by Karen Kay
Perhaps it was this that triggered the rebellion brewing within her. “Sir Eagle, tell me. Do Indians kiss?”
If he were startled by her question, he didn’t show it. Instead, he stepped toward her and answered calmly, “Of course.”
“But I mean, do they kiss, lips to lips, like the English do?”
“I believe,” he muttered, as he placed his arm against the tree, “that the English cannot claim complete ownership over something so common as a kiss. All human beings enjoy much the same thing.”
As he spoke, his head had descended so closely to hers that she realized she could read his thoughts. It was an unbelievably intimate feeling, as though he had suddenly become a part of her, if only for this particular moment. He wanted to kiss her. She knew it as surely as the fact that she wanted to be kissed.
Yet he didn’t do it.
It was wrong of her, so very wrong, considering her motives were nothing more than dalliance, yet she found herself lifting her face toward his, and she murmured, “I have never been kissed.”
He didn’t utter a word in response. Instead, he bent the fraction of an inch required, and gently touched his lips to hers.
Fire! Instant explosion! The hot blaze burnt its way through her, seeming to stop and center in her lower abdomen. She swooned slightly against the flame, and her stomach lightened, then fell, as if butterflies were warring with the storm within.
The kiss deepened, and her heartbeat raced, not only within her chest, but high up in her throat as well. As the fresh scent of him filled her nostrils, her lips clung to his, and she thought she would never forget the clean and woodsy taste of him.
His embrace affected her strangely, causing her to feel as if she had come home, as if she had discovered a bit of heaven. As every nerve within her clamored for more of something she could not put a name to, she realized she had never felt more alive than she did at this moment. She swayed forward against him, only to have him catch her in his arms.
Placing one of his hands against the small of her back, he urged her in even farther toward him, as close as her skirts would allow. As his lips made a feast of her, he brought up his other hand to trail his fingers over her cheeks, her eyes and eyebrows, even around to each of her ears. Though his fingers were calloused, she realized that it didn’t necessarily follow that his touch was any less gentle or that she objected.
Unexpectedly, his touch centered over her exposed shoulders, and she moaned. She couldn’t help it. It felt so good.
As if encouraged, his lips met hers again and again, and as his tongue slid into the wet recesses of her mouth, she felt as though she were melting all over. She sighed, the soft sound of her voice high-pitched against his lips. In response, he shuddered against her, and she wondered if she were having as great an effect on him as he was creating in her.
She wanted him closer, and although his body was pressed up against hers as tightly as possible, he still seemed too far away. In truth, had there been a way to crawl into his skin, she would have gladly done so.
As though inspired by her response, he lifted her, her feet leaving the ground, and he pressed her back against the tree. His tongue played with hers, foraging deeper into her mouth, then more shallowly. Deeper again, then withdrawing, over and over.
She moaned. She could barely help herself, and she murmured, “What are you doing to me?”
“I am kissing you.” He lowered her, allowing her feet to touch the ground again. “It is nothing more than a kiss.”
“I think you understate the experience. Why has no one ever revealed to me that to kiss is to find…that one can burst into flames?”
He didn’t answer at once, but her words seemed to animate him, because his arms came around her, and he hugged her tightly. “Perhaps not everyone finds it so in each and every kiss.”
As though to dispute his words, he touched his lips to hers again, and she found herself surrendering once more to his passion.
She whispered, “If you mean by that statement that you do not feel the quickening of your heart the same as I do, pray do not tell me so.”
“Neh, I was speaking of others, not of you and me. I feel plenty. Perhaps a little too much.”
“Too much? Is there such a thing?”
He shrugged, and despite her most sincere hopes, he backed up slightly. “It is hard to know. But one matter is certain: There is a delicate balance between desire and control, and when a man is with a woman, he must be in full possession of himself.”
“Indeed? And are you in control now?”
“Neh. The truth is I barely have any control left.” He backed up a little farther.
She followed him, leaning forward and into his embrace. “Do not go away,” she complained softly. “I fear you are not close enough to satisfy me.”
He groaned. “I know.” He was holding her with one arm and tracing her cheeks and her face with the fingertips of his other hand. Yet, he kept a slight distance between them as he continued speaking. “But since this is your first kiss, I fear to provide you with what it is that I know we both desire.”
“Do not fear me.”
“It is not you I fear. It is the possible harm I might do you if I give you what it is you seek.”
“And do you know what it is I seek?”
“Is it not obvious? You are a woman. I am a man, and though our paths are surely different in this life, I think that desire between two people, once it touches them, respects no boundaries.”
“You speak of desire?”
He drew in a deep breath. “It knows nothing of cultures or the problems that might be created because two people who should not want one another…do.”
She brought up her white-gloved hand to press it along his shoulder. “Then you admit that you want me?”
He nodded. “It is obvious that I do. But it is forbidden. We both know it. Therefore, one of us should think logically, and perhaps I am the best person to do so.”
“Yes. Yes.” She straightened. “Of course. I am certain you are right.”
He inclined his head.
“Yet…” her golden-brown eyes sought out the dark brown of his, as she continued, “…I ask for one more kiss. Is it so very much to ask?”
For a moment, he appeared tormented, but the look was quickly gone, replaced by a countenance that showed nothing. “There is a danger in committing too many kisses. Perhaps you do not understand that danger, since this is your first experience. But I know what it is that may follow. Know that I am not immune to you. As you may remember, my admiration of you is great. But an alliance between us can never be. And so, since kisses should lead toward marriage or the making of a family, we should walk away, and perhaps we would do well to not kiss again.”
“Not kiss again? But, pray, surely one more…”
He moaned. He leaned forward. She closed her eyes.
“Miss Marisa!”
The call, though spoken no louder than the cry of an eagle, was still blaring enough to shock Marisa. She inhaled deeply. Why did the world have to intrude? And at such a time? Wrenching her gaze away from Black Eagle’s, she looked back toward the house.
It was Sarah, who was hurrying down the path toward them. With the dry leaves scurrying hither and thither, and her skirts flaring out behind her, she presented an odd image, as though Sarah were running away, instead of toward them.
Marisa took one more deep breath, and answered, “I am here, Sarah. By the large oak tree, the same one you and I have sat beneath on many a summer day.”
Black Eagle stepped to Marisa’s side.
“Ah, yes, I see you now.” Sarah slowed her pace as she approached them. Briefly her glance took in Black Eagle, whom she studied for a moment before she addressed Marisa. “I fear that your step-uncle is furious. He has sent me here to seek you out and bid you to come back into the ballroo
m posthaste.”
“I see.”
When Marisa said nothing further, Sarah, still eyeing Black Eagle, went on to add, “However, if you would prefer to stay here, I can pretend I could not find you.”
“And have you incur my step-uncle’s wrath in my place?”
“It would not be the first time your uncle has shown me the edge of his tongue.”
“Step-uncle,” Marisa corrected.
“You are right, of course.”
Marisa swallowed hard. “However, I suspect it will do little harm if the three of us return to the party.” Marisa took a tentative step toward Sarah. Black Eagle didn’t follow, and Marisa found herself gazing over her shoulder at him. “Sir Eagle, will you not escort us back into the hall?”
He didn’t answer at once, and it took a few moments before he said, “Neh, no, I think not. Permit me to take my leave of you here.”
Her eyes sought his, clung to his. “I am afraid we did not discuss the matter that was most pressing to you.”
“It will keep until we meet again.”
“And do you suppose we will meet again?”
“I believe we shall.”
She glanced down, then back up at him. “I am not certain I agree with you, sir, on that regard. You see, I leave Albany in the morning.”
“I know.”
“Ah, yes. So you have said.”
“It is about your journey that I—”
“If you will await me here,” she interrupted, “I will try to determine what it is my step-uncle seeks, and then, since you had little time to tell me what is in your mind, I would return here and hear you out.”
“Would that I could stay and await you. But I too must leave. There is much preparation I must attend to.”
“Oh.” It was all she said, for the significance of what he was saying became clear. She would never see him again.
Without willing it, emotion welled up within her. It choked her.
It was strange. The sensation of being let down was almost unbearable, and a part of her rebelled at the idea of never again being able to see or speak to this man. Certainly what they were doing was forbidden, but wasn’t a person allowed a secret now and again? It wasn’t as if she were considering something permanent, something that would align them when they shouldn’t be connected at all. She, more than anyone else, understood that if they were to create anything between them, it would be short and never to be repeated.
Was it too much to ask? Perhaps. After all, what did she expect from him? An undying exclamation of love?
Thank the Dear Lord that he hadn’t made such a claim.
Yet the sense of rejection was strong. To her credit, well-ingrained manners came to her rescue, allowing her to rise above such negativity. She smiled as she presented Black Eagle with her gloved hand. “I… Thank you for… I thank you.”
He took her hand, held it a moment, and as his dark eyes stared deeply into her own, he smiled at her. It was a crooked grin, yet so very endearing that it tugged at her heart. She wrenched her gaze away from his.
“Come, Sarah,” said Marisa as she spun around and presented Black Eagle with her back. “Let us go and see if there is anything I can do to appease my step-uncle.”
Marisa had no sooner spoken the words, than she was gone.
Black Eagle watched her departing figure. Perhaps he should have insisted on telling her that he would, indeed, have the pleasure of her company in the near future. But Black Eagle had been uncharacteristically tongue-tied. He was also very aroused.
Mayhap this was his defense. Had she stayed longer…
He sighed while his gaze followed her progress away from him. He could almost hear the blue silk of her dress rustle as her steps carried her closer and closer to the ballroom. Tendrils of her auburn hair swept over her shoulders, while pearls and decorative ribbons of blue fell down her back. A gentle breeze blew those ribbons backward, their movement seeming to accentuate her motion away from him.
He turned his glance elsewhere, forcing himself to listen to the crickets and locusts instead of to her footsteps. It would not do to become too besotted with her, he reminded himself, although perhaps this was a dubious point at present. Though he feared to admit it, he might very well have already lost his heart to her.
He shook his head. How was he going to stay away from her on this coming journey? He didn’t know. But he must. Besides his grandmother’s admonitions, he now carried a responsibility for his people. Yes, he would see her safely to her journey’s end, but no more than that. He would not fall in love with her. He simply would not.
Chapter Six
He was gone. She would never see him again.
Except for a chance meeting here and there, which given their two cultures was nearly impossible, she would never again have the pleasure of his company. The feeling of loss settling over her was an uncomfortable sensation at best.
Yet there was nothing to be done about it. She had known even as she had seduced the young man that there was no future in the flirtation. Mayhap that was the attraction. A moment’s affair. Indeed, it suited her.
As she and Sarah stepped toward the ballroom, Marisa silently thanked her friend for allowing her the time and space to compose herself, as well as to come to terms with the upset. But why was she upset?
She barely knew Black Eagle. Therefore, a few kisses should not a heartache make.
Yet she could little deny it.
She sighed. Such thoughts would never do. Indeed, she could almost hear the disapproving voices of tutors from her past, lecturing her on proper behavior. They would say, “Your guardian might be a distant and stern man, but because he has provided for your upbringing, you owe him your loyalty. ’Tis your duty, nay, your obligation to submit yourself to his will.”
She had never believed it. She had gone out of her way not to believe it. But her rebellion was quiet. No harsh words. She simply disobeyed, as often as possible.
Marisa frowned as she stepped from the veranda into the candlelit hall of the ballroom. The hum of the gaiety of the dance, the music and the violins were all lost to her as she glanced forward, seeking out her guardian.
It took little effort to find the man, since most people in attendance tonight catered to him. Across the room, her gaze caught on the disapproving frown of John Rathburn, and the condemnation written so abundantly upon his countenance sent a familiar spark of defiance rushing through her.
But she quelled it. After all, she might be a rebel, but she was not a common rebel.
She watched her guardian set down his wineglass. Watched, too, as he made to cross the room toward her. He was enraged, that much was evident, and he was going to have words with her. Sighing, Marisa prepared herself for the coming battle.
While it was true she did owe loyalty to her step-uncle for her upbringing, she could not forgive what she now knew about him. He had always been cold to her, but she had never considered that he could harbor such evil as to destroy an entire people. Nor could she forgive what he had done to Sarah.
As though Sarah were reading her thoughts, she murmured, “It is too bad your step-uncle feels he must dominate and control you. It is good that he does not realize what you know about him. If he did, I would worry about you.”
Marisa looked hurriedly away.
“One would think,” continued Sarah, “from the way he acts, that you were as much an indentured servant as I am.” Sarah paused, then, “The only difference is that in six years I will be free of him.”
Free? As though suddenly jerked awake from slumber, Marisa lifted her head, and her gaze came up to lock with that of her guardian. There was no reason she should not be free of him, even tonight.
“Sarah,” Marisa muttered softly. “Forgive me. If I fail to return before the party is ended, I shall meet you at the stables at first light, and we s
hall leave this place, perhaps forever.” Before Sarah could speak, Marisa picked up her skirts, spun around and fled out through the open doors of the veranda.
The swish of a skirt and the delicate hammering of slippers over the hard-packed footpath had Black Eagle realizing that someone was hastening toward him. He turned swiftly and watched as the vision of loveliness rushed toward him. To his shame, the warning of his grandmother, even his duty to his people, receded to the back of his memory, replaced by the here and now and a need to hold the beauty.
“Sir Eagle!” she called.
What was this? The beauty was deserting the party? Why? Was she in danger, as he feared?
He turned and stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. He opened his arms, and she ran headlong into them. He took hold of her and held her, simply held her.
“You have returned,” he whispered, stating the obvious.
“Yes. Do not let me go.”
“It is not in my thoughts to do so.”
“Take me somewhere else, somewhere private, and hurry. They may come after me.”
“They? Are you in peril?”
“I will tell you later. Please hurry.”
“Then come!” He dropped his arms from around her to encompass her hand in his own, and turning, he broke into a fast walk. “Can you keep up with me if I run?”
“I will try, but my shoes have a high heel, and this may slow us down.”
“Then we must leave the path and take to the ground, where it will be harder for others to follow. Come!” He began to run but kept his pace slower than what he would have done were he alone.
“Where are we going?” she called after him.
“Into the woods. Our trail will be harder to find there.”
“Yes.”
Under normal circumstances, Black Eagle would never have doubted his ability to outrun an opponent. However, the lady’s silken skirts were long, and he could hear the material catching on stickers and other brambles underfoot. Plus, her shoes were unfit for the tangles of the various grasses and bushes. As he jumped a branch blocking his path, she tripped over it and fell face forward.