And now it was her turn to explore. Biting on her lower lip, she began to undress him, marveling anew at the beauty of the man. His body was big, powerful, ridged with muscle. His neck was thick and strong, his shoulders broad, his chest wide and deep, his belly hard and flat. She hesitated only a moment before removing his buckskin trousers. He wore no underclothing and she felt her cheeks burn as she came face to face with the very visible proof of his desire.
Zuniga was grinning at her now, his fathomless black eyes alight with amusement as he reached out and drew her down beside him. Loralee gave a little cry of pleasure as her skin rubbed against his. Once, she had thought that nothing could feel better against her bare flesh than silk, but she knew now she had been wrong. There was nothing in all the world to compare with the heady sensation of flesh against flesh, nothing at all. Every nerve ending, every part of her body was vibrantly alive, tingling with anticipation, yearning for more as Zuniga rained kisses on her face and breasts, each caress making her hungry for more.
Her breath came faster and faster as his hands and mouth aroused her, drowning out the voice of her conscience that warned her she was going too far, too fast. And then Zuniga took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply, passionately, and all thought was blotted from her mind. She was caught in a whirlpool of sensation from which there was no escape. His manhood was a throbbing warmth against her thigh, making her yearn to discover once and for all the secrets that all women yearn to know.
And then he was rising over her. She knew a brief moment of fear, a twinge of discomfort, and then only pleasure as he began to move inside of her, their bodies merging with a knowledge that was as old as time, as ageless as the rocks and the mountains. He was man and she was woman, primitive, eternal.
She cried his name aloud, arching upward to meet him, wanting to be closer, wanting more and more of him inside her, certain she could never be close enough. She whispered his name as he began to move faster, the rhythm increasing until she was afraid she would shatter into a million pieces.
And then it was over. Zuniga shuddered to a halt, his face buried against her neck, his sweat-sheened flesh glued to her own. It had been wonderful, Loralee thought, and yet she felt as though she had missed something, though she did not know what.
Zuniga saw the question in her eyes later, when his breathing had returned to normal. He smiled at her, knowing that the first time was rarely satisfactory for a woman. The next time would be for her, he vowed.
They washed in the lake, and Loralee felt suddenly shy as Zuniga began to caress her again. It was a new experience, feeling his flesh against hers under water, kissing him, touching him. She had never felt so free, so alive. She was surprised and pleased when she saw that he wanted her again.
It was better the second time. Her arms drew him close, reveling in the strength of him. His mouth possessed hers, branding her lips with fire. She let her hands roam freely over his body, delighting in the touch of his heated flesh, in the taut muscles that quivered beneath her fingertips, She nibbled at his neck, at his ear lobe, and giggled with happiness when he groaned with pleasure. It was a heady sensation, knowing that her untutored hands and lips could arouse him as he had aroused her.
And then he was in command again, his body pressing hers down, his chest crushing her breasts as he parted her thighs.
She raised her hips to meet him, eager to have him possess her once more, and as he moved slowly within her, filling her, pleasing her, she discovered what she had missed before.
Later, blissfully content, she fell asleep in his arms, smiling happily because now she, too, knew the secret of being a woman and loving a man.
6
Loralee couldn't seem to stop smiling the next day. The children looked at her curiously, baffled by her strange behavior. She didn't scold them when they whispered during reading time, she didn't seem to mind when Short Bear pulled a small green snake from his pocket and let it slither around on the top of his desk, nor did she reprimand little Man for not having finished his homework. Then, most surprising of all, she let them have an extra twenty minutes for recess, and then dismissed the class an hour early. It was most peculiar.
Loralee smiled happily as she put her books away for the day and left the schoolhouse. Her steps were light as she headed for home. Abruptly she turned off the trail and walked toward the stream where it formed a small shallow pool screened by trees and brush.
Sitting beside the pool, she removed the pins from her hair, letting it fall down her back. Then, impulsively, she removed her shoes and stockings and splashed her feet in the cool water, wishing she had the nerve to undress and go for a swim.
Lying back, her feet dangling in the water, her arms outstretched, she stared up at the sky. It was a beautiful shade of blue, bright and clear. Happiness bubbled up inside her and spilled out in a joyous burst of laughter. She laughed until her cheeks ached, amazed and amused by the wonder of it all. The world was beautiful, the sky was beautiful, the Apache children were beautiful, and all because of Shad Zuniga. It was incredible. It was impossible. But it was true nonetheless.
Loralee plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger. All her life she had read romantic novels and dreamed of the day when she would fall in love with a tall, dark, handsome man who would sweep her off her feet and carry her away to his castle where they would live happily ever after.
Laughter welled in Loralee's throat again as she conjured up a mental image of Nachi's brush-covered lodge. Hardly a castle, she mused. And Zuniga was nothing at all like a prince in a fairy tale. He wasn't rich, he wasn't cultured, his family was not respected and well-known. Oh, but he was tall, dark, and handsome, and she would not have changed him into a prince if she could.
Tonight she would see him again, though how she would face him after the night before she did not know. She had never imagined anything could be so wonderful, so beautiful. She felt her heart race as she recalled her wanton response to his kisses. How could she concentrate on teaching him to read when she wanted nothing so much as tube in his arms, to feel his mouth on hers once more? What was she going to do? Was it possible she had fallen in love with a heathen Indian? Such a thing was unheard of. You could respect the Apache as a people, you could admire them, sympathize with them, feel compassion for them. But you did not fall in love with them. It simply wasn't done.
But she had fallen in love with Shad. It was a sobering thought.
She heard no sound to indicate that she was no longer alone, saw no movement to warn her that someone was creeping up on her, but she knew, suddenly, that she was not alone. One of the children, she thought, trying to scare me. Which one would it be? Prairie Flomer, or Little Man? Certainly it would not be Short Bear. He was so sullen, so withdrawn, she was certain he was not the type to play pranks unless they involved dead insects or snakes.
A pair of hands dropped over her eyes, and she smiled with pleasure. It was Zuniga. She would recognize those strong brown hands anywhere.
She sat up, smiling shyly, when he removed his hands from her eyes. He was wearing buckskins, as usual. The pants were fringed along the sides and fit his long legs like a second skin, outlining the strong muscles in his calves and thighs. The shirt was open at the throat, revealing a broad expanse of coppery skin. A red headband held his long black hair away from his face. A single eagle feather was braided into his hair.
He looked very Indian. And very desirable.
''Are you playing hookey, teacher?" he asked, grinning at her.
"I guess so. It was too nice a day to stay cooped up inside, so I let the children go home early."
Zuniga nodded toward the pool. Sunlight danced on the flat surface, sparkling like tiny jewels. "Why do you not go for a swim?"
"Here? I couldn't. Someone might see."
"I know a place."
Loralee's heart thudded in her breast. "Do you?" she asked, knowing he was referring to the lake where they had made love the night before
.
Zuniga nodded, his eyes on her face. She saw the question he did not ask, and she nodded slowly.
Moments later, they were on the dun, riding toward the hills. The stallion moved easily, apparently not bothered by his double load. Loralee wrapped her arms around Zuniga's waist, her cheek resting against his back, her eyes closed as the stallion carried them to their destination.
There, in a sheltered valley hardly bigger than Loralee's house, lay the quiet blue pool. She had not been able to appreciate the beauty of the place the night before. Now she glanced around in wonder. The blue pool was set in the grassy valley like a sapphire in a bed of emeralds. Tall pines stood like sentinels, their branches reaching toward the sun.
"It looks like something out of the Garden of Eden," Loralee murmured, enchanted by the pastoral beauty spread before her.
"Eden?" Zuniga prompted. Dismounting, he lifted Loralee from the back of the dun.
"Paradise," Loralee explained. "When God made the first man and the first woman, he placed them in a beautiful garden. It must have looked just like this, all green and peaceful."
"What happened to the man and the woman?" Zuniga asked, curious in spite of himself.
Loralee watched as he unsaddled the horse, thrilled by his easy strength and the way he moved, self-assured and confident. "They took something that wasn't theirs to take," she answered sadly, "and God made them leave the garden forever."
"The white man has not changed," Zuniga remarked with a twinge of bitterness. "He is still taking what is not his."
"Not today." Loralee said, smiling up at him. "Let's not talk about right or wrong. Let's just be happy."
"Shall we swim?"
"I . . . I don't have a bathing suit."
"Neither do I." He was stripping off his shirt and pants as he spoke. Motioning for her to follow, he waded into the pool and began to swim.
Loralee watched him for a few moments. He did everything well, she thought. He never seemed to be at a loss as to what to do or what to say. He knew who he was and what he was, and he was at peace within himself. She loved to watch him move, loved the latent strength that was reflected in the way he walked or rode, or glided through the water, the muscles in his arms and legs propelling him effortlessly through the water.
With a sigh, she stepped out of her dress and undergarments and ran for the cover of the water.
They swam for half an hour, content to be together. Loralee felt freer than she had ever felt before, free and unrestrained by rules and restrictions and someone else's idea of what was right and what was wrong. The water felt wonderful against her bare skin, the sun was warm on her face, and her spirit felt light as a feather.
Zuniga left the water first. He stood on the bank, shaking the water from his long black hair, his skin glistening in the sunlight. How beautiful he was, Loralee mused, then blushed furiously when he turned around and saw her staring at him.
"Come on out," he called, reaching for her hand.
"I can't," Loralee wailed.
Zuniga frowned. "Why not? Are you hurt?"
Loralee shook her head in misery. How could she tell him she was embarrassed to let him see her naked in the full light of day? It sounded so silly after what they had shared the night before. But it had been dark then, and she been caught up in the throes of passion.
Zuniga's eyes filled with sudden understanding. She was shy, embarrassed to let him see her. Foolish woman, he thought indulgently, and turned his back toward her. Foolish, but oh, so beautiful.
Loralee bad only pulled on her petticoat when she felt Shad's arms steal around her waist, fell his lips kissing the back of her neck and shoulders. She shivered with delight, her eyes closing with pleasure. What power his touch had over her. A few kisses, a caress, and her heart began to beat like a war drum while all the strength seemed to drain out of her limbs, leaving her weak and trembling like a newborn kitten.
She turned in his arms, and gave a little gasp when she realized he was still naked.
"Shad"
He stilled her half-hearted protest with another kiss as his hands slowly removed her petticoat, sliding the garment over her hips and down her thighs until it rested in a heap around her ankles. Still holding her in his arms, he lowered her to the ground. Loralee's arms twined around his neck and she let him kiss and touch and explore to his heart's content, until she was lost, gloriously, wonderfully lost in the magic of his touch . . . .
They spent the day in the little valley, loving and sleeping and loving again. They took a walk around the pool, ate berries to take the edge off their hunger, watched a pair of determined red ants drag a dead beetle over a twig.
Later, lying side by side, they gazed up at the sky, watching as wisps of clouds floated lazily across the azure sky.
"I've always wanted to be a teacher," Loralee replied in answer to one of Zuniga's questions. "There's so much to learn, so much to know. If you studied your whole life, you could never learn it all."
Zuniga grinned at the note of excitement that crept into her voice whenever she talked about teaching.
"There are so many wonderful books to read. Homer and Shakespeare, Dickens and Brontë. There's poetry and history and theology, and" Loralee laughed self-consciously. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bore you."
"You are not."
"There's so much your people could learn, Shad. If I could encourage just one child to become a teacher or a doctor or a lawyer, if I could just pique their interest in the world outside the reservation, I'll feel that I've accomplished something wonderful, something worthwhile."
"And do you think Short Bear could be a doctor or a lawyer?"
"Yes. He's bright enough, Shad, I know he is. If I could just break through that wall he's built around himself, I know he could be anything he wants to be."
"Anything?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "Anything."
"He wants to be a warrior," Zuniga said quietly. "Like his father, and his grandfather."
"He can still be a warrior in his heart," Loralee remarked soberly. "He can be honest and brave and true to himself and his beliefs. He doesn't have to give up like so many of your people have. You haven't."
"No?"
"No. You're as much a warrior as any Apache who ever lived."
"I wonder if Cochise and Mangas would agree with that," Zuniga muttered wryly.
"Times change," Loralee said. "People who want to survive learn to change with them. That's why education is so important to your people," she went on earnestly. "They need to know what's going on outside the reservation. They need to know what's available to them, about the opportunities that are waiting''
Laughing softly, Zuniga placed his hand over Loralee's mouth. "School is out for today, teacher," he chided. "Remember?"
Loralee nodded, and for a moment they were silent. Loralee toyed with a strand of Zuniga's long black hair, curling it round and round her finger.
"Can I ask you something personal?" she asked after a while.
"You can ask," Zuniga replied, chuckling softly. "I cannot promise to answer."
"Have you made love to many women?"
"A few," he admitted, startled by the question.
She had expected just such an answer, but she had not expected the truth to hurt so much. She had wanted to be the first woman he had ever touched, as he had been the first man to touch her.
"I am sorry, Loralee," Zuniga said quietly. "I wish . . . oh, hell, you know what I mean."
Loralee nodded wistfully. "Who were they, the others? What were they like?"
Zuniga shrugged. "They were whores, mostly. Nameless women who did not mind taking a few dollars to sleep with an Indian." He thought briefly of Kelly. She had been the main outlet for his primal desires since he moved to the reservation. She was the only prostitute in town who didn't look down her nose at him because he was an Apache.
"Why haven't you ever married?"
Zuniga grinned. When Loralee decided to get personal, she g
ot personal! "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I have thought about it a few times. I guess I never met the right woman, if there is such a thing."
His, eyes lingered on Loralee's face. He had never met a woman he wanted to spend his whole life with, until now. He wondered what ft would be like to be married to Loralee Warfield, to have her waiting for him at the end of each day, to see her smile just for him. It gave him an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, just thinking about it.
Loralee's cheeks grew pink under Zuniga's continued gaze. What was he thinking?
"Why aren't you married?" Zuniga asked at last. "Why aren't you teaching your own children to read and write?"
"I guess the right man hasn't asked me yet," Loralee answered, very softly, and it was suddenly hard to speak, or think. His eyes, as dark as midnight, burned with an intense inner fire. She knew with sudden certainty what he was thinking, and she uttered a little sigh of contentment as he took her in his arms once more, his mouth slanting over hers in a kiss that drove every other thought, hope, or desire from her mind.
It was late when Zuniga saddled the dun and helped Loralee mount.
"I hate to see the day end," she remarked.
"There will be other days," Zuniga said gravely. And be knew it was true. He had never meant to become seriously involved with Loralee Warfield. He had thought only to woo her and win her and abandon her when he tired of her. She was only a white woman, after all. If and when he decided to marry, he had thought to take an Apache woman for his wife. But no more. The few hours he had spent with Loralee had sealed his fate. For him, there would be no other woman.
Zuniga was waiting for Loralee after school the following day. Her horse stood beside the dun, saddled and ready.
"Where are we going?" Loralee asked, smiling up at Zuniga.
"I want you to meet my grandfather."
"I'd like that."
They rode most of the way in silence, with Shad occasionally remarking on a point of interest or directing her gaze toward a clump of bright purple flowers or a deer grazing on the short yellow grass.
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