White Owl (17 page)

White Owl swept her into his arms and walked the several steps to the newly made bed. He bent down easily with her and placed her on top of the soft bed. As he lowered himself on her, Rose immersed her fingers in his long hair. The feel of his thick, heavy hair in between her fingers was always like an aphrodisiac to her, and she arched up against him, insatiable for all of him. Her greediness was appeased.

They pulled apart only long enough to disrobe, and when their bodies came together again, there was nothing but heated flesh and building desire between them. White Owl wasted no time in entering her with an urgency that seemed almost out of control. Their bodies moved as one, and
each demanding plunge caused Rose’s passion to increase until she felt as if she was going to implode from within. His wet kisses claimed her labored breaths as this impassioned ritual reached a climax.

White Owl shuddered as his zealous movements came to a halt, and his mouth kissed Rose’s swollen lips one more time before he rolled to her side. He hugged her tightly against his sweating body as they both allowed themselves to ease back down from this lofty summit.

Rose ran her fingertips down the muscled, sweaty expanse of White Owl’s hard stomach and gently encircled his belly button as she let her fingers travel lower. White Owl moaned. His response was immediate as he pulled her up on top of him and placed her precisely on his swollen member. His large hands held her buttocks firmly as he began to move within her again. A weak cry escaped from Rose as she splayed her hands across the sinewy muscles of his smooth chest and began to move her hips with his, meeting each one of his urgent thrusts with her own demands.

She arched back when his hands grasped ahold of her breasts and his fingers began to fondle the protruding nipples. A guttural cry escaped her. She had known ecstasy with him each time they had made love, but none of those other times could even begin to compare to the times they made love in this position. His deep penetration created a delicious pain that flooded through her, and the way his fingers always tantalized her breasts at the
same time drove every inch of her—inside and out—crazy with brazen desires. She wondered how many other positions they had not explored yet.

The hidden cave on the craggy sandstone bluff was filled with their love; their first home as man and wife had been initiated, and their wedding trip was finally beginning.

Vermillion Creek was no more than a trickle of water struggling to cut a tiny path through the hard ground because of the long months of drought. There was a small pond where they could get some water for cooking and washing, but Rose and White Owl had to make a trip farther west to the Green River to get fresh drinking water. It was an easy trip since there was not anything other than sagebrush and a cluster of pinyon or scraggly cedars here and there between Vermillion Basin and the river.

They followed a wide valley most of the way and by the time they had reached the river, it was late afternoon. The setting sun cast purple and blue shadows on the smooth rocks along the river’s edge. It was barely the beginning of September, but already the leaves on the scrub oaks were starting to turn into an array of orange and gold. The afternoon heat, however, felt more like mid-July.

“Here is a good spot,” White Owl said as he halted Niwaa beside the river.

It had been a long, hot ride, and the smooth cool waters of the river were mighty inviting. Almost
instantaneously they both jumped down from their horses and ran, laughing, toward the river. Rose began undoing the little cloth-covered buttons that ran down the front of her white blouse the second she noticed that White Owl was kicking off his moccasins and rolling his leggings down. Since she had on considerably more clothes than he did, Rose was forced to stop at the edge of the river to finish removing her long flowered skirt.

White Owl had not stopped and plunged into the deep green water. His body made a loud splash, and when he resurfaced he let out a war whoop.

Rose laughed as she was sprayed with water from his jump. She threw off her tan hat and kicked off her tall riding boots and stepped forward to jump in with him.

“All of it,” White Owl demanded.

“What?” Rose asked as she teetered on the edge of the riverbank. She realized White Owl was pointing at the undergarments she’d left on.

She clutched the front of her cotton camisole tightly. “But someone could ride up,” she protested.

“I will come up there and take them off for you,” White Owl replied with a sly grin.

Rose closed her eyes for an instant and shook her head in defeat. She opened her eyes again, half expecting to see White Owl climbing out of the water to make good on his threat. But he had not moved and was watching her with a look that did nothing to hide his sensuous thoughts. Rose’s breath stopped short as she met his intense gaze. With his raven hair floating around him in the
dark green water and his wet skin glistening over his broad, muscled shoulders and chest, he appeared almost spiritual. He was constantly telling her that he could not deny her anything, but now she realized it went both ways. There was nothing she could deny him either.

Slowly Rose reached behind her head and pulled the ribbon from her hair, releasing the ponytail and sending her long hair spilling down her back. Next she began to untie the little satin bow at the top of her camisole and undo the tiny buttons that ran down the front. She pushed one side of the garment off from one shoulder—and then the other side—and let it fall from her back.

White Owl did not move, his eyes burning into her hot flesh. She pushed the pantaloons down over her flat stomach and the curve of her hips. As they slid down her thighs and past her knees, she stepped out of them. She was certain she heard him gasp, but she kept her eyes locked with his, because she knew if she looked anywhere else, she would die of embarrassment.

White Owl held his breath as he watched his beautiful young wife strip her clothes away. Her hair shimmered around her bare skin like a profusion of deep red flames. He let his gaze travel leisurely over her body. Her long legs were slender and perfectly shaped. The sight of her standing on the riverbank made his manhood rise up in the water and ache without mercy.

He was transfixed as she shook her wavy hair
out around her shoulders and started to step to the edge of the riverbank. She bent forward and dove into the water, landing just a few feet in front of him. White Owl blinked to clear the water from his eyes. His blurry vision cleared just in time to see her emerge from under the water. Her eyes were closed, and the tips of her long lashes had tiny droplets of water teetering on the edges. She reached up and brushed the water away from her eyes and then smoothed the hair back away from her face. Her eyes opened, and their blue gaze immediately settled on him. White Owl exhaled the breath he had been holding in one huge gush.

Within a second she was in his arms and their slick wet skin was melded together. White Owl claimed her lips with a kiss that was hard and filled with urgency. Their tongues entwined, and he could taste her natural sweetness mixed with the unique taste of the river water. He picked her up around the waist and felt those shapely, long legs wrap around his hips as he entered her with an excitement that he couldn’t contain any longer.

Being in the water was a whole new sensation, and it wasn’t long before they both reached their climax. With her legs still around his hips, he waded toward the edge of the river, then gently, reverently washed her body as they reclined in a shallow pool along the riverbed.

Hunger eventually drew them from the water. Rose started a campfire, while White Owl went back to the water to catch a fish for dinner.

Under the star-studded Colorado sky, they bedded
down for the night. White Owl held his wife tightly in his embrace while he listened to her soft breaths as she slept. He could not get the images out of his mind of her standing nude and glorious on the riverbank or the way she had looked when she had emerged from the water. He was certain there had never been a goddess in all of history—Ute or white—who could compare with her.

He had always known he would claim a wife someday, but he had not been in a hurry to do so. Marriage had only seemed like a requirement for a man, regardless of whether he loved the woman. If he enjoyed her lovemaking, that was usually enough. So, if only a few weeks ago, someone had told him that he would be so ferociously in love—with any woman—White Owl would have called them a liar. But now he couldn’t begin to imagine a future without his Wild Rose. He only wished they would never have to return to a life that would constantly try to test their unending love.

Rose gingerly sipped the scalding coffee from the tin cup she held in both hands. This morning was the first time it had actually felt like an autumn day. The long drought seemed as though it was about to come to a screeching halt by the way the darkening clouds were gathering overhead. She had no idea how long they planned to stay in this enchanting place—White Owl just shrugged whenever she asked him, but she had a feeling he did not intend to linger through the winter months.

She guessed that they had been here nearly two months, but time meant nothing here. Although she knew it was not feasible, she really did wish they could stay forever. Spending the rest of her life alone with her virile and handsome husband, completely secluded from the rest of the world, did not sound bad at all.

The sound of horse hooves snapped Rose out of her wishful daydreaming. White Owl had ridden out earlier to hunt in case the weather turned severe and they had to hole up in their cozy cave for a few days, an idea that sounded very appealing to
Rose. She smiled to herself as she placed her coffee cup on the ground and rose to her feet.

As the rider drew closer, however, Rose realized that he was not her beloved husband. It was a Ute, though; she could see the colorful striped wool coat he wore over his tan leggings. But a flat-topped, wide-brimmed black hat hid his face. She wrapped her woolen blanket tighter around her body as she felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the cooler weather.

Only when the rider was a few feet away could she tell it was Two Feathers. The knowledge did not ease her mind.

He stared down at her, unspeaking, for a moment and then glanced around the campsite. “Where is my brother?” His chiseled expression and the coldness in his tone only served to increase Rose’s fear.

“H-he is hunting,” she stammered. Her feet were rooted to the spot, even as he climbed down from his horse and walked to the opposite side of the fire pit to warm his hands.

“He will be happy to see you,” Rose finally managed to say. Her feeling of dread increased when his only reply was a grunt.

She motioned toward the tin pan on one of the rocks that ringed the fire. “Would you like coffee?”

A quick nod was Two Feathers’ response.

As she got another cup and poured the coffee, she could sense his hostile stare watching her every move. By the time she reached out to give him the cup, her hands were shaking. His cold fingertips briefly touched her hand. He grabbed the cup and
pulled back as if he had been stung by a bee. She glanced up and met his gaze; the hatred that he felt toward her radiated from his narrowed black eyes. Rose backed away so quickly that she tripped over the long blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. She would have fallen if a pair of strong hands had not grabbed her and stopped her from hitting the ground.

White Owl steadied her. The look on his face was pained and filled with confusion.

“I did not hear you ride up,” Rose said as she tried to regain her composure.

“I let Niwaa loose down at the creek.” White Owl turned away from her. “My brother, it is good to see you. I hope you did not bring bad news?”

Two Feathers met his brother’s gaze. “No, no bad news. All is good.”

Rose heard White Owl exhale as if he was relieved. “Then you come because you miss your big brother,” White Owl replied as he attempted to sound jovial.

They had been together long enough that Rose was becoming attuned to her husband’s moods and the tones of his voice. She knew now that his words were only that . . . words, and there was a much deeper meaning to Two Feathers’ arrival.