53
stifled in her throat. The moon shone enough to let Blue Thunder see her eyes grow wide with fright and glitter like polished copper.
She struggled. It was useless and he enjoyed the rise and fall of her firm breasts, straining against the thin fabric of her dress. Yes, she would be his. His tiny baggage fought wildly when he dragged her from the security of the wagon train. A safe distance away, he gave a low shrill whistle. His faithful pinto, Night Rider, appeared out of the darkness. He was proud of his well-trained horse that never strayed far from him.
“Take me back, you dirty Indian! I showed you kindness and this is how you repay me. You…you overgrown ape!” she hissed. Blue Thunder raised a curious eyebrow. Well, at least she didn’t call him stupid. Now she knew who the stupid one was, he thought with much satisfaction
and ignored her ranting. He lifted his captive onto his horse and climbed behind her swiftly and then they were racing through the night. But there was one problem: Touching and sitting so close, with her derriere bouncing against his groin brought warmth and great arousal. He will love taking this beauty to his mat and joining with her. Yes, she will be a perfect slave. If only she didn’t talk so much, but then all white people did.
“I’m sorry Daphne,” she sobbed. “I let you down. Forgive me, little sister.”
Blue Thunder heard her sorrowful words and wondered if this Daphne was the little pregnant girl in the wagon; there was a striking resemblance. Forgetting his vow never to feel any remorse towards another white person, he rubbed his chin on the top of her head to feel her soft hair. He was glad his arrow had missed its target and prayed to his gods that the child didn’t lose the baby because of him. Once again he wondered why he should care. This woman bewitched him with some magical power, for he wasn’t behaving in his true character. He goaded Night Rider into a run, thinking that things would be different once he was back at his village. His only regret was the men he lost because of his stubbornness. He had witnessed his good friend, Eskaminzim fall and pain ripped through his heart. He had lost a childhood friend.
Also, he knew the remaining braves would be on their way to tell his father that they believed he was dead. Dasodaha would take this news with great sadness, and for that that he was truly sorry. But Apache ways were different from the white mans; they have lived with much sadness and pain that the chief of the clan would go on. Then his thoughts drifted to his young
54
brother. If he were killed, would Star Gazer be able to walk in his moccasins? It was a moot point, he was not dead. He prayed that his father wouldn’t be too angry when he returned home with a prisoner.
Melissa quaked with fear; she was his captive and she chided herself for being so stupid. Such irony! She emitted a self-loathing groan and fought him with all her strength but she might as well have been wrestling a bear. His arms were like a steel vice around her waist. The pressure on her mouth from his hand had caused her teeth to bruise her lips making her taste warm blood, forcing her to be quiet. When she was given the chance to scream, no one could have heard her.
Her jaw rattled from the hard ride and she bit her tongue a few times. Her body was stiff from fright and rage. By the time the horse was slowed to a trot, she was too angry to be frightened anymore. Inhaling deeply, Melissa brought her elbow back with all the power she could muster. The Indian brave only grunted. The damage inflicted was more on her than the Indian, for her arm hit what seemed like a wall of petrified wood. Frustrated to know it caused little or no discomfort, save a slight exhale of breath, fueled her temper. “Damn ape!”
The brave merely chuckled and the savage gently squeezed her soft nipple, making her gasp in surprise. Melissa pushed his hand away. “How dare you! Keep your filthy hands off me or... Ouch!” He did it again with more firmness until she got the idea that every time she whined and swore, she received a soft pinch. Never touched in this manner before, she was thoroughly disgusted by his vulgar advances. When her nipple grew taut it caused a tightening sensation in her groin area. She hated this man, yet the feel of his muscular chest on her back sent tingles up her spine. She had no name for that feeling; her emotions were at war with her body. Thoughts about her promise to her parents filtered through her confused brain; she was supposed to protect her sister. Tears slid down her cheeks, she couldn’t even protect herself. Confused, terror and desire attacked her and she let the silent tears fall.
55
FOURTEEN
They traveled far into the long, inky night. Melissa stayed awake so her rigid back wouldn’t touch his hard muscular chest. His nakedness unnerved her and by dawn her reward was an aching spine. Her head bobbed when she lapsed into moments of sleep only to awake startled. She had tried counting the stars but there were too many; after a while her vision blurred. Her shoulders slumped; it was becoming a familiar existence. And, blazes, her backside ached and her inner thighs burned from being chaffed. She groaned in agony and grumbled under her breath.
“I need to see to nature?” The embarrassing declaration scorched her cheeks.
The horse stopped and Melissa was in so much discomfort it didn’t dawn on her that he understood her request. He pointed to a bush and she wasted no time dismounting and scurrying behind it. When she came from around the bush, he smiled; his smile was annoying and beautiful and scary. In the moonlight, his perfect white teeth looked even whiter against his dark skin. Then a notion dawned on her making her wondered if he could have seen her. She recalled hearing a rumor, somewhere, that Indian’s could see in the dark. Blushing was becoming an all too common occurrence around this brave. Finally, the sun brightened the earth but not her mood, even the chirping of birds annoyed her.
She never felt so tired and every muscle ached to the limit. This time when he stopped she slid off the horse. The Indian opened a small hide bag that had been tied around the horse’s neck. He bit off a piece of dried meat and her captor extended his hand, offering her some food; she refused. Why should she eat his food when he spit her offering into her face?
Holding her chin high, she stared straight in his eyes. “I know you don’t understand, but I’m going to have my say.” When he came forward, she backed away a few steps. “You are an uncouth, ill-mannered man. Now I understand why they call you savages!”
He came closer. She moved but never lowered her gaze. His eyes were too dark to read
56
any emotion, but then she believed Indians didn’t have emotions. Melissa continued to call him any name she could think of, her eyes fixed on a small vein pulsating in his neck. Had she finally gotten a rise in him? She did, but it wasn’t the rise she expected. As he shortened the space between them, she put up her hands to ward him off.
“Don’t you touch me! You….” Her words were cut off quickly by his mouth on hers. So stunned, she froze. Wide eyed, Melissa stared into dark pools. When she finally regained some of her senses, she opened her mouth to protest. Big mistake, she realized too late. The brave took advantage of her slip and penetrated her mouth.
At first Melissa struggled. She truly did want him to stop because her head was spinning like a toy top. Then she didn’t want him to stop; the power of the kiss traveled down to her knees. Her legs became weak, her insides were full and alive and the catch in her heart stunned her. Without realizing it, she wrapped her arms around his neck when he lifted her off the ground.
Quickly, he broke off the kiss and she had not doubt that she was blushing remembering how her body made contact brushing against his swollen manhood. What had he done to her? Why did her emotions come alive to his touch? Melissa looked up at him in confusion and hurt and wondered why he was now rejecting her. Totally mortified, she quickly lowered her gaze, experiencing unknown sensations; desire coupled with frustration. Did he possess some power of witchcraft? Rejection was a stab in the heart. Then she wondered why she felt that way. He was the enemy! She fumed more at herself for allowing him to make her feel things she shouldn’t have; thi
ngs that were unbecoming a lady.
“Torture me by whipping me or tying me to an aunt hill, but touch me again and I’ll kick you in the groin!” she snarled as much to convince herself. She didn’t know which was worse, the desire or terror that flowed through her body. His expression was inscrutable.
When Blue Thunder’s tongue danced around hers like an Apache danced around a hot flame, his breath was on fire. All he wanted to do was to still her wagging jaw with a kiss, to stop this silly chatter. But when those beautiful, honey-colored eyes met his, his loins swelled with desire. No Indian maiden, not even a bold one, would look directly into a warrior’s eyes. When their lips met, she stiffened and he believed she had never been kissed like this before. This idea
57
made him happy. This woman was untouched, he was sure. She was indeed a prize worth the risk of his life.
When her small hands travel up his chest, his body respond in a tremor. No other maiden had affected him like this; surly she possessed magical powers. His passion surged and he wanted
her but…he could not chance being spotted. There were soldiers in the area, he needed sharp senses and she was slowly dulling his mind. With much regret, he unlaced her fingers from behind his neck and ignored her scaling remarks. They had wasted too much time and must find water; his deerskin pouch tied to Night Rider’s neck was almost empty. He had taken a couple of swigs last night without offering her any. Let her see what a parched throat was like.
They rode all day in the hot desert sun, stopping only to cut cactus, to squeeze a little moisture from its pulp. The woman grumbled and complained that it tasted strange but she greedily drank what she could. He believed her throat was as dry as her mouth and her lips began to crack; she let him know that she was miserable beyond belief. Her bonnet had been blown off her head during the hard ride last night and her fight to keep her back from touching his chest had waned. Now the sun was like a drug to her brain and he was sure that she gratefully welcomed the darkness for awhile because the stubborn woman relaxed into a deep sleep.
When they stopped Blue Thunder retrieved a knife from a small leather bag that was tied around his horse’s neck, along with the pouch he drank from. He cut off some of her dress and tied the material around her head. Fearing sunstroke, he covered her from the sun but the rays scorched her arms, shins and face, making painful blisters. The skin on her nose and under her eyes began to tighten and he knew it was probably stinging. Her face was covered with freckles and by nightfall, her pretty eyes were so swollen, she could only squint, making her skin look tighter than a snake’s spine. By the time they stopped to camp, she appeared tired, and in pain. To add to her agony, she had leaned over the horse with dry heaves.
Blue Thunder carried her from Night Rider, feeling some shame for not protecting her
fair complexion. He should have wrapped her limbs, not only her fair head. Laying her down on the ground, he winced when he saw her beautiful face blistered and red. He’d never forgive himself if he’d marred her beauty with his stubbornness. He decided to go in search of aloe leaves.
58
“Stay, Night Rider and guard the girl,” he instructed his faithful mount and trusted his pinto to do as asked. He would run until he found some of the healing plants; his reputation for being the swiftest buck in his tribe preceded him and could run fifty miles without stopping. As a youth he had defeated his own father, Dasodaha. He returned with his miracle plant finding the girl was still asleep. He patted the horse’s nose rewarding him with a handful of the precious water. He knew of a water hole and replenished the bag. He cut many leaves to release a clear, odorless sap that he applied generously to her face, arms and lower legs. He let some water trickle over her dry, cracked lips, remembering how soft they were. His captive moaned and licked her lips. He lifted her head and placed the water bag to her mouth. She blinked her swollen eyelids and gasped, but sipped the refreshing liquid.
“Not too much, you get belly ache, Honey Eyes.”
He eased her head down. “Sleep. Feel better after nap.”
Blue Thunder watched her slumber. Her dark eyelashes fanned her blotchy cheeks. She had the cutest nose, though he thought she raised it a little too high in the air all the time, especially when she spoke to him. If she were a turkey, she’d drown, he mused. Then he watched a small lizard scurry over a rock. The male creature swelled it orange neck to attract a female. Nature was an interesting thing and the mating of animals very intriguing. He realized he had let
his mind wander on a subject that was not in his best interest; his notions made his eyes study the shapely body near his feet.
Even at the wagon train when she was dressed in so much clothing, he saw her small waist and firm, small breasts. He envisioned her in a buckskin dress, which only added to his agony. He looked up at the sky and groaned; he needed sleep, but he would have to be on guard. Night Rider would warn him of any danger so he closed his eyes but he found even in his dreams, the young beautiful woman’s ripe body tempted him.
Later, when Melissa opened her sticky eyes, she did feel somewhat better. She hoped she was ugly enough that he’d stay away. Maybe she’d die; it would serve him right if she did. Then she remembered Daphne and she refused to give up. The burning sensation was not as bad, but her skin did feel tight.
59
“Honey Eyes feel better, soon”
Not in a million years, she thought to herself. She wanted to laugh; now he was concerned. If she were thinking straight she would have realized he had spoken broken English. She touched her face feeling a gooey substance. “What did you put on my face, savage?” she inquired through parched lips that pained her. Why the hell was she talking to him? He doesn't under...? Wait a minute! Before? Darn! After overcoming the shock, she realized he had definitely spoken English.
Oh, how she’d love to give him what for! Ohhh! She was steaming.
“My name is Blue Thunder, not savage!”
He helped her sit up but she slapped his hand away. “You’re lower than a snake’s belly!” He folded his arms across his massive chest, his dark eyes warning her that he had enough of her sharp tongue. Melissa didn’t care and opened her mouth but he put a long, tan finger against her lips.
“If you do not want to starve, I suggest white woman use mouth for better things than insults.”
What the hell did he mean by that? She didn’t want to think seriously about his threat. Besides, something smelled good; her stomach gnawed making her curious so she looked around him and saw the fire. Her pride be damned, she’d swallow it if he offered her some food.
“All right,” she conceded, for now and sat with a disgruntle huff on a rock. The brave handed her a piece of roasted meat. It was delicious and she quickly gobbled up. He gave her more, she devoured it all. “This is delicious meat,” she mumbled. “What is it?”
“Rattlesnake!”
“Humm.” She licked the juices from off her fingers. Rattlesnake?! Melissa put a hand over her mouth; she couldn’t lose the only nourishment she had in two days. She took deep breaths to control her queasy stomach. “Why you snake in the grass!” Her unintentional pun made the Indian laugh. It wasn’t a mean laugh, but it still grated on her nerves. Melissa lay down and closed her eyes, too weary to argue. She wouldn’t forget he made a fool of her once more. And let him try and kiss her again. She fell asleep with a painful smile hoping he would.
60
FIFTEEN
The next morning dawned bright and sunny. It was a day that could make her spirit sing, but Melissa’s anxiety wouldn’t allow it. Blue Thunder offered her dried buffalo meat and she accepted it. If she could eat snake, she could eat anything. What other treats did he carry in that bag?
“It is good you take meat and water, Honey Eyes.”
“My name is Melissa St Andrew! And, I’m not eating to please you,” she pouted, licking her lips and winced at the slight sting. “I like my hide too much. Since you decided to make my life miserable,
I’m hanging around to do the same to you.”
Blue Thunder shook his head at her and she marched past him with her proud but blistered chin held high. The Indian didn’t push his mount that morning and before leaving the valley, he gathered more aloe. He claimed that they made it to the foot of the mountains in twice the time it normally took him.
“We stop here to bathe,” ordered Blue Thunder. “Since yesterday, your odor offends me. Night is falling, and desert can get very cold when the sun goes down.”
Melissa opened her mouth to say a few choice things, but then snapped it shut. She’d gotten away earlier without punishment; she didn’t want to push her luck. It you wanted to call
his sweet lips punishment. Dammit to hell and back! Stop thinking like that! she scolded herself. What an insufferable man! And why did he have to be so good looking? And wear so little clothes. She argued back.
As sore as her eyes were, she didn’t miss the way his tight buckskins clung to his narrow hips. She nearly groaned out loud when at the sight of his rounded backside. It did something to her world; it went off kilter. She seethed inwardly at her disturbing thoughts and how something stirred in the pit of her stomach when he helped her off the horse. No mater how angry she was she simply could not ignore his strong hands banding her waist or the fact that the heat remained
61
long after he removed them. Her emotions in turmoil, she gave him her back as he tended to Night Rider.
Stink! Bah! What did he expect traveling in the desert for such a long time?
She kept that thought to herself, again, and continued to fume, then realized that he sweat very little and had no offensive odor. He didn’t smell like a white man who perspired. “Humph!” She kicked at a pebble. That didn’t matter, she told herself. No man should tell a lady she stinks. It would serve him right if she refused to bathe. Let him smell her all the way to his destination. Slowly, she let a smile creep over her face.
Blue Thunder Page 7