Kentucky Bride

by Norah Hess

  "I'm sure," she murmured, copying his motion.

  To Kane's embarrassment, that small movement made him lose control. Without warning his body convulsed and he was spilling his seed inside D'lise.

  Lord, he thought when his body stopped shuddering, that had never happened to him before. Was it possible that just being inside his wife made him lose all control? If that was the case, how would he ever be able to pleasure her?

  D'lise felt Kane's warmth flood her, then felt the slumping of his body on hers and wondered about it. Was this all there was to coupling? She still ached for… something. Were women supposed to feel that way?

  I'd better not let Kane know, she thought, and forced her body to grow quiet, her pulse to calm down. She didn't want him to think that she was shameless. She was positive that Auntie had not felt the way she was feeling.

  She didn't know what to think when Kane whispered softly, "I'm sorry, honey, but you felt so good I couldn't help myself. I promise to wait for you this time."

  D'lise felt him swelling inside her, and startled, she looked up at him. Was she expected to feel something after all? It sounded like it. She certainly hoped so, because the rhythmic stroking of Kane's manhood was causing a feeling she couldn't stop.

  It felt so good, the slow rocking of his body, and D'lise wished it could go on forever. She felt the straining of his body then, and knew he was striving with all his strength, waiting for her to do something. "Let yourself go, honey," he whispered against her shoulder. "Ride to the top of the mountain with me."

  Clutching his shoulders, D'lise let go and felt herself tumbling, tumbling into a void of unbelievable sensation.

  Kane felt the walls of her femininity tightening around him, and when she called his name, he gave one last drive of his hips and shuddered against her, moaning his release into her throat and shoulder.

  Breathing fast, his body sweat-slicked, Kane marveled that he would know this mindless bliss the rest of his life. His young wife had given him a pleasure he'd never before known existed.

  But D'lise's thoughts as she lay quietly beneath him didn't run in the same vein. She hadn't realized that it would hurt so to know that her husband's need of her was based on lust, not love. That word had not passed between them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The first snow fell in late November. In the full sun, it soon melted, but patches lingered on the north slopes of the hills. Kane's trapline was laid and in the dead stillness of every morning before dawn he left the cabin to run his traps.

  But first, before rising, he'd draw D'lise's warm body into his arms to stroke and suckle her awake. He'd pull her beneath him and grasp her hips, holding them steady as he moved in and out of her eager body.

  D'lise always looked forward to these early mornings of love-making, because with the exception of a good-night kiss, Kane never touched her when they retired at night. In fact, she didn't even see him much anymore. Every night after supper he excused himself and left the cabin for a couple of hours. Where he went he never said, and she was too proud to ask.

  One day the wind came out of the north, bringing with it a heavy rain mixed with sleet. It beat against the cabin, rattling the window. When it died down, winter came in earnest, with flurries of snow falling almost every day for a week. The days grew shorter, the sun paler, giving little warmth as it slanted through the trees. In only a matter of a few hours, it seemed to D'lise, the sun would be replaced by the moon, chill and remote. Many freezing nights, as she lay beside Kane's sleeping form wondering why he hadn't made love to her, she could hear trees splitting with loud, sudden reports.

  This night, snuggled up to Kane, fitting spoon-fashion in the curve of his body, her thoughts were on Christmas, a few days away. Would Kane celebrate the holiday? Or would it be just another day? She would like to go to church, and she could if she went without Kane. Ellen and Samuel would take her. There were all kinds of festivities going on in the village, but it wouldn't seem right, her enjoying herself while Kane trudged along in the freezing cold.

  But he doesn't think about you, her inner voice whispered. He knows that you are here alone all day with no one to talk to, yet he goes off every night, leaving you still alone.

  Where did he go? D'lise stared into the darkness. She never saw him ride off on the stallion. Wherever he went, he walked.

  A suspicion grew inside her, one she tried to turn away but it persisted stubbornly. Tomorrow she was going to check for footprints around the barn.

  D'lise wasn't aware of falling asleep, but as usual, in the first gray light of dawn she awakened to Kane's caressing fingers on her body. He was always so hungry for her at that hour, she mused, stroking her hands over his shoulders, down his back, across his flat stomach and fi nally down to that part of him that brought her such mindless bliss.

  Kane whispered her name as her fingers closed around his hard flesh, and rolled her over on her back. She parted her legs for him and he climbed between them. He hung over her, waiting for her to guide him inside her.

  As usual, like the first time he'd made love to her, Kane's release came fast. D'lise was used to this and didn't mind. It meant that in their second union Kane would take all the time in the world, moving with a leisurely lift and thrust of his hips. And when their climax came, it would be so strong, so overpowering, they would be too weak to move for several minutes.

  His heart and pulse slowing to a normal rate, Kane sat up and gazed down at his wife's lovely face, still flushed from the blood that had pumped through her veins so furiously. I can never get enough of her, he thought, smoothing the tangled curls that framed her delicate face. Never was a man so blessed.

  "I gotta get goin'," he said reluctantly, dropping a kiss on her nose. When D'lise would have risen also, he pushed her back down. "It's too cold this morning." He brushed a ripple of snow off the foot of the bed where it had sifted through a crack he had missed caulking. "I'll build up the fire and get the coffee goin'."

  D'lise pulled the covers up to her chin and watched her husband's naked body move to the fireplace, the muscles rippling on his shoulders and arms as he raked the dead ashes off the red coals beneath them, then added small pieces of wood. When they caught, he laid short, split logs on the flames, then rose and walked to the table where she put the coffee pot every night after scrubbing it out. He poured water into it from a water pail sitting next to it and measured in the coffee she had ground the night before. When he had set the pot on the fire, he walked toward the bed to pull on his buckskins.

  D'lise, who had been watching his every move, grinned as she watched him pull on the buckskin trousers and fasten the laces of his fly, adjusting the bulge there until everything lay where it belonged. She sighed. She would not have him to herself again until this time tomorrow morning.

  Kane lit a candle, then filled the pockets of his rabbit-fur jacket with parched kernels of corn and strips of pemmican. The coffee had brewed by now, and after swiftly drinking two cups of the steaming liquid, he flipped the jacket's hood over his head, pulled on his mittens, and picked up his rifle.

  "I'm off now, D'lise." He smiled at her. "Don't forget to bar the door behind me." She sat up, the covers falling to her waist, her bare breasts a picture he would carry with him all day, he thought, closing the door behind him.

  Her flesh all goose bumps from the many drafts in the room, D'lise reached for her flannel gown and hurriedly jerked it over her head. Swinging her feet to the floor she fumbled them into the fur-lined moccasins she wore in the house. She hurried to the fire. As she sipped her first cup of coffee of the day, she stared into the flames, wondering how she was to pass another lonely day.

  One day continued to run into the next, with nothing for D'lise to occupy her time with. She even found herself looking forward to washday, a chore she ordinarily didn't care for at all. She had baked pies, cakes, and cookies until they couldn't eat any more.

  The only time the monotony of a day was broken was when Ellen and Sa
muel came for a visit.

  The first time the couple braved the cold and snowdrifts was to invite her and Kane to Ellen's for Thanksgiving dinner. But since Kane naturally couldn't go, she had refused to attend without him.

  But now Christmas was only a few days away, and she wanted to go to church. Two days earlier, when Ellen and Samuel had dropped by, Ellen had spoken of how prettily the wives of Piney Ridge had decorated the church. "They have even trimmed a tree," she'd finished, then began urging D'lise to attend services Christmas day. "We know that Kane has to run his traps every day, but there's no reason Samuel and I can't pick you up and take you to church."

  She had finally agreed, although she hadn't mentioned it to Kane yet. For some reason he didn't like the friendly storekeeper, and it upset him when he and Ellen came to visit her. He did like Ellen, though, for which she was thankful. She and Ellen had become very good friends, and she didn't want anything to interfere with that friendship.

  There was to be a little get-together after the service, Ellen had said. The preacher's wife would be serving tea and cake. She had laughed then and said, "The tea will be weak, and the cake tasteless, but we can have a good time catching up on what everyone has been doing these house-bound days." She giggled. "Everyone knows what Elijah Jessup has been up to."

  Tilda Jessup had been buried but a month when Elijah left the area for a week and returned with a new wife. The girl was young and awkward, looking to be around sixteen. Within a month, she was with child.

  As D'lise prepared to go to the barn to tend the stock, she wondered why she wasn't in a family way yet. God knew Kane had spilled enough of his seed inside her. Was she one of those women who couldn't conceive, she wondered, and would Kane care if she never made him a father?

  These questions nagged at her mind as she changed her moccasins for her heavy shoes and shrugged into a jacket like Kane's. As she pushed open the heavy door, Hound slid past her and ran ahead to the barn. The trodden snow scrunched under her feet as she followed the dog. When the first true snowfall had finally stopped it had taken Kane half the day to shovel a path to the barn. After that, each new layer of snow that came along had been easily tramped down by their coming and going between cabin and out-buildings.

  D'lise had to tug hard at the heavy, ice-encrusted door to open it wide enough for her to squeeze through. She was greeted with whinnies, lowing, and squawking chickens.

  "So, everybody is hungry, eh?" she called out cheerfully, grabbing a pitchfork and lifting hay into the troughs of each stall. She noted that the watering pails were empty; in fact Snowy had turned his over on its side in his quest to quench his thirst. As soon as she fed the hens, she would scoop up a pail of snow for each animal.

  D'lise was so occupied with feeding the stock that she didn't hear the soft sound of stealthy feet. It took Hound's deep snarl to make her spin around. Her stomach clenched in a knot, and the blood drummed in her ears. A fierce-eyed Indian was coming toward her, his fringed buckskins rustling.

  I'm going to be raped by this savage, she thought in terror, taking a frantic step backward. But when, with a wild yell, the Indian jerked a scalping knife from his belt and came at her, her heart skipped a beat. He didn't mean to rape her—he meant to kill her!

  But as she stood frozen in place, her eyes horrorstricken, a long, furry body sprang from her feet straight at the Indian's throat. In one furious snap of his teeth, Hound tore open the man's throat. Blood gushed out and, unable to move or speak, D'lise watched the dying Indian sink slowly to the floor, the broad-bladed knife slipping from his fingers.

  Released from her near-hypnotic spell, D'lise raced out of the barn, the dog at her heels. She slammed the door shut and dropped the bar in place. Hound jumped around at her feet, his tail wagging, plainly looking for praise. She leaned over him, started to pat his head and say, "Good boy"—and almost retched. His mouth was rimmed with the Indian's blood. She hurriedly placed a basin of water on the floor for the faithful animal to drink and wash away the bright red stain.

  While Hound lapped at the water, D'lise threw herself on the bed, and for over an hour shuddering sobs racked her body. Why had the Indian wanted to kill her? She could understand if he had rape in mind. It wasn't uncommon for a white woman to be assaulted by an Indian, the same as the white man raped the Indian woman, but except in times of war, she'd never heard of an Indian intentionally murdering a woman.

  Could he be an enemy of Kane's? She didn't think so. Kane got along well with the Indians. Big Beaver was his best friend.

  She finally rose from bed and somehow got through the day, even managing to get a pot of stew cooking. It plagued her mind that the barn animals hadn't been watered, but she couldn't bring herself to return to the place where the dead Indian lay.

  At last dusk darkened the cabin, and D'lise was lighting the candles when she glanced out the window and saw Kane trudging home, as usual burdened down with pelts.

  When she heard him scraping the snow off his feet on the small porch, she flung open the door and launched herself at him. The tears she'd thought were dried returned full force.

  "D'lise, what is it? What's wrong?" Kane pulled her arms from around his neck. He looked worriedly into her face. "Have you had an accident? Are you hurt?"

  "No, no," she choked out, waving her hands toward the barn. "The Indian, he tried to—he wanted to kill me."

  "Let me get a lantern; I'll track him down." Kane led her back inside.

  "No, Kane, he's in the barn. Hound killed him!"

  "Are you sure?" Kane asked, doubt in his voice. "Maybe he just chewed him up a little."

  "No, he's dead. You'll see."

  "All right, calm down. Let me light the lantern and I'll go take a look.

  "By God, she's right," Kane muttered a few minutes later as he stared down at the lifeless face of the brave, his staring eyes still full of his terror as the huge dog had sprung for his throat. He studied the red face, thinking that he looked familiar, but he couldn't place him.

  "Well, you bastard, I'm glad you're dead, whoever you are," Kane muttered, grabbing the Indian under the arms and hefting him over his shoulder. There was a ravine about a hundred yards behind the cabin. He'd dump the body there. When it was found, it would be assumed that a wolf had killed him.

  And it must be kept a secret that D'lise had been involved in the brave's death. His relatives might think that she was lying about being attacked, that she had sicced the dog onto him out of hatred of the red man.

  As he returned to the cabin, he carefully smoothed out his footprints. "I was getting worried about you, Kane."

  D'lise said as he stepped through the cabin door and shrugged out of his jacket. "What kept you so long?" She carried the black kettle of water from the fireplace and filled the washbasin for him.

  "I was gettin' rid of the body." Kane picked up the bar of lye soap and, working up a lather in his hands, began to scrub his face and arms. D'lise put a towel in his groping hands after he had rinsed off, splattering water on the floor. He used it and hung it back on its nail. "Don't say a word to anybody about this, D'lise. I pitched him into the ravine in back of the cabin. I'm hoping the black clouds in the north will bring more snow tonight, hiding the fact that wolves didn't do him in."

  "Do you know who he was?" D'lise began dishing up the stew when Kane sat down at the table. "Do you think he's from around here?"

  "I know I've seen him somewhere, but I can't remember where."

  No more was said as the meal was eaten, D'lise hoping that Kane wouldn't leave her tonight. She was still shaken and needed the comfort of his arms.

  But, in his usual custom when Kane finished his coffee, he pulled his jacket back on and left the cabin.

  D'lise stared at the closed door, hurt that her husband couldn't have stayed with her tonight. He had to know how upset she was. She tried to push from her mind the persistent suspicion that Kane went to meet Raven somewhere. After all, the woman had been his squaw for a long time, an
d he must have cared for her.

  More than he did for his wife, perhaps. Raven would still be here if she hadn't demanded the woman go.

  "And he would never have married me if not to save my reputation," she said to the empty room.

  D'lise stared unseeing into her cup of coffee. She shouldn't blame Kane if he still sought out Raven. A person couldn't help who he loved. She loved Kane, and it was the last thing she wanted to do. It wrung her heart thinking of them together, making love.

  But it angered her also. If he still cared for Raven, continued to need her, he should leave his wife alone, not make a whore out of her.

  You don't know for a fact that your husband meets the Indian woman, her inner voice cautioned. "You may be working yourself up for nothing. Wait until you have proof."

  D'lise rose and walked to the window and stared out. The full moon had escaped the dark clouds for a moment, reflecting its light on the snow, making it appear almost daylight. She gazed at the forest, thinking how gaunt and dreary the hardwoods looked without their leaves.

  Her breath misted the glass, and as she wiped the film away with the palm of her hand she gave a start. Cupping a hand to each side of her face to block out the candle and firelight, she peered closely at the forest. She had seen a figure move out from the shadow of the trees and walk toward the barn. Was there yet another Indian come to harm the Devlins?

  "Oh no!" she whispered, a desolation such as she'd never known gripping her heart. Just before slipping into the barn, the figure had turned and looked toward the cabin, straight at the window. She knew now that Kane didn't go anywhere to meet Raven. She came to him.

  Sick to her soul, D'lise drew the curtain across the window and stumbled to the rocker she had taken as her own. She gazed blindly into the fire, thinking wildly. So much for her inner voice's advice. She'd never listen to it again.

  What was she to do? She had no place to go and no money, and the snow was up past her waist in some places. But how could she continue to live with Kane knowing that his affair with Raven had never ceased?