by Robin Gideon
"Tell me what you're thinking,” Blade said.
She suddenly found it uncomfortable to look into his dark, fathomless eyes. “Moon needed you last night. She said I was being selfish by keeping you all to myself. I ... I purposely invited her to join us so that you could pleasure her, but you never penetrated her, did you? You pleasured her with that devilish tongue of yours, and you had me pleasure her with mine ... but you didn't really make love to her, did you? Not like you did to me.” She cleared her throat nervously. “She's the one who is staying. She's part of your tribe ... your family ... Shouldn't she..."
Blade sighed wearily. “Yes, I know my obligations are to her.” He sighed again. “You've got to understand that your customs and ours are not at all alike."
Samantha's lifted her gaze. “What's it like to be in such demand as a lover? What's it like knowing you can have practically any woman you want, whenever you want her?"
"It's not really like that."
"I suspect it is.” Samantha felt a nebulous emotion welling up inside her, one she couldn't identify. She was as susceptible to Blade's easy charm as all the other women within the sphere of his influence. “When I'm gone,” she continued, but then her throat tightened, cutting off her words.
"Let's not talk about that now."
"When I'm gone,” she said, forcing herself to say the critical words, “will you take Moon as your wife? She needs a husband, and it is so obvious that she's completely smitten with you."
"It's my obligation to see that she has food and shelter, but that doesn't mean I'm going to take her as my wife."
"With your hunting skills, and your sexual skills, you could easily have three or four wives.” Her tone had suddenly become colored with a kind of peevish petulance, but she seemed powerless to stop it. “You could have four or five wives, now that I think of it. Just think, every night could be a veritable orgy for you."
"It's not like that."
"Yes, it is. It's exactly like that. You just won't admit it.” Samantha stood abruptly. Night would descend over the land in just minutes. “Come take a walk with me."
Blade got to his feet, let Sheriff Burns know he was taking a short walk, then returned to Samantha. He held his rifle in the crook of his right arm and the Colt was in the holster at his left hip. She could tell from his posture and the ease with which he held the weapons that—if circumstances warranted it—he could be a savagely dangerous man. She understood why the Northern Comanche had chosen him to be their war chief and why young men would follow him into battle. He exuded confidence without saying a word, and in doing so, he inspired confidence in others.
They walked in silence, moving away from the camp. When Samantha's hand bumped Blade's, he slipped his fingers around her hand and she was nearly brought to tears. It felt so natural to be holding hands with Blade, but she couldn't help but wonder how much she'd miss that touch when she was in town once again, an unmarried schoolmarm that nobody would ever believe could be swept away by an ungovernable passion.
"It's been a while since I've been in this territory,” Blade said quietly, distracting Samantha from her troubling thoughts. With his rifle, he pointed to a stream perhaps a hundred yards away, visible with the moonlight shining off its slowly moving surface. “Three years ago we got into quite a skirmish with a Kiowa war party right near that bend in the stream. We ended up with two of my men wounded.” His lips pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head. “I hate it whenever my men get hurt."
"What happened to the Kiowa war party?” Samantha asked, though she wasn't at all certain she wanted an answer.
"We killed nine the first day. They retreated, then attacked again in the morning.” His voice was distant as he recalled the battle. “They lost two or three more before just riding away and leaving us alone."
Blade shrugged his powerful shoulders and combed his fingers though his hair. She could see, then, the burden of leadership he carried with him always. He was more than just a warrior; Broken Blade saw the entire Northern Comanche as his personal family, and as such, he was responsible for them. She was beginning to understand the totality of this emotion, and the more of it she understood, the greater her respect for Blade.
"You worry about your people all the time, don't you?” she asked.
A flashing grin displayed startling white teeth. “Not all the time. Sometimes I worry about you."
He eased his hand around the back of Samantha's neck. For several seconds, their gazes locked and held, then Blade slowly bent toward her. But before his lips reached hers, he stood upright again.
"What's wrong?” She was always in the mood to receive Blade's kisses.
"You're already sore,” Blade explained. “I don't want to compound my guilt."
"You've saved my life, taught me passion, and have never, ever done anything to me to feel guilty about. So give me that kiss you just shied away from, or I really will feel poorly treated."
He kissed her then, and her first thought was that she shouldn't succumb so thoroughly and so quickly to a simple kiss. Except no kiss from Blade could be considered either simple or harmless, and her body, though tender from sexual excess of the previous evening, instantly warmed to the possibility of his passion.
"Stop this now,” Blade said when that kiss finally ended. “You told me yourself that you're sore."
Samantha eased her hand beneath the front flap of Blade's breechclout. Beneath the soft leather, his burgeoning shaft jumped. When she squeezed, he uttered a soft groan of pleasure, and his cock instantly lengthened.
"Stop it.” There was equivocation in his tone.
"That's what your mouth is saying to me, but it isn't what your body's saying ... or wanting.” She squeezed again, and this time there could be no denying he was gaining a fierce erection. “I may have overindulged, but you obviously haven't had enough."
Samantha was feeling more confident in her sexuality than she'd ever dreamed possible. She began tugging at the buckle to his gun belt with hands that trembled from excitement but not fear. “Help me, Blade."
"You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do. I'll go crazy if I don't."
Blade unbuckled his belt, then untied the braided sash holding up his breechclout. The buckskin fell to the ground between his feet, and the length of his magnificent cock swung out toward her. Although not yet fully aroused, it was already impressive in stature.
"Has anyone ever told you that you've got a beautiful cock?” Samantha asked as she sank to her knees. She held him in both hands, angling her head back on her shoulders to look up into his face. “I'm sure women have, so please don't answer that last question."
Blade chuckled at Samantha's sauciness until she eased her lips over the crown of his erection and put her tongue in motion against the underside. As she began nodding to and fro, she looked at the man she adored.
In his buckskin shirt and leggings, but without his breechclout, only his groin was exposed. He seemed to her then to be the personification of untamed manliness, a warrior utterly dangerous and completely exciting. She moaned to let Blade know that she loved being on her knees before him. She was responsible for his flaring erection, and knowing she had created such a response from a man as beautiful to the eyes as Blade made her confidence soar and her clitoris start to tingle.
Samantha slipped a hand inside her dress. Touching her delicate labia, she found she was already wet, and though better judgment suggested she be satisfied with selflessly giving satisfaction to Blade, his allure was such that she needed to feel him inside her.
Leaning back and releasing him from her oral embrace, she looked up at him. She offered a soft smile as she sat back, kicked her legs out in the grass, and raised the front skirt of her doeskin dress.
"Make love to me, Blade,” she whispered. “Not for too long ... but I've got to feel you inside me."
Blade argued that he shouldn't, but he seemed as incapable of resisting her as she was of resisting him. And though
it did, in fact, hurt to accept his dimensions into her tender pussy, it was worth it, though, when the white hot shards of her orgasm struck like lightning. Her satisfaction was complete when she heard his growl of pleasure as he released his semen deep inside her.
Afterward, Blade was resting his weight on his elbows as Samantha smoothed his hair out of his eyes. He was still atop her, their bodies joined physically in the most intimate way possible.
"You're mine,” he whispered. He dipped his head down and brushed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “And we've got to find a husband for Moon Will Shine."
Samantha's heart skipped a beat. Or three. Not daring to trust her own senses, she queried, “Pardon?"
"Maybe I'm getting the order all mixed up, but I want a husband for Moon because I want you as my bride."
Hot tears formed in her eyes, but she refused to shed them. “Are you asking me to marry you?"
"Yes. Badly, but yes.” He kissed her forehead. “Will you marry me?"
"Only me. No other wives?"
"Only you. No other wives.” Blade's expression was stone serious.
She didn't want the tears to flow, but they wouldn't be checked.
Blade groaned. “And now I've made you cry."
"Tears of joy.” She wiped the tears away. “Yes, I want to marry you. I don't know what customs you follow to get married, and I don't care. So long as I'm your only wife, I don't care about anything else."
* * * *
They found Dog and his men the next day. Samantha, peering through powerful field glasses, confirmed their identities as the men who had attacked the train. As the posse got ready to attack the larger force, Blade explained to Samantha that she had to stay far from the battlefield. When she resisted, he said that “no wife of mine it going into battle, so don't argue with me."
She would have argued, but the word ‘wife’ sounded so magnificent that she was left speechless.
While Samantha could not see the gunfight that followed less than an hour later, she could hear it. Each new volley of gunfire made her heart seize up. She prayed to God for the safety of the man who would be her husband. Then, not quite certain of Blade's spirituality, she prayed to any gods who would listen and might protect the man she loved.
Dog and his men knew that if they were ever captured, they'd be tried in a court of law and hung. They had nothing to lose by fighting to the bitter end, and that's exactly what they did. To a man, they were buried in that prairie. Sheriff Burns's posse lost two men, and four more were wounded. Blade had been bloodied when a bullet grazed his thigh, and though the wound had caused the loss of quite a bit of blood, it was still only superficial, though Samantha tended to him as though he was sitting on death's door.
* * * *
The snow was falling when Samantha's water broke three weeks before her due date. She was in a tepee, giving grammar lessons to Northern Comanche children. The tribal elders all agreed that she was a wonderful teacher, and that her influence in calming Broken Blade's profligate ways was a blessing from the spirits.
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About the author...
Prior to turning her talents to epublishing, Robin Gideon had a dozen historical romances published through Zebra Books. Her novel “Cheyenne Desire” was named 3rd Best All-time by Amazon.com for Sexy Romances, and given 5 stars out of 5. She was the featured author of the nationally syndicated TV show CBS Sunday Morning in 2006 for her historical romance “Viking Ecstasy."
Visit Robin at
www.robingideon.com.
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Also available
Improper Nights
by
Leslie Dicken
When Lenora Blakely learns she must marry a man more than twice her age to pay off her father's debts, she doesn't expect his nephew to make her weak at the knees with a brief stroke of his tongue to her palm. Soon, Lord Blackford's flirtations provide her with a means to experience the pleasure of a lover's touch before she marries. But what begins as a tempting challenge quickly leads to a series of improper nights filled with overwhelming passion. As the time for her wedding draws near, will Lenora be able to follow through on her promised duty?
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Chapter One
Lenora Blakely stared at the paper in her hand. It was true. All that Lord Cavanaugh said was true. With her father gone, the debts not repaid, she was forced to marry the earl. A man more than twice her age.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. It all made sense now. Why her father kept her home from the London Seasons after her first one. Why he forced an annulment the day after she'd run off to Gretna Green to wed William.
A shuffle of papers drew her attention. Lord Cavanaugh stood from behind his desk. His dark eyes measured her. “I know about the wedding and annulment. It matters not to me."
So she could not dissuade him with her unpleasant past. And yet, what other alternative was there to pay off her father's debt? Why would the earl pay for the land when it was owed to him? All he needed to do was marry his debtor's daughter and her property became her husband's.
Lenora bit her lip. Her one and only love affair was crushed before it truly began. And now she was forced to live the rest of her life with a man she barely knew.
"I'll give you a week,” he said, taking the paper her father had signed from her hands. “Gather your belongings, choose a wedding dress if you like. Then this home will be yours as well."
She glanced at the tall bookcases, all adorned with leather-bound books. Saybrooke manor was large, fully staffed, intricate and ornate. While her own home was nothing paltry, her father's debts had taken away much of the grandeur.
Still, Lenora never wanted to marry the wealthiest member of the ton. She just wanted to feel loved. Cherished. Not a payment. Not a brood mare. Yet, she would submit to her duty.
"I shall make myself ready for next week, my lord."
He smiled. “It will be a grand party."
She nodded. Lord Cavanaugh wasn't an unpleasant looking man. He wasn't obscene or grotesque in any sense. His graying temples and slight roundness were common indicators of a man in the second part of his life. But she, at twenty, was less than half his age.
Lenora left the study to find a crowd gathering at the front door. A visitor had arrived, one they knew well obviously as attentions were solely focused on this man.
Young, perhaps in his late twenties, the visitor stood taller than his welcomers. His square jaw and strong nose were perfect matches to the intense pair of vibrant blue eyes turning toward her.
"My nephew,” Lord Cavanaugh whispered at her side. “His visit was planned months ago, but now it appears he will be here to share in our vows."
Lenora lifted her chin but found she could not reply. The stranger's gaze had not left hers. She was trapped under his predatory spell as when a hunter ensnared its prey. Her pulse drew to a brisk rhythm, dampening her palms, weakening her knees.
"Come.” Lord Cavanaugh tugged at her elbow, and she stepped forward like a dog on a lead. She hoped to be directed out the door and into her carriage, but instead, she was led to the stranger. “May I present Miss Blakely?"
She stepped forward, but his predatory gaze would not let go. Lenora gasped. Her clothes felt instantly too tight, even suffocating. Her mouth watered, forcing her lips to part. A hum throbbed deep in her core.
"Miss Blakely, this is Lord Blackford, my nephew."
A large hand captured hers and lifted it to his mouth. Full, sensual lips brushed her outer wrist, sending shivers racing to her toes. But instead of quitting the gesture after the proper amount of time, his silky tongue slid discreetly across her skin. Her eyelids drifted partially closed, as if that tongue swept across her aching nipples.
With a whimper, Lenora pulled her hand away.
Like a haughty rake, his lip curled. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Blakely. Will you be staying long?"
Lord Cavana
ugh guided her to the front door. “After next week, she will be here permanently. She is to be my bride."
Lenora glanced over her shoulder for a sign of regret or surprise on Lord Blackford's face but saw nothing except a wider smile. “Until next week then."
He turned and led the crowd through the long hallway.
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