Black Eagle

by Karen Kay

  Luckily, her skirts buffered her fall, and though he was certain she was unhurt, he ran to her and bent toward her. “Forgive me. I thought the branch was low enough to cross easily. Are you injured?”

  “No, but I cannot run as fast as you.”

  “Then if you will permit me.” He reached his arms around her. “I will carry you.”

  She didn’t object. Truth be told, when he stood, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he found himself delighting in their soft feel against him.

  “Are we to camp here in the woods, then?” she asked.

  “Nyoh. Yes.”

  “Have you considered that if they follow, they might find us?”

  “We will remain in the woods, but in a place I doubt they will see.”

  “Truly? There is such a place? Even if they look for us far and wide?”

  “Even then.”

  “Yes. Oh, please do hurry there.”

  He didn’t really need to be told. Though he little understood what menace drove her, he felt her urgency.

  As he ran, he enfolded her more securely in his arms, and she was so close he could sense the fear in her. Alas, every cell in her body communicated it.

  Had someone threatened her? If so, whoever it was would have to deal with him.

  As he hurried forward, his feet found their pace and his exertion practically lifted them both off the earth. The wind against them, however, had her skirts flying high, obstructing his vision, but she grasped hold of her petticoats and folded them in close to her. Then she turned her cheek in toward him, hiding her face against his chest.

  His very being soared. It was as though she were saying with her body that she placed herself completely in his trust. It made him feel a little taller, a little bigger, a little stronger.

  As he ran, his senses leapt into full awareness, and he could practically taste the odor of her cologne. He was also more than conscious of the enticing scent of the delicate femininity of her, a heady seduction that her unnatural perfume could little hide. At first whiff, pure male desire soared within him, but he would not act on it. Not now. He had one duty at present and that was to find them a safe spot.

  His direction carried him farther and farther within the denser and deeper part of the forest, one that the white man seldom entered. And there, far ahead of him, loomed his destination. It was the tree. Perhaps the only one of its kind, it was an ancient and grand oak tree.

  Measuring perhaps six to seven feet across, and with its main trunk standing about ten feet in height, it had at one point in its history been struck by lightning. And what had failed to kill the tree had become its strength.

  The hit had been to the center of the tree’s main trunk. It had left an open scar in the center, which over time had developed into a crater about four to five feet in diameter. The hole in the tree could be seen from above, if one were to climb high up onto the tree’s branches. But it could be hard to detect from the ground.

  He shot toward it, splashing through the shallow stream and carrying his prize to the tree, and without explaining why, he lifted the beauty up as high as he could hold her. But the lowest branch was still a little beyond what he could reach.

  He said, “Can you scramble up and sit on one of the tree’s low branches?”

  “Yes, I am certain I can. But why? I’m afraid anyone coming into the woods would be able to see me there.”

  “Yes, that is true. But there is a reason for you to do so. I will lift you up and push you while you grab hold of the branch.”

  Without further objections, she did so. Within minutes, she was seated on one of the tree’s lowest branches, and he climbed up to sit beside her.

  “Do we make our way to the top, then?” she asked.

  “Neh. No.”

  “But we can be very easily seen.”

  “It is true. But then, perhaps you should not look down.”

  She frowned. “Do not look down?”

  He nodded. “Beside you. Do not look down.”

  She glanced all around, looking toward the ground, out into the distance, above her, then down again. But still, she didn’t see what was most important to observe. “I fear that I little know what it is I’m supposed to see.”

  “There.” He pointed toward the gaping hole in the tree’s trunk. When she still didn’t see it, he rose and maneuvered himself until he was standing beside the cavity, and when she chanced to look away from him, he jumped down.

  It didn’t take long before she missed him. “Sir Eagle?”

  “I am here,” he answered.

  “Where?” She was scooting on the branch toward the sound of his voice. “Oh,” she murmured barely, before she fell headfirst into the hole.

  He caught her, although the motion of her fall pushed him back against the “wall” of the tree. But he held her fast, and gradually, he lowered her to the ground. “Can you stand?” he asked.

  “I think so. Is the ground uneven?”

  “A little.”

  “And is it filled with dirt and debris?”

  “Perhaps. But weather, time and perhaps an animal or two has smoothed the ground a little.” He lowered her, letting her feet touch the solidness of the tree’s cavity.

  She seemed to find her footing easily enough, and stood on her own. “However did you find this tree? I have lived on this estate all my life and have never been aware of it.”

  “That is to be regretted. Perhaps because the white man is not as comfortable in the forest as the Mohawk, he seldom comes here. That might explain it, because it was not a task to discover it. There were signs pointing to it. They only needed to be followed.”

  “I am certainly glad you were able to see those signs, then.”

  From somewhere close to her feet, an animal scurried past her, and startled, she shrieked. He immediately took advantage and pulled her into his arms.

  “What was that?”

  He chuckled. “I believe it was a squirrel.” Addressing the animal, he said, “You will have your home back tomorrow, friend squirrel.”

  “Are there other animals here besides squirrels?”

  “There might have been once, but if there were, I think they are gone now.”

  “Good.” Her fear had abated, yet she made no move to leave his embrace. Indeed, she slipped her arms around his neck.

  In response, he quietly rejoiced. After a time, he said, “Tell me, what is this all about? To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  Only a sliver of moonlight filtered into their sanctum from above them. Yet it was enough light so he could see her as well as the space around them. There was not much to their temporary haven. It was crude, smelled musty and woodsy all at the same time, yet he thought he could have willingly stayed here with her in his arms for his entire life, were it not for the necessity to live with others, and of accomplishing his duty to his tribe.

  She didn’t answer him at once. Instead, she backed up slightly within his arms and turned her face up toward his. The moonlight caught and captured her features within its misty beams, accentuating the curves of her face. That she glowed with her exertions made her all the more desirable, and he thought he might quietly go out of his mind with the lovely picture she presented him.

  Her reddish-brown hair had come undone from its confines, and cascades of curls had fallen to her shoulders, presenting her for a moment with a little-girl appeal. As her gaze came up to lock with his, she said, “I have returned to you against my step-uncle’s will because I cannot let you go away from me without letting you know that I…” She stopped.

  “That you…?” he asked, his tone encouraging. One of his hands nudged her head back against his breast, and he rested his chin against the top of her head, where the balmy fragrance of her hair teased at his nostrils. Desire, pure and carnal, washed through him, causing hi
s blood to pool in the center of his body. But he ignored the stiffening of his member, since it was an inevitable result. When she didn’t continue speaking, he said, “What I fail to understand is what it is that you fear.”

  “I little know myself. My step-uncle is different tonight. Though he has always been a coldhearted man as concerns me, there was an aspect about him tonight that caused me to be uneasy, and I fear I have perhaps opened my heart to him too much.” She hesitated. “I little understand it. But maybe the problem is of my own making. If I hadn’t left the party to engage in conversation with you, his disapproval would be less, I think.”

  He nodded. “It is to be expected since our two cultures understand so little about each other.”

  “Yes. And yet I am glad I defied his authority openly, and that I left to talk to you.”

  “I, too, am happy about this.” As he spoke, his hands began an exploration of her back.

  “If you must know, I came back to you to tell you that I will never see you again after this night, and before I go away—before you go away—I would like to know what… I would like to know…” Again she stopped.

  Perhaps he could have taken this moment to ease her concern, since they would clearly be in one another’s company in the future. But he was curious as to what was on her mind. So he waited.

  In due time, she continued, “…what it’s like to… If you be willing, that is…”

  He frowned and backed away from her slightly so he might look down into her eyes. “Willing? To do what?”

  “Can you not venture a guess at my meaning?”

  Half teasing, he asked, “Have you returned so that we may engage in more kissing?”

  “I have, indeed, done precisely that. Perhaps more too.”

  He didn’t comment. He couldn’t. His heart seemed to be lodged in his throat.

  She said, “Tonight is the first occasion where I have had the pleasure of being kissed. And I find that I like the experience very much. But there is more to be accomplished, I think.”

  “Weh-yoh, there is more.”

  “I suppose if I were to put it to words, I would have to say that I would like to be loved.”

  Had he understood her correctly? Was she really admitting what he thought she might be? His body was already prepared for her, but perhaps not so his mind.

  Therefore, he would be certain, and he murmured, “I admire you already, and I have probably done so since the first time my eyes beheld you. Never has a heart sung so gladly as mine did when I first looked upon you.”

  “No, I fear you do not understand me completely. This time tonight that we spend with one another is all that we will ever have—”

  “I must correct you in that idea, because—”

  “Please, let me finish,” she interrupted. “Our time together is short, tonight only I fear, and I find myself unable to let you go without…”

  He waited.

  “Sir Eagle, I want you to make love to me.” She said it in a rush. “Perhaps I wish this as an act of defiance against my step-uncle. Pray, do not think by admitting this that I take away your influence upon me. I fear that I little know why I have chosen to do this. I can only say that it feels right, that I seem to be unable to leave you this night without coming to know what it might be like to love and to be loved. Perhaps I may never have this opportunity again. If I use you for this purpose, please forgive me.”

  “There is no need for me to forgive you. You do nothing wrong. But there is a truth about me that you should know before you do this deed.”

  “I do not care—”

  “No, hear me out before you speak further. Know that I can never marry you. It is in my heart to make love to you, but never could we be man and wife. To do so would betray my tribe and my family.”

  “Your family? Are you married to another, then?”

  “No. When I say family, I speak of my grandmother. It is she who raised me.”

  “Your grandmother? But I don’t even know your grandmother. How could she be against me?”

  “It is not you personally. She has cautioned me against marriage to any outsider, for to do so is an act of a traitor to his people.”

  “Oh.” She looked away from him. “Perhaps her advice is wise. Perhaps not. But you see, it has no bearing on what we might do, because we are agreed on one particular, which is that I will never marry. Not you, not anyone.”

  “No one? But you are a beautiful woman. Surely—”

  “Never. Maybe it is an act of defiance against those who might seek to control me, but it is a course I decided upon long ago. And I will be true to myself on this. I will never marry.”

  He breathed in deeply. “Then all you wish is to engage in a night of love?”

  She spoke not a word but fell in toward him instead. It was her silent consent.

  He needed no further proof, and while his heartbeat hammered, he whispered, “A man would be foolish, indeed, if when presented with a gift as precious as what you offer me, he would question it too thoroughly.”

  She whimpered slightly.

  “Then come,” he said, “let us make ourselves as comfortable as possible.”

  As the night air took on an atmosphere of softness and security, he turned her round and pressed her back against the sturdy “wall” of the tree.

  “Is it safe here?” she asked in a voice no louder than a murmur.

  “I believe it is, and although this is neither the most comfortable nor most romantic setting, the white man seldom comes this far into the forest.”

  “Pray, I think you misunderstand me. I mean is the tree strong enough to hold us if we should be too…active?” She paused, while his heart quietly sang.

  His voice, he feared, trembled with unspoken emotion, as he said, “There is none so strong as the mighty oak. Her roots grow deeply in the earth, for her will to survive is great. She is solid against the elements and will protect us.”

  He sensed more than he could see that her gaze at him was wistful, urgent and sensuous. It was this last that caused him much trouble with logical thinking, he feared. Now that they had arrived at a degree of some safety, and he knew with certainty what was demanded of him, his body reacted in the age-old language of love.

  Pressing her up against the tree, he commenced to kiss her, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth. She swayed in his arms, and he went quietly out of his mind. He pulled up her dress and pushed her up a little higher, his arms holding her. He whispered, “Have you ever been loved by a man?”

  “Never, but please do not let that stop you. I want…this.”

  He groaned. “I too. I too. Come, wrap your legs around me.”

  She obeyed as if only in this way could she ease the need within her. He kissed her lips, her face, her throat; all the while he held her above him.

  “Oh, please,” she urged, as she leaned her head back, opening herself up to his kisses. “Hurry. Please.”

  “Hold tightly to me, for this will hurt at first. I am sorry, but it cannot be helped this, your first time.”

  “Hurt? How can something so exciting hurt?”

  “I fear it cannot be helped. And I would be less a human being if I did not warn you.”

  “I… Thank you, I think.”

  He reached under her skirts to discover that pure femininity awaited him. There was no barrier of clothing to bar his access to her. He kissed her urgently, his tongue playing with her as he trailed his lips down over her cheeks, her eyes, her ears. As he kissed her and she sighed, he gradually made himself a part of her, there at the junction of her legs.

  But he could only go so far; he knew it hurt her. He stopped, he waited, and he said, “We will proceed only when you are ready. Know, however, that though it would be hard on me, I would tell you again that there is no need for you to go further into the deed if you have
changed your mind.”

  “Sir Eagle, it is not in my nature to stop when I have committed myself to a course. Please, make love to me.”

  He swallowed hard, wondering what he had done so right of late that he should deserve this little bit of paradise. At her acquiescence, he became more fully a part of her, continuing to halt for a moment with each thrust. Then it happened, and he felt her protective sheath surrender to him.

  Though his spirits soared, he was well aware of the hurt she was sustaining, and after another moment’s pause, he breathed, “There is no going back now. But the worst is over. When you are able, try to move against me. After the first few attempts, it may yet feel good to you.”

  Dutifully, she obeyed, and its effect on him was more than he would have thought it would ever be. Indeed, as her hips moved over him, he quietly went out of his mind.

  Taking her lips with his own, he tasted her, pushing his tongue into her mouth as urgently as if he would make love to her in this way alone. As he kissed her, he thrust his manhood into her sheath more urgently, then he retreated, repeating the motion over and over. And when she sighed, he sighed with her.

  The rhythm began in earnest—thrust, withdraw, thrust, withdraw. She tightened her inner muscles against him, and it was all he could do to hold back his seed and allow her some measure of pleasure.

  “Do you feel anything but pain?” he whispered urgently.

  “Oh, yes.” She whimpered a little.

  He sighed, “I am thankful.”

  Her breathing was erratic, and when she strained against him at the zenith of her exertion, he gave to her exactly what he knew she craved. His seed burst from him, and her cries of exaltation were caught by his lips. Over and over the pleasure washed through him until at last he stood quietly against her, his arms as well as his thighs holding her up.

  He could barely move, was still very much joined with her, when the feeling of rightness swept over him. As the scent of their lovemaking became heavy on the air, it alone seemed to act as an aphrodisiac. Indeed, instead of softening and becoming less, he found himself hardening, ready to continue.