“What do you want to know?” she asked, stalling for time while she composed herself. She tried to move away from him, but he tightened his arms, forcing her to remain where she was.
“Everything,” he replied candidly.
“I left Fain’s early. Fish said it was only twenty miles, and I thought I could get there and back in one day, or stay over the night and come back. I couldn’t find . . . my land, and I was on my way back when they . . . took me.” She despised the tears that flowed onto her cheeks, but was rather proud that she was able to steady her voice as she told how the Indians had pounced on her and taken her gun and horse. “One of them wanted to kill me. He was the ugliest man I ever saw. The old man wanted me. When we met the others, the braves tried to trade the old man something for me. The squaws were the worst. They . . . pulled off my . . . clothes and hit me with the switches and . . .” She stopped, her voice choked off.
“And what?” he urged.
“They . . . spread their legs for the men, right there in front of everyone.” A sob tore from her throat. “I didn’t know Indians were like that. I hate them! They’re dirt! Filth!”
“Hold on,” Simon said firmly. “All Indians are not the same, just as all white men are not the same. I figure the ones who took you are castoffs. They were cast out of their tribe for some reason or the other. How many horses did they have?”
“I saw only one, besides my mare.”
“I killed two of them, so that means there’s a mount for each of the braves.” He was silent for a moment. “I don’t think they’ll come after us.”
“The ugly one will. He hated me!”
“I killed him,” Simon said simply. “I had one sure shot and I figured he was the more dangerous one.” He lifted her off his lap and moved over to add more fuel to the small fire. He raked the rock away from the blaze with a stick and tested the heat by holding his hand near it. Satisfied that it was warm but not too hot, he pulled the rock farther from the fire and set his open leather powder bag on it. He turned her shift and his shirt, then went to the mouth of the cave to look out.
“The sky is heavy with rain clouds. It’ll be a while before it lets up,” he commented. He came back, sat down, pulled off his knee-high moccasins, and set them close to the fire.
Berry huddled in the blanket and wondered how he could stand the chill of his wet buckskin breeches. “Where’s your hat?” she asked.
Simon turned and looked at the enormous green eyes staring at him out of her white face. He couldn’t speak for a moment. She looked so small, so vulnerable, but he knew she was tougher than she appeared. He grinned at her and reached out a hand to cup her cheek.
“I lost it when the squaw jumped on my back. She’s probably wearing it now.”
In spite of her fatigue, Berry laughed. “One in your hat, the other in my bonnet. They’ll be a sight.”
Warmth spread through her chilled body at last. She loosened the blanket from around her neck and let it slip to her shoulders. Her eyes searched his face. She didn’t dare lie down and fall asleep . . . not yet. Not without making her peace with Simon. Her eyes burned, and she had to open them wide to keep them from closing.
“Go to sleep,” he said, and gently pushed her down and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be watching.” He held out his hand, and without hesitation she pressed her palm to his. His fingers entwined with hers.
“Are you still . . . mad?”
“Not too mad to kiss you again.” His lips skimmed her cheek. “You’re a spunky woman. Life with you will never be dull. I may want to beat you, but I’ll want to kiss you, too.”
She clutched his hand, smiled contentedly, and drifted off to sleep.
Berry was astride a great white horse. Her arms were locked around the bronzed body of the man in front of her. Her laughter rang out as he urged the beast to greater speed until it seemed to fly over the short green turf. Soundless words came drifting back to her as they floated up and down with the movements of the horse. She pressed her cheek to the muscled back before trailing kisses from his shoulder blade to where the dark hair grew at the nape of his neck. She arched her back and laughed. The man turned. His eye sockets were empty, and there was no flesh on his face; she knew it was the ugly Indian.
An agonized cry tore from her throat and she was instantly awake. Simon’s face was close to hers. She clutched at him, thinking he would vanish.
“Shhh . . . You’re all right. You were having a bad dream.”
With a soft, welcoming cry, she reached for him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Simon! Don’t go! Don’t leave me again.”
“Is there room for me under that blanket, love?”
She lifted the edge in invitation. He slid in beside her and gathered her in his arms. Warm gladness welled in her heart and flooded her body, and her arms encircled him as she gloried in the feel of his hard warmth.
He curled his arm beneath her, while his other hand caressed down along her spine to pull her hips closer to his. He was as naked as she, and it seemed natural and right.
“I wanted to wake you,” he whispered before finding her parted lips with his, moving them slowly and touching them with his tongue. “I’ve been watching you, wanting to hold you, but I know how tired you are.”
“Your skin is so smooth,” she whispered, breathing against his lips. “I didn’t know you’d feel like this . . . so solid and warm.” Her head was spinning helplessly from the torrent of her churning desires. She moved her body so that her breast rubbed against the rough hair on his chest. “Your heart is beating so fast!” The uneven rhythm of her breathing was making speech difficult, but that didn’t stop her from expressing her thoughts. “Does it always beat like this, or is it because you’re as excited as I am?”
A growl of laughter broke from his lips and he placed light kisses on her face. “Only when I have a pretty girl in my arms and I want to love her . . . in every way there is. . . .”
“Are we going to do what we didn’t do the other night?”
“I’ll die if we don’t. . . .”
“I want to! Oh, Simon, I want to do it all! I thought about it while I was with the Indians. You said you’d make it long and sweet and I’d have no regrets. Even if you don’t, and if you don’t love me like I want you to, I’ll have no regrets.”
“Ahhh . . . sweetheart . . .” His mouth moved over hers with warm urgency. His tongue caressed her lips, sought entrance, and found warm welcome. Instinctively she moved closer, grinding her pelvis into his masculine hardness. Stirred by an incredible arousal, she met his passion with intimate sensuousness and glided the tip of her tongue across the edge of his teeth before she pulled away, her deep-rooted curiosity taking over.
“Do married people do this every night?”
“Some of them.”
“Does the man always make it long and sweet, or does he just jump on like a stallion?”
“For God’s sake, Berry!” He groaned. “Not all men are like that!” he added patiently.
“Does it hurt you when it’s hard like this?” Her hand wriggled down between them, and her touch caused a jolt to pass through his body.
“Yes!” he said gratingly between clenched teeth. “You’re the talkin’est woman!” He tried to shut her mouth with his, but she evaded his lips.
“How’ll I know things if I don’t ask? I couldn’t ask any other man.”
His head jerked back and he glared down at her even as his arms tightened so that she could scarcely breathe. “You’ll not get a chance to ask another man! If I hear of you talkin’ like this to another man, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life! This man . . . this body, is all you’re goin’ to know about!”
His anger pleased her and she laughed. The musical sound rang in his ears and caused a wave of tenderness to well up in him. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck.
“What else do you want to know, sweet, sassy brat?”
<
br /> “Do you plan to put that whole thing . . . inside me?” she whispered huskily and moved her hips against him in instinctive invitation.
His head jerked up again as if he had been grabbed by the hair. “Yes, by God, I do!”
There was laughter, love, and teasing in the sparkling eyes that met his. “Then you’d better get on with it. The rain’s about to stop.”
“Oh, Berry! Oh, darlin’ girl . . .”
They laughed together and rolled, their arms and legs entwined. Berry could feel the happiness in him and longed to look into his face and see love and laughter there, but he was kissing her, loving her with his hands.
“Are you happy, Simon? Are you glad you met me?”
“Glad? If you don’t hush talkin’ I’ll . . .” His words melted on her lips.
Their mouths met and were no longer gentle. They kissed deeply, hungrily. His hand moved down her spine, found her taut buttocks, and pressed hard. Her arousal was evident in her rock-hard nipples pressed to his chest and the moistness between her thighs when he touched her there. The stinging welts made by the switch, the soreness in her buttocks and back, and the growling of her empty stomach were all forgotten as she gave herself up to the sweet abandonment he was urging upon her. His fingers stroked her breasts before moving down over her stomach to toy with soft curls. She welcomed his gentle touch with parted thighs and an urgency that incited him to lift his mouth from hers and whisper hoarsely in her ear.
“Now, darlin’? I can’t wait!”
He slid smoothly over her body, seeking entrance while she waited in rapt and arching anguish. Everything he did felt so good, so right, that she was caught up in an overpowering desire and need for physical release.
He moved between her legs and pressed into her tightness. He stayed there, gulping air into his lungs, feeling for the first time the touch of his rigid maleness against the membrane guarding her virginity. He waited, savoring the wondrous moment. Then his hips made a jerking motion, paused, and he lifted himself almost out of her.
At the moment of their union, Berry felt a sharp stab of pain. But it was not agonizing pain. It seemed a mere discomfort compared to the other, all-encompassing pain that cried out to be eased. The pain-pleasure of their joining would forever be imprinted in her memory. She was part of him, he was her world, her universe, and she vibrated with all the love she had to give to him.
He lifted her to undreamed-of sensual heights. She no longer wanted him to be gentle and let her hips move in unison with his, slowly at first, then more and more frantically until her body moved with untamed urgency beneath him. Sensation after sensation rushed through her, causing her flesh to quiver, her muscles to contract. She was only vaguely aware of the sharp, powerful contractions of the body locked with hers. She felt her own body sweeping toward some great height that would release her from this sweet torment. At the crest there was a burst of exquisite sensation and she seemed to float out of herself.
They came out of the clouds together and exchanged soft, moaning kisses, their bodies welded together in the aftermath of heated sensation. Simon raised his head, his dark, fathomless eyes searching her passion-clouded ones. He felt himself still fully extended inside her, for all the violent completeness of the act just accomplished.
Berry reached up and ran her fingers through the dense mass of dark hair over his temples. Her lips spread in a dreamy, sweet smile. “This is the real Simon,” she murmured softly. “Sweet ’n’ warm way down deep. You only wear that serious face so folks won’t know how sweet ’n’ lovin’ you are. You won’t be able to hide it from me now. You’re the dream I’ve held on to for so long.”
He flexed his hips, implanting himself more deeply. “I’m only a man,” he said, his voice raspy with emotion.
“My man?”
“If you’ll have me.”
Her laugh was warm and moist against his mouth. Again he flexed his hips, and she tensed briefly against her soreness, but soon her discomfort was forgotten. His mouth found hers, sending tendrils of flame and desire through her once again. Her hands slid around his waist and gripped hard, and they were locked together in a straining embrace. She moved with him, timing her actions with instinctive precision. Then the climax seized them; she cried out, and he let the flood pour out of him with a violence that rendered him dazed and spent.
* * *
Berry struggled up from languor and stirred in Simon’s arms. She leaned her elbows on his chest, her nose just inches from his. Her eyes were green, shining pools of pure happiness. In her newfound freedom to touch and love him she gloried in running her lips over his face, nipping the skin on his neck, and wriggling the tip of her tongue between his lips.
“I warn you, Simon,” she murmured between kisses. “When we’re wed you’ve got to do this every night!”
“Oh, Lord!”
She felt the laughter in his body before it burst from his mouth. She pressed her palms against his cheeks, her fingers tugging at his ears.
“What’s so funny?”
“You, darlin’. I didn’t know there was anyone in the world like you!”
Chapter Fourteen
The dark clouds overhead were rolling away. A few stars appeared in the evening sky. Fully dressed in his dry clothes, Simon stepped around his horse’s rump and viewed the scene of dripping trees and rain-washed hills and valleys. He looked back. Berry was sleeping soundly. Her smooth skin glistened in the soft gloom. Once more, pleasurable sensations started to build. She looked so desirable that he turned away quickly so as not to be tempted to lie down beside her and take her in his arms. There were a few things he needed to know before he could settle down for the night.
Taking his rifle, ammunition, and powder bag, he started toward a hill about a hundred yards away to survey the area. He doubted that the two braves would come after them. They each had a horse, he reasoned with calm logic. It wasn’t likely they would risk death to get a mount for their squaws.
He stood for a long while studying the landscape. To the west, a river of water was running through a wash that had been dry when they crossed over it. Water stood in the low spots, and all around the ground was littered with twigs and leaves torn from the trees by the wind. He silently thanked God that the rain had not come a day sooner. If it had, he would never have been able to trail Berry and the Indians, and she would have been lost to him forever.
Satisfied that they were in no immediate danger, Simon went back to the cave, lay down beside Berry, and pulled her into his arms.
* * *
All day they rode through the rain-soaked wilderness, skirting the flooded lowlands. The course they followed was rugged with fallen trees and choked with underbrush. Simon walked most of the time. Berry, wearing his shirt and riding the horse, tried to shield her bare legs and feet from the sting of the brush they passed. The soreness between her legs was uncomfortable, but she never complained; she was far too happy to complain about anything. Simon, her man, strode confidently ahead, leading the horse with one hand, the rifle held firmly in the other.
The sky was blue gray; the sun, unobscured by floating clouds, poured down its heat. Small animals scattered as Simon and Berry approached, and birds which had been singing merrily took to the wing. Deep forest surrounded them and Berry wondered how Simon knew which way to go.
They reached the riverbank just after sunset. Simon lifted her down from the horse and kissed her lustily before setting her away from him.
“I’ve wanted to do that all day.”
“There’s no reason that I know of why you couldn’t’ve,” she replied saucily. “Is lovin’ only for nighttime?”
He whacked her on the backside. He was more jolly, more exuberant than Berry had ever imagined he could be. His dark hair was wet with sweat and his chest and shoulders gleamed with it. His dark eyes were warm and amiable, his wide, full mouth smiling. There was a boyish charm about him now that seemed entirely out of keeping with the serious, silent man she first met.
“Hungry?”
“How can you ask? My stomach has been slapping the heck out of my backbone all day.”
“How about fish for supper?”
“Fish? How’ll you catch it? Do we dare risk a fire?”
“I figure it’s safe enough if we keep it small.” He unsaddled the horse and led him to water before he staked him in a grassy patch near their campsite. “Star will let us know if anyone is about,” he said while he sharpened one end of a branch he’d cut from a small tree. “He hears every sound. He can see and hear better than a man, and being mountain bred he’s got a strong instinct to survive. That makes him naturally spooky.” He finished whittling and held out the crude spear. “Let’s go see if it works.”
Berry stood on the bank while Simon took off his moccasins and rolled up the legs of his buckskins. He stepped carefully into the water and moved upstream holding the spear aloft. He edged close to the bank, waited, then brought down the spear with a powerful motion. There was a mighty splash, followed by Simon’s triumphant whoop. He held aloft a large, silvery fish impaled on the spear. He flung spear and fish up onto the bank and came out of the water.
“That bugger must weigh ten pounds!” He was as happy and excited as a small boy. “I learned that trick from Light. It works every time,” he explained happily.
Berry let out a burst of joyous laughter. “Oh, Simon! I like your face when you laugh!”
His eyes twinkled at her. “I’m glad. It’s the only face I have.”
She laughed again and whirled around, her arms above her head. Simon thought she looked like a picture he’d seen of a wood nymph. Her hair was kinky-curly from the damp air. Her lips and cheeks were pink. His shirt came to the middle of her thighs, and the white shift she wore beneath it came to slightly below her knees. Her feet were bare and dirty, but she was lovely—and she was his.
It seemed hours before the fish was cooked, then cooled enough so they could eat it. The meat was juicy and succulent. They agreed that it was quite the best they’d ever eaten. Being so hungry had something to do with it, they admitted laughingly. They put aside a portion of the fish for morning and went down to the river. Standing in the shallows, they washed their hands, splashed their faces, and smiled at each other.
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