’t promise you anything, White Eagle. But I will tell you this, I want you to love me, now, tonight, just love me. It’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”

He breathed out a deep sigh as he said, “I will,” and took her completely into his arms. “I will love you, Little Moonlight, and more.”

And as the breeze blew against them, entwining them together in its wake, he positioned her beneath him while he kissed her face, her cheeks, her eyes, her ears, on down to her neck.

“White Eagle,” she murmured, as he proceeded to caress her neck, his hands ranging down to cup one breast, the other, his lips following where his hands led. “White Eagle,” she whispered again.

The music of crickets, of locust, of coyotes and night hawks filled the air; the scent of prairie grass, fire and wildflowers engulfed her; the sweet taste of him in her mouth, the musky scent of his skin enchanted her; and she realized that here, for the first time in her life, she had found love. Here, where she had nothing more than the dress upon her back; where the stars shone in an ever-expanding sky; where the men were as wild and gallant as days of old; in this place, she had found love. She, who had never believed in the emotion, had finally discovered it when she had least expected it.

As she surrendered herself to the feel of White Eagle’s embrace, to the touch of his caress, she knew that it was here that she felt whole. It was as though she had become a part of nature, or perhaps nature had become a part of her. Whatever it was, something wonderful was happening to her—something all-encompassing, something she would remember all her life.

At this moment in time, she began to feel she had come home.

Chapter Fifteen

He loved her, just as he’d said he would.

He loved her tenderly, as though she were as delicate as the fragrance of the wild rose.

He kissed her, his hands splaying over her cheeks, her eyes, her neck. He made her feel special, delicate, wonderful.

He made her feel…glorious.

And she kissed him back, delighting when his tongue slipped into her mouth, the feel and the taste of him so sensuous, so splendid, she thought she might not be able to take so much intensity, so much passion.

But she did. And she gave back to him as heartily as she received.

Not a word passed between them, there being no need; his touch told her all things essential: He loved her. What else was there?

And when his kisses gradually descended lower and lower over her body, she didn’t protest; the thought didn’t even occur to her. She wanted this; she wanted him.

Down to her breasts, he continued his quest, nuzzling them until she thought her heart would burst beneath his touch.

“I want you,” he murmured, and she didn’t think to scold him. She felt the same as he.

“Yes,” she whispered, “please, White Eagle.”

“Do you know what you ask of me?”

She didn’t exactly, and so she just gazed at him, loving the sight of him as he took his weight upon one of his elbows.

“If I make love to you completely, you will belong to me.”

She nodded. Oh, how she wished he’d get on with it.

“We are in the grips of passion now, but think. Make certain you truly want this. For I promise you, if I make love to you tonight, I will not let you go.”

Far from making her see reason, his words created the opposite effect, stimulating her. He wanted
her,
not what she could give him,
her,
and her alone.

Besides, she’d already done most of her thinking; she knew the problems, knew they had little more than this night. She only wished he’d stop talking.

“Little Moonlight…?”

“I know, I know, White Eagle, but please…just…hold me again. I…I need your arms around me.”

These might not have been the exact words he’d been waiting to hear, she realized, but they seemed enough.

The next thing she knew, he had slipped off her chemise, carrying it up and over her hips; up farther, over her head, leaving her in little more than her drawers, since she had already removed her petticoats and corset before retiring.

He looked at her breasts, then, just looked, before he began to knead them softly.

And somewhere, down there, in that place most private to her, she began to feel a need. She raised her hips to his and squirmed.

He smiled. “You possess much passion, more than I had thought you would.”

And she asked, “Is that good?”

He groaned. “It is very good, Little Moonlight, very good.”

He pushed her drawers down over her hips, the full extent of her femininity then becoming exposed to his view. And her stomach turned over so completely, she thought she might not be able to take all this throbbing sensation, so completely did she want…what?

She wasn’t left to ponder long.

He completed his task, pulling the loathsome drawers all the way off, leaving her entirely naked to his perusal.

And he did gaze at her…and gaze, and gaze at her.

“You are beautiful,” he said.

“So are you.”

He grinned slightly as he ran his fingers over her stomach, until he came to that place lower down, there at the center of her body, his fingers making her feel more heated excitement than she had ever known.

“Kitsikakomimmo.”

“It seems like I should know what you said, but…”

“I love you,” he said. “It is that simple.
Kitsikakommimmokoo,
you are loved.”

His fingers found her entrance point, there at the junction of her legs, and she felt enchanted, liberated, yet embarrassed, so wet was she down there.

“Do not worry. It is as it is supposed to be when two people love one another,” he said, as though he had read her thoughts. “Besides, there is not a part of you I do not like or desire. You are as intoxicating as white man’s whiskey.”

These were potent words he was speaking to her, and Katrina responded to them, to him, as though he were a lifeline, and without conscious thought, she spread her legs more fully as the thrill of her own sexuality, which had been lying dormant, flooded her.

And he moaned in reaction to her, before he said, “You have been raised so differently than I have that I wonder if you have ever witnessed the look of a man when he is fully aroused?”

Her wide-eyed stare at him was his answer.

“I did not think so. Little Moonlight, I do not wish to frighten you,” he uttered, “but I can barely hold myself back from you. Do you think you are ready for me?”

She didn’t know if she was or not, but she nodded her head all the same.

Another groan from him.

“White Eagle,” she whispered. “Maybe I should tell you that the day of the race, the day you stood before me naked, I…I liked very much what I saw.”

He looked encouraged.

“Truly, though I would die if another soul knew it, I found your look very…stimulating. Please,” she said, her voice unusually low, “I, too, find that I wish to know everything about you and that includes…”

It was all he needed to hear.

He untied his leggings in an instant, his breechcloth pushed off just as quickly, until, he, too, lay naked to her wandering gaze.

True to her word, she found the sight of him arousing beyond compare. The hard muscles of his chest she had often admired, but this was the first time she had seen that male part of him so aroused, so rigid, so…large…

She hadn’t realized how he would look. That day at the race had only given her a slight indication as to his size. And she couldn’t help herself. She stared.

“I have shocked you.”

“No,” she said, “you have
surprised
me. There is a difference. In truth, I find the sight of you…exciting…and…”

But he didn’t wait to hear more. Bending toward her, he kissed her lips, her breasts, on down to her navel, trailing a steady line of kisses, down farther, toward her womanhood, that area of her body now throbbing and wild with desire.

And then his lips touched her there. All at once, she jerked herself upwards.

“White Eagle, what do you do?”

“I wish to know all of you.”

“Yes, but…”

“You will enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I would, but would…you…?”

She meant to make further protest, but when he said, “Very much,” and brought his lips back there upon her, she found herself unable to muster any reason why the two of them should not be doing exactly as they were.

When he requested, “Open your legs a little more,” she gave no thought to asking why. She merely complied, rejoicing when he positioned himself more fully against her, between her legs, proceeding to do more things to her that she felt certain were shameful…and yet, not.

“White Eagle,” she moaned.

But he didn’t answer, except in the age-old way of a lover.

“White Eagle,” she said, “will this make me belong to you?”

She didn’t think he was going to respond, so intent was he upon his task.

But at last, he raised himself up onto his forearms to say,
“Aa,
yes, it is so.”

They gazed at one another then, a satisfaction settling in over his features.