“Sober?” She snorted softly. “In a pig’s eye you were sober,” she said, struggling over his limp body and out of bed.
Hands on hips, she shook her head then made a face at the lifeless form lying belly down on top of her quilt. She was half tempted to roust Joke from his bed to come and haul Nicolas out of hers, but she thought better of it. It was wise to keep this little escapade between the two of them. Too bad, though, she groused. He was ripe for a little embarrassment. He was going to feel pretty foolish when he awoke in her bed, but that, she thought sharply, was his problem. After covering him with the soft rabbit-fur blanket that had been folded at the end of her bed, she went to the big chair by the fireplace, curled up in it and stared at his sleeping form.
Drunk. He began snoring softly, a sound that acted as a catalyst on her own drowsy state. Yawning, she pulled the blanket from the back of the chair, cuddled herself under it and was soon asleep again.
When dawn sifted in around the leather flap that covered her window, Anna awakened with a start. Blinking sleepily, she gazed at the bed. Nicolas was still there, snoring.
She stretched her arms and felt a new kink in her back from sleeping in such an awkward position. “May all of his children be cross-eyed, knock-kneed, and have warts on their noses,” she grumbled as she got stiffly to her feet.
She padded to the bed and looked at him, moving her eyes over his sleeping form. He’d turned over sometime during the night. When her gaze stopped at the hard, brown, hair-dusted thigh that stuck out from beneath the blanket, she remembered that he had been naked when he’d stormed in the night before. The image of him that way sent a warm, flowering sensation straight to her womanhood. She looked away, angry and frustrated that he should still affect her, in spite of all her resolve.
Temptation and curiosity brought her eyes back to him, and she noted the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The pattern of his chest hair against the light copper color of his skin drew her eyes, and she followed the dark whorls until they disappeared beneath the blanket, which was lying just over his lower abdomen, under his navel. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together, trying to suppress the urge to touch him.
“Praying for me?”
Her eyes popped open and she dropped her hands to her sides. A blush stole up her neck and into her cheeks. “No,” she answered sharply, “but heaven only knows you could use it.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist.
“Let go of my arm and get out,” she ordered.
He pinned her with a hot gaze. “No.”
Anna tugged fiercely at her wrist.
His grip tightened. “I might have been a little drunk last night, but you—”
“I what?” she interrupted, daring him to finish.
“You didn’t throw me out.”
“Throw you out?” She laughed, the sound brittle and stiff. “Good lord. I couldn’t even drag you out.”
Nicolas pulled her down onto the bed, holding her there as she struggled to get up again. “Why didn’t you call for help?”
“Right now I wish I had,” she retorted angrily. “Last night I thought I might save you the embarrassment. I foolishly thought you’d regret it.”
‘Take off your clothes.”
Anna gaped at him, her fury mounting. “I will not.”
‘Take them off,” he ordered. “I didn’t get what I came for last night.”
“Damn you! If I have to fight you to hell and back, you will never use me again,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing into angry slits as she tried to pull free.
“Shame, shame,” he chastised softly, running his thumb along the sensitive under surface of her wrist. “A schoolteacher using such language. What would the children think?”
Dragging the children into their fight fueled Anna’s fury. She bared her teeth and grabbed his arm with her other hand, pinching and twisting his skin as hard as she could until Nicolas seized her arm and held them both in a deadly grip.
“Behave yourself, schoolmistress,” he cautioned when he once again had her pinned on the bed.
“Go to the devil, bastard half-breed.”
Anger flamed in his eyes. She’d spoken foolishly, but she didn’t care.
He roughly pulled her across his naked chest and kept her there, twisting her wrists painfully. “You’re like the rest of them, you know.”
Pain shot through Anna’s arm as she struggled to get free. “Let me up, you savage!”
A snarling grin split his face as he took both of her wrists in one of his large, brown hands and moved his free hand down to the hem of her nightgown. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? A savage half-breed,” he rasped. “I might as well act like one.”
“No!” Anna kicked at him, writhing against him in a futile attempt to get free.
His eyes darkened as his hand moved up her calf. She kicked at him with her other foot, thumping her heel against the back of his wayward hand, then gouging his skin with her toenails.
He laughed, the sound rolling up from his lungs and laving her with its sensual wickedness. The blanket had long since fallen to the floor, and he loomed over her, naked, his manhood erect and pulsing.
“Do you like what you see, schoolmistress?”
Anna turned her head to the side, refusing to look into his heated, scornful eyes. In her struggle, her nightgown had ridden up around her hips. Cool air hit the hot, wet area at the juncture of her thighs.
Suddenly his lips were at her neck. She rolled her head back and forth in a frantic effort to keep him from touching her. “Let go of my wrists,” she croaked as she tried once again to pull them from his grip.
“Oh, I can’t do that, tigress,” he whispered against her ear.
“Let me go or I swear to God I’ll scream.” Panic welled up in her, for his hand traveled up her thigh.
“You do,” he threatened, biting down on the lobe of her ear, “and I’ll bite off your juicy little earlobe.”
Anna panted in frustration. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Nicolas released her lobe and stuck the tip of his tongue into the shell of her ear. “Try me.”
The feeling of his breath in her ear sent more heat to the traitorous area between her legs, and her nipples hardened into tight pebbles. She squeezed her eyes shut and her legs together, imprisoning his hand between her thighs to keep it from further exploration.
Much to her dismay, he continued his upward movement until he met the slick wetness on the inside of her thighs. She gasped and looked at him. He was staring at her, his eyes a deep, murky blue-gray. Anna fried him with a look of pure hatred.
His nostrils flared as he inserted the flat of his finger into her and ran his knuckle up over her sensitive, engorged button.
“No, no, no,” she gasped, as a wave of passion drove her pelvis against his hand. Oh, God! How could she fight him when her body acted this way?
“Give up, tigress,” Nicolas whispered as he pressed his thick, hard manhood against her thigh and continued to touch her wet, swollen nest.
“Oh, damn you,” she said, gasping as her legs gave up the fight and fell limply to either side. “Damn you, damn you, damn you!” she croaked as her gasps became heaving cries of passion and shame. No longer able to fight the lusty emotions that tumbled over her humiliation, she opened herself to him, and she cried.
Suddenly his touch was gentle. He bent to kiss her, and she was filled with confusion. Her bewilderment led her to answer him with a hungry longing, and she ached to have the flame in the deepest part of her soul extinguished. When he lifted her legs, wrapped them around his back and pulled her to him, she lost her breath and then shuddered with unwanted delight as his thick rod touched the nerve-engorged lips of her womanhood. He plunged into her and rode her, and she was compelled by need to match his thrusts.
When he stiffened over her and found his release, Anna dug her fists into the mattress, refusing to touch him when her own orgasm burst over her in deluges. Suddenly replete, she sob
bed, filled again with the shame she’d tried so hard to bury.
“G-Get out!” she shouted between gasps.
He lifted himself off her and stood beside the bed.
“You think you’re so different.” Her voice was laced with venom.
He turned and walked to the door.
“You’re no different than the white men you vow to hate.”
He stopped at the door and stiffened, his hand on the latch.
She sat up in bed, her eyes blazing and her chest heaving with emotion. “You’re no different than the man who raped your precious Shy Fawn!”
She watched through a veil of tears as he stiffened further. She had hurt him, and she was glad. “Get out,” she repeated in a low, livid tone. When he turned, she put all her loathing and hatred into the look she pierced him with. He finally opened the door and was gone, closing it quietly behind him.
Only then did she lie down and turn toward the wall, rolling herself into a protective ball. Only then did she give in to the gut-wrenching sobs that she knew wouldn’t purge the sin from her soul, but might, at least, cleanse the confusion from her mind.
She cried into her pillow, muffling the sounds. She’d get over this, she really would. Maybe if she let it all out now, the hurt would be over and done with. The hurt, and the memories. It had been four years ago today that David had left her to face her father alone. It had also been her seventeenth birthday.
“We’ll leave for Pine Valley late this afternoon,” Nicolas said as they finished their breakfast under the trees.
Sky got up from the table. “I’m not crazy about seeing Marcus.”
“Neither am I. But he’s suspicious of my reasons for staying away so long.”
“What will you tell him?” Sky looked over at Shy Fawn and the firm line around his mouth softened.
Nicolas watched his friend and hid a smile. Sky hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Shy Fawn all during breakfast. “I’ll tell him I’ve been with you.”
Sky looked back at Nicolas. “Then we’d better make up a good story on the way home.” He turned to leave. “I’ll meet you at the stable.” As he walked past Shy Fawn, Nicolas heard him thank her for breakfast.
Shy Fawn’s eyes narrowed as she watched Sky cross the compound to the dormitory. Turning back to Nicolas, she limped over and quickly removed Sky’s plate. “Muxis,” she murmured under her breath.
Nicolas looked up. Muxis was a term used to describe people who took advantage of someone’s hospitality.
“Shy Fawn?” When she looked up, Nicolas caught the anger in her eyes before she was able to cover it. “Why do you call Sky muxis?”
“You feed him, you let him stay as long as he wants. What do you get from him?”
Nicolas had never seen Shy Fawn angry before. It puzzled him. “Sky is my friend. You know that. And he brought us a cow, remember?”
Shy Fawn turned away and began cleaning the dishes. “I won’t eat any cow.”
“Why not? Sky went to a lot of trouble to bring it to us.” Nicolas wondered if she was just trying to fight the inevitable. She had to know of Sky’s interest in her.
“I don’t eat anything brought by a man who lives in a cave and drinks water the coyote has spit in.”
“Shy Fawn, turn around. Look at me.”
Shy Fawn turned but lowered her gaze to the ground.
“Sky is a brave and strong man. He’s done many deeds that would make him a chief in the eyes of his people. Were it not for the white man, he would already have been the leader of his tribe.”
“I don’t care. I know what you’re trying to do, Nicolas. You want to get rid of me.”
Nicolas got up and took Shy Fawn in his arms. “Shy Fawn, you know we all can’t stay up here forever,” he said, his voice filled with sadness. “I want you to have a mate. I want you and Cub to be safe and happy.”
She pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes spilling over with love. “But we are happy, Nicolas. We’re happy with you. And we’re safe with you.”
His heart ached for her. “Shy Fawn, Shy Fawn,” he whispered, touching her hair. “I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”
“But this talk of giving me to someone else hurts me.”
Nicolas watched as she fought the tears she thought would make her weak. “Would it really be so bad? To be Sky’s woman?”
Her mouth was set in a stubborn line. “If I went to live with your friend, I would choke on a grasshopper leg.”
Scorning one of the foods Sky’s people ate as a delicacy was Shy Fawn’s way of refusing to marry him. “All right,” he said quietly. “We won’t talk of this again for a while.” He held her away from him and looked down at her. Her uncommon burst of emotion puzzled him. “Look at me.”
Her head came up slowly, her eyes still filled with sparks.
“June told me Miss Jenson washed her cabin floor.”
Shy Fawn shrugged off his touch and crossed her arms over her chest. “I knew the pale one would run to June and complain.”
He watched her face change from distress to anger. “Why didn’t you give the chore to one of the girls, like I asked you to?”
Shy Fawn looked past him, her eyes still angry. “She wanted to do it.”
Nicolas raked his fingers through his hair and rubbed his temples. Waking up with a hangover hadn’t put him in the best mood, but he knew that losing his patience would accomplish nothing.
“I told you,” he began indulgently, “to assign someone else to that, didn’t I?”
Shy Fawn lowered her head and stared at her moccasin-clad feet.
“Didn’t I?”
Her head shot up and she pinned him with an angry glare. “Now you expect me to remember everything. One list for her to do,” she said, waving one arm in the air, “and another for her not to do,” she finished, waving her other arm.
Nicolas was fast losing his tolerance. “You have never refused one of my requests before. Why now? Why with the schoolmistress?”
Shy Fawn spun around and presented him with her back.
“You know how much I need her here.” He was still mentally beating himself for what he’d done to Anna earlier in the morning, and the hateful words she’d spewed at him hadn’t helped.
Shy Fawn’s back was ramrod straight. “1 don’t like her.”
“She’s the children’s only hope, Shy Fawn.”
Her head bowed, and Nicolas felt a stab of sympathy.
“Can’t you teach them? Or your … your friend, Sky?”
It was the first time she’d said Sky’s name out loud. At least it was a start. Nicolas felt the burden of her future care lifting from his shoulders. “You know we haven’t the time.”
She whirled to face him again, her eyes welling with tears and her hands touching his chest. “I see your eyes follow her when she is near. You look past me. No, you look through me now that she is here. I don’t like what she is doing to you.” Her tone suddenly became disdainful. “She is making you weak.”
Nicolas took her hands in his. It seemed his befuddled feelings were obvious to everyone but him. Yet he felt Shy Fawn’s pain shoot into his heart like a hundred porcupine quills, and he wished with his entire soul that he could tell her he’d always be hers. But of course he couldn’t. He would never be hers. And worse, he would never belong only to himself again, either. Not after this morning.
“I’ll always be near if you need me, Shy Fawn.” He reached up and tugged on one of the long, black braids that hung over her small shoulders.
Shy Fawn tried to smile. It was a wasted effort. She hastily turned and limped away, leaving Nicolas wondering when this shy, subservient maiden had become a determined, tenacious woman.
He sat down again and closed his eyes, dragging his hands over his face. Anna’s angry, heated words continued to thunder in his ears, drowned out only by her heaving sobs of submission. Neither sound would let up, nor would they go away, no matter how hard he tried t
o think of something else.
He sat quietly, his palms digging into his aching eye sockets. She’d claimed he was no better than the men he was fighting. No one had ever made that comparison before.
The image of Anna struggling beneath him ignited his groin, and he swore at how easily she aroused him. Dammit! He’d thought it was another game. Many white women had acted the savage in bed in order to bring out the same response in him. He had no way of knowing she actually meant to fight him off.
That didn’t give you the right to force her.
His fingers dove through his hair and he leaned back in his chair. He blinked up at the bright blue sky, welcoming the pain the light brought to his whiskey-slogged nerves. A single puffy cloud floated slowly across the sky, and he could see Anna’s hair silhouetted in its frothy outline.
The chair slammed to the ground and he closed his eyes. Again and again he’d gone over her readiness. But her heart-wrenching sobs intruded upon the sensual picture, and he became angry at the confusion in his mind.
Hell, from the first moment he’d touched Anna and felt himself flare with the rush of passion, he’d been treating her as he’d wanted to treat Sarabeth years before. It wasn’t fair to Anna, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to desire her. He despised himself for wanting her. She was all the things he hated in a woman. And all the things he … lusted after in a woman. That was all it was. Pure, hot, unadulterated lust.
He swore again, wondering why he felt like such a bastard. If he’d just wanted the use of her sweet, pale body, her sobs and her angry words would have meant nothing to him. But what she’d said to him had made him think. Hard. In essence, she’d called him a rapist.
Rapist. The word left a rancid, putrid taste in his mouth. No woman, Indian or white, deserved to be forced. He’d even berated his own people for taking and defiling white women to avenge the violation of their own.
He massaged his pounding temples. He hadn’t raped her. He may have forced her to surrender to her own needs, but dammit, he hadn’t raped her.
Anna plopped her books and papers down on the table and sank into the chair by the fireplace. Some birthday. She rested her head against the cushioned back and wondered how she’d gotten through the day. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d had to fight the urge to scream.
Secrets of a Midnight Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book One Page 17