Longing to ask him to hold her as he had done for so many nights, Molly closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax. That fatigue from the journey and from her pregnancy were such that she soon drifted into sleep.
Hawk added another log to the fire and watched as the hungry flame took hold. A cold breeze nuzzled its way down the open neck of his shirt causing him to search through his gear to unearth his coat. Shrugging his way into the deerhide garment, he walked quietly over to Molly.
Pulling the quilt up around her ears to protect her from the chill, Hawk studied her sleeping features. It was not the first time he’d watched her as she slept, but he took pleasure in repeating the experience.
In sleep her face was almost plain, losing its familiar animation and sparkle. With her hand tucked under her cheek and her lips pursed in a pout, she had the appearance of a small child.
He thought of the child she carried. He sincerely hoped it was a male, knowing that he didn’t stand a chance if the babe was a girl who resembled her mother. He would spoil her unmercifully — her slightest hurt, real or imagined, bringing him to his knees.
He could deal easier with a boy, teaching the child to hunt and track, to face life squarely.
His thoughts sobered as he considered Molly raising the child by herself. Perhaps it would be easier for her to raise a daughter than a son. A boy needed a man, a father, that he could emulate. Of course Bear and Kaleb could provide a measure of that need, but that wasn’t the same as having a father.
Hawk fully intended to take Molly to Bear and Linsey, to be sure that she was settled in, and then he would leave. He planned to return at least once a year to be sure she needed nothing, but he knew that she would be safe and well provided for by his foster parents.
But would the child suffer for the lack of attention from the only man he would know as father? Would Molly grow to despise him for not being a husband? Would she ever understand that it was the only way he could protect her from the bitterness and fear his Indian heritage inspired in total strangers? Or would she think that selfishness motivated his actions?
Hawk thought of years far into the future when her warm honey eyes would look at him with loathing. Would she grow old and embittered by the way of life he would force upon her? W ould the child be enough to help her overcome the loneliness of long winter nights, the big cold bed meant to be shared with the warmth of a husband?
He remembered the secret smiles, the yearning looks exchanged by Bear and Linsey. Would Molly long for a mate to share the quiet moments, to understand her thoughts with only a look? Would she cry for someone to hold her when she was^ick? To laugh with her? To share the good times, and bad, that were part of everyday life?
Would she grow to hate him for not being there when she needed the tenderness a woman expects from her husband?
Could he endure her hate?
As if sensing his thoughts in her sleep, Molly moved restlessly beneath the quilt. Hawk tucked several loose strands of hair behind her ear and tenderly stroked the velvety cheek. Unconsciously, he began to chant the wordless melody and watched as it soothed her back into a deeper sleep.
He wondered what she would think of the pounding rhythm of the drums his people used — or the eerie, haunting sound of the wooden flute as it drifted on the night wind. Would she find them repulsive, so strange to her that they sounded threatening?
Or would the seductive beat, so reminiscent of fevered blood pounding through an erotically alive body, reach deeply inside her to the hidden sensuality he suspected lingered there. Would it mesmerize her to the point that she would let her body sway to the captivating rhythm?
He had heard the fiddle and banjo of her people. He had listened to the melodies of the pianoforte and the violins. There was nothing in her past that even remotely resembled the instruments used in the ceremonies of his people.
Only after the full moon had risen late into the night did he stop his song. He rose from beside his sleeping wife and walked downriver from the falls. When he was sure that the time was right, Hawk returned to the camp and knelt beside her.
“Molly?” he called softly. “Wake up, ain jel ee.”
“Humm? Whatsit?”
Hawk smiled at her murmured response. “It’s time for your surprise.”
“Later … sleep … “
“Later will be too late, you have to see it now.”
When it began to appear that she would sleep through his surprise, Hawk picked her up, careful to keep the quilt around her so that she wouldn’t become chilled.
Aware of being carried, but too comfortable to be concerned, Molly snuggled her head into Hawk’s shoulder. With the supreme confidence of someone who trusts, she didn’t worry about his destination or his reason. She simply enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms.
Hawk stopped on the rocky slab just below the falls. Careful not to dislodge the precious burden in his arms, he sat down with her cradled on his lap.
“Open your eyes, Molly.”
“They are,” she muttered.
“You’re going to miss it and if you don’t see it you’ll never believe it’s real.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pest?” she asked as she peeked from beneath lowered lids.
“Look.” Hawk turned slightly so that Molly was facing the waterfall. He waited for her response, smiling when she jerked away from him.
“It’s a rainbow! At night!” she said in surprise.
“Actually, it’s a moonbow,” Hawk informed her. “It only happens on clear nights when the moon is full.”
The fully formed rainbow hung mysteriously above the falls, its ends disappearing into the mists.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered reverently.
“My people have long considered this waterfall to be a holy place, a place to worship Manitou and to thank Mother Earth for the greatness of her blessings.”
Molly leaned back against Hawk and he carefully tucked the blanket around her shoulders. They sat in quiet contentment and watched the moonbow until it disappeared as the moon moved below the surrounding hills.
Turning her head slightly, Molly smiled at him. “Thank you, that was something to remember. If I told people about this, nobody would believe me.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” Lost in the softness glowing in her eyes, Hawk lowered his mouth to hers.
Surprised by the sudden contact of his lips on hers, Molly sighed with pleasure. The kiss was as soft as the mist rising above the falls, a gentle touch slowly igniting the fires burning just beneath the surface.
Feeling her response, Hawk deepened the kiss. Molly willingly opened her mouth to his invading tongue, struggling to free a hand from the cocooning folds of the quilt.
Misunderstanding her struggle as a sign of her disgust with his kiss, Hawk raised his mouth from hers. With an effortless movement that disguised the strength necessary to accomplish it, he stood with her in his arms.
“Time for bed, little one,” he said in a husky whisper.
“Hawk?” Her voice was rich with bewilderment.
“I apologize for the kiss, Molly,” Hawk replied as he carried her back to camp.
“I don’t want an apology!”
“Nonetheless, you deserve one.” He lowered her back onto the bed. “I realize that a lady demands certain consideration from her husband and I was negligent in my treatment of you.”
Molly freed a hand from the quilt and grabbed Hawk’s shirt as he attempted to rise.
“What are you talking about? What considerations?”
Sitting down beside her, Hawk freed his shirt from her grasp and raised her hand to his lips. He placed soft reverent kisses on her palm before tucking it back beneath the quilt.
“Hawk, don’t you want to kiss me?”
“Of course I do, Molly.” He moved restlessly, as if uncomfortable with the discussion. “I have tried very hard not to press you for the rights of a husband. I am fully aware that you are a lady and I know
that certain parts of a marriage are distasteful to you.”
“What?” Molly interrupted in amazement. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
Hawk looked past her, into the darkness. “I have always known that ladies look upon the marriage bed as a necessity they must bear. It is not my intention to force myself on you any more often than I must, but Molly, please understand that I need … ah, I want … ah, hell,” he muttered to a halt.
Not knowing whether to laugh, cry or rip her clothes off and show her husband that she was far from being a lady, Molly slowly shook her head. His formidable expression did not deter her curiosity. “Hawk, where did this information come from?”
“Friends during my university days were careful to explain many things that seemed strange to me.”
“Did the ladies find you … interesting?”
“The first few months that I was there I believed they did,” he replied. “Then, when my friends explained several things about ladies to me I realized that I was misreading their intentions.”
“Hawk, have you ever wondered if it were possible that your friends were jealous?”
“Jealous?” His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed.
“You are incredibly handsome. Your copper skin invites a feminine hand to reach out and stroke it, while your brooding black eyes dare her to try. You were probably attracting the attention of the ladies while they were all but ignored. It must have been difficult, if not downright impossible, for them to watch while a backwoods Indian caught the fancy of all the young ladies but they were left stranded.” Hawk’s eyes gleamed. “They wouldn’t do that to me. They were, and still are, my friends.”
Molly tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back a smile. “I’m sure that they are your friends. However, their lecture on the likes and dislikes of ladies was completely wrong.”
“Are you saying that you want me as a lover?” he asked bluntly, hoping she’d agree, praying she wouldn’t turn him away.
“I’m saying, Nathan Morning Hawk, that if your friends were correct in their assumption about ladies, then I’m no lady!”
For the first time in a longtime, Hawk was unsure of himself. “Molly, I will be gentle with you.”
“I don’t want gentleness!” Molly sat up and pushed the blanket away. “So help me, Hawk, if you don’t make love to me, I’ll tie you to a tree and get my own pleasure from your body.”
Hawk’s smile was a flash of white in the darkness as he removed his coat and began to unlace his shirt. “Perhaps another time. That could be an experience I don’t think I want to miss, but this time we’ll do it my way,” he commented, his voice husky with the desire that was never far from the surface when he was around his wife.
Molly watched with fascination as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the width of his shoulders and the rippling strength of his chest. The firelight danced across the smooth dark skin and her hand drew into a fist as she fought an overwhelming desire to touch him. Her breathing became labored as her eyes followed his hands to the laces on his pants.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, knowing that he could still stop himself — maybe.
Molly looked into his eyes, her own reflecting her need. “Make me your wife.”
Knee-high moccasins were quickly unlaced and Hawk stood.
“Do you find me incredibly handsome?” he asked, repeating her own words.
“Yes,” she replied, sitting up, unaware of the quilt as it slid off of her shoulders.
“Do you want to touch my copper skin?” His voice was velvet, stoking the fires of her growing need.
“Yes.” Molly rose to her knees, unconscious of her hands reaching toward his waist.
Slowly, as time stood still, Hawk pulled the laces free from his pants. The fabric parted to reveal smooth copper skin and, as they slid lower on his hips, a narrow line of coal black hair that disappeared beneath the fabric.
With fingers that trembled, Molly touched the firm ridges of his stomach. She heard his hiss of breath as she softly brushed over him.
“Touch me, nee wah,” he whispered, his eyes glowing with desire. “I have longed to feel your hands against my skin.”
Leaning forward, Molly placed soft, enticing kisses against the warmth of his stomach. Her hands moved voluntarily up to his smooth chest, across wide shoulders and down muscular arms.
When her hands glided to his, Hawk entwined his fingers through hers. She rested her cheek against his stomach, while the soft breeze playfully wrapped her long hair around his legs, capturing him in a web of silk.
“Look at us, Molly.” His husky voice betrayed the serious intensity of his eyes.
She raised her head to look willingly at him. “I see my husband,” she whispered, placing another longing kiss on his stomach.
“You see an Indian.” He put her hand against his smooth chest. “Look at your pale flesh against mine.”
“A beautiful Indian… a gentle, caring man …” She rubbed her cheek against his stomach. “My husband.”
Tugging her hands from his, she wrapped her fingers around the waist of his pants. “It’s too late to try to force me away, Hawk. I love you. And I w///be your wife!”
The battle, the war, was lost. He had no weapon to fight against her words of love when they so perfectly matched his own desires. The future would resolve itself, for now there was Molly … and love.
Slowly, deliciously, Molly released the fabric and watched as it slid down heavily muscled thighs. Hawk kicked free of the pants and knelt beside her, pulling her against him.
“You have too many clothes on, woman,” he murmured as he placed numerous kisses on her face. “But I fear you’ll freeze if I remove your nightdress.”
Molly’s rippling laugh sent slivers of desire down his spine. “Right now there is no way I could freeze, but if I was in danger I trust you could find a way to warm me?”
Hawk’s reply was a growl of desire as he found the hem of her gown and pulled it over her head. He pulled her against him while eager hands skimmed over warm flesh as searching lips constantly found new and different places to taste.
Hawk marveled at her full breasts, as he traced the delicate blue veins just beneath her skin with his tongue.
Molly relished the freedom to touch, savoring each as a treasure to be admired at length — later, when desire wasn’t the overpowering force driving her to explore quickly.
Her hands twined in the blue-black hair that had so enticed her as his mouth found the puckered peak of her breast. The gentle tug and pull of his lips made her grasp for a firm hold. With her head thrown back and her back arched to give her better access, her long honey-colored hair tied a lover’s knot around their fevered bodies.
Hawk sampled her with his mouth as his hands trailed to new territory. Down her slender back to the firmness of her rounded bottom to the trembling strength of her thighs, he found nothing but delight in her body. A fevered pitch was building in both of them when he found the swelling of her stomach.
M oily was suddenly shy as he drew back so that he could see the mound of her belly. He tasted the tight flesh while his hands explored. She wanted to hide her face as he held the weight of her in his hands but then he spoke, wiping away embarrassment.
His words were Shawnee but they were so eloquent when combined with his worshipping touch that Molly needed no translation. Her breath caught as he traced the taut skin that cradled her child.
“He will be my son.” Both hands caressed her belly with reverence. “1 can feel as he grows in your body, nestled in the safety of your womb, but already love for him grows in my heart.”
Emotion too deep for simple words to express held them captive and for long minutes their gaze locked, and they were aware only of this moment in time. The cold air danced over their exposed skin and a shiver rippled through her. Hawk grabbed the quilt, draping it over her shoulders but allowing none to come between their bodies. With her hands occupied holding the bla
nket in place she could only kneel before him as he explored her.
Tender touches and gentle kisses led to fevered caresses and deep moans of desire. When her legs could no longer support her, Hawk lowered her to the bed, throwing the quilt over both of them.
When Molly doubted that she could stand another kiss, another touch, Hawk taught her that she could. Mindless with need, enthralled by a hunger she had never felt before, she parted her thighs, silently begging him to end the torment.
“I’ve wanted for so long,“he whispered, his breath warm against the aroused flesh of her breasts.
“Wanted?”
“Wanted to touch you.” His hands journeyed leisurely down her body, stopping to linger in places of special interest.
“Wanted to taste you.” His mouth followed the trail of his hands, tasting, suckling, nipping.
He rose and moved carefully between her thighs. “Wanted to be one with you.”
“Love me, Hawk.”
Driven by the rhythm of the drums pounding through him, Hawk accepted the invitation. With utmost caution to protect the babe sheltered in her body, he sensuously invaded the damp warmth of her femininity. Copper flesh merged with silky satin as two became one. Each lingering thrust was a pledge of love, a promise of tomorrow.
Together they traveled far beyond the enchantment of the moonbow, the bewitchment of lovers united in a world of two.
Molly woke when she felt cold air invade the cocoon of warmth provided by the quilt. Pulling the blanket snugly around her nose, she watched as Hawk stoked the fire.
The morning sun was only beginning to chase away the night, but it provided enough light for her to appreciate the perfection of his body. Well-honed muscles rippled beneath firm, smooth skin with each graceful movement. Raven black hair hung to impossibly wide shoulders that arrowed down to narrow hips and rock-hard thighs.
His movements were relaxed, almost leisurely, as muscles responded upon demand. The cold air nipped at her exposed nose and a light layer of frost glittered on the bare ground, but he showed no obvious discomfort.
LeClerc 03 - Wild Savage Heart Page 21