Shuddering, Small Bird sighed. She’d wished for a more open-armed acceptance of her new cousin, but she supposed the tribes would grow to accept Willow Song as she herself did. Thinking of the girl’s courage, Small Bird recalled those frightful moments when she’d clung to the steep slope of the ravine with Golden Eagle’s small arms wrapped around her neck. She’d been unable to call down to let her husband know she was safe. Any distraction on her part might have sent her and the child tumbling. Finishing that climb, knowing that at any minute the two groups of warriors might attack and kill each other, had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. And Willow Song had forestalled that violence. The others saw that, and they would accept her more as time went on.
Leaning back against her willow backrest. Small Bird felt happiness seep into her. The warmth of the fire, the rumble of her husband’s voice, the singing, laughter and sounds of peace, lulled her into a light slumber.
When Swift Foot scooped her up sometime later and declared it was time for her to retire, she didn’t protest. Nuzzling her face into the warmth of his shoulder, Small Bird wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. If her husband thought he could just put her to bed, then leave and return to the feasting, he was mistaken. She wasn’t that tired.
Glancing up into the sky, seeing streaks of dusk racing across it, she sighed. Soon the stars would come out and light up the night like clouds of fireflies.
Inside their tipi, Swift Foot lowered her gently to their bed of furs. Small Bird kept her arms wrapped around his neck, refusing to let him go.
“We have guests, wife,” he said. But desire turned his brown eyes into twin pools of dark honey: sweet, enveloping and irresistible.
“Our guests will not miss you, my husband. Not as much as I will.”
Sliding his length alongside her, Swift Foot stared down into her face. “Then I will stay for as long as you need me.”
Grinning, Small Bird pulled his head to hers. “Then you will be here long, my husband, for I will need you for the rest my life.”
“As I need you, wife. As I need you.”
Epilogue
His sharp eyes scanned the flat-topped buttes where patches of scraggly brush clung tenuously to the vertical sides. Deep ravines of sandstone, shale and clay reflected the bright sunshine.
The hot wind carried him effortlessly over miles of golden prairie, rocky formations, hills and valleys. Waves of heat blurred the land. Nothing moved. Patiently he scanned the many tributaries snaking away from the river. Most were dry, the nearby vegetation brown and brittle—but here and there, gullies of dark green contrasted flatly with the bleached earth.
Tendrils of smoke rising from the far side of a large outcropping of mounded rocks drew his attention. Yellow pine fought for life in the inhospitable soil there, adding color. Dipping one wing, the eagle followed the wide prairie that wrapped around the rocky formation like hands cupping a delicate flower.
Down below, Small Bird felt the eagle’s shadow glide over her. Glancing up, she smiled softly. Once, she’d believed the presence of an eagle to be a bad omen. Things were different now. Perfect.
Another shadow slid over her, blocking the heat of Wi. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband, a man as powerful as Wambli.
“You have returned,” she said. She jumped to her feet. He caught her in his arms. Small Bird buried her face in the warm slope of his neck. He’d only been gone for a week, but it felt like a lifetime.
“Did you miss me?” He claimed her mouth before she could answer.
Breathless when he released her, Small Bird giggled. “Perhaps not as much as you’ve missed me.”
His gaze lingered on her face. His fingers swept over each side and slid into her hair. He pulled her back to him. This time he nuzzled the soft hollow of her throat. “I plan on showing my wife just how much I missed her. Starting now. And tonight. And tomorrow. We will make up for the time I was gone.”
Small Bird laughed gently. “Husband, if we were to make up all the time we miss when you hunt, we would not eat or sleep.”
“You do not hear me complaining.” Swift Foot’s tongue began a light tickling across her collarbone and up the side of her neck.
“No, I would not mind, either. However, our son would be most displeased.”
Reluctantly, Swift Foot pulled away. “I am most eager to share my wife’s mat again. It has been far too long.”
“Is that all you can think of?” Small Bird relished the brief flicker of repressed need that crossed her husband’s features. She loved him so much, and had missed the intimate sharing of their bodies as well. Lowering her gaze, she couldn’t help but notice how much Swift Foot wanted her.
“I do not lie when I say I have missed you, my wife.” Reaching out, he took hold of Small Bird’s hand and began walking.
“How is my son?” Pride filled his voice and shone from his eyes.
“He complains as much as his father,” Small Bird said. She loved walking with her husband. Just the two of them, moving as one with hands twined and shoulders brushing close.
“Waiting does that to a man,” he answered wryly.
Stopping, Small Bird took Swift Foot’s other hand in hers and stared up into his loving eyes. Hunger rose from deep within her. “You don’t have to wait anymore. You’re back. We don’t have to wait anymore,” she whispered.
Swift Foot’s gaze slid to her mouth, then back to her eyes, his own gaze as hungry for her as she was for him. “You are sure you don’t want to go back to the tipi, wait for privacy?” he asked, his hands lifting to frame her face.
Small Bird leaned into him. “I am sure.”
Sighing, Swift Foot drew her close. “It would have been hard to wait for dark, my wife.”
Grinning, she slid her body close to his, her hips sweeping over the bulging front of his breechclout. “I know. For me, too. But my mother is tending our son. He will be fine until we return.”
Grinning, Swift Foot swung her up into his arms.
“We shall go and watch the sun set.”
“I would like that.” She loved this man so much, she couldn’t imagine life without him.
“And after, we can catch a star or two.” Swift Foot followed the twisting stream away from camp, leading her quickly.
Snuggling close, Small Bird laughed. “I like stars,” she whispered. “The more the better.”
Torn between security and love; conflicted by passion and a thirst for revenge; choosing independence or succumbing to the lure of an all-consuming love. Don’t miss these additional titles from Susan Edward’s White Series, available now.
White Dawn (Book 1 of 12)
White Shadows (Book 3 of 12)
White Wind (Book 4 of 12)
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About the Author
Native American/Western romance writer Susan Edwards is the author of the popular White Series. She was nominated for the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Western Historical and the Reviewers' Choice Best Book Award. She is very pleased to be able to offer her series in digital format. Susan is working on an idea for a new White book, a reunion of characters. She is also working on developing a new series, one that she is very excited about. Check her website, www.susanedwards.com, for current news.
Susan lives in Central California with her husband and a houseful of cats, including two rescue kittens who stole her heart. Her other passion is gardening. Through her love of all things Native American, she has designed a twenty-six-foot medicine wheel garden and has "broken ground." It is a big project but one that she loves. You can follow her progress on her website. Susan also loves to knit and join her husband for hikes in the hills when it isn't too hot outside.
You can follow Susan at her various social media outlets:
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9266-0
Copyright © 2011 by Susan Edwards
Previously published by Leisure Books
Copyright © 2002 by Susan Edwards
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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